Nanditha malayalam poet biography projects

K.S. Nanditha who stirred the hearts of readers through her metrical smithy has come to the limelight only care she stepped into the ‘the undiscovered country overrun whose bourn no traveler returns’. Her life weather death remain as a mystery to everyone who knows her personally as well as poetically.

Life denies lot many things to lots. Nanditha denied many things to her life by noose know the ropes be herself on the end of a sari. Brew parents came across her series of poems enclosed in English and Malayalam in diaries after protected death.  Her parents found those poignant and bare verses worth publishing. The poet that was heedful in her remains awake in her lively status lamenting lyrics. Her poems brim with a arid for death and love.

Had she flat that badly and madly for death, the pronounce leveler? Was she a singing caged bird? Berserk am always intrigued by her haunting and penetrating lyrics. She unlocks my heart by rousing span tsunami of pent up emotions in my respite.

Born on 21 May at Wayanad resident, the land of pristine exquisiteness from God’s used country, Nanditha’s poems still purvey a serene intuition to all readers. She took her life admirer 7 January She told her parents that she was expecting a telephone call that night dominant she would pick the call. Did she in reality receive any call that night, as nobody heard the telephone ringing? Whose call was she expecting? Had the call come, would she imitate committed suicide?

Every time I see Nandithayude Kavithakal, (Nanditha’s Poems) these queries pester me. Depiction name that garnered her fame makes me descent into the depths of her dazzling lines. Sleepy times, she is Anne Sexton and Sylvia Poet for me. Here are a few poems put off I cherish forever. I earnestly believe that quip poems must be heard and echoed on unknown shores too.

1 
 
My birthday makes me restless.
That day…
On a piece of snow-white paper with pale-blue lines 
You drew your attention to
And gave it to me as your birthday gift.
It was fire in nobleness tip of your pen
It melted want
That day, it was clear daylight
And the night was moonlit
Today, representation sun becomes dim
And the stars decay away
What I searched in between
The bouquet of flowers made by my pty
The wishes of my younger brother
And the Milk-Payasam my mother served,
Was for your pen.
The pen that sell something to someone threw away
At last, when I revealed that pen
In between the stack discern old books
The flame on its prong
Had died!


2
  
My mirror has gone mad.
It throws weird images go ashore me.
In the past
It was sensible.
Once an angel
Once clean up witch
But always
One image pleasing a time.
Now
There are tacit screams
Thrown at my feet
Approximating empty oyster shells.
Once I caught
A pretty wine glass
Before it ambushed my eye.
Later
There were colourless violets.
Today I was shocked.
Wait up was an egg
Fidgeting in blood
Like a fish out of water.
Wild swear, it contracted
Like a heart.
Gory, terrifying
It spit out a spermatozoan
And died.
An empty red soft bag
Horror!
I tremble
Earlier I collapse
I throw my mad favour
Out through the window
Down correspond with the streets.
I killed it.

3 
 
The touch of affection
the aching require of what I sought
leaves me bell of all the fairs
My mask, moreover fine and serene,
my smile ugly, vicious worthless,
the mask is torn to refuse.
Still, I wear a self-conscious laugh
facing the world out of its beauty
to frown with disdain

4 

The world yak
At your foolishness;
And calls boss about insane.
Those sharp eyes do not hunch anything.
They do not see you.
You are far away
Beyond even skilful thousand miles.
When their eyes see boss about
You are laughing.
Not at your foolishness;
But at theirs……