Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Ignorant Knowledge

An opaque column of hazy mist,
Blurry vision bathing in
Tears of Nature—
Rattling on the illiterate thatched roofs,
Behind that prestigious arena of knowledge.
Yet there is fire, and there is light,
In those illiterate chulhas.

Then, another opaque column rises...
A mystic curtain—
Shady, smudgy, smoggy smoke;
Like an open mouth of that eternal dragon,
Comes, shrouds and swallows all,
In one gulp.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

A Confession

The breeze was swishing through
Her soft silky tresses.
Seeping into and out of
Her body, soul and spirit.
And she stared blankly—
Out of the cheap and noisy,
Green and yellow matchbox
Of a vehicle, into the busy muddy
jam-packed black river of the land.
She kept staring,
Steady and blank.

“I can’t see you anymore” he had blurted
Over one heated phone call;
“I’ve had enough”, he had declared.
“I have told you and explained to you
And tried everything else, but you
Won’t understand. So I’ve just had it.”
And he had disconnected.
Severing all the words, the promises,
The memories— in one stony click.
And all she could do was
Keep staring blankly.

That was eight months ago.
Now she had moved on.
She had learned to laugh—
However much it pierced her.
She had learned to smile
For her family,
For her friends,
For herself.
She had wiped off those memories,
Like she had wiped off those tears.
She had clenched her fists and jaws and teeth,
And moved on.

And then comes today.
She saw him,
Buying movie-tickets,
With his new found love.
And she stared at him—
Blank and steady,
Steady and blank.
He saw her as well, but
O! Wasn’t he smarter!
He just looked through her—
Such a windy glance!
Right through her
Body, soul and spirit!
And he moved on, a possessive arm
Wrapped around his.

It was all a flurry of blurry—
A misty lump of dump...
All she remembered was
Her straight stare— steady and blank.
And she was now buzzing through
The busy muddy jam-packed
Black river of the land.

She had not said a word even then,
She had not said a word even now,
And yet she knew,
That she had made a confession,
Through her steady, blank stare.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Gasping For Breath

A young pair of feet—
In quick succession,
Hurling forward in
An intolerable inertia, infinite.
Sweat trickling through
The bleeding flesh,
Smarting saltiness prickling into
The pangs of pining pain.
And yet the two feet ran—
Tired, tortured, tormented,
A young pair of feet...
Forgotten why it had started running
But ignoring it desperately!
Throbbing veins everywhere,
Dying to burst,
Throbbing pain everywhere,
Blurry vision looking lost.
Scalding muscles, dragging along,
Almost dead;
Parched tongue dehydrated
And gasping for breath.
Yes, gasping for breath.
Not a minute to pause a bit,
Not a moment to rest—
It has to win and of course be
Better than the best!
And when you thought it was only one,
You take a look around;
Thousand more pairs of young feet—
No, perhaps a Million!
All running blindly towards it,
It—no one knows what,
And yet the young feet keeps on running,

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

A Romantic Evening

It’s a monsoon evening.
The sky is a mirror...
the ruddy sunset,
in tune with the ruddy earth.
Violent violet clouds
cluster in a solemn conference,
gathering darkly,
like mercenaries in a conspiracy.
The lasts of the outstretched rays fold in,
wrapping up the bright sunny hope
under the grim blanket of darkness.
And then comes the rains!
Tiny trinkets of transparency,
Tip-toeing all the way from above,
whispering secrets.
A busy crossroads in south Kolkata...
Umbrellas mushroom up;
one... two... three... ten!
I scurry to the nearby shanty
along with unknown faces,
some compelled company caught in nature’s fury.
“Damn!” I snort, ruffling my hair,
glittery with the dewy drops.
I look around to see some similar frowns
wiping irritating trickles from hair and brows.
And then I hear something which makes my head turn.
One girl, one boy, one umbrella.
Snuggled close, walking together,
whispering, giggling...
lost in their own sweet world.
But my grotesque eyes go to
the boy’s muddy jeans,
then to the girl’s bleeding kohl.
“Poor fools!” I smirk inwardly.

And suddenly I stiffen.
Wasn’t that supposed to be romantic?

Monday, August 9, 2010


I wake up from my drooling slumber,
into a bright sunny morn
I sit up, look around and stretch my arms,
And whine like a drooling newborn.
From under my wrung-worn pillow,
I fish for my cell phone,
I look at it, staring into disbelief-
No missed call, no message-
Absolutely No One!
I frown in disappointment,
I make a childish pout,
I had not expected this,
“Aaaarghh...” I shout!
Feeling lonely and unloved
I clamber down my bed.
Tiredly I look at the mirror,
And meet two big glossy eyes instead!
I start- I gasp- I gape,
As I stare numbly into my sense of vision;
With hesitant steps I totter closer,
And suddenly the magic is done!
I blink and bat my eyelids,
As I feel the gentle wetness overflow,
Slithering its way on its fleshly contour-
Into the salty absolute down it pours.
And suddenly I stumble over a realisation-
Why do I consider myself lonely?
Why this sadness? Why am I crying?
When the best companion stands before me?
A smile is thus born within my lips,
And spreads its glow smoothly,
Gently illuminating my face, my heart, and soul,
My best lover smiles back at me!

Sunday, August 8, 2010

My Story

It’s another Sunday...
Another week has come to an end,
Blending into a new one
With a discreet plunge.
The skies, the clouds, the winds—
All whirl about with a festive frenzy,
I walk with inquisitive eyes,
Looking at the hum of the humdrum
That lay before me.
I see Youth spread around,
In lazy languid leisure—
But with hot chai and hotter discussions;
I see Glamour turn into Revolutionaries
And Deities atomised to Reason.
My black eyes follow the black terrier,
Who follows a yellow frocked little being,
Who follows a pale printed piece of news,
As her governess runs behind her,
And her magenta-clad mother
Continues her incessant chatting.
I hear a heavy voice,
A solemn lyrical one--
And I strain my neck to see
A group of grey haired elders
Listening to a bearded gentleman,
As he reads out from a heavy book,
Casting a spell of hypnosis.
And suddenly I feel a sharp jerk.
I spasm out of my hypnosis,
And look at the face above.
The piercing eyes are sharper than arrows,
The pretentious smile uglier than of sorrow.
“Sit here, and try to look innocent.
And don’t forget what you have been trained.
Let’s see if someone takes you today,
Let’s see if you can bring in the pay.”
I look at him and lower my eyes,
And sit on the stony stairs,
I look at him and keep looking,
As he recedes in a distance.
I sit, I stare, and I sigh,
As I think memory comes gushing back.
I lost my mother, I lost my father,
When they sold me for two thousand.
Bloody two thousand.
They were poor, yes, but I was beautiful—
And thus they parted with their only wealth,
For those bloody two thousand.
And since then every Sunday
I come here.
Today I sit and wait for another vulture,
Swooping down to tear me to pieces.
But still I look at Youth,
The yellow frocked little being,
The grey haired gentlemen...
And I smile.
‘Cause I can look at the sky, the clouds, the wind—
And someday, I will be celebrating.
When I write my real story,