My new Malayalam Novel Published : 'Dooram Arike'

AWAITING RESSURECTION

POEM

Till the other day

we were looked after

well by our protectors

and ensured our

safety from each other’s enemies. 

Plastered across the walls

on both sides of the streets

we smiled at the passersby

walking down the streets

or travelling by the

buses, cars, rickshaws

with appealing faces

with a glint of hope in our eyes

to exercise their franchise

each competing with the other.

Now that a fiercely fought battle over

and the dust settled

our so-called protectors

till the other day

turned away from us

leaving our fate to

the whims of wanton boys

who mercilessly tore us apart

and littered all along the way.

We have to wait until the next battle

for our godfathers to recall us and

plaster us across the walls of the

on either side of the streets.

Awaiting a resurrection,  

we remain…..

NOVEMBER 13 TERROR STRIKES ON FRANCE BY IS AND FRANCE’S RETALIATION

ARTICLE

In India if 26/11/08 was the handiwork of Lashkar-E-Taiba, one of the hard-core militant outfit of Pakistan, our neighbouring  country, in 13/11/2015 it was a premeditated suicide attack orchestrated by eight Islamic State (IS) militants the nightmare of the whole world which outranks even Al-Quaeda. The IS militants targeted six landmarks frequented by ordinary French civilians mowing down 129 of them and  wounding more than three hundred. The condition of the 99 innocent civilians continues to be critical, who were shot at by the IS militants. They were either gunned down or blew themselves up when the French forces chased them. One militant, it was reported, managed to escape.  Francoise Holland, French President, declared a state of emergency, and as per latest news pouring in from France,  almost 115000 forces are deployed across the country who remain vigilant apprehending further attacks. Today ie. 18/11  unconfirmed reports state the master-brain behind the attack Abdel Hameed Abooudi has been either killed (or killed himself) by French forces. As of now the forces who are frantically in search of IS terrorists across the country, two terrorists were killed and the former continue their search unabated. This is the second suicide attack in France, the first one being the killing of 12 cartoonists and injuring 11 others by the militants who rampaged the office of Charlie Hebdo, the French newspaper.

A ‘death cult’ as one newspaper termed IS, the savage outfit is hated and feared by the nations the world over. Though US, France, Russia, Britain, Saudi Arabia  are relentlessly bombarding its haven the IS has not yet been suppressed instead it grows  from strength to strength with more militants from various countries joining the ranks of the ‘so-called Caliphate’ headed by   Abubaker Al-Baghdadi , the self-declared Caliph of IS. Its elements can strike at any place, any person or a gathering anytime it targets even now.

The Western nations including US and Britain are to share the entire blame for the birth of this Frankenstein monster. Now they find themselves cornered. If they had desisted from declaring a war against Iraq and indulged in larges-scale massacres and destroyed properties including  cultural heritages thereby wiping out  the entire Mesopotamian civilization on false grounds that Iraq  occupied weapons of mass destruction. If US had desisted from providing logistical weapons  and ample funds  to the Free Syrian Army which ultimately went into the hands of then budding IS, the scenario which we are faced with ie the formation Islamic State, (the dreaded  terror outfit) which carved out portions of Iraq and Syria, could have been avoided. Now that the responsibility of eliminating this terrorist hydra has fallen into the  hands  of not only US, Britain, France and Russia, but the nations across the world.

As long as this monster is allowed to spread across the world no nation on the face of earth is not likely to enjoy rest or relaxation. This outfit continues to haunt us and will continue to haunt the entire mankind.          

PUBLIC MEMORY

POEM

Riding the crest of popular wave

he found himself

catapulted to the throne of

leader of the nation.

A visibly moved he,

sporting a beaming smile

addressed an ocean of cheering crowds

waving hands, displaying ‘V’signs

delivered a prolonged speech

driving his subjects drunk with joy  unbound.

Like his predecessors who one by one

occupied the saddle

riding the crest of popular wave

made themselves endearing

to hundreds of thousands of masses.

They too delivered

fiery speeches with sugar-coated

pledges and promises

to wash away the grime of corruption,

terror and violence 

elevating the masses to

a plain of sky-high dreams,

happy days of prosperity and hopes a plenty. 

Unfortunately the suffering millions

found themselves taken  for a ride.

Now a new man in the garb of

a benevolent leader

in whom they reposed their full faith

who were not even cautiously optimistic

the one and only reason being 

public memory always remains short.

Election after election, ruler after ruler

who made false promises of new dawn

pushed their subjects to the abyss

of hardships, poverty, deaths

thereby  snuffing out

the flames of sweet morrows. 

SPRING OF LOVE

POEM

In the spring of her love,

-deep-down in her heart

I dip not once, but umpteen times

deriving maximum joy and pleasure.

In the spring of my love

-deep-down in my heart she takes dip

not once, but umpteen times

deriving maximum joy and pleasure.

True, destiny played a cruel game,

way back and we

find ourselves separated

and are at different corners of the Globe.

Still,

she continues her dip

in the spring of my love

not once, but times galore

deriving ecstasy.

I too continue taking dip

in the spring of her love

not once, but times galore

deriving ecstasy. 

NEPAL IN DOLDRUMS – THE MADHESI BLOCKADE CONTINUES

Nepal the small, land-locked Himalayan country is one of the unfortunate nations in our neighbourhood which is in doldrums unlike Bhutan. After years under monarchy, majority of Nepalese revolted against the former, especially during the tyrannical rule of King Gyanendra which literally suffocated the masses. Much blood spilled over the streets of Nepal and hundreds of thousands laid down their lives for the coming generation. The uprising was led by the banned Communist Party of Nepal (Maoist) under Pushpa Kamal Dahl ‘Prachanda’ in 1996. After continuous onslaughts by the masses against King Dhyanendra’s forces the Nepalese ensured the bowing out of the former. ‘His Highness’ turned out to be one among thousands or was stripped of his entitlements which he and his predecessors enjoyed for decades.

The Maoists played a prominent role in ousting him from power. Elections followed, Communist Party of Nepal (Maoists) bagged majority of seats and under Prachanda a democratic government occupied power in 2006. He had begun to rule Nepal with other parties joining as constituents. 

Though Prachanda was an organizer par excellence, as an administrator he was an utter failure.  Without completing his tenure as Prime Minister he had to step down from power on May 25, 2009 and the then President of Nepal Ram Baran Yadav held the reins of power for a while.

Nepal’s rule subsequently came under Baburam Bhattarai of CPN (Maoists) Madhav Kumar Nepal and Sushil Koirala of Nepalese Congress. None could provide stability as a result which another round of elections declared.

In the ensuing elections held in 2015, United Marxist Leninist Party (UMP) emerged first Nepalese Congress came second and CPN (Maoist) a poor third followed by other entities.

Though India preferred Sushil Koirala’s elevation as Prime Minister of Nepal it was K.P.Sharma Oli of United Marxist Leninist Party (UMP) who is a bitter critique of India.

Since nearly a decade, Nepal was bereft of a Constitution owing to the bitter wrangling among the political parties. It was after the Supreme Court served an ultimatum and set a deadline the parties deliberated on a war-footing and finally came out with a Constitution followed by constituting a Constituent Assembly.

The Madhesis and Tharus which form a substantial part of ethnic population who are settled down at Terai region bordering India accusing the government under K.P.Sharma  Oli, for sidelining the former they went on a blockade of trucks which is still going on leading to crisis in Nepal. Health Services, Transport services, domestic needs, all badly in need of fuel find the government in a quandary. Though China evolving into a good Samaritan supplied them with fuel which was sufficient only for a short term the removal of blockade alone is the lasting solution. In the meanwhile Mr.Ohli put the entire blame on India which irritated the latter. Oli retracted his charges immediately and went on to declare that Nepal wanted a good and warm relationship with India.

The Deputy Prime Minister cum Foreign Affairs Minister Kamal Thapa had paid a visit to India last week in connection with the blockade and the difficulties his small nation faces in various departments. While drafting the constitution itself, India had advised Nepalese leaders to take each section of the population into account. If they had heeded India’s advice such a misfortune could have been avoided.

Now Oli government has climbed down from their stand and talks are reportedly going on in full steam. Let’s hope for the best.    

A GAME OF UNCERTAINTIES

POEM

Cricket, it is said, is a game of

glorious uncertainties.

Life, I mean, existence

too is a game of uncertainties

inglorious uncertainties.

Though a man/woman finds time

to condole the death

of others known to them

he/she hesitates to ponder over

his/her own death.

When, where, how

his/her ‘silent visitor’

approaches each of them

with whispering foot-steps reaches he/she

and orders to follow Him.

Both he/she knows only one truth

the certainty of His arrival at any time, any place

and due to any cause.

If each thinks

about the time, place and cause

uncertainty looms large

       on the horizon of each one’s mind.

Yes, existence is a game of

glorious uncertainties

if only a man/woman is prepared to

accept the truth with equanimity…..

       

SYRIAN CONUNDRUM AND RUSSIA’S INTERVENTION

Last month or so at the behest of Russian President Vladimir Putin, Syrian Dictator Bashar-Al-Assad called on the former at Kremlin. Immediately after the invitation Assad flew to Kremlin, met Mr.Putin shook hands and went straight into the heart of the matter. Syria and Russia are on good terms, but for Russia Mr.Assad would have tasted defeat at the hands of Syrian rebels, the hard-core Al-Nusrat, branch of Al-Quaeda and Islamic State (IS), the hardest and much - dreaded militant outfit the world over. In between their talks most probably, one on one meeting Russia prevailed upon Mr.Assad to hold immediate elections in Syria.

They were not supposed to have dealt with two or three cardinal issues concerning Syria and let me mention one by one.

1.      1.  In  more than four and half years of civil war, up till now millions of innocent Syrians perished for no fault of theirs due to incessant bombardments (even chemical weapons were freely used which choked to death lakhs of civilians including children. The world as a whole rose in protest and condemned the merciless massacre of civilians especially children. The pictures of several children who were choked to death were blood-chilling, blood-curdling and heart-breaking.

US even went to the extent of condemning the horrendous criminal act of Syrian authorities the former nearly declared an all out war against Syria Except for the immediate arrival of UN on the scene which took necessary measures to avert a large-scale war, it would have been a certainty. On the request of UN, an international organization, Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW) which was formed with a mission to inspect chemical weapons and defuse them wherever they were piled up and freely used was sent to Syria and with the latter’s co-operation defused and destroyed the chemical weapons. The organization was awarded Nobel Prize for peace soon after.

2.     2.   If millions perished in the war, as many fled for life leaving all their belongings, to various countries including European nations and the outflow of refugees continues. In the mad rush to escape gruesome deaths more than 3000 of refugees including children were drowned in the Mediterranean sea. A mind-boggling picture of Aylan Muhammed, a 3 year old child who got drowned in the Mediterranean and whose corpse landed on the shores of Turkish waters was displayed on both the print and electronic media which still sends a shudder running down our spines.

3.     3.  Millions of dollars worth properties were destroyed the pictures of shattered buildings were shown on media – both print and visual.

These three hot issues requiring immediate attention and solution seem to have been sidelined by both Assad and Putin.

Instead, sensing a tragic defeat of Syrian dictator who was gradually getting isolated due to desertions by the so-called militia who stood by him. Russia militarily intervened in Syria and is fiercely fighting the Syrian rebels and Islamic State (IS) forces.

Anyhow  heeding the suggestion of  Vladimir Putin soon after landing in Syria Mr.Assad declared elections within six months. Laughable indeed. Syria is in a shambles – millions dead, millions fled the clashes still going on how is it possible to conduct elections, especially an independent election. The civilians left in the country are only a few in numbers and even these ones are mulling escaping the country for good.

Last Friday the representatives of US, Russia and Iran met in Vienna and deliberated on the steps to arrive at a solution to bring to an end the perennial war. While America insisted on a democratic Syria sans Mr Asad both Russia and Iran, the latter too is a potential ally of Syria are not insisting Mr.Asad’s removal. Anyhow Iran is of the opinion let Mr.Asad continue for a short span and grant him a breather before stepping down. US couldn’t digest that solution and sees thru the ploy that Iran places.

Would Syria be a democratic country at any point of time in future where the hard-core Al-Nusrat and IS elements continue to pose a threat to the nation. Pity, it is a free for all hapless nation. 

HURDLES

POEM

Hurdles, hurdles all the way

many a hurdle jumped

countless await to be crossed.

A short relief after each hurdle

it’s better than no relief.

Hurdles, hurdles all the way

many a hurdle jumped

countless await to be crossed

if a man/woman with much effort

crosses all the hurdles.

Then lie a long path

sans without hurdles

straight at times

long winding at other times

hair-pin curves at another times

Relaxation not allowed

and no turning back permitted

albeit the path is

littered with sharp stones,

thorns and pot-holes

barefooted is each man/woman.

Hurdles, hurdles all the way

many a hurdle jumped

countless await to be crossed

intricacies of life are strange

none knows what is yet to follow

each second, each minute, each hour

human beings are in a state of

suspended animation.

Hurdles, hurdles all the way,

many a hurdle jumped

countless await to be crossed…. 

INSURMOUNTABLE TASK?

POEM

Throw out the

garbage of evil thoughts 

piled up in the corner of your mind.

Scrub the floor, corners and walls

and turn it bright like sunshine.

Let the winds of fresh thoughts blow in

and fill your mind with them.

Though it is a tedious task

in this age and times

when evils are on the prowl

try, try and try to ward off them

and create wonders

thus exhort the great souls…..

SUM TOTAL OF ONE’S EXISTENCE

POEM

Sitting by the side

of a calm and quiet pond

the transparency of

which could reflect

the blue sky up above

with no ripples whatsoever

to upset the calm and silent waters.  

I was enquiring myself

the sum total of my existence

on the face of the earth.

With no answer forthcoming

with despair and gloom in my eyes and face

I left the spot.

Wish I possessed

a device to measure the sum total of

my existence.

I am seated at a secluded place

where peace and tranquility reign  supreme.

But no my  inner self intervened

and whispered in my ears :

It is too early to

calculate the sum total of my existence

since it is not in my  domain

but in the hands of posterity

and that I should have

to traverse a long path

so as to enable the coming generation

to measure the sum total of my existence………

THE DOOR OF FREEDOM

POEM

Despised and hated by majority

loved, feared and respected by minority

the malevolent dictator is always at the

mercy of a silent majority

which ‘he is unwilling to acknowledge

simply because of his loyal forces

and the so-called minority

who are the obedient dogs

always wagging their

tails before their master.

But when the silent majority

reach the bottom line of their patience

they turn eloquent

gather under one umbrella

and fight against the loyal militia

until the eloquent majority

arrive at the door of victory

and dethrone the dictator.

The boot-lickers of the ruthless rascal

flee for their life leaving their master in the lurch

who by that time will be chained

and imprisoned and brought before justice.

At last freedom knocks on the door of the nation

which was under the iron grip of

a merciless ruler

 and a new era is born.

DESERT LIFE

POEM

Bereft of ideas

he wandered around 

sometimes hitting his head

sometimes hitting the wind

or gritting teeth.

Despite all his attempts

thinking even from different angles

though aware of the subject

ideas blessed him not.

Someone in him whispered in his ears

thus he felt

to pen a beautiful poem.

First came to his mind

a sprawling beautiful garden

full of a variety of pretty flowers

and their fragrance

spreading all around in the cool breeze

of the morning with dew drops

dripping from the petals of flowers

and the beetles kissing

and sucking the honey from their lips.

The next moment

someone in him reminded

of several poems he had penned

touching the garden,

beautiful flowers,

and fragrance.

He dropped the thought 

of garden,

flowers and the fragrance

blowing all around in the cool breeze

of the misty morning.

Then his imagination took wings

and the picture of two

lovers came to his mind,

their exchange of glances,

smiles, each of them planting kisses

with their passions rising high

and the first love-making

which lifted them to heaven.

But the next moment

someone in him reminded

‘you have already

penned the stories of

lovers and love-birds’.

Pondering over a new theme

he roamed around

and the picture of a vast desert

under fire-spitting sun entered his mind 

with only  one person

walking aimlessly

and with thirst, tired and

exhausted he was

for want of a water-spring.

With no one around

to plead for at least 

mouthful of water

to wet his dry lips and dry mouth

and empty stomach to regain

the vigour and strength.

No god blessed him

and he felt unconscious

in the  searing heat.

On thinking of the new theme

he said to himself :

‘in these times

mankind’s life on

the earth as a whole

is somewhat like

living in a desert

with love, peace, harmony

and all virtues

disappearing somewhere.’  

The someone in him

went silent………

A sign of approval…?   

DOCTOR AND PATIENTS

POEM

I awaited the doctor

seated in a chair

in the portico of his house.

I was the first to come

and my token No.1 

and I was here since an hour.

Unfortunately the doctor was not ‘IN’

when would he turn up, no idea.

Whether he along with

his family had gone

our for shopping

or on a long distance journey, no idea.

I pressed the calling

but no answer was forthcoming.

I started from home early

to meet and consult him at the earliest.

Seconds and minutes ticked by

patients one after another began to arrive

and each took up a token thrust  on the spike

in numerical order.

Evening Sun appeared in the

Western horizon

intensity of his anger slowly mellowed

and he covered the earth with his golden silk.

Those who came first got seats

remaining ones stood like statues

some others walked to and fro along the

courtyard of his house.

Impatience was writ large

on everyone’s face.

None knew the doctor’s contact number

and all were helpless.

Darkness descended on the earth

street lights opened their eyes

patients one by one

began returning to their residence.

Me too emptied the chair

and walked out in despair.

By the time

the doctor reached

home it was late

and after changing dress

the doctor began awaiting the patients….

RIVER OF FREEDOM

POEM

A beautifully woven fabric

shining since decades

is being gradually torn asunder.

Brave and independent

voices being stifled and silenced.

Fear psychosis across the nation

like an epidemic is being affecting

countless of citizens

irrespective of writers,

artists, intellectuals

and common citizens.

Tolerance, patience

unity and serenity are being

driven to the brink of the abyss.

Elimination of poverty

of millions being spoken aloud in words

but not in deeds both here and abroad.

And the world is watching

and is gradually coming to grip with

story of the river of freedom

being  getting dried…..

OLIVE BRANCHES

POEM

A dove with olive-branches 

between its beaks

was flying from afar.

A hawk perching on

the branch of a tree

was watching the dove stealthily.

It was an accidental coincidence that

the dove espied the hawk

while flying nearer and nearer.

He with olive branches

between his beaks

was calm, quiet and fearless

flew closer and closer to the hawk

and perched beside him.

He looked askance at the hawk

meaning ‘why are you

sitting here’?

‘That is none of your

business’ was the angry

and curt response of the hawk.

The dove returned him a beaming smile.

The hawk was wondering

how come the dove

dares to sit near him 

and look askance at him.

He forcefully snatched

an olive branch from the dove

and took it between his beaks.

Within a split-second 

the hawk, like in a magic

metamorphosed into a dove

turned  peaceful, calm and quiet.

Both of them became friends

and both ‘messengers of peace’ flew away

to spread the message of

peace and harmony…across the world…..   

This is my wishful thinking

THE ELOPEMENT

POEM

It was a low-key marriage

----a story of elopement.

It was a love-affair between both,

but,

 she hailing  from a rich family

and he a lower middle-class youth,

her parents, siblings  

and close relatives

opposed tooth and nail to the relationship.

Albeit their opposition

she stuck to her decision like a rock

and ran away with him

in the thick of one night.

They fled to a faraway place

and got married in front of a temple

exchanging garlands.

She was empty-handed

he had some money with  him

and took a house for rent.

‘Scaling heights is

everyone’s dream 

but remember my dear

life has its highs and lows

like mountains and valleys.

Hence while aiming high

bow down

and see the plight of poor ones

at the lower strata of society

dreaming for at least two

square meals a day’ – he

was telling her choking with emotion

on their first night  

at their rented home

at a strange village.

She planted kisses

dime a dozen on

his forehead and her cheeks

eyes gone teary…… 

OVERLAPPING SHADOWS

POEM

We are overlapping shadows

then, now and in future.

From childhood to teenage

from teenage to youth,

and now  adulthood. 

While we were children,

while we were teenagers,

while we were youth,

we intermingled, continue to intermingle

and will certainly intermingle irrespective of genders.

Now we have got separated

and are in different cities across our nation

and abroad

working in different institutions.

Still,

at least once, twice, thrice a year

majority of us meet and intermingle

share our pains, sorrow and joy

like chemical solutions interacting in a lab.

Once countless of us had love affairs,

in the college campuses and outside.

A few materialized and borne fruits

unfortunately several of them couldn’t blossom

and had to part ways.

Lovers among us,

however experienced that sublime feeling of ecstasy.

Even while eking out a living afar

we are overlapping shadows.

Human beings as a whole

are overlapping shadows

in this ever changing

world, to be precise……..

WORKAHOLIC

POEM

Work, work, work

he prefers to be always on the wheels.

And he knows how to put

his subordinates to be on the wheels.

Work, work, work

he comes out of the office

late in the night

with his brief-case

walks toward his car

turns the ignition key

starts the car and

speeds past to his flat

miles away.

Work, work, work

obsessesed with work

his wife  receives him

with a gloomy face and tears

welling up in her eyes.

By the time he reaches the house

his children will be fast asleep.

‘Work, work, work -

you have nothing else to ponder about.

Neither about two children nor about

your wife.

You are a stranger to our children

at such an early age’

-she sheds tears.

He cares two hoots to

her tears and complaints.

Work, work, work

he wakes up early in the morning

completes his routine work

have his breakfast

his wife with her sombre face

arranges his tiffin box

and puts it in the brief-case.

Well-dressed, scenting perfume,

he walks toward his car

starts it, drives straight  to his office

and starts the day’s work

before the lenova with his

finger playing music on each letters.

Work, work, work

obsessesed with work.

One day when he

reached the flat late into the night

and to his shock

he found his flat-empty 

and a lady  staying 

in the adjacent flat

handed over the keys to him

saying ‘they are gone’.

Where? When, why

while entering the flat

and switching on the

light he asked himself.

With an empty stock 

his stomach like a furnace

he couldn’t sleep through-out the night. 

THE GREAT INDIAN RAPE CAPITALS

ARTICLE

Rapes have spread like an epidemic across India. The only difference being that compared to North Indian States, South Indian States are trailing far behind Northern States. Until recently Delhi was the epicentre of rapes.

Now that it has spread to Uttar Pradesh, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan, Haryana, Bihar and a number of States.

Delhi turned out to be a rape capital since decades and it was frequently testing the patience of Delhites and continuously so.

Whenever the issue of widespread rapes across Delhi, the unfortunate incident of a gang rape of a physiotherapy student who was studying at AIIMS (All India Institute of Medical Sciences) comes to our mind. The incident in night of December 16, 2012 when she along with her boy friend boarded a bus in which six people, all friends were travelling. It was not in the thick of night, only 9 ‘O’ clock approximately. The girl was brutally raped on the running bus by each one among the culprits. And when the girl resisted with all her might they too turned brutal and violent nearly took her to the brink of death. The wicked rascals after being gratified threw the girl and her boy-friend who was tied up by ropes to a corner of a street.

The whole Delhi came to know  about the shocking incident, every member of each house irrespective of girls, men and women, youth and even children poured out into the streets and went on the rampage, sloganeering demanded those at the helm of affairs to bring the culprits to book and take measures to award them capital punishment and nothing short of that.

They were nabbed in no time and incarcerated. The issue went to the court and after trial, barring a juvenile who was among the culprits - the most ruthless among them were sentenced to death. The No.1 accused one Ram Singh took his life by hanging while he was in the Tihar jail. 

Meanwhile, Government appointed former Chief Justice of India Justice J S Verma to inquire about the prevailing rapes and suggest measures to put an end to this epidemic as early as possible. Justice Verma within a stipulated period submitted his report in which he suggested a long list of stringent measures to be taken in future to put a full stop to the inhuman crimes of rape.

The girl in the story though struggled with death until the last moment had to succumb to her serious injuries in a Singapore hospital. In her memory, the government decided to implement ‘Nirbhaya’ for the safety of women in the society but to no avail. Even in Delhi a number of incidents occurred, most of them gang rapes, and the culprits roam around the streets scot-free. Even on the other day a 9^th class student while on her way to her house after attending school was abducted and forcibly pushed into a car drove around the city and was raped by two youths in their early 20’s ruthlessly and left her there. Though a case was filed whether they would be nabbed, no one knows.

One month before two ladies were shot dead by two youths for not withdrawing the cases against two sex-starved men in Uttar Pradesh.

Mulayam Singh, father of UP Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav is always alleged to be by the side of the culprits  wherever such incidents take place. Is he a human being? - the question is better left to the civilians to give an answer.

Such incidents are not confined to a Delhi or a UP but as I have already mentioned it is prevalent across India. Not a single day passes without the incidents of rapes happening somewhere in India.

It is high time the ‘so-called’ responsible rulers rose to the occasion.           

NEVER CHAIN YOURSELVES

POEM

It is better not to marry.

It would be better we

enter into live-in-relationship.

No horoscopes, no auspicious moments,

no temples, no churches,

no nuptial knots,

no exchange of wedding rings,

no wedding sarees

no dowry

no reception,

no children.

A time might come

when we get fed up

with living together.

After a ‘golden hand shake’

after exchanging beaming smiles

I and you bid good-bye  

and depart in search of more and more 

greener pastures.

Life itself is a

continuous pursuit of

greener pastures.

Sometimes we might

come across each other,

smile at each other,

shake hands and enquire

about each other’s welfare.

even share bed at a

convenient, comfortable place.

It is better not to marry.

It would be better

we enter into live-in relationship.

After all what is the need

for chaining ourselves? 

MY MIND

POEM

My mind is a sea

sometimes cool, tranquil and quiet.

Sometimes the same

sea boils, roars and turns violent

depending upon my

fluctuating moods.

With the sun rising,

with the landscape peaceful

cool breeze  flows from the sea

which is pleasant during morning times.  

With the sun moving

slowly and gradually to the west 

the sea turns  hot-tempered

and boils under the blazing sun

and roars with rolls of waves

lashing their heads

on the rocks on the shore and retreat.

And return  to the sea-shore

with more vigour, anger and strength.

My mind at times

evolves into a violent sea

when something unpleasant,

inviting wrath gets on my nerves.

True, my mind is a sea or like a sea

it all depends upon my fluctuating moods….

COLOURS OF MEMORY

POEM

Colours of memory are different.

They could be black,

white, red, green, yellow,

violet, saffron,, vermillion

-the list is endless.

You and I give

different meanings to

different colours of memory.

They are always subjective.

Colours of memory are like

variety entertainment

displayed by a sprawling garden, 

which do not mean

this life is colourful,

bestowing abundance of

blessings upon you and I 

and for that matter

anyone on the face of earth.

Colours of memory do have

colours of joy, sorrow,

agony and gnawing pain.

Be it day, be it night

colours of memory always

accompany us like our shadows…..   

*MAYA

POEM

Many a time I have seen her
in the metro at different places,
different moments.
Enthralled by her bewitching beauty
an intense desire
overwhelmed me, overtook me
to get in touch with her.
Many a time upon seeing her
our eyes get locked
she would hang her head
without even casting a smile at me.
Many a time I find time to pursue her,
with the intention of
knowing her whereabouts,
where she goes, where she resides,
where she works if she works somewhere,
each time she performs a vanishing act
pushing me to the ditch of disappointment.
Is she a character from a fairy tale,
is she my illusion
sometimes I feel.
Once, when our eyes met
she cast a smile at me,
a captivating, bewitching,
fascinating smile it was
and it was no surprise
that I was elated, rejoiced
and elevated
to an ethereal world.
When I crossed the street,
to have one or two sweet words with her
she hurriedly caught a taxi
and sped away……
Now I feel
whether like me
she too is pursuing me.
Anyhow I am sure
we would meet again in the metro
at different places,
different moments……..

*Illusion

FIRE-FLIES

POEM

A nation is burning

since five years.

Civilians are fireflies

in the war-torn country.

Millions already burnt

millions continue to

plunge  into the towering inferno.

A war-ravaged country,

any war-ravaged country for that matter

is like a convict

being led to the gallows.

Due to sheer luck

millions find escape-route

before turning victims

from frequent explosions and raging fire

and run away for life

leaving all their wealth

and other belongings

jumping the hurdles

built by other nations

facing all odds and pitch tents

fall prey to poverty, famine, diseases,

ultimately finding 

solace in tragic deaths.

Ignoring the precious lives of the people

‘BIG GUNS’ jump into the fray

and while one extends support the war-torn country

another takes up cudgels against the latter

Life of millions are of

no value to those so-called

‘BIG GUNS’……  

WEEPING MEDITERRANEAN

POEM

None has seen a

sea weeping

but, dear friends,

a sea too weeps

like a mother, like a child.    

These days Mediterranean

is continuously weeping.

But she is helpless.

When Aylan Kurdi,

his brother Galib,

such hundreds of Aylan Kurdis,

Galibs and their parents

while fleeing for life by boats

and when a few sink

into her very depths

she weeps

ceaselessly weeps 

continues to weep

since boats continues

to drown with the refugees 

who flee for life to safer countries

some deny permission to

them and chase them away,

while some embrace them 

provide food to them

distribute sweets to them

arrange accommodation for them.

Mediterranean is a 

witness to everything

but incessantly weeps…….

SO BE IT

POEM

For the last five years,

you were the ruler

and we were the ruled.

While you were in the throne,

we did ensure that

you must be prevented

from enacting legislations

by blocking them

be them good or bad for our citizens.

We were like an irresponsible opposition

and made a mess of everything.

Now it is our turn.

We are the rulers and

you the ruled

for the next five years, if god permits.

We are sure,

you will be determined

to flummox us,

and obstruct us from

enacting several legislations.

Filibuster, in American parlance.

Be it you or us

whoever hold the reins of power

the ultimate sufferers are our citizens.

So be it……

IMMATERIAL

POEM

Once,

a young man started

scaling the highest mountain of knowledge.

His one and only

aim was nothing but

conquer that mountain

before others forge ahead of him.

With the passage of years and years

reaching the half-way mark

his store-well of strength,

will and determination

gradually started drying up

which forced him to

abandon his mission

return to the point

from where he began scaling

up the mountain.

Like a rich man turning bankrupt

due to unexpected collapse of his business

the person who dreamt of conquering the

mountain of knowledge

could never fulfil his ambition.

Conquering the highest

mountain remains beyond the approach of each

person on the face of earth…….  

FACES AND NAMES

POEM

Faces and names

we like or detest

refuse to leave us

though we want them

vanish from our memory

which however

disappear from the recesses of our mind

like a few sentences

written over the sand of the sea-shore

are wiped  away by

the surging waves within seconds.

Faces and names

we love, like hate or fear

however are etched on

the walls of memory

in other words

our minds like bloating 

papers absorb them

within split seconds.

Beauty or personal magnetism

are not the criteria

If so,

how come rough,

wicked and wily faces

stick to the walls of our minds.

There are no apparent reasons

to explain why such a

puzzle or could we call it phenomenon

lingers which is subjective

subjective only…….

ASSEMBLY ELECTIONS IN BIHAR APPROACHING – EMERGING POLITICAL EQUATIONS

ARTICLE

Elections are round the corner in Bihar. Ruling Janata Dal (United) led by Nitish Kumar and Sharad Yadav apprehending a defeat in the coming elections took the initiative to form a Grand Alliance taking into account the expediency of the moment. Shedding personal animosities Nitish Kumar (JDU) developed intimate relationship with his former  betenoire Lalu Prasad  Yadav, leader of Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD) who was Chief Minister of Bihar for fifteen successive years and both invited Mulayam Singh Yadav, leader of Samajwadi Party (SP), Janata Dal (Secular), Indian National Congress, Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) of Sharad Pawar which later left the alliance squabbling over the number of seats allotted to it which was followed by the Samajwadi Party (SP) for the same reason.

It was the growing clout of Bharatiya Janata Party in Bihar which had prompted these parties to group under one umbrella with a determination to defeat the former at the hustings.

It was a conclusion foretold that the so-called Grand alliance named Janata Parivar would not last long and that which would disintegrate before or after the crucial elections.

It was not ideological affinity which prompted them to gather under one umbrella but casteist politics which played a prominent role. And because of the same reason it is not likely to last, thus believe political observers.

The election of Mulayam Singh Yadav to lead the Alliance from the front was a Himalayan blunder. The man is notorious for swimming with the current, in other words he is the number one fence-sitter or in other words an opportunist among the regional parties in India. Since National Democratic Alliance (NDA) under Narendra Modi of Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), the Yadava parties be it Samajwadi Party (SP) or Rashtriya Janata Dal (RJD), or Janata Dal (United) (not a Yadav party) which was once in good terms with Bharatiya Janata Party (agreed) these parties since the very beginning are bitter enemies of BJP. Bharatiya Janata Party and parties belonging to the Grand Alliance detest seeing eye to eye.  

Mulayam, the gentle man who was elected unanimously to lead the Grand Alliance didn’t have any qualms to break away from the Alliance for the simple reason that his party was not allotted the number of seats it demanded and it is worth remembering that Samajwadi Party is not a force to reckon with in Bihar.  Anyhow Lalu Prasad Yadav, who incidentally has turned out to be his close relative and Sharad Yadav are compelling Mulayam not to leave the alliance for the sake of keeping the BJP at bay. Whether he is likely to listen to their appeals remains a big question mark.

BJP has in the meanwhile formed a cohesive unit and is sensing victory in the ensuing elections.

Though the Left Front, consisting of Communist party of India, Communist Party of India (Marxist), Communist Party of India (Marxist-Leninist), Forward Bloc and Revolutionary Socialist Party keeping a distance from both the Janata Parivar and BJP have decided not to jump into the fray but to no avail. They are not even marginal forces in present day Bihar.

NATURE AND MANKIND

POEM

When a train derails

on its way to

a particular destination

or when a nuclear plant explodes

without displaying any sign of a snag

and snatches away the lives of thousands

or when an air-plane 

catches fire midway in the sky

or nose-dives while landing

robs away hundreds of invaluable lives

or when a war or rebellion breaks out

which could last years and years

in the process killing crores and crores

of innocent lives,

man is bound to share the blame

and each one has to atone for it.

But when an

earthquake violently shakes a land

claiming hundreds of thousands of lives

or when a Tsunami unexpectedly 

towers over a country or countries

and sows the seeds of maximum destruction

in terms  of lives of innocents and loss of properties

when nature vents it fury in the form of  

eruption of a volcano throwing out red-hot lava

flowing down a vast area

forcing thousands to flee for life

who is to blame…..?

IN THE DEEP SEA OF SLUMBER

POEM

Look, the child is sunk

in the sea of deep slumber

face down the sea-shore.

Clad in his glittering,

exquisite red shirt

and tight blue jeans

and black shoes

he might have reached the sea-shore

without informing his elders.

See, he is always fond of 

the vast expanse of the blue sea 

which must have prompted

him to run away to the sea shore from home.

No one knows when he

reached the sea-shore.

One thing is certain

it was hours ago.

Wandering down the sea-shore

for a long time

under the blazing sun

he might have got tired and exhausted.

That might have led

him to fall asleep on the sea-shore

face down on the sand.

‘Aylaan, Aylaan, Aylaan’ -

somebody, perhaps his father or

some other elders from home

was heard calling him in a frightened voice

which was approaching nearer and nearer

from a long distance.

Naughty Aylaan might have

played prank on his elders.

In the meanwhile 

a glum-faced, shocked  

soldier came near him

and saw his  lifeless body.

No gentleman, he hasn’t bid farewell to the world.

He’s sunk in deep, deep, deep sea of slumber.

Sure,  after sleep he will

wake up with a smile in his lips

‘See, I was playing

pranks on all’ – it would be his response to all.

DRIVE-IN-PARLOUR

POEM

Driving down a tarred road 

of an unknown village

enjoying the greenery all the way

he came across a board – ‘Drive in Parlour’

with an arrow painting

towards a building a few feet back

which seemed like  beckoning him.

Though a teetotaler since fifteen years

the scent of nostalgia overpowered him,

enveloped him

while recalling the days

he had spent with his close friends 

in several bars and toddy shops

got intoxicated and danced with them

singing aloud.

While on his way

to maturity and subsequent marriage

he decided to put a full-stop

to his wayward life.

But now after fifteen years

on his way through

the unfamiliar, beautiful

landscape of the village

which enthralled him, enchanted him  

a temptation took hold of him

to visit the ‘Drive-in-Parlour’.

True,

his conscience red-flagged him

but the temptation meant temptation

even Jesus had fallen a prey to it

thus wrote Kazantzakis.

He applied the break

and halted it in front of the Parlour.

Cars were parked in the parking space

must be owned by different

visitors to the Parlour and

the watchman led him to a convenient -

place to park his vehicle too.

After coming out

gifting a smile to the watchman

the smell of toddy, fish fry

fried chicken and beef fry….

welcomed him while  even before entering.

And inside he saw his friends

of yester years

who too had pledged to be teetotalers

enjoying merry moments

who were in high spirits

and they, upon seeing him

looked at each other

blushing……

‘Now that, I am caught with

my pants down

now than they too are caught

with their pants down

let me enjoy the maximum’ – he was talking to himself……. 

FEAR PSYCHOSIS

POEM

Upon the assumption of power

by an overbearing ruler

barring a few

an inexplicable fear reflects in the eyes

of each citizen.

He remains panic and paranoid each moment

and takes a back foot  

be he a writer, artist

or intellectual.

They can be poets,

novelists, painters or essayists

and for that matter

who pen or sculpt or paint

conveying the message of freedom,

the thirst for freedom.

Those who exhorted us the citizens

to be the torch-bearers of freedom

suddenly withdraw into their shells,

fear gripping them tightly.

The dignity and

greatness of democracy

are put on the back burner

and that

immemorable dictum -

Of the People, For the

People, By the People

the quintessence of   Democracy

is being sucked………….

ROAD TO FREEDOM

POEM

Road to freedom is

narrow, crater-filled,

broken and shattered.

Road to freedom is

a long-winding path

and each one should have

to march  ahead bare-footed.

Road to freedom, like life

has its ups and downs

and the long march makes

all tired, exhausted and

bruised with blood oozing out.

Road to freedom always

demands will, determination and courage

to face all odds including

seemingly insurmountable obstructions.

Obstructions are the rival soldiers

out to force the freedom fighters

put a halt to their onward march.

But,

the ultimate victory is

that of freedom fighters

since they are determined to enter

Road to Freedom………..            

IN A FIX

SHORT STORY

She came late in the night-alone.

Janet auntie was drowned in deep sleep. Repeated knocks on the door startled her and awoke her.

She switched on the light in the room and the one outside. The fan was revolving with break-neck speed. Frowning, she walked towards the door to unlock it.

‘Who is it knocking the door in the thick of the night?’ – she was asking herself.

‘Tell me who is outside?’

And she never forgot to throw her eyes through  the peeping-hole.

‘It’s me auntie, Smitha’.

Janet auntie had already seen her while eyeing through the peeping-hole.

Smitha was clad in tight blue jeans and glimmering yellow T-shirt. Smitha was carrying a back-pack. Smitha was in a pair of polished black shoes. She was wearing neither ear-rings nor any ornaments around her neck.

Janet auntie was actually flabbergasted. She hurriedly opened the door and with her frowning glance let Smitha in.

‘What the hell have you done? Coming alone from afar. How dare you?’

‘Sorry Auntie……I was not alone. My friend Annie was with me till the last stop and she went to her uncle’s flat at East Fort….’ – Janet auntie’s eyes travelled from top to bottom and smelt something fishy.

‘And you came by?’

‘Train. After getting down at the station, I caught a pre-paid taxi. And here I am now.’ – Smitha gave Janet Auntie a sweet but sly smile. Her lips were red and somewhat swollen.

‘When you started from home?’

Auntie was about to grill her and Smitha could hear her heart beating fast. Her heart-beats were like drum-beats.

‘You could have informed me?’ – Janet Auntie’s voice was sad and complaining.

‘Actually I wanted to play pranks on you. To have a pleasant surprise for you……….’- Smitha thru’ her a mischievous smile. Janet Auntie sensed Smitha was hiding something from her – a secret which Smitha was not willing to divulge.

‘Had your supper?’

‘Yeah Auntie. From the train.’ – Smitha responded in a low tone.

‘No I don’t believe you. Come.’ Change your clothes, wear the nightie and have something’ – Janet auntie compelled her.

Smitha was actually not hungry. She did have a sumptuous feast with Ashwin from the lodge cum hotel. And  Ashwin is very much in the city. He did accompany Smitha upto the front of Janet Auntie’s villa and after dropping her there he returned to the same lodge.

Auntie’s compulsion drove her to have something but with reluctance.

‘You must be too tired. It is 1pm now. Go to sleep. Auntie pointed towards the adjacent room. She helped Smitha unroll a new bed sheet and also provided her with a blanket.

Janet Auntie switched off the light in the room. Smitha too switched off the light in her room.

Janet Auntie lay awake, she couldn’t sleep. How could she sleep? She was thinking about Smitha.

‘Smitha is hiding something from me, no doubt. She is a not a type who can travel all the way from home to this city alone? From her childhood days she never dared to travel alone. Even to the church which was not far away from home. Even while in her school and college days the story was the same. And now she claims she has travelled all the way from her far away home with her friend ‘one’ Annie. Actually who gave her company up to the station, rather up to the front of her villa? Somebody must be there.

No doubt. Let me enquire Joyce without Smitha knowing about it.

Meanwhile Smitha too couldn’t sleep a bit. She was sleeping with Ashwin after making love twice or thrice today. What she was thinking about was about him, Ashwin, the ‘bull’ in the true sense of that term.

‘Whole body is aching. Still feeling tired. His sharp nails pierced her skin here and there drawing pictures of blood and her sensitive body parts bruised, felt a burning sensation. And lips too remain sore and swollen.  Whether Auntie might have noticed it? I fear she is suspicious. Then no doubt all hell would break loose. Ashwin you are responsible for all this. If something untoward happens, you prank? I have dedicated myself to you at the altar of love.’

After convincing herself that Smitha has fallen asleep, in the wee hours of the morning Janet Auntie after slowly opening the door and stepped out, dialed to Joyce keeping her ear glued to the cell phone…..with her hand shivering and heart pounding…………..

GRANDMA’S ADVICE

POEM

Grow up and up, my dear

coconut plant.

Grow taller and taller,

my dear coconut plant.

Bear coconuts aplenty 

in the years to come

thereby impart a meaning

to this meaningless, absurd and nauseating life.

Don’t  be like a barren lady

or a simmering desert

under a burning sun.

PATTERN

POEM

Haven’t you noticed

birds smoothly fly ahead in the sky

keeping order in the early morning

before dawn from their nests?

Haven’t you watched them

flying back to their nests keeping order

just before sunset

like flypast of aircrafts

on Republic days and such other occasions…..

How come men, women and children’s

thoughts always go topsy-turvy  

in the inner skies of their mind

howsoever hard they try

in the humdrum of daily existence?

We will have to learn to

keep a pattern of the movements  of

our thoughts as also our daily chores…..

FESTIVE AND RESTIVE

POEM

Our land ought to be

in festive mood on this Onam day celebrations.

Instead,

we are in a restive mood.

The sparks of dreams, sorry, our

dreams have died down

since our pockets remain empty

thanks to  the callous indifference

of the powers  that be glued to their chairs

in the air-conditioned cabins.

After slogging it out throughout the day

shedding sweat and tears profusely

our employers throw at us peanuts as our remuneration.

With peanuts in our hands,

if and when we approach the vendors

of grocery and the shops

the owners cock-a-snook at us

leaving us high and dry.

While the haves make it a memorable event

we the have-nots remain restless

with our empty stomachs

on the occasion of our harvest festival……

EPHEMERAL LIFE

POEM

Like a turbulent sea

suddenly turning calm

Like a fast running

train blaring horns 

all of a sudden and

held upon the tracks

causing the precarious bogies about

to run off the tracks.

Like a bird flying in

the sky flapping wings

effortlessly all of a

sudden gets stuck in the sky.

Like burning tubes

getting fused

within split seconds after installing

on the walls 

each man’s/woman’s

breaths coming

to an abrupt  stop

life on earth is

always ephemeral

like an unknown force

blowing out a flame mercilessly, untimely….