http://slow.writerscafe.org/vivekanand The original writings of author vivekanand en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776115365 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 a story of remembering and understanding http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/1444821/ a library fantasy http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/1425997/ father and son http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/1425996/ The wetness in the evening light  is  a paradox,coming  with the only streak of lightthat drifts into our common room...the wetness reminds me of  darknessand still air..and also  a pristine voice  thatis clothedonly  with your prejudices...it is a nakedness that t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/839387/ perhaps i could start like nerudawe could retire to our private horizons in a venetian gondolaand there we would kiss  till i die..no, then , i know even dreams are not that merciful..and romance has  not been my forte , since we chose to burn the small town down.. everytime a wo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/834910/ Promising a quick return,a rain drop had jumped off the cloud..Meanwhile,Valli was busy burying her first milk tooth....The new mayor ‘s passionate speechwas drawing cheers from the fiery crowd..A new child,  unaware that the mother is deadwas welcomed to the world,Complete with crackers .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/813364/ yesterday, i murdered three men in my dreamperhaps,conscious that i wouldnt be liable i pushed the switchblade an inch furtherthis morning, in the bathroom sink,i washed my hands again and againmother was calling me for breakfast http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/809099/ My bamboo houseLoves fireThough  i  thoughtThere never would be a real opportunityto show their mutual faithfulness... In the land of wind,We erected a straw hut...And then complained in theDead of the night..However absurd it might seem,Sorrow is still sorrow... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/806922/ dream on http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/801072/ i tell stories for a living stories i eat and sleep with..stories i fight with..stories i flirt with..  the clientele decides where i start and how i twist..tears of joy or sobs of anguish..  when it is my sister's little daughteri elaborat.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/796014/ THE JOKER'S VENGEANCE OR THE BLOOD OF THE ROSEwhen the joker smiles it is not in approval..his nod does not mean YES..his fingers point in the opposite directionwhen you ask him the way out..his hat is not meant for DIGNITY nor does he wave it for a GOOD MORNI.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/790037/ i stole the lonely bee's nectar and drank it in secret then  i smashed the beeonto the nearest wall and waded through the rivers of mute reverieengrossed in the beautiful death of guiltand fantasizing the sermons of darwin http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/789187/ i kissed her hard in  yesterday's half-duskthe twilight girl ;she is so beautiful,but i must go.. my thick red blood conjures a canvasthe landscape of a disease in the hypochondriac's nightmare ... my body is now  a mushroom bombwaiting to blast over..but the twilight g.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/789185/ i entered a room of mirrorsthe room entered  me.. we became brotherscannibals of  soul.. we were the grand dreams each conceived in the other's silent sleep we could not look without the other's eyesconcurring.. then i hated and desired..an existence mired in .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/789184/ i am a foreigner at times to your love..and prophecies of inseparable friendship..i do not understand how i can not deny myself the next moment as much as i assert myself now..i am a stranger to my thoughts and aspirations..they mushroom in the wet earth .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/745359/ MIRACLE……..Nine out of ten timesThe black cat crossing your road Decides your destiny..Nine out of ten times You come home with a familiar lookOf dejectionOf having lost To a greater talent Fussing about your place in the world.. But .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/741257/ this organism sits in the elaborate porch..this organism sips the morning teaand munches  roasted bread his mother makes..this organism drowns into an afternoon nap..and awakens to the shrieking alarm .....this organism is not the porch,not the tea ,notthe bre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/738099/            1you could live in the grandest wax palace you could fudge everybody's account and still get awaydrawing gratification at the heapcurses build..curses of people who would have lost..you could eat the best savouries ever madelounge in the state .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/738096/ in my lonely verandah,everyday i fed the crowscoming by punctuallyi felt they smiledand opened my cupboard reserved for  warm  words and embraces..yesterday they pecked at meand dropped crow shiton my blue shirt..sure enoughthey crow-scowled at me..so i cursed them and .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/738093/ i wander the wildernessof your desires,tracing your butter voicein ancient songs of childhood memory.. i sense the aroma of privacyi gulp at the silent springs of your secret passion ..and liberate you from theyoke of feminine generosity.. and as you demand andi strive toappease,the coldne.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/699386/ your freckles defy gerontologythose brown eyes are sublime gold...my physician looks through evening sky spectaclesand closes my case fileCUT YOUR CIGARETTESTHE HEART RUNS on half blood,the clot is ageingyou hold my trembling wrinkling fingerand laugh at my empty joke..as long as you do thati will b.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/699256/ the morning light confesses in feeble tones , meekly failing to cleanse my mind of your thoughts,pleasing to my sensesas the convectional rain of hot summer days...those eyes which once dispersed a block of ice into a solid rainbow now lie behind the horizons .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/683815/ now i am that body in that beach of crowded touristsi peep into strange wet eyes ..no one is  a friend ..no one is warm...now i am that grass in nissim ezekiel's lawn..the machine mows like a giant blue whale ,suitors to the cogs cluster its metal wheels;- cold, robotic and .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/681667/ the game begins.. the game ends ..in between in the little flights of the shuttle c**k is measured the lifetime of an indian colony..the buses have started their first office trips ;the cars of aspiring elites have come out on the porch in proud  anticipation... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/681095/ a failure may mean many things,anything,... a failure means the world has shut its door,first time , another time or the last time ..a failure means your sweaty time has wailed over the pendulums for nothingin the neighbor's eyes ..a failure may mean(thus)your neighbor .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/680546/ the ironies of the obviousthe silence i chose not to interprethangs in broad sunlight as a giant pendulumannouncing,with every to and fro motion,its inevitabilityand the end of time... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/677463/ niveda wants to make a perfect paper boat..in these dog days ,she is counting on the mirages to set sail..while we dissatisfy her with our pragmatic talkshe is learning again her alphabet lessons..probably thinking  the grown-upsmust practice them too,daily ,in secret,long after .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/675155/ you are preciselike the knife you hold in your hands peeling off the apple skin your words are like pebbles dropped in the silent stream clearly showing the waythey drive their point home..i am lost..i am dragging  a fishnet holding a roaring dragon fromthose deepest se.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/673181/ he never said he would walk on waterneither did he attempt it in the neighbourhood lakehe never brought pastries from thin air,nor did he vanquish snakes slithering through our hallways ..and it never rained when he played the flute..but the day he died,there was a strange fragrance&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/671886/                                     1what did you do with your elder son today ?did you refuse to sign his notebookfor not topping the classdid you forget the everyday kiss slumped in your dusty offic.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/668938/ i am new to the card gamefor long,i have been the third cardwhich never joined the serial couple..lost in a sea of numbersand alien warriors,i am the joker in a game where no one got the numbers rightfrom the beginning to the end of time ....i cannot tell my yesternight &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/666481/ in the cot near the entrance,kuruvamma haggles with throat cancer,for a couple of months more..a sparrow at the mercy of the lashing rains she ..ponnamma rolls her doll eyesshe wants the doctor's nodfor the orange drink,her long time desiresince her liver broke downand threw up signals too conf.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/665858/ you say it is alright..i know no longer if you speak to expressor to hide...we had entered the garden of our friendship  twenty years ago  two years ago   two months agotwo days agotwo hours ago.. what does it matter anywayif you are transacting through&n.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/665690/ i am some years past my mother's hugwhen i roll around , feeling the rough threads of my bedspread and insomnia..my moustache has grown..i am five inches too tall..i look back at the four years of uncertain relationshipwith the most beautiful woman of my life..at our ragged palms bleeding .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/663587/ a mangy street doglost its way into the damp recessesof an evening templeand cosily lay down near the altar..disturbed by this profane intrusion,devout worshippersbegan a chase all over the corridor..the priest put down the sacred plate of penny offeringsand brought out a twig from his res.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/662995/ this is a short story written by my little brother cibe chakravarthy which i stumbled upon very accidentally.. he is towards the end of his engineering course the aftermath of which he announced he would spend as a writer traveling the world , a news everyone in our family received with the biggest .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/658055/        we go playacting     again    in a stage where all the men and women are already actorsour act is an act within an actour dialogues are anticipated but not rehearsedour gestures follow the rulesbut carry a mysterious symbol.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/657122/ now it is not far off..i have come closer..this road my legs walk uponin the next left turnlike the river that carries a boat into the sea with  motherly lovewill drop me at the doors of my home yesterdaymy house was closerto the fingers of my dreams that travelled.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/656597/ we are faceless..our drivers wear black masks..a noose dances in front of our eyes..eerie and hallucinating..our time is a strange one, my friend...it is a gambler ...our laments fall aside in the saloons of this citywith locks of dead hair..our genitals too fall offuncared for.....when we have.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/656050/ 1 millionyears ago , a man appeared out of lake turkana in kenya he had buried his twelve year old son in its bank,he had a sloping forehead , half the brain of a modern humanand no chin..he ventured out of africa .and his sons and grandsons copulated withthe chinless women of middle east and e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/652658/  Tears of herlove  stream like a river On which hebuilds his bridgeWith wordsthat cared..Yesterday,Her womb wastrespassed..Shattered byMalevolent organsof power..And chauvinism…His sky wasnow getting white washed …Sensin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/651797/ An aluminumplate she carries, darkness brimming over its worn edges inThe streetsof this city Winding asthe  vines  of a ridge gourd in a forlorn steel fence..He pushesher into a dilapidated altar And follows,lustful and cruel..In that latenight ,When sh.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/651609/ harikrishna is a still unrecognised tamil poet who was both instrumental and inspirational in my formative years. this is my first attempt in translating his work, though too delayeed....this is a translation of  harikrishna's  thoduvaanam...i hope if my translation evokes half the feeling.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/651145/  i am standing at this place where you now see methere are many roads to this one.. did it ever occur to you, that i may not have taken the same road you think i would have http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/650656/ sweet angel somewhere..my immortal beloved..i have not thought much of you these days..perhaps you left behind some of your rain clouds that trail you like a disappointed balloon vendor..i am down with fevershivering like an abandoned squirrelbeneath two blankets made of fur...this winter is cr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/649713/ he is hitting the right keys..subtly echoing off my walls..and i go into a reverie,as daylight crawls  over meafter days of incessant rain..a lover's stealthy tiptoesafter the husband has been gone..what am i now?man or woman?do i have a gender?does it matter..now..when all i want is to be kiss.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/644938/ you say you exist , friend..but , you have to be acknowledged that you do..you should have a number,addressor someone who vouches for you.even if it is the jailer of your prison this world, my friend revolves around the acknowledgers..their nods..their approvals.. only those people&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/642992/ a single piano key reverberates with a vehemencebeethoven nods his head in deaf approval,his fingers feeling like the belly of a lizard the vibration in the cold steel desk... the world is coming to a close.. the streets are full of us.. there is nothing that is not us.. fir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/641356/ now we were at the counterto price our soaps and hair oil..the wild child with her trolleyof chocolate boxesand pink teddy bear dollshustled with her sullen motherputting in a new pencil box..the  orange t shirt counter manlooked at usthrough eyes that have been through..he lifted the bear by i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/641229/ my mate is looking for soaps and hair oil he bargains for every penny his brain doesnt cease..  i stumble around sharing vacant stares with smooth mannequins windowshopping as i have in  my life watching from afar...hands in jean pockets.. hands off... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/vivekanand/640826/