Monday, March 08, 2010


It was just a bad looking page
when I was flipping through the queen.
T'was no fun, to be no fun.

Love was prawns in the thoran.*

Tales of smirks, grins, bitterness,
detest, passion,
longing, haunting,
palm reading in marine drive,
loneliness, hostel corridor,

All I remember now is my pink mosquito net.
My nights, acidic dreams,
I was followed, gagged, raped and murdered.
For everyone who left me there to be me,
I want to puke.

*thoran: a variety of vegetable curry seasoned with coconut, small onions, curry leaves and coconut oil. In memory of Anju Jude who made 'fort-cochin accented' thorans sprinkled with prawns and scents of the sea for the home deprived hostel inmate friend. 

Yet another Kitchen Goddess here.


medusa said...

i liked unkissedness.
and the way you built up the idyll, and the ennui, only to shatter it in the end. i shuddered.

Bitter God said...

like it like it... unnervingly poignant...