SPRING OF LOVE

Too steely is his body
that it is not possible
to extricate oneself from his
iron-grip.
Too rough and fierce
his face
that frightening is his
appearance.
Too sharp are his eyes
that one can’t stand
his blinding looks.
Too furious he is
that one can’t even mull
engaging in a duel with him
but
too tender is his character
that one fails often
to measure the intensity
of his boundless love.
Too sad it is that
all go wrong in judging
him.
Too patient we must be for
the spring of love to gush
forth from the depth of hard rocks.

COLLAGE OF DREAMS

This conch-shell is
a gift to
me by mother
which is a store-house
of dreams, imaginations
emotions and musical
waves of the seas.
I often sit with it
glued to my ears
listening to the emotional
flows, the whisperings
of stars
the soliloquy of a
lonely moon
the musical waves of
the seas
and the collage
of dreams.
Sometimes I blow the
conch-shell
and let out the dreams
imaginations, emotions
and musical waves.
The more I blow
and let out
the more come inside.
The amount of joy
and delight
I am at a loss
to describe.
Let me sleep with the
conch-shell close to
my ears and pass
through beautiful dreams
emotional flows
whispering of stars and the soliloquy
of lonely moon.

WEB OF DEATH

Inside the dark, dinghy
room of the thatched house
with mud walls
the skeletal frame
is lying on a ragged mat
on the floor
struggling hard to
breath, writhes in gnawing pain
coughing out sputum
and phlegm in a
clay-pot kept beside
his head.
The stench of death
pervades the surroundings
the bird of life
flutters impatiently inside the
frame for an early escape
all a matter of hours
or minutes.
He with nobody beside him
fights for his life single-handedly
knowing in his heart of
hearts that an orphan
is always an orphan
caught in the web of death.
The spider of death
could approach him any
time soon.

MARINE DRIVE

Mother sea is calm and quiet
in the morning.
Her cool embrace elevates
me to a level of sublimity.
The morning visitors
only a few
some morning walkers
they are in ones, two or groups
others take rest in the
concrete chairs watching
the infinity.
As time ticks away
morning visitors desert the
marine drive one
by one
and the marine drive turns
almost alone.
Sitting in the 13th floor
of the office
I can watch a slice
of the sea
like the edge of a sharp sword
shining brightly
under the blazing sun.
With the time ticking
fast with the approach of
the evening,
Mother Sea turns impatient
and violent
the reason only she knows.
She darkens her face
she turns mad
visitors come in droves
waves and waves of anger
lash the shore angrily
like serpents beating their heads on the rocks.
The street lights bloom
vehicles hoot and toot
behind her down the
tarred road.
Islands of glow-worms
of light glimmer far away
giving the crowd of
evening visitors
visual treats
and under the night
sky
stars and moon perform
dancing shows on the baseline.

TWO EXTREMES

The house is cute, spacious and royal
always calm, serene and peaceful
set in the sylvan
surroundings of the village
situated on the river side
its both sides lined with
thick greenery
churches are there, temples are there,
mosques are there
the ambience harmonious
no clashes, no violence, no blood letting
unlike in the city
which is noisy, vibrant
and throbbing round the clock
while the village sleeps
city never sleeps
always agile, always alert
always on the wheels.
Like in the villages
temples are abundant
churches are numerous and
mosques are aplenty.
Unfortunately harmony misses
occasionally
communal clashes, violences
and blood-shed disturb the camaraderie
arrows of clashes
pierce the heart of the
city and force it
to bleed.
As a man who spent
both in village and city
I can’t hate both the
city or village
I like both, I love both
since I know both are
special in their own way
features, yes, different
that is natural.
Splashing streams, ponds
and lakes widespread in
the village
all give it an enchanting
appearance, a look of embellishment
while the city’s parks
gardens and beaches bestow
it with a look of megapolis.

PHASES OF EVOLUTION

Phase I
In my childhood
I was both a headache
and a pleasure to my parents
simultaneously.
I played pranks
not only on my
near and dear ones
but whoever I came into
contact with.
I cried a lot, cried
aloud to meet my needs
and I wrested them
from my parents forcibly.
I disrupted my parents’
sleep very often
in the night
sometimes I was showered
with sweet words
sometimes dad or mum
out of anger pinched
or thrashed me eventually
raising the volume of my cries.
Vibrant and energetic always I was.
I was not at all moody
if I were moody
that would have been
painful to them, painful to all.
My parents virtually celebrated
my varying moods ranging
from delight, antics
stubbornness and cries.
Phase II
In my teenage
I changed altogether
I made many friends
both boys and girls
with some girls I romanced
with
watched my changes daily
in the mirror.
The sprouting moustache
beard,
hairy growth in
my private parts
all enthralled me
and I tried to be as much romantic as
possible.

Phase III
In the youth
I evolved into an angry
youngman
revolted against the
establishment
violated conventions
lived the way I liked
cared no one
never hesitated to take
on anyone who dared
me
maturity was something
unfamiliar to me.
My youthful spirit
never lasted for a prolonged period
I bid bye to the youth
evolved into a matured man
an adult in the true
sense
acquired a new outlook
on life
had wife and
children.
Now I look forward to
all what lie forward.

THE SUNSET

In the sunset of his life
the old man watched
the auburn sun vanishing
from his sight
while sitting alone in
the balcony with a
deep sigh.
Each sunrise my birth
Each sunset my death
he reflected.
He loved sunsets more
than sunrises
and he was enchanted by
the sunsets.
Each day evening he watched
the auburn sun like a dying candle
burning, disappearing down the sea
felt pangs of pain in his heart.
One day
while sitting in the
balcony
with an agonizing heart
he watched the sun slowly
diving down
felt like jumping down
from the balcony
like the sun in the
sunset of his life.
He climbed on the
chair
and took a plunge
from the twenty first floor
and landed on the ground
with a heavy thud.

A DICTATOR’S PATHETIC END

The prolonged period of
darkness gone with the wind
with the pathetic end of
the ruthless dictator
who consecrated himself
the ‘King of Kings’
who called the nation
his personal fiefdom.
The ruthless dictator
mercilessly dragged out of
a drainage pipe
and shot at point blank
and hooked to a truck.
The truck speeded along
bruising him all the way
till he breathed his last
before thousands
who rejoiced, celebrated and went
euphoric.
But sir,
could we say everything
has gone along the right path
could we say the Sun
of democracy has shone
while the nation is in a
fluid state.
How long the euphoria last?
Any idea?
The dust of euphoria will have to settle down
one day for sure
the fluid situation won’t
continue, sure.
Someone will come forward
to take over the mantle,
sure
whether he too will have
a streak of a
dictatorial tendencies in his genes
no one thinks that far.
All are drowned in the
rejoicings and celebrations
over the end of the wretched
dictator for the time being.

LOVE-BIRDS AND VOYEURISTS

Love-birds are dime a dozen
in the city of Mumbai.
The more the love-birds
the more the voyeurists
like paparazzis are after
celebrities.
With the warm red sun
slowly sinking down
in the Western horizon
stars and moon take over
the charge
and along with them appear flocks
of love-birds and voyeurists
along the beaches and parks.
Love-birds choose convenient
places
straight away engage
in amorous activities
passions, need outlets, you
know,
what they are after is
gratification for the day.
They care not the voyeurists
who without any iota of
shame
watch the love-birds’ “games”
from different corners
with eagles’ eyes
and
with turbulence of
a sea under waists
the voyeurists along with
gratified flocks of
love-birds empty the
beaches and parks for
the day with sense
jealousies and loss.

GREEK TRAGEDY – SECOND PART

The 48th hour strike observed by employees belonging to various sectors like schools and colleges, public transports, hospitals, post offices, banks and government offices virtually paralysed Greece , the other day. It was the fifth 48 hour strike this year and second since June.
The reason : fresh wave of austerity measures in the making in Greek Parliament at the instance of the ‘troika’, European Union, International Monetary Bank and European Central Bank for releasing the next tranche of loan amounting to 8 billion Euros. Fresh wave of austerity measures like reduction of public sector salaries, pensions invited the wrath of Greek citizens who grouped under one umbrella and went on the rampage clashing with Greek police who used tear gas canisters and other rough measures to suppress the mass demonstrations and violence. Almost 125000 citizens participated in the demonstrations paralyzing the entire Greece and besides that 70000 citizens congregated at Syntagma (Parliament) square, while the Greek parliamentarians were in a hurry to enact the bill on imposing fresh austerity measures.
In spite of widespread protests, demonstrations and violence, Greek Parliament enacted law imposing further austerity measures at the bidding of European Union, International Monetary Fund and European Central Bank to reduce the public debt which is mounting leading the nation to the verge of bankruptcy.
The billion-dollar question however is with the entire citizens being squeezed how long Greek Prime Minister George Pappandreau can hold the wrath of the people.
Greek being entirely paralysed and even the garbage collection at a standstill for days whether a ‘Greek spring’ is on the anvil. Even while Germany and France are struggling to tide over their economic crisis, it is worthwhile to note that European recession is widespread among 27 of its members how long a dependant Greece could hold on under precarious circumstances. Take it for granted that Greek citizens will citizens won’t sit patiently tolerating belt tightening measures of Greek government. Greece will be in flames shortly with people remaining impatient over their predicament for a prolonged period. The Greek tragedy began from the very day Greece joined the European Union and a return to the past is not that easy.

TO THE TWINKLING LITTLE STARS

Come down, come down
little stars come down.
Let me touch you, let me kiss you
let me feel the brightness
of you, let me feel
the warmth of you.
Come down, come down
little stars come down
listen to my pleas
fulfill my dreams
let them materialize.
Come down, come down
little stars come down
I like you, I love you
I adore you twinkling
little stars.
Far away from you
I stand, helpless I stand,
I don’t have wings
to fly up and reach you.
Had I the wings, had I
developed the wings
I would have flown
to you, touched you, kissed you
felt the brightness of
you, felt the warmth of
you.
Comedown, come down
little stars, blow me kisses
and in your luminous
embraces and fulfill
my long cherished dreams.

FLOWERS OF MEMORIES

The flowers of my memories
are pretty like you.
The flowers of my memories
are fragrant like you .
The flowers of my memories
are incarnations of you.
The flowers of my memories
easily fade away like you .
Wish you and flowers of
my memories were
ever pretty, ever fragrant
never fading incarnations
as long as both of
us are alive.

EMERGENCY DAYS

Emergency dropped
like a bombshell
to the horror of
citizens across the
nation.
The dark clouds of
emergency obstructed
the appearance of the
sun of freedom
and a pall of
gloom descended over the nation.
Voices of dissent stifled,
freedom of speech
expression and movement
curtailed.
Those who revolted against
the dictatorship
suppressed, killed or maimed
and thousands incarcerated
for indefinite period.
The stench of corruption
spread across the
country and the dictator with
an iron fist ruled
the roost.
Sparks of revolution
made magical appearances
around the nation
pamphlets of exhortation
to revolt against the
ruthless rulers
distributed by youth
in hiding
to the shock of the
ruling mandarins.
Air of revolution hung in
the air like the wall of
Democles
and it was only a
question of time.

LENDER AND BORROWER

I am the Sun
and
you the Moon
I am the star
and you the planet
I am the lender
and you the borrower
I siphon funds to you
in return for nothing
I am the universal banker
and you the universal borrower
I am self-sufficient round the clock
and I am a storehouse of inexhaustible funds
and you the dependant
while humanbeings never
aspire for my proximity
they aspire for your closeness
but they respect me
from a long distance.
That is my only solace.

MINORITY BASHING IN ARAB COUNTRIES

Minorities in most parts of the world are a suppressed lot. Be it in Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Sudan minority bashing is a perennial problem eluding solutions. There is no point in singling out a particular country on the matter of suppression of minority.
Of late, Egypt’s Copt Christians who rose in revolt at Tahrir Square had to taste the bitter fruit at the hands of Egyptian authorities where registration for poll has already started. Tanks mowed down the revolting coptics in the process twenty four of them were crushed to death which sent shock waves around the world. Means, with Hosni Mubarak’s ouster Egypt has not returned to normality. We will have to wait for the completion of elections, after that only whether a return to normalcy could be expected or another round of flare-up is in the offing is to be expected.
Let’s take each nation one by one. First let it be Sudan, Africa’s largest country. Decades of rebellions and govt sponsored massacres of Animist Christians finally led to the division of the Muslim nation. The Christians at last succeeded in forcing the Sudanese authorities under Omar Hassan Ahmad Al-Bashir to cede the Southern part of Sudan to Christians almost one year back. Thus resulted in the formation of South Sudan which doesn’t mean that the problem has ended as territorial disputes still exist between the two nations as also the abundant crude oil wealth of South Sudan is still a bone of contention. What I was driving home is the decades old rivalries between the Animist Christians and majority Muslims resulted in the secession of the Africa’s largest nation – Sudan.
Even Saudi Arabia, the Sunni majority nation is not free from minority bashing. In the Kingdom, Al-Qatif, an area peopled by Shia Muslims are violently suppressed by the ruling authorities. It is widely known across the nations that Sunni’s and Shia’s are always at loggerheads.
Moreover Shia majority Iran, bête noire of Saudi Arabia’s the Sunni majority is providing necessary assistance to Shia’s at Al-Qatif.
Iran too is not free from minority bashing. In Iran the Christians and peace-loving Bahais are brutally dealt with and on a daily basis news of suppression and violent deaths are pouring out.
As long as minorities continue to seek refuge in these countries – they have nowhere to go – it is their fate to be subservient to the authorities and bear all kinds of cruelties at the hands of authorities.

EMBERS OF REVOLUTIONARY SPIRIT

The theoreticians like
the organizers
come down to grassroots
level
and like the medical practitioners
reading the pulses of
patients
they too should read the pulses
of citizens
like the organizers.
They should inject the spirit of revolution
into the veins of citizens
and arouse the embers of fighting spirit
dormant in them
and prepare them for a
consolidated action
against the corrupt elements
sucking out the blood of
those at the bottom line
of the pyramid like parasites.

THE LIGHTNING

A blinding flash
followed by a powerful
explosion
ripped through the glass panes
cracked the walls
as also the ceiling
and the marble-tiled
floors
as if an earthquake
shook the building
violently.
The inmates got frightened
and ran out of the
buildings screaming
and congregated outside
fearing another thunder-like
spell-binding explosions
which could crumble
the building
into a heap of rubble.

FLAME OF LOVE

Oh, my beloved
I know not where you are
where ever you are
recall the days
we spent lovely
moments together
the days we whispered sweet little things
in each other’s ears
the days we spent locked
in embraces
with our lips locked together.
Oh, my beloved
recall those days
we kept our love affair
a secret
not because we feared anyone
but because of our selfishness.
Oh, my beloved
recall those days
you handed me a
red rose each day
the fragrance of your love
I felt it inexplicable
and to keep it from
fading away
I dipped its stem
in a bottle filled
with water.
Oh, my beloved
recall the shocking
moment
when a fellow peeped
into our secret life
and spilt the beans
and turned out the
secret affair into a
public secret
which like a wild fire
spread and
reached everyone’s ears
robbing away the sweetness
and charm of our affair.
Oh, my beloved
recall the fateful day
your parents plucked you
away from my life
whether you know the excruciating pain
I felt that day and
the moments I writhed in pain.
Oh, my love
since that fateful day
I know not where
you are
where you were whisked
away
but I know for certain
the flame of our love
would continue to burn intact
till the end of our life
eternal it is
yes eternal it is…..

COFFEE HOUSE INTELLECTUALS

With the onset of sunset
six friends coming from
different corners of the city
meet at the coffee house
in the heart of the city
and are seated around a
round table.
Being daily visitors
all are familiar to the
man at the counter as well
as waiters on duty.
The youth discuss many things
under the sun
beginning from regional
national and international
but what all they talk
about are not known to those
familiar to them.
Arab spring, Libyan fights
Syrian massacres, European recession
Occupy Wall Street Movement
down to food inflation
starvation deaths, malnourishment
women empowerment, infrastructure, sanitation
the hydra of corruption
whirling around the
national wealth, and squeezing the essence
terror attacks
down to regional
matters, all come up
for their discussions, debates
while they sip the
hot tea or coffee.
In a world where there
are no dearth of
subjects to be discussed
and deliberated upon
they know no boredom.
After the fading away
of twilight
before the blanket of darkness coming
down enveloping the city
the street lamps
start flickering
banishing the darkness
they bid bye to
each other
with the promise of
meeting again the
next day.

WHO IS JOHN GALT?

‘Who is John Galt’? Anybody knowing? Some must be knowing. Some might be knowing.
We’ve to find John Galt. The man who stopped the motor of the world. Is it a silly thing? None would say.
Let’s go to the nook and cranny of US in search of the so-called John Galts. Not even a single person could be found why? Such persons never exist.
Even John Galt was a fictional character. Never in the history of mankind John Galt was born. Never in the coming days such a person will be born. And for that matter not even a Hank Rearden, Dagny Taggart and Francisco D’Anconia will be born. Such fictional characters are likely to born again.
What is laughable is that many business barons of US are nursing a belief that they are John Galts. What is laughable is that Laissez Faire Capitalism is not existent across US. Even Ayn Rand, the advocate of Laissez Faire Capitalism and the creator of John Galt had believed that such a system existed in US in the 19th century. Not before that. Not after that. It was not even existent in the whole of 19th century according to her.
Still the so-called advocates of Laissez Faire (Hands off) think on the lines of themselves being John Galt.
True. Ayn Rand who was a rationalist. She did neither believe in the existence of God nor rebirth of the soul. If at all rebirth of soul is a reality her soul would have turned in her grave on listening to such non-sense. The business tycoons and their supporters of all times the Republican party (GoP) hubristically call themselves as the incarnations of John Galts.
As nobel laureate Paul Krugman wrote : They are not John Galts, not even Steve Jobs. They amassed money through foul means. They piled up money not like Hank Rearden or Dagny Taggart piled. The latter, yes, they are fictional characters proceeded along straight lines and developed their business empire.
The Occupy Wall Street movement by the middle-class citizens is gaining momentum. They have occupied Succoti Park at Chasemanhattan inviting the attention of all to their present plight.
One is reminded of Arab spring in this context. This is going to be American spring.
The greed and lust of the US tycoons with the support of Republicans must end. They’ve even gone to the extent of calling Barack Obama ‘a socialist’.
Yes, Occupy Wall Street against Wall Street Journal being run by another tycoon. The disillusionment of the suffering middle-class should go. Must go for ever.

THE LAST REFUGE

In the sunset of life
left in the lurch by their children
who were in faraway cities
cared them not, visited them not,
contacted them not
as the parents to them were
worthless garbage waiting
to be buried somewhere.
The old age couple
with none to look after
not even a home nurse
to care them
decided out of helplessness
to sell
the property to a realtor
and seek refuge in an
old-age home
where such old-age couples
are aplenty
they too joined their
company.
Often travelled down memory lane
their delightful moments
with their children
the strenuous efforts they
undertook to look after the
children
their studies from kinder-
garten to famed universities
all brought tears in their
eyes.
The only solace being
on sharing experience
with other old age men
and women all had to
pour out the same story.

THE LAST REFUGE

In the sunset of life
left in the lurch by their children
who were in faraway cities
cared them not, visited them not,
contacted them not
as the parents to them were
worthless garbage waiting
to be buried somewhere.
The old age couple
with none to look after
not even a home nurse
to care them
decided out of helplessness
to sell
the property to a realtor
and seek refuge in an
old-age home
where such old-age couples
are aplenty
they too joined their
company.
Often travelled down memory lane
their delightful moments
with their children
the strenuous efforts they
undertook to look after the
children
their studies from kinder-
garten to famed universities
all brought tears in their
eyes.
The only solace being
on sharing experience
with other old age men
and women all had to
pour out the same story.

THE LAST REFUGE

In the sunset of life
left in the lurch by their children
who were in faraway cities
cared them not, visited them not,
contacted them not
as the parents to them were
worthless garbage waiting
to be buried somewhere.
The old age couple
with none to look after
not even a home nurse
to care them
decided out of helplessness
to sell
the property to a realtor
and seek refuge in an
old-age home
where such old-age couples
are aplenty
they too joined their
company.
Often travelled down memory lane
their delightful moments
with their children
the strenuous efforts they
undertook to look after the
children
their studies from kinder-
garten to famed universities
all brought tears in their
eyes.
The only solace being
on sharing experience
with other old age men
and women all had to
pour out the same story.

MAY I ?

May I relish the sweet
moments of teenage love
cherished by me
for a long span in my life.
May the dark thoughts
in the corridors of my heart
turn into bright thoughts
by a cute lass
waiting for me since a
long time.
May the sharp arrows
of criticism aimed at
me by my critics turn
into pretty, colourful, fragrant
flowers of appreciation.
May I have a magic wand
to wipe out the
scum of evils widespread
in the society.
May I have a
kind and loving heart to spread the
warm light of generosity
and delight among
the citizens across the nation.

SINGING STAR

Listening to one of
the mellifluous songs
sung by him several times
he came down to earth
from above
embedded inside a star
like a pearl hidden
in a shell
to have a glimpse of
the blessed singer
whose heart rending rendition
aroused a sublime
feeling in him
that much enamoured
and drunk with joy he was.
The versatile singer of yester years
was reluctant
to go up as he
yearned to be with
everyone on earth
but he whose mission
in earth had already
ended
keeping his gnawing pain within him
he vanished into the
blue sky with tears in his eyes.
The rejoice he felt
never left him and
shared his
exuberant feelings
with his comrade
stars with the pride
of a melody king who
conquered the world with his
beautiful renditions.

MY MAKE-BELIEVE WORLD

In my make-believe world
everything is beautiful
attractive and fascinating.
The snow-capped mountains
the melting snow under
the warm sun
flowing downwards like
frothing milk.
The beautiful seas and oceans
the waves lashing the sand-filled
shores
sucking the feet of the
visitors,
the sea turtles, fishes and strange and giant creatures.
The blue transparent rivers
mirroring the basements,
the gurgling streams
reminding me of a
village girl moving along
wearing anklets
the splashing lakes
through which boats sail
along
the deep thick green forests
under which shadows
dance in the cool breeze.
Everything beautiful
attractive and fascinating
in my make-believe
world.
Wonder, the sea-change
all the aforesaid have undergone
in the modern times of global warming.
Pity it, quite pity….

IROM CHANU SHARMILA – THE ROLE OF HUMAN RIGHTS ACTIVISTS

The fast unto death of Irom Chanu Sharmila, the human rights activist of Manipur has entered the eleventh year. Her main demand, repeal of Armed Forces Special Forces Act (AFSPA) still stay in force due to the adamant attitude of Central government. The draconian act confers the armed forces with proceeding according to their will and pleasure.
Irom Chanu Sharmila, who refuses to take food since eleven years is arrested frequently and freed and force-fed through nostrils to keep her from dying. In such eventuality the Central govt knows all Manipur would flare up within no time as all citizens are behind her. AFSPA has already claimed many innocent lives, most among them were youths. Such incidents have firmed up her resolve to continue her fast till the repeal of the Act.
Now that Chanu Sharmila’a fight for the repeal of the draconian act is widely known across the world and the country and all the citizens barring the ruling regime which is a stone hearted entity, the human rights activist of India have decided to fight for her cause.
An Anna Hazaare team could within a matter of days inspire passions of citizens and could prevail upon the govt to enact Jan LokPal bill in the Winter session of Parliament. Irom Chanu Sharmilla’s cause likewise should enter the soul of the nation and shall prevail upon the obstinate and stubborn govt to repeal a draconian act which is in force in certain parts of the country like North Eastern States and Jammu&Kashmir.
If our human rights activist and a pro-active media could come forward much earlier Chanu Sharmilla would not have suffered such intolerable hardships since eleven years. It is high time all rallied around her and determined to fight demanding the repeal of Armed Forces Special Powers Act. To drive a stubborn govt bow down to the incessant pressure is the need of the hour to save a lady from intolerable hardships. And big HURRAY to Irom Sharmila for her rock like determination.

IN THE CORRIDORS OF POWER

Godowns overflowing
like reservoirs in spate
grains rotting
but nobody to take
care of.
Under the mountain of
food inflation
millions are crushed to death
as many suffocating
under its weight.
Mandarins in the corridors
of power least bothered.
Plans of grains
to be exported are
on the anvil
and the mandarins
proceed with the decision
nonchalantly.
Since years talks of the
survey of citizens
under below poverty line
and above poverty line
are the talking points.
While grains overflow
while millions are crushed to death
while millions struggle to breath.
Under the weight of mountain
of flood inflation
the paradox of
grain exporting
gains momentum.

GLORY OF UNCERTAINTIES

This is my road
know not where it ends
know not whether it is endless.
It has its curves, ups and
downs and craters galore.
Ever since I learnt to walk
I started walking down
the road
not knowing where it ends
not knowing whether
it is endless.
How long I should have
to walk?
Know not
the one thing, only one
thing I know is
one day I’ll get tired
at a certain point
where I will have to put an end
the certain point already
decided by somebody
not me
I can’t have to put an
end to my walk
on my own volition,
its pre-destined.
The curves, the pot holes
ups and downs
never scare me
it is all part
of the journey
just like walking
along smooth plains.
For the moment
let me continue my
journey.
I know uncertainty
has its glory too.

KILLING OF ANWAR-AL-AWLAKI AND REPERCUSSIONS

The killing of Al-Quaida leader Anwar Ali Awlaki in drone attack is a god send for US, after the murder of Al-Quaida Chief Osama Bin Laden in another drone attack. The modus operandi was the same – the killing of both was by US drones. Awlaki, the US born Al-Quaida leader based in Yemen was a nightmare for US since a long time. And his killing led to the organization a headless one. In a sense US can heave a sigh of relief. On the other hand it would lead to aggravation of threats to US security. Knowing this truth very much in mind US would further tighten precautionary steps to avoid and take steps to avoid another 9/11. US Intelligence is always alert and the alacrity with which the intelligence moves ahead would doubtlessly blunt the sharpness of vindictive terror organizations unlike India, Pakistan, Afghanistan etal whose security systems are in tatters.
The shock of 9/11 sent ripples across US and that shock and fear still linger in the minds of authorities as well as citizens. Never in their dreams Americans apprehended such a tragic eventuality till 9/11 happened in its soil and it was due to its overconfident complacency that whereever terrorists were poised to strike US wouldn’t appear on their radar. But the unexpected happened. On the morning of 9/11/01 three to four airplanes aimed the world famous World Trade Center and crashed with huge explosions reducing the towers into a heap of rubble. The crash resulted in the killing of around 3000 citizens which sent shockwaves down the spines of authorities.
The resultant anger and vengeance on the part of US leadership forced it to chase the terrorist organizations beginning from 2001 in Afghanistan. It is a naked truth that after the 9/11 no other terrorist organization couldn’t even go to the neighbourhood of US as its security system was moulded into an iron frame. Even though that is salutary that country is not from the fear psychosis and it won’t and it can’t in a world where terrorists rule the roost.
True, Anwar-Ali-Awlaki is done to death and the episode is bound to inflame the vengeance and determination of militant organizations. And America’s fear psychosis is there to stay…..

MUMBAI BY NIGHT

POEM
Mumbai by night
is thousand times
prettier than Mumbai by day.
Mumbai by night is a
seductive enchantress under
the moon and stars and
with its raunchy magnetic
eyes beckons all
irrespective of rich and poor.
Mumbai by night
continuously sizzles, throbs
and vibrates
embracing each.
Mumbai by night is a
scintillating lady
with thousand eyes
glowing under the moon
stars and halogen lamps.
Mumbai by night
the danseuse with its
rhythmic steps and pelvic thrusts
intoxicates all and
lead them to the verge of
orgasm.
Since a decade or two
Mumbai shakes violently
and sends shockwaves down
the spines of Mumbaites
occasionally, yes occasionally.
Otherwise Mumbai by
night is a heaven
to all
heaven to all.

GHOST HOUSE

Doors are open
so are windows
lights are on
so are fans
no sign of life felt inside.
A X’mas star is hanging
twinkling it is
it reminded of an orphan
no signs of life felt inside
curiosity grew like
a mountain.
The gate wide open
walked the cemented path
reached the courtyard
its walls are tidy
no cobwebs seen.
Peeped through the window
yet no life seen inside
no foot steps heard
mustered ample courage
entered the portico
stepped inside the drawing room
saw two garlanded photos of
an old man and a old lady
on the wall side by side
but no sign of life felt
no foot steps heard
‘who’re you’?
I looked around aghast
none seen around
felt like an oracle
can’t you hear, man?
Looked round aghast.
My eyes ran in
the direction of
the photos
flabberghasted I stood
saw me both frowning at me
with eyes wide open
I fled for life
panting.

SECOND BIRTH

Day in and day out
She thinks of him
Day in and day out she nurses dreams about him
Day in and day out
she reminisces him
Day in and day out
she cherishes the precious
moments with him
the days they went to
attend grand functions
the days they
celebrated festivals
the days they discussed future
plans for their children
the days they reminisced
their pre-marital and post-marital
love life with sweet nostalgia
the days they undertook
long distance pleasure trips
the moments they engaged in quarrels
followed by immediate cease fire.
Now that in her old age
she eagerly awaits the day
when she reaches
him in heaven.

HEY BILLIONAIRE, LISTEN

Behold Thee Hey billionaire
could I throw you a query?
While at the top of the pyramid
you look beyond or look below?
Without you opening up
let me answer myself.
You always look up
you never look below
you always aim high
you always crave to pile-up more.
Could you please come down for a few moments
have a look around
witness the millions die of starvation
millions on the brink of starvation
millions of emaciated poor
like an ultra-modern painting
millions of beggars stretching out their dirty hands
to the passersby
know I know you won’t ever
comedown
your heart won’t melt
your eyes won’t well up
the greed in you
urges you to reach the top
no reason whatsoever to point out.

MANMOHAN SINGH IN INDIA AND ABROAD

Months back three bomb explosions shook Mumbai killing and maiming several people. It was the umpteenth time Mumbai was exploding by terror attacks. The responsible one’s expressed shocks and vowed to bring to book the culprits and also found a new villain in the neighbouring country. Not only Mumbaites but all Indians knew without any second thoughts that it was due to security lapses Mumbai fell victim to terror attacks. Our arm-chair turned politician cum Prime Minister Sardar ManMohan Singh as usual issued a strong statement after expressing shock. The statement was as follows ‘the scourge of terrorism will be crushed at any cost’. He never missed to assure the hapless Mumbaites that no other terror attack would happen anywhere in the country.
Four months after in Delhi at gate No.5 of High Court in the peak hours of the morning a brief case exploded and as a result fourteen people succumbed to death, body parts strewn around and about 100 innocents maimed or injured under the very nose of mandarins in the corridors of power. The recorded statement in the recess of ManMohan Singh’s mind again worked. ‘The culprits will be brought to book and meted out harsh punishment’. The echoes of his assurances at Mumbai four months back that no terror attack will ever happen anywhere in India were still reverberating across the land. Not much progress in nabbing the culprits would make any headway except some arrests were made in Jammu and Kashmir. Terrorist organizations like Harkatul-Jihadi and Indian Mujahideen claimed responsibilities for the attack and that’s that.
Sardar ManMohan Singh is nothing other than a puppet in the hands of somebody sitting behind the scenes. He could very well shine as a party spokesman like Manu Abhishek Singhvi or Manish Tiwari. In that respect Singhvi and Tiwari can learn a lot from ManMohan Singh in making statements.
Mr.Singh’s words and deeds never match. Except mouthing platitudes dime a dozen nothing of substance he could perform in his capacity as Prime Minister since seven years.
Last week he had been to NewYork to attend UN General Assembly meeting. He flew with hands full of issues to present at General Assembly.
Let me list them out. Terrorism, economic slow down, UN reforms changing with times, support to Palestine cause.
While abroad he is a different man all together not that helpless Prime Minister in the home country. He can speak to very great lengths about the scourge of terrorism threatening the entire world. He would even advise all countries to take all preparations to wipe it out from the face of earth. He would even suggest various measures to contain violence from the soil of each country even while his country is in the grip of terrorist menace.
Being an economist he could very well speak about economic slow down threatening the world the second time after the 2008 meltdown. This time Eurozone crisis and the crisis threatening US as also Asian countries.
Since a long period he was demanding timely reforms to be brought to the UN including expansion of UN Security Council in the wake of changing power equations across the nations.
At a time Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas has applied for UN membership he has extended all support from the Indian side. But like the sword of democles US veto is threatening the Palestinian dream. European nations like France, Britain, Germany as also Russia are supporting the Palestine cause and as long as US is bent upon vetoing, Palestinian hopes will remain immaterial. At last nine out of 15 members of non-permanent security council vote for Palestine, it could gain entry as an observer state. That’s all.
I wrote about these issues while discussing ManMohan Singh as Prime Minister of India. His rule has converted 75 percent of Indians living under poverty line and that tragic truth alone is sufficient to prove that Dr.Singh is a total failure as Prime Minister of India. Under an economist such a state of affairs should not have happened.
That is ManMohanSingh in India and abroad.

TO BE FRANK

Prejudicial you can be
inhibitions you can have
love you can
hate you can
love to hate you can
greedy you can
selfish you can
sexual jealousies you can have
possessive you can
angry you can
vindictive you can
all because
you are a human being
even the so-called
sages in these changing times
are just human beings
with all weaknesses.

TILL DEATH DO US PART

Down the
pretty garden of your
mind
listening to your mellifluous
song
caressing the beautiful
flowers
sensing scent of various
blooms
feeling pleasant pain
of the thorns
enjoying the fragrant, cool breeze
I walk.
I feel like dancing through
the pretty garden devouring
its beauty
I pray to God Almighty not
allow to whither away
the thick greenery
and flowers
till death do us part.

A PROMISE KEPT

Even after several days
in captivity under the terrorists
Even after ultimatums after
ultimatums to the govt of the hostage
to settle their demands
including a hefty amount as ransom
Even after the rejection of
all demands by the stern
govt of the gentleman in captivity
the captors, here, the dreaded
terrorists
turned more friendly with
the hostage
hosted him a grand feast
which was something surprising
and pleasant to him
a spark of hope glimmered
in his eyes
and the friendly captors
provided him a cosy bed to sleep.
They assured him of their
decision to free him
from his ordeal the next day
the man rejoiced like
anything thinking about
his impending freedom
and freedom he achieved
even without him aware
of it.
In the deep sleep
one of the terrorists
cold-bloodedly
released his soul to heaven
and thus a promise kept.

FEMALE CHILD

In the interiors of
a remote village
under the blazing sun
an emaciated woman
gave birth to a skinny baby
it was a female baby.
She made her presence felt
with a loud cry
though skinny she was.
As she lay by the
side of her mother
searched her mother’s
breasts with its tender hands
reminding one of rose petals
and though she sucked
mother’s nipples for the elixir of mamma’s love
nothing came out of
the flat breasts.
Its father
the woman’s husband
burst out in anger
on hearing the incessant
cries of the baby
he took it forcibly
from the hapless mother
bundled it
carried it somewhere
whether he sold the
baby for peanuts to somebody
whether he threw it out
somewhere
perhaps in the nearby
river
or strangulated it
and buried somewhere
mother knew not
she heard the begging voice
of the new born from afar
like an oracle.
‘Mamma, Mamma’.
Not a drop of tear
came out of her eyes
they were quite dry
like a desert under
the scorching sun.