Tuesday, May 31, 2016

The Skyscraper

I am a fat, tall building.
They call me skyscraper.
May be because the sky rests on my terrace.
I see all from here.

On both my sides are the two ambitious buildings
Climbing on their floors to match me.
They bear so many lives,so many windows
All identical, all peeping into each other.

A bridge runs at angles to me
Beneath the bridge, runs an old murky river.
The river stinks all the time.
Nevertheless it always flows.

Along its bank runs a snaky road
Emulating the bank.
It teems with vehicles and noise
Breathing the smoky air.

A little further across the road, where settles the dust
Many shanties have found their homes.
The people in these look at me with disgust;
They look up at me till their necks break.
Then they look down and spit.
I fear them.
I fear if someday a stone is hurled at me.

Just beside the colony of shanties
A common toilet is always busy.
Beside that a fat concrete drainage pipe
Carries the dark water and spits in the river.

Up here from the top
I see an abandoned banner frame
Through that rusty frame I see at distance
The trees are waving among themselves.
Those are green, I guess.
Farther I see another of my siblings as I see them around.

I think the owners have finally made their mind.
They are firm.
They'll soon start the work.
I'll again tell you what I see from another two floors higher.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

The Recrudescence

I write this like always
with the dried cotton boll
sitting under a lone mango tree,
braving the cruel summer's roll.

You always need to be called, don't you?
What happened the previous year?
You didn't come to see me;
nor did you bother to care for the children,
not even for the ones expecting you.

Also the other year when you played foul,
the Bt lost its cool
and drank up all the waters from our soils.
You know all, don't you?
Yet you don't budge.

Remember the days your songs flooded me
and the days you deserted me.
You've become so hard to guess,
yet when you appear you fill us with the virgin scent of our soils.

When you are not around though,
I keep you in my eyes,
sometimes flowing from them
and the other times drying them up.

Come out of our eyes, O rain, stamp your presence;
our eyes are all looking for your recrudescence.

Monday, December 30, 2013

An Adjuration

You come from the mountains
Prancing and flaunting, sparing few.
With eyes closed and chin high
I shall await you.

You just twirl fingers in my hair
And I shall know you have come.
Then you hold me as we shall stare
And kiss the tune that lips shall hum.

You grip me in a tender embrace
And amorously flood me with you,
As I shall fill you more in me
And breathe with you.

Come soonest, O dear wind, gently
With your moist chill to play over me.

Sunday, December 01, 2013

One Small Latch

On that cold winter night
They slept sound with blanket and shawl
With no any reason for fright,
Knowing little the night would change all.

The winds blew cold and dry
And night held the silence dark.
Yet the dacoits entered the villa with an easy try
Hushing up the labrador before it even barked.

Daughter and mother were woken by a fray
Only to note what was being stolen
And to watch all being carried away
Calmly and peacefully at just a point of gun.

Gulped a bandit the fire rampant
Burning his conscience, compassion and fears.
The blaze spread further violent
That'd be quenched only by the daughter's tears.

The brigands dragged her to a room
Leaving mother in shock and fright.
They were trampling a flower yet to bloom
And were sabotaging a figure slight.

They savagely hit her, bit her, gagged her
And on her their lechery was descending.
They pushed her, pulled her, strangled her,
Fouled her as if to mar a pleasing painting.

Mother out gathered all the shattered emotions
And rushed to the latched door.
She knocked, thumped, hammered
And tried to ram the door.
Then for pity did she plead
But all in vain for the mother poor.

Mother unified all courage, ire and grit
Though she was none their match.
She wanted to squelch them under feet,
But alas! all was locked by one small latch.

Wednesday, October 02, 2013

The Gale

Neither the waters rippled
Nor the earth thumped.
None saw it coming from horizon,
None heard its drums.

Vehemently the storm does hit
And raises the waters high
To gobble up all gloomy and lit,
Alive and dead, truth and lie. 

After the strike passes away
Snuffing out the watery flare,
More entangled the branches lay
And silent tumult fills the air.

All the gale is but in my mind
And out it is as calm as ever.

Wednesday, September 04, 2013

Porn Ramifies

Porn- A mere four lettered word, however small it may seem but it has calmly littered over almost whole of the world. The safe search of your browser may not although detect the word but it cannot be eliminated that easily from mind.
Like any other drug or opium porn too is highly addictive. Perhaps, it is more dangerous because you have to evade a well laid system to reach to drugs (which are evidently illegal in many countries across globe) as opposite to porn which is easily and conveniently available at a very short distance of only a click.
Porn, according to me, is a delusive quagmire. A quagmire which pulls person in and the person goes on submitting without resistance. And gradually it gobbles in many like. What and whom would they resist? Themselves? Or a thing that pleases them? It is pretty hard to be aware that they are sinking in a cataclysmic quagmire and by the time they realise, they are well below nose in it.
A very sophisticated and false picture is foxily portrayed. People begin thinking that the pornstars indulged are happy performing because that is what is shown and made to believe. When you’ll just search for your curiosity ‘making of porn’ or ‘behind the sets of porn’ or ‘backstage of porn’, you won’t find even a single complete real video or document. The truth behind the evil curtains of porn is purposefully kept hidden. Because when you’ll know it, as a natural human being, you’ll feel very ignominious for yourself and perhaps end up being anti-porn. It isn’t at all a fun or pleasure for the performers. As Shelley Lubben(former porn actress) puts in The Truth Behind Fantasy Of Porn, ‘They want you to think we enjoy being degraded by all kinds of repulsive acts’, ‘The truth is there is no fantasy in porn. It's all a lie. A closer look into the scenes of a porn star's life will show you a movie that the porn industry doesn't want you to see. The real truth is we porn actresses want to end the shame and trauma of our lives but we can't do it alone.’
Porn makes you change perspective in a rather rotting sense. It makes you look towards sex as a mechanical process. Unknowingly the fetishes develop in you and you become more demanding. You try to correlate things between your life and porn and then the thin line between actual life and the life in screens vanishes. And this is that very moment when you submit yourself to porn.
Presently, so vast is spread the web of porn that it has become complex, next to impossible to completely root out porn. But one thing can always surely be done. It can willfully be washed off from our brains though difficult it may seem but it isn’t at all impossible. Shelley Lubben in the same The Truth Behind Fantasy Of Porn writes, ‘We want you throw out our movies and help piece together the shattered fragments of our lives. We need you to pray for us so God will hear and repair our ruined lives.’ It can’t be done instantaneously. It has to be done slowly, gradually. But it needs to begin.  

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

An Unstable Mind

Just a moment ago it was far there
And now, well, it's in the poem here.
It tramped with Tagore for a moment
And now with the onus of Donne is it bent.

Just now it was bathing in the sun,
Then it strolled on mountains at horizon
Where from it dived in river and swimming,
It's back here at window, peeping.

Just a while ago counting stars was  blithe
And now it's slept caring none for sheath.
Ah! it was in dreams of fame,
How then does it wake so lame?

Sometimes it does want relation
And at other it prefers isolation.
Sometimes evil it hosts
And at other the benevolence it boasts.

A moment ago it was gripped by fears
And now look what courage it bears.
Just a while ago did it seem to think
And now it does in vacuum sink.

Then it backed Marx with support grand
And now behind Locke it does stand.
Then it rode on the eagle in sky
And now it flies the dove high.

At a moment it does hound
And at the other it finds around.
But alas, it only appears to have been found,
For to so clusters is it bound.

Just a moment ago it held the reins firmly
And now it is set loose and free.
How can  such unstable mind so simply
Yearn Nirvana, enlightenment and epiphany?

Sound and stable should mind be,
For it wanders even under the Bodhi.