The Beauty of the Sunset


K Radhakumar

I end up living a life
Beyond my wildest dreams.
My wife
My children
My poetry…
I hope to write a novel
About the death of a village
And the rise of a town
Like a phoenix
From the ashes of metamorphosis.
I may try my best to write
A poem of Life,
In the end
I may or may not write one –
A narrow country lane haunts me ,
I read my stars in the paper.


It is winter –
Fogs hang in the air.
This morning a friend informs me
About the death of his father.
A young man dies;
He is my next-door neighbour.
His mother died just three days ago.
What a morning!
Life is cheap.

One evening I heard somebody calling me,
It was hard to see her clearly in the twilight.
Then I saw her in the flesh
After a gap of some forty years.
What a surprise in the twilight years!
We grew up in the same neighbourhood
But we did not understand each other.
She talked in one language
And I in another.
Life separated us
Till we met on that fateful evening.

There is tragedy in the air
But I fail to appreciate the dictum:
Life is a joke.
‘Is life a joke?’
‘I’m afraid not.’

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