നെയ്ത്തുകാരന്‍

പതിപക മോഹന്‍

കരങ്ങളവന്‍
ചലിപ്പിച്ചാല്‍
ആകാശമാകെ
അഴകുള്ള തുണിയാകും.
മടിത്തട്ടിലൊരു
വര്‍ണ്ണപ്പറവ
ഇറങ്ങിയതുപോലാകും.

തറിയോടൊത്തിരുന്ന്
ടക് ടക് ഒച്ചയാലവന്‍ നെയ്താല്‍
ഊടും പാവും കലര്‍ന്ന്
പഞ്ചവര്‍ണ്ണ തത്തകളാകും.
വെട്ടിത്തിളങ്ങുന്ന
ചായുപൂശിയ
നൂല്‍ച്ചുരുളുകള്‍ കലമ്പും.

മിന്നും ഗില്‍റ്റുനൂലുകളാലവന്‍
നെയ്യുമ്പോള്‍
നൂലുകള്‍
വര്‍ണ്ണമേഘങ്ങളായിളകും.
വീട്ടകത്ത് റാട്ടൊരു
മഴവില്ലായിമാറും.

ഊടും പാവും
അവന്‍ ചേര്‍ത്താല്‍
ആകാശം ചേലുള്ളപുടവയാകും.
തീപ്പെട്ടിക്കൂട്ടിലെ
കിളിക്കുഞ്ഞനെപ്പോല്‍
കിടന്നുപുളയും.
പഞ്ഞിമേഘങ്ങള്‍
മുന്തിരിപ്പൂക്കളായ്
ചുറ്റിപ്പടരും.
ചാരുതയോലുമാടയായ്
വര്‍ണ്ണപ്പറവപോല്‍ പാറും.

മഴവില്ലുപോലത്
മറയുമ്പോള്‍
ഒരുരുളച്ചോറല്ല
കത്തും വിശപ്പാകും
നെയ്ത്തുകാരന്‍
അഭിമുഖീകരിക്കുക.

ശാസംപിടിച്ചവന്‍
നെയ്ത വസ്ത്രം
അറിയാതവന്‍റെ
ശവക്കച്ചയായ് മാറുന്നു.
ചതിക്കപ്പെടുകയാണ്
അവനോരോ നിമിഷവും.

(മൊഴിമാറ്റം എം ആര്‍ രേണുകുമാര്‍)

నేతగాడు

వాడు
చేతుల్ని కదిపితేచాలు
ఆకాశం ఆకాశమే
అందమైన వస్త్రమౌతుంది
రంగురంగుల సీతాకోక చిలుకై
ఒళ్ళో వాలుతుంది

వాడు
మగ్గం గుంతలో కూసొని
టక.. టక..నేస్తుంటే
ఏకమైన "పడుగు -పేకలు"
పంచరంగుల రామచిలుకలై
తళుక్కున మెరుస్తాయి

'కండై'కదులుతూ
రంగై పులుముకుని
జరీ తీగెల కెంపై వాడు అల్లుకుపోతుంటే
చిత్రవర్ణాల ఇంద్రధనుస్సు
ఇంట్లో రంగురంగూల రాట్నమవుద్ది.మేఘవర్ణాల దారమై"పోసుకుంటుంది"
వాడు సరిజేసి
"అచ్చులతికి"నేత నేస్తే చాలూ
ఆకాశమే అందమైన చీరై
"గువ్వ పిల్లోలె"అగ్గిపెట్టె"గూటిలో ఒదిగిపోతుంది
మెరుస్తున్న మేఘాలన్నీ
పూలతీగలై అల్లుకుపోతాయి.

అందమైన వస్త్రమై నిలిచి
రంగురంగుల సీతాకోక చిలుకై ఎగిరి...
సప్త వర్ణాల ఇంధ్ర ధనుస్సై కదిలిన వాడు
నేసిన నేత బుక్కెడు బువ్వ పెట్టక పోగా
ఆకలికి ఎన్‌కౌంటరౌతాడు-
తాను ఊపిరిని బిగబట్టి నేసిన గుడ్డ
తన కఫనని తెలియక

ప్రతిక్షణం మోస పోతూనే ఉంటాడు

The weaver 

If he moves his hands
Entire sky
Turns into a beautiful cloth
As a colorful butterfly
Perches in the lap
If he sits in the ditch of loom and weaves with the sound tak tak
United length and breadth
Become the five colored parrots
Glisten brightly
Moving as a roll of thread
Smearing as dye
Like the ruby of silk wires when he
Goes on weaving
Colored rainbow became a spinning wheel in the home
As a thread of cloud dye it winds
If he adjusts
Prints designs and weaves
The sky will be the beautiful sari
Huddles as a young bird
In a match box nest
Lighted clouds
Entwine as flower vines
Standing as a graceful cloth
Fly like a multicolored butterfly …..
When it moves as a seven coloured rainbow
The weaver instead of getting a fistful of food
Will be encountered by hunger
Without any knowledge of
The cloth weaved by him holding his breath
Turns into his shroud
He is deceived every minute