Call from the Dark: Ruminations

By Sree Prasad R.

When mind is freed from tumultuous waves,
I tried to scribble the memory scraps.

These are the wild thoughts of a vagabond. While getting on this life of qualms, it is a pleasure to have some vein to take you back. Though our worlds of binaries camou?age the human psyche, still it is nothing but bliss to experience the uncertainties.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing India
• Release date: Nov 28, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482887273

Sree Prasad R.

Sree Prasad R. is currently working as an assistant professor of English in NSS College, Pandalam, Kerala. He has done MPhil in English language and literature from the American College, Madurai, and MEd from School of Pedagogical Sciences, MG University, Kottayam. He is pursuing a PhD in English literature, focusing the nuances of multiculturalism in contemporary African writing.

Book preview

Call from the dark

November 29, 2011

Re-reading the shades of memory

I test the facets of dark gloom.

To where it leads, we answer not

bereaved minds can never tell.

The passers-by should travel not

in the deadliest space of mind’s plot,

the place where ‘all’ is made hidden

and wait for no one to explicit.

Life is being boiled along the streets

Miseries, distant at a hand’s reach.

Their dreams are toiled in darker eyes,

Still they live and love their life.

All are moving on and on

to whence it is never known

and yet we travel to be in ennui

to make a later happy journey.

Scapegoat

May 5, 2012

The loss is for him and him alone,

the rest will live for all day long.

They will lose the darker shades

and one day they too move this space.

When men go at last and fly away,

many will be there to sing and praise.

When they live in this lifes’ ditch

none will be there to gather rice.

What a cruel world is this?

Man-made masks all around.

They are cats and you are mouse,

Life is just a play of masks.

For whom he did that heinous crime

Only for just some cash in hand

The grey man’s eyes are still on search

And won’t be closed till end of Sun.

The wrinkled cheeks did tell a lot

Some might not feel or understand.

The loss of warmth and joyful morns

Those years! Which went like pregnant drops.

Life a dirty, needless walk

In forlorn days, a treasure-true.

Our tender scenes might be of fruit.

Mute, it proves so as we grow.

The gaze

August 13, 2012

Something lies behind the