HOLY COMMUNION

POEM

It was a Sunday

on which I saw you first.

Whether you

were seeing me first

on that same day. 

We threw glances at

each other but didn’t

utter a single word.

Cute, pretty,

ineffable and attractive, I  couldn’t  erase

your face for days together

which was indelibly imprinted 

on the wall of mind.

I earnestly wished to

meet you everyday

but after that Sunday

I couldn’t espy you

for a long period.

Whither you went and

whether you would 

appear before me a

second time like we

first met on that

fateful Sunday.

My sullen look told me

that you wouldn’t come

before me another day.

On the contrary, on a

fine  Sunday morning 

I saw you walking along to

the church to attend the

Holy Communion.

Taken aback with

unbelieving eyes I threw

my glances repeatedly

at you and on watching my

embarrassed but pleasant face

you threw a question-

‘Can’t believe? Yes, I am

the same lady you saw

me first on that very Sunday

my heart  missed a beat

and with stammering voice

I asked  -

‘True , I can’t believe myself

from that very day I am

keeping your face in 

my memory and I wanted

again and again   to

see you another day’

you just threw

a beaming smile at me and uttered –

‘But everyday  , every morning,

I see you walking

along the road with your

head held high, but

with a sullen face’.

Again,

 taken aback I was wondering

how come you see me

daily and from where.’

Still, I wonder

from  where you were glancing  at me.

Anyhow the very thought

that you find  time

to watch me walking down

the foot-path to the

bus-station.

PROGRESS CARD

POEM

Criss-crossing the nation,

in the run-up to the

General Elections

citizens at the bottom of

social ladder

are offered tall promises.

The parties and leaders of

political parties are

distributing the promises

on a silver platter

thereby assuring all citizens

irrespective of caste, creed and religion

to better the lives of all

within a short spell at

the most hundred days.

And those parties and their

leaders who win the elections

after assumption of power

do virtually nothing

to alleviate the sufferings

of the poor barring the

well-being of the ones who

are born with a silver-spoon

in their mouths.

The have-nots are

taken for a ride

and even after a prolonged spell

their conditions remain pathetic.

Being taken for a ride,

these days the poor

ones take the promises

of the leaders on a shovel of salt.

Thus the seeds of

a rebellion are sown

which within a short period

evolve into a civil war.

AN ONGOING PROCESS

POEM

Lust for power drives a

ruler especially a dictator

leads to the ditch of disaster.

Greed for wealth pushes a

ruler especially a dictator

to amass huge amounts

of wealth thereby draining

the exchequer and forces

pauperization of a nation.

The country falls

into the abyss of poverty

and famine leading to deaths

hundreds of thousands of 

citizens everyday

selfishness is the hallmark

of a ruler especially a dictator

since his wives, children, siblings

and loyal courtiers are

left to bloodhounds to prey them

flee abroad seeking asylum.

Lust, greed and selfishness

apart there exist a

number of reasons which

are heart-breaking or heart –curdling.

It is an ongoing

process, never ending process

from which there is no let up.

SHADOW-PLAY

POEM

Don’t mistake this for real life.

This is a make-believe world

we are not real-life characters.

They spread across somewhere else

mind you, in this

make-believe world

we are all shadows

and what we play are shadow-plays

we are all shadows and

continue to be  shadows.

THE THRONE

POEM

How come a dictator,

especially a malevolent dictator

goes on with his ruthless rule

massacring millions of his subjects

with as many flee the country for life

to another nation seeking refuge?

How dare a dictator

a malevolent dictator

stick to his throne

when the citizens of a country

after suffering poverty,

famine , undernourishment etc

consolidate under one umbrella

with the determination to kick the rascal out

march ahead to oust him,

otherwise forcing him to

abdicate his throne

in spite of the fellow

not willing to step down

and stick to his post like a leech

who let loose a reign of terror

knowing in his heart of

hearts that the citizens

one day will throw him out of his throne……  

SUMMER OF DISCONTENT

POEM

With the searing heat

reaching its peak

we feel thirsty  and exhausted. 

Not only us, living beings as a whole

too are affected

with passage of time.

They feel tired and hungry

and in the process

they fall prey to be

summer heat and breathe their last.

In these days of summer

the worst-hit are the farmers

whose vast paddy fields

go dry and cracks develop everywhere.

Our mouths go dry and

are compelled to pray to

the Goddess of Rain.

Scarcity of water deprive

all living-beings especially

the human-beings.

Whenever I think of drought,

I go philosophical and painful.

Like the simmering summer heat and drought

getting on our nerves,

relationships among

mankind develop

cracks like the

sprawling paddy-fields,

in the new era.

Each lives for himself or herself

and love goes artificial

and each human being

develops hollow, shallow smiles.

Sincere love and smiles

are something to be dreamt about

or in other words our wishful thinking.

Like the cycle of

seasons playing truant

relationships among

human beings trickle down

like drops of water. 

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS

POEM

Mouth-watering

mango fruits are weakness of many.

Costly , expensive and exorbitant

they are in short supply.

Gone are the days of

cheap, and sweet mango-fruits

widespread in our land.

Those days are gone

and those days are

never to visit us again

and hence the exorbitant

mango fruits are monopoly of a few

especially the rich.

Added to this

diabetics are on the

increase these days

and though mouth-watering

mango-fruits which

are in short supply

are denied to them by the medicos.

Pity them…….

STAR

POEM

Like a star

you entered my life.

Like a star

you spread light in my life.

Like a star

you made my life prosper.

And like a star

you made me a star

like a shining, glimmering jewel.

RECOGNITION

POEM

The thespian walked down

the footpath to the railway station 

among the roaring crowded city.

He compared himself to

a drop of water in the sea.

Without allowing anybody

so as not to  recognize him anyone
in his fancy dress

he entered the platform and caught

a train to Boriveli.

Once in a while,

for a change

he indulged himself in

walking and travelling

along in his fancy dress

he travelled to unknown places

in the suburbs.

There was a time when

he craved for recognition

in the city.

He was quite young

and ambitious during those days.

He never dreamt in the wildest

of his dreams

one day his ambition

would fructify.

But contrary to his

dreams and expectations he  later

found himself scaling

the heights of glory 

thanks to his luck.

With him evolving into 

a famous actor

he lost his

desire to walk along

the footpaths of the city.

To escape from the

crowd who loved and

respected him and even

cherished the dream of

at least touching and kissing him

he bought luxury cars with AC

facilities and travelled

by the car with the

driver at the steering wheel and

he on the back seat. 

THE QUESTION MARK

POEM

Life,

nowadays is restless to him.

Not because of unrequited love

not because lack of money

still life,

nowadays is restless to him.

Not because heavy work-load

not because of the seniors’ ire

life nowadays is restless to him.

Not because of turmoil

across the world,

violence, civil-wars,

millions of death,

millions of  displacements.

Life, nowadays

is restless to him.

Not because of depression

not because of separation

from dear ones

life nowadays is

restless to him.

Then why? That is a

question mark staring

at him always……

SOOTHING BALM

POEM

You look worried.

Sure,

something has gone wrong with you

but the reason, I know not.

The dark clouds on your face tell

many a sad story

yet I know not the reason behind it.

Whither gone your pleasantness,

serenity and tranquility.

Harmony had never left you before

like the azure sky without any clouds,

the dark clouds.

Why can’t you open up your mind

at least to me

which would certainly

make your mind lighter

if not happier

so that I could have applied

soothing balm to wipe out

your pain and hurt.

This sudden change on your face,

is not because of ‘mood swings’ I am certain

If that were the case

it would have

visited you frequently.

Open up your mind

it would help you

to release your suppressed and hidden feelings.

  

MY FATHER AND SIBLINGS

POEM

When my father was (?) alive

he used to impart

courage in us

assuring us ‘as long as

I am alive you need not fear or worry

about any threat to your existence’.

Tall, sturdy and brave

none on earth could dare

to take on him straight

throughout his life.

Unlike us he

did have the ability

to fly in the sky, playing vanishing tricks

and then coming back

return with ease

with which a bird flew in the sky

which often baffled us.

We didn’t know

whether he was playing

mischief on us

by remaining invisible and invincible.

Anyhow,

with the confidence that

he is very much with us

we go on living on the

surface of the earth

with confidence and courage…

THE TRAUMA

POEM

Flurry of emotions
makes her cry like
child even after
years have elapsed
since she was raped by a gang.
Bouts of depressions
drown her in a
turbulent sea intermittently.
Whenever she
recollects that fateful day
it often visits her
to shiver like a person
overpowering her.
Once this disease called
rape was centered
around a particular place,
and now it has evolved into an
epidemic across the nation which forces
the people to remain
vigilant to offer maximum resistance.
If society is a mirror
it reflects
victims of rape among
other thing like
rampant corruption, bribery, prostitution,
adultery, poverty, famine to list a few
which run down her spine….

ROBOTIC LOVE

POEM

Genuine love is a

quality almost absent

in our society.

There was a time

a  golden time

when genuine love

was abundant

among mankind.

The fragrance of flowers

spread across the land,

whispered the message of genuine love

in the ears of each man or woman.

And with progress of time except a few

this gem of a quality

is alarmingly diminishing in our society.

Be it between two lovers

or a husband and wife

or between two friends

it is the display of

artificial love, not genuine love.

At a moment

when the robots outnumber

mankind in society

the future love stares at us and

evolves into robotic love……

POLITICIAN

POEM

My hands are dirty,

so is my mind,

since I am a politician.

Since I am a politician

I do have a dirty mind

like a blurred mirror

through which no one is

able to make out anything 

reflecting through the mirror.

Only the day on which

my hands are clean

and my mind turns crystal clear

my hypocrisy fades away

the politician in me

turns honest and sincere

to the delight of

my near and dear ones. 

RIGHT OR WRONG

POEM

Right or wrong , I  walk

along the chosen path

and continue to be so.

Right or wrong, I will

swim against the

current and will continue

to go on with the same.

Right or wrong 

it doesn’t matter I will

continue to write about

whatever I watch daily

be it about gay,

lesbian, transgender

and bisexual and

would continue to write

whether I like it or hate it.

Right or wrong, to be

frank, I prefer to lead a city life

and would continue to be so.

Right or wrong,

it doesn’t matter, I would

continue to appreciate

everything beautiful,

attractive and enchanting like

John Keats once wrote

and enjoyed ‘a thing

of beauty is joy for ever’.

Right or wrong, I will

continue to surmount

every obstacle in my path

to reach my aim whether

it is  far, far away and

in the process I might fail

or succeed in my endeavours.  

 Right it is, in this world of turbulence

and turmoil

I always dream about

peace and tranquility,

across the world.

    

THE VICTIMS

POEM

But for a few, majority

of Godmen and Godwomen are

ruling  the roost.

But for a few, a number of

people falls prey to the

machinations of Godmen and Godwomen.

But for a few, a number of

self-styled Godmen and

Godwomen are to be kept at arms’ length.

But for a few,

a number of people falls to the

cheating and debauchery of

the so-called Godmen and Godwomen.

BRIDGE OF LIFE

POEM

With each passing day

we walk along the bridge of life.

It is tedious and arduous

to climb the bridge

built in an ascending order.

With each passing day

a man/woman climbs

up the bridge of life

which becomes higher and higher

and it is natural that

he/she finds it difficult

to climb up the ‘ladder’ of life

and if one is incapable of

walking up the bridge of life

and is forced to climb down

which ultimately leads to his/her death.

Those who succeed in

walking up the ‘ladder’ of life

reach the ‘summit’ and

gradually walk down to

the valley of death on the other side,

from which there is

no escape ultimately…. 

A CITIZEN’S REQUEST TO IROM SHARMILA TO WITHDRAW FROM THE FAST UNTO DEATH

This is the fourteenth year since Irom Chanu Sharmila began her hunger strike demanding the repeal of AFSPA (Armed Forces Special Powers Act), but with no result. On 2 November 2001, ten persons who were waiting at a bus stop snear Imphal valley were shot dead by the paramilitary forces apparently for no reason. The blood-curdling incident angered the citizens of Manipur, one of the North-East States. Irom Chanu Sharmila, shocked and angered on hearing the incident went on a fast unto death demanding the government at the centre to repeal the Armed Forces Special Powers Act (AFSPA) which was given a blank cheque entrusting them to roam around the entire North Eastern States and ensure that peace prevailed across the entire North East and Jammu & Kashmir in the North. And in order to silence any sign of protest the Army without seeking permission of the government suppressed the trouble makers either male or female citizens who braved the Army were ruthlessly shot and raped them mercilessly until the disintegration of rebellion.

No governments either led by Indian National Congress led alliance or BJP led National Democratic Alliance kept mum on listening to the incidents in the North-East.

Now Irom Chanu Sharmila in her 14^th year of fast has determined to continue her fast until AFSPA is repealed. The Government forseeing  a burning Manipur or in other words a towering inferno in case Irom Sharmila is dead, forcefully fed her liquid food through her nostrils right from the day her health was deteriorated.

She is often arrested and released since the court’s order prevailed.

AFSPA was slapped in the North-East by the rulers in 1958. Even after such a long period they stick on with the AFSPA in order to have at least a graveyard silence.

Human Rights Activists after visiting Irom Sharmila wanted the immediate withdrawal of the draconian act but to no avail. Even Sharmila herself wrote to the former Prime Minister Dr.ManMohan Singh to repeal AFSPA. He didn’t have the courtesy to respond to her demand.

As to one reason why the successive govts keep away from repealing the Act is the protests of the Army.

The then Honourable Supreme Court Judge Jeevan Reddy Commission after the successful completion of enquiry came to the conclusion that AFSPA need to be repeated. On going thru the contents those at the helm of affairs kept the enquiry report in safe custody. Govt virtually did nothing and we often wonder why the ruling mandarins invited the honorable Judge to conduct an enquiry.

Now that BJP alone has won at the hustings in the 2015-16 General Elections and NDA Alliance led by BJP has cared two hoots to the demands of the activists for repealing AFSPA – the draconian act.

It is a conclusion foretold that no govts in the ensuing years are supposed to repeal AFSPA. And it would be better if Irom Sharmila ended her fast and saved her life. No solution seems to be in sight to repeal the act.  

    

    

SHE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE ALONE

POEM

A nightmare awoke him

from slumber one night.

Driven by a desire to

visit her from his faraway place

he caught a train to

her abode even without

her permission.

On the occasion of

bidding farewell he had

given her an assurance

to pay a visit to her

whenever she wanted.

He made it a point

to ‘fly’ to her with

pleasure and delight and

with his heart thumping.

But this time

contrary to her pleadings

he caught a long distance train

solely for the purpose of

visiting her.

His proximity always gave

her pleasure and unlimited happiness

and hence it was

a trait in her character

to call him over her

cell-phone and wanted him

to come over by her side.

After covering a long distance the train

he finally reached the city

where she was residing.

He got down and

in his earnest desire to reach her

he caught a taxi to her residence.

Shocked, embarrassed

and pained

he saw her flat locked

and a lady residing

in the adjacent flat

came to him and told

‘you seeking Mrs…..’?

He shook his head mechanically

‘She is no more, sir

one day she didn’t awake

from her deep sleep.

We people knocked

on her door frequently

but with no response.

At last we went to

the extent of calling

the law and order people

and they took her to hospital.

By that time she had

gone to her heavenly

abode…..

Actually no one knows

her real name in this colony.

She always wanted to be alone…..’

That nightmare which

awoke him from his

deep slumber was in

his frozen mind……

HIBISCUS FLOWER

POEM

A hibiscus flower

unlike a rose or jasmine flower

is not blessed with inebriating scent.

Wish, one day it too

could spread intoxicating

smell which would elate

or elevate the spirits of mankind.

One would hope

the whole world could be

pervaded with the charming

and intoxicating smell of all blooms

which would bring a

beaming smile to the whole world……

NOW AND THEN

POEM

Back home

after a tight schedule

in the office

she used to reach home

tired and exhausted.

She would

go straight to her

private room

changed her clothes and

would wear a white nightie

her favourite colour.

After having a hot tea and snacks

she would go to

her beautiful garden

where with the onset of evening

the flowers would start

to fade away like

her tired face

which would push her to the den of gloom.

She would begin

watering the plants to

revive and rejuvenate them

a delightful job she liked and loved always…

After watering the plants,

she would climb up the ladder

and reach the terrace

start walking to and fro

enjoying the landscape

and the warm red circle

about to take a bath

in the western horizon

vehicles speeding in

opposite directions

the familiar and unfamiliar faces

and a face she wouldn’t

forget till she breathed her last

about which she hid from

her father, mother and siblings.

Today

the home is not there

the garden is virtually absent

no one knows where all went

all seemed an enigma.

The spring season

began somewhere in her life

ended somewhere to

the disappointment

and frustration all in

the neighbourhood though

her family kept away from all in

the neighbourhood…..

  

STILL THE THOUGHT LINGERS ON

POEM

Like a serene, tranquil and transparent lake

Sometimes calm, sometimes quiet one’s mind

and the sea

sometimes restless

sometimes turbulent like

one’s mind and the sea.

Fathomless always

one’s mind and the sea

still we boast about

our incredible capacity

to measure the depth of

one’s mind or sea…..

investigation is always

good viz restless research.

Still only the tip of the iceberg

visible even now

and how long it would

take to reach the Ultimate?

Any idea……?

THE DOVE

POEM

Society goes on

moving backward and forward

or in other words

like a pendulum

moving left to right

and right to left.

The practices of dowry system

and the rituals

like Shariat law,

honour killings, beheadings

stoning to death or hanging

in public places in

the very eyes of public

so as to inject terror

into their blood-stream,

the blood-curdling or blood-chilling acts

continue non-stop even in this

first half of 21^st century.

And if such acts continue unabated,

the future scenario can

easily be predictable.

Likewise

since time immemorial

much blood-shed must have been

the order of the day.

Still mankind never

gets tired of pursuing

its role of a dove

with olive branches

between its peaks…..