Theme: Ode

To Death

I lay unconscious
For a fortnight
Throwing my entrails out
On a forlorn hospital bed
Down with enteric fever

All that I remember hearing then
Through slits
Of my sinking awareness
Were the North East January winds
Violently rustling the banyan trees

I never feared you then
You didn’t matter to me
For I was primitive
In my still nascent innocence

I survived and grew up
Later to be poetic
I was worried
I would lose the beauty
Of the east winds
And the Monsoon rains
If you pounced on me unwawares

I spent sleepless nights
Rolled on my bed
Feared you were there
In the dark
Outside my hut
With a noose
To squeeze my fragile neck

Idiot I was
Till I knew
That I knew you
That you were always with me
Nibbling at my corpus
That isn't really me
Like a rat
Inching towards its last savored gulp

What does it matter rat
You have always been there
To feast on what I mistook I was?
You always needed me
To acknowledge and validate
Your own flimsy existence
A silly mongrel you are
Tamed to the very hilt
The next time your food is ready
I will call you, till then wait

My backyard is your home
As it is
For the mango tree
Mewing cat, the evening sky
I will ever remain
Lighting your eccentricities
And absurdities
To the ignorant world around me
Wait and pant
That is all
What you are supposed to do
Till I have another errand for you


More By  :  Madathil Rajendran Nair

Views: 1350     Comments: 10

Comments on this Poem

Comment Thanks Dikshak-ji, Madhu-ji, Murali-ji, Prasad-ji, Subbu-ji, Balgopal-ji, Vaibhav-ji, Vijayan-ji and Gobind-ji for your comments. Appreciate your kindness. Subbu-ji, you are very right in the absolute sense that when death has been conquered, there is no more any body. But, if we refuse to grant the body a relative existence, then the poem can't exist and we can't discuss it. So, let both remain together with death. Actually, all us Advaitins agree that there is no death either.

11-Nov-2012 09:36 AM

Comment A phiolosopher and a poet is a great combination right there from the ancient times of Rig Veda!

01-Nov-2012 07:01 AM

Comment i enjoyed it. v gud.

01-Nov-2012 06:34 AM

Comment Beautiful poem!

01-Nov-2012 03:37 AM

Comment with the 'advaitin' even death must have had its existential realisation!, the least - a death scare unto death itself, an existential crisis!

01-Nov-2012 02:16 AM

Comment Dear Madathil ji,

It is indeed a pleasant surprise that the day I was wondering where were you, so long absent from Advaitin, your post arrived intimating your poem on Death. I like the poem, however, this is somewhat puzzling me:

The next time your food is ready
I will call you, till then wait

Is it not that when Death has been conquered there is no longer another body? Am I missing any of your hidden sentiments here?


31-Oct-2012 13:39 PM

Comment So this is what is conquering death. When your body is no longer fit to function in this world u call it death. We make a big deal out of it. But still I don't want to die.

Good work and interesting subject for every1.

31-Oct-2012 12:43 PM

Comment Enjoyed your part of conversation.....

31-Oct-2012 12:20 PM

Comment Applause...

31-Oct-2012 08:38 AM

Comment Very true ! great work

31-Oct-2012 05:42 AM

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