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School of letters,Mahatma Gandhi University,P.D.Hills p.o,Athirampuzha,kottyam-686560,phone:0481-2731041

Wednesday, February 6, 2013


                             Sunil Jose

The school I studied
Isn’t there.
There, now,
A cashew grove grows.
the place where
We, the little ones,
prayed, fervently, for –
A heavy rain
shivering fever
a blowing blizzard that can
drive tiles off the school roof.
Praying for the breaks
brought by Onam and Xmas
to come running.
Now, it’s
The squirrel baby’s home
School of the birds
Battlefield of snake and mongoose.
the Malayalam class where
Asan, Ulloor and Vallathol
In the same bench-branch
swung, and,
the corridor where
Teachers with
Science, Maths, and,
small round sticks,
A cow masticates-
May be, the remains of what
Long past, we, when small,
Masticated –
A thousand question marks
Upside down
Hang all over
Cashew branches
May be,
those thousand questions
we, the little ones
open eyed, open eared,
Are returning.
               (translated by Dr. Betsy Paul)

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