UTAO MASHAL ANDERA KAAYAM HE

  

UTAO MASHAL ANDERA KAAYAM HE

utao mashal

anderaa kaayam he.

kaufnaak iss raath me

chingari ki jarurath he.

har dil ki dadkan

tez kar le tu ab.

parivarthan ki vela he

aane vaalaa ab.

sab aur chayaa athank

nyochavar ho rahe he sab.

iss avasar par

math raho tum sthabdh

har aur bar lo tum

roshini ke kan kan

utao mashaal

mita do anthakaar...

 -Krishna P.V. is a II Year student of English Literature at Krishna Menon Memorial Government Women's College

Malayalam Poem: Njan

NJAN

Enil njan kakunnu oraayirum janmangale

Oru kaavalalavunnu jeevitha padhayill

Mannill ninnu uyarnnu njan, oru kunzhu kaniyaayi

Innu aakashathollam uyarnnu nilkunnu

Innum njan orkunnu enn amm mannine

Kozhinju poya oro thallir idhaleludeyum

Enn janma mathavine thozhunnu njan ennum...

               -Krishna P.V. is a II Year student of English Literature at Krishna Menon Memorial Government Women's College

Poem

Whenever I met her,
I saw my own heart
Reflecting in her eyes
 I asked God
"Why is it so?"
He replied to me,
"It's from your bone
 I fashioned her....." 

Whenever she speaks to me
I feel a great spark from within my soul
I asked to the Almighty, once again,
"Why is it so?"
He replied to me,
"I made only one heart for both of you.."

Now when I sit alone
In front of my church
I ask Him sadly,
"Why did she leave me alone?"
He replied to me:

"Even though I made her from your bone,
Even though I made  the same heart for both of you,
I forgot to make her your own.."

An unsettling question plagued me
Why did He forget to enjoin our hearts?
 I feel like a cricket player
Who failed in the world cup final

Lost, dejected, despondent
Only because of the law of 

Duckworth-Louis.

                           -Bejy Antony,3rd year student of  B.A.English Language&Literature from Payyanur College

Malayalam Poem: Visha Mazha

Ith Bheekarathayude Nimishangal...
Thulli paanjethiya mazhayk keezhadangiyath
jeevante thudippukal!
Kozhinju veenath
kurunnu kannukal...!
Munnil veenu thilachath nashta swapnangal...!
Kodiya Venalaruthiyil
karinjunangiyath prakruthi...!
Kuyil padan marannu.
Mayil aadanum.
Thalampidikkunna kattu
vishalipthamayirunu.
Ozhukatha puzhayil
puthiya jeevithbngal thalirittilla.
Ini  oru Neelakandane tharoo...
Ee visham kandathilekirakkan...!


-Sreepriya Sankar, Grade 9 student at G.H.S.S.Cheruthazham

Malayalam Poem

POKKU VEYILIL CHERUTHALLATHA

ORU VETTAM AZINJU VEENU.

JANANAMENNU KARUTHI PERIDALUM

MARANAMENNU VICHARICH PINDAVUM VACHU.

ATHINIDAYILE JEEVITHAM...PACHA...

AARADI MANNIL KABARADAKKAPETU.

NENJIL...AALKAR ARINJITA ORUPIDI MANNU.

CHITHARIYA KARIYILAKALILEVIDEYO

ORU KUNNIMANIKKURU KANTHURANNU.

POKU VEYIL ASTHAMICHU.

ARINJITA KATTILEVIDEYO

APPOOPPAN THADIKAL...

ENGU NINNO KANNU THURAKUNNA PACHA VELICHANGAL

ONNU MILLENNU KANNIRUKKUNNU.

NJANIVIDEYEE THEERATH

AAZHAMULLA KADALINE ORKUNNU...

-Rithwik Sankar is a III year student of English language and literature from Payyanur College.

Hindi Story: Ek Safar Me

EK SAFAR ME

                        

Zindagi kitni suhani hothy he. Pett barne ke liye har ek kadya samagri upalabdh he mere liye, apne aap ko sajane ke liye rang birange vastr he mere haatho thale, mere har kwahish poora karne ke liye har vakth thayaar ma-babu he mere pass. kitna aaraam dayak jivan bitha rahi hu me...aah...!!!

College se vapas gar aathey samay, bagyavash, bus me kidki ke pass ki jagah mill gayi thi baitne ke liye. Hawa ke jokon ko muh se choomthey samay dil gaa utty thi..."suhaana safar aur ye mausam haseen...". Ithne me mere jindagi ke sundar drishymere ankho ke samuk aa gere. Sach me, me sukh samridi se bara jeevan bitha rahi hu.

Par yeh sab kayal me ek ladki ko dekthe huye saja rahi thi. Bus kisi karan vash beed me jaa fasi thi, bahuth der se rukhi hui thi. Par jindagi ke anokhe rang me mugdh me kaha iss par dyaan dene vaali thi. Par kisi sundar sapne se achanak sahmkar utne vaala anubav hua. Kuli hui aankho ko sach me khola tho dheka, ek choti si ladki(mujse shayad 5 varsh choty thi) sadak ke dhoosare aor kadi, aane-jaane valoom se beek maang rahi thi. Koi use dho-chaar rupay dhe dhetha, koi maarg rokne vale kisi jantu ke samaan use tukuratha hua manzil ki aur nikal padtha, koi grina bari nazaro se dhektha tho kuch logo ko use dhikai hi nahi dhetha.

Uske shareer par mittee se saja ek mayli-kuchayli fata hua kapada tha. Teek tharah se khaana na milne se vah dhubli-pathli ho gayi thi. vah akeli dhuniya ke is beed me apne aap ko aage bada rahi thi. Hum dhono ne aise kya karm kiye honge ki dhonom jindagi ke dho pehlu me jee rahe he.Ek hi dhuniya ke ek hi shahar me rahne vaali dho ladkiyaa the hum, par kithni binatha he hum dhonoom ke jindagi me. Mere zindagi mere haath me aur uski na jaane kiske haath me thi.

Iss beach me beed me se bus aage badi. Me khuli aankho se use tab tak dhekthi rahi jab tak vah mere ankhoom se ojjal nahi hui. Par hriday me vah iss tarah bus gayi thi ki mare kuch kshan pehle ke sapne 'sapne' he rah gaye. Usme muje sachaye ka ek kann bi nahi mila. Adambar bare jeevan ko swarth se jeene se kuhi nahi milthi, mill-baant kar jeene se zindagi, zindagi banthi he. Yeh baath har ek insaan ke hriday ke ek kone me saham kar rah gaya he. Mere dil ke iss baath ko uss 'anjaan pari' ne kureda zaroor he, par iss par me tik paungi, yeh muj par seemith he, aur iske liye me kitna samay lethy hu muje nahi patha...

Bus ne to muje mere manzil par pahuncha dee. Ab muje kudh aage badne ka samay aa gaya he...

-Krishna P.V. is a II year student of English Literature from Krishna Menon Memorial Government Women's College, Kannur. 

Malayalam Poem: Maya

Maya...!
Kannukale viswasikan kazhinjilla!
Engum puka mara mathram...
Vayatile erichil kannilek ethiyathavam
pakshe kannukale moodiyitilla.
Ithu chundiloode erinju thananathalla...!
Ilam menikal karinju veenathalla...!
Innava kannileriyunu...
mayathe...'maya'yakathe...
Ellam thonnalenna picha pathrathilidalle...
Baki vaykuka,
alpamenkilum
orappa kashnamenkilum
lakshangale ootanundu...!

-Rithwik Sankar is a III year student of English at Payyanur College

Short Story: That Old Woman

She was old and frail, with an arched back. She drew her scarf over her forehead as she waited. When she raised the palm of her right hand over her squinty black eyes to shield herself from the mid-day heat, the long, loose sleeves of her abaya slipped to the sweaty  valley at the end of the forearm, and revealed a hard, brown, bony hand. The other arm was struggling to carry big, bulky bags of old clothes she'd gathered from her begging rounds.

She was exhausted. She had left her sickly children back at home earlier during the day, and had visited some fifty houses or so in under two hours. Some turned her out. Most of them didn't even bother opening their doors for her. But still, she always found one or two houses with sympathetic folks who would acknowledge her presence with a rupee or two. She always left a prayer for them.

Today, however, was not a very good day. Although she had managed to get a few old clothes for her children, she was too tired to continue her long and unwinding walk back home, what with her swollen feet and the blazing heat. She had enough change in her handkerchief to spare her an autorickshaw ride for about half the way home. The other half...she'd think about that later. It was too hot to think. She was feeling dizzy from hunger and thirst too.

An autorickshaw was whirring its way towards her. She picked up her bulky bags, and raised a bony hand to hail it. The driver took one look at her, and sped by. She refused to take offense.

Another autorickshaw refused to take her, and yet another. They seemed to have no trouble offering their service to well-off families or other individuals with bulky shopping bags, though.
The heat was starting to get worse, just as the sharp pain in her back and heels.

After an hour of waiting, she decided she was wasting her time and energy. The old, frail woman with the arched back picked up her bulky bags of worn out clothes, and began her journey back home with swollen feet and aching arms, under the blazing heat of the sun, muttering to herself:
for my children...I must not collapse for the sake of my children...

- Jinan Ashraf is a II year student of English Literature from Krishna Menon Memorial Government Women's College, Kannur.

Poem: To Rise

           To Rise

I sow, I reap the field,

I nurture it with my sweet sweat.

I feed those near and far,

But my own soul is in dire hunger.

I adapt, I change my style,

I acquire it with acute desire.

I migrate near and far,

But my own land is left alone.

I can sow and reap my field,

To feed my hungry soul.

I can adapt and change my style,

But what shall happen of my land?

When will I wake up,

From this misty, dreary dream,

And change "I can" with "I will"?

The day is nearing to rise.

-Krishna P.V. is a II year student of English Literature at Krishna Menon Memorial Government Women's College, Kannur.

Connecting With Our Regional Roots

It is with great pleasure that we welcome all of you- future writers, pioneers and go-getters of India's glorious tomorrow- to this humble literary platform, dedicated to promote the remarkably diverse regional and national literature of ours, and also discuss some of the major literary issues the nation faces today.

Indian literature-enriched by languages from all across the states- is as wonderfully diverse as it is intellectually and aesthetically satisfying. The wisdom and the play of nuances contained in the Indian texts make for a rewarding read, and it is with the intention of promoting more literary thoughts centered around our wonderful heritage, culture and diversity that the idea for the literary forum was conceived.

We welcome entries from anyone interested in sharing their literary works (centered around the prominent theme of being Indian) with the outside world. Remember, there are no language restrictions or word limits so feel free to let your imagination run! Also, do not hesitate to comment and share your thoughts on the entries of any of the other writers as well. Together, let us do the best we can to bring Indian literature to the literary limelight.

Happy reading and writing!

-Regional Roots Administrators