POET PROFILE: MINI S MENON

Biography: 

Mini is a writer and English language trainer based in Kochi, Kerala. She writes poetry and fiction in addition to features on travel and education. She has been published by Grey Oaks and RIC Journal, and her texts have twice been part of Seagull Books’ annual catalogues. She has a blog where she sometimes thinks aloud the thoughts that cross her mind. Mini’s writing has its roots in her own experiences as well as those of others she has met and interacted within the course of her life in India and the UAE.

Mini has worked as a freelance journalist for leading publications in the UAE, where she lived for fourteen years. During the period, she also worked as an external consultant with major PR companies, providing written content for both government and private sector clients. 

Having worked for a number of years as an English teacher with one of the oldest schools in the UAE, Mini was closely involved with the region’s academic scene even after she stopped active teaching. 

Since moving back to Kochi in 2019, Mini has conducted communication workshops for aspiring professionals and is visiting faculty at Mathrubhumi Media School, Kochi. In the pre-pandemic days, she used to volunteer at a local government school teaching communicative English to middle school students. 

An only child to her parents, Mini was born and brought up in the suburbs of Palakkad in Kerala. Her early life had been a fragmented one, and she turned to books as a way of coping with the constant changes over which she had no control. This instilled in her a lasting love for the written word. 

Mini left Palakkad as a fresh graduate and went to Bombay in search of a job to support her family. In the decades that followed, she worked in several capacities across cities and states in southern India. 

Mini has been married to Shiva Kumar Thekkepat, a UAE-based journalist, for 28 years. The couple has two sons, Aniruddh and Aditya. 

Mini S Menon


Poems:


Tangled by Yamini Mohan

Tangled (Featured poem)


a body on the edge still

cell wary of cell

jaws clenched

mouth closed

over words and weary yawns 

memories gathered

in grey circles 

around fading

pin-points of light 

a forehead

finely etched

with the demands

of past

old dreams

in a frizzy halo 

a torso sagging  

beneath the weight

of lives 

lived unlived

almostlived

limbs falling

over themselves

panting

screaming for air

desires

once carefully stored 

in airtight ceramic jars

now congealing

at the back of the calves

fault lines

appearing out of nowhere

widening

on the landscape of 

fingertips

:

a lifetime ago

some tectonic plates shifted

and

the body has memory



Ennui

 

burning itself down

a troubled sunset sky

smouldering in purple embers

 

twilight waiting on the wings

breathless, eyelids twitching

with unuttered words

 

balanced on glistening wings

a wearied water bird

still on her vigil

 

scattered by gathering darkness

the shrill voices

of restless children

 

frying to a golden brown 

thin, evenly sliced pieces

of attempted motherhood

:

i wipe off

on the kitchen mat

the remains of another day



Fragments

 

1.


silences that lengthen

like evening shadows

 

slivers of past conversations

crunching under the feet

 

furtive words lurking

waiting to draw blood

 

desolate

this landscape

 

2.


waiting

for the night

to pass

the dawn

gently gathers

shard by tiny shard

the brittle shadows

of forgotten dreams

 

meanwhile

 

another thin blue silence 

falls on the floor

and shatters

 

 

 

3.


heady the fragrance 

of leaves crushed 

by loving fingertips

 

tender

tender this death

 

4.


noontime thoughts

browning at the edges

 

words in hooker’s green

undulating out of reach

 

fluttering past on fragile wings

some pale yellow memories

 

its summer still

outside in 

 

5.


the colour of life muted

the whisper of dreams

dying inside glazed eyes

bright blue feathers

fluttering in the wind

 

ghosts

of what once was



Lockdown: The Honeymoon


Under the feeble patio lamp,

A ginger cat gives birth.

A distressed twenty-year-old

Strokes her back.

"Its twins," he calls out,

His voice the colour of relief.

:

Note: For better or for worse, another cycle of life has begun.

:

Across the corridor 

My neighbour's 56tv clears its throat: 

Friends, indians, countrymen

Lend me your ears.

I come to praise doctors

Not to bury you…"

:

Note: Hands clap, plates bang, and theres frenzy on the streets.

:

Panic travels at the speed of light

And detonates in urban slums.

Hunger, fear and black despair

Homeward bound on streets.

Elsewhere, death whistles past

Exhausted bodies asleep on tracks.

:

Note: 'Extreme anguish’ has been expressed over the incident.

:

Worn down feet and empty stomachs

Wait on their haunches by the road

For hazmat suits to arrive in vans

With hosepipes full of disinfectants.

Turn your back and close your eyes

Its all for the greater good!

:

Note: ‘Forgiveness from the poor of Indiahas been sought.

:

‘Crimes against Women Spike During Lockdown’

April-May 2020 - some relevant numbers:

716 (molestation)

176 (cruelty against women)

215 (cyber crimes against women)

120 (murder attempts on women)

:

Note: Stop reading the newspaper.

:

All you need are walking shoes,

And yoga pants, if you have.

A towel, perhaps, and a water bottle.

"Now, straighten your shoulders, 

Tuck your tummy in!

See how easy it is to walk a fast mile?"

:

Note: Keeping physically fit is important in these difficult times. 

:

Why not plant some vegetables here?

And pots of herbs by the steps?

Glass bowls in macramé hangers,

A wind chime or two.

Some concrete stepping stones,

And guppies in the pond. 

:

Note: Social distancing is mandatory for self-preservation. Leave a gap of at least 6 feet between yourself and what’s happening to those outside your family.



The Great Indian Tragedy

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No one was raped.



Mini S Menon is paired with Yamini Mohan, visit Yamini to see more of her works.


Poet Statement:

Unprecedented. Challenging. Troubled. Testing. Excruciating.

We are soon going to run out of adjectives to describe the times we are living in. The tidal wave of the pandemic has brought with it unimaginable devastation. In India alone, millions have been rendered homeless, the economy has hit an all-time low, and unemployment has quadrupled. Migrant deaths have become old news, the tragedies of a valley and its people have been erased from our collective memory, and Shaheen Bagh has been done and dusted. The virus has seen to all that.

As death toll rises, so does fear, anxiety and depression. This long period of forced isolation has taken many to the edge of the abyss. Suicides are on the rise, and so are crimes against women.

At a personal level, I feel that keeping oneself alive and sane has become a job in itself. Every morning, I wake up to another day of bleakness and confusion, which makes the struggle to stay afloat complex, multi-layered and very real.

Even that, I know, is a privilege denied to many.

Writing, they say, is therapeutic. But for the past months, writing had mostly been just a physical act - of typing, deleting, rewriting and deleting it again. A job I did in between other jobs like cooking, cleaning or getting provisions for the house. I did it like I did weeding, or mixing concrete to fix a crack on the wall.

I honestly thought that words had abandoned me.

‘Ignite’ has given me the impetus to write from the heart again. I’m grateful for having got this opportunity to work with Yamini. The fluid yet striking lines and the undeniable earthiness of her sketches have struck a deep chord with me, urging me to place word upon word, and then arranging and rearranging them until they managed to say what I wanted them to.

The poems I’ve shared are vignettes of life as I’m living it. 


You can reach Mini S Menon at:

Blog: Shoes 'n Ships


Art & Poem
Vision & Concept by Deepa Gopal
Video by Anoushka Sunil
Intro clip and thumbnail- Vibhin P C



Introduction 
Video edit by Anoushka Sunil

Intro clip and thumbnail- Vibhin P C


CURATOR'S TIDBITS:

The first thing I remember about Mini S Menon is their team organizing the incredible KG Subramanyan exhibition – Sketches, Scribbles and Drawings – at the Indian Ambassador’s residence in Dubai and Abu Dhabi and being mesmerized by it! I read her blog, Shoes ‘n Ships, whenever I get time and her writing has struck the right chords at the right time several times! I sometimes ask for book recommendations from her as she follows Seagull publishers (they have Awesome books!) and has written catalogues for them. She’s fiercely political and stands for what she thinks is right and I like that about her – a stance of her own! Though I have been following the works of Yamini for the last two years, I got to know her personally only a couple of months back. A charming and soft-spoken person, gorgeous model, whose works in charcoal has often left me wondering along her dark and deepened strokes. Like Mini whose format if quite experimental, Yamini too is experimental and her recent collage additions has made her works even more distinctive.


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