tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51801514487020130142024-03-08T02:31:53.861-08:00PARALLEL LINESAGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-69378403995161021162011-01-13T01:55:00.000-08:002011-01-13T01:55:34.737-08:00i delicately palmed pearlsi delicately palmed, pearls <br />
of sorrow, from the overflowing well <br />
and threaded it with joy - <br />
that rare gift you gifted me, <br />
once sitting at my window… <br />
<br />
at my window<br />
i am still waiting for you <br />
to see you flap down on your wordy wings..<br />
<br />
at my window, just to bracelet you<br />
with this garland of mine, <br />
of sorrows and joy<br />
of sorrows and joy…..<br />
<br />
where are you, my angel<br />
the air is void sans your words<br />
where are you, my angel<br />
the music is gone, sans your murmurs <br />
where are you, my dear angel<br />
i am left all alone, sans your giggles<br />
i am left all alone, sans your giggles.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-47782386628028482942011-01-11T21:48:00.000-08:002011-01-11T21:48:14.763-08:00sorrow drizzlessorrows drizzle as snow flakes<br />
in a wintry morning, <br />
slow but steady, the greenness of my life <br />
is lost in dirty whiteness <br />
as it veils the lone birch from the sunny hands…<br />
<br />
i wriggle, wriggle and wriggle<br />
to shatter the tyranny of whiteness <br />
the whiteness of salt, the whiteness of sugar<br />
and the dirty whiteness of surf excel…AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-43023687797882482942011-01-10T01:13:00.000-08:002011-01-10T01:13:51.608-08:00You, Shakespearean fool*you made us laugh - <br />
laugh like waves at ease.<br />
<br />
but as the laughter receded<br />
we felt your brush<br />
cutting through our flesh<br />
like the untimely church bells <br />
breaking the awful silence…<br />
<br />
we felt the terror<br />
we felt the pain<br />
and we heard someone laugh at us<br />
<br />
your brush ripped off the masks, <br />
as a reward, they<br />
measured the depth of your body<br />
and left it in the gutter...<br />
<br />
you, Shakespearean fool<br />
rest in peace, <br />
for your bold strokes has peeled off the skin<br />
and made them lay bare<br />
with all their sinister nudity<br />
for us to be very cautious<br />
of the saffron robes....<br />
<br />
<br />
* written in memory of Irfan Hussain, Cartoonist<br />
who was kidnapped, stabbed to death, and thrown into a gutter.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-4018085637953207812011-01-08T02:35:00.000-08:002011-01-08T02:35:24.313-08:00you blessed me with eternityyou never let me go<br />
out of the nails<br />
even your body was brought down <br />
and laid rest on her lap<br />
and was born, Michelangelo.<br />
<br />
no crying mothers<br />
no laughing soldiers<br />
no jeering crowed ….<br />
<br />
my life<br />
a silent celebration <br />
on the cross…<br />
at the altar of wedlock….<br />
<br />
and, not even from a far-off land<br />
i could hear him, to create another masterpiece<br />
<br />
in a mindless city of mouse games<br />
you blessed me with eternity<br />
you blessed me with eternity, of loneliness....AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-23472876937101484032011-01-07T02:15:00.000-08:002011-01-07T02:15:58.788-08:00wordswords, as termites on decaying wood<br />
blankets my days & nights…<br />
<br />
black, white, and multi-coloured<br />
systematically woven texts….<br />
<br />
rape, communal violence<br />
ethnic cleansing & murder & farmer suicides <br />
nuclear bombs, political encounters<br />
all reduced to lines & columns <br />
neatly arranged amidst pics of bulging boobs<br />
threatening six packs ....<br />
<br />
the whole country feeds on it<br />
as pigs on shit, knowing not<br />
just to be another ‘quality feed’<br />
on the fascist’s table<br />
<br />
oh mother,<br />
termites, black & white<br />
and multi-coloured<br />
eat into my brain…AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-88463508678663702422011-01-06T02:27:00.000-08:002011-01-06T05:33:38.496-08:00my lifemy life, a candle without flame<br />
melting into shapeless waste<br />
on a deserted tomb, unnoticed<br />
<br />
wasted passions<br />
iced dreams, undelivered<br />
<br />
dear father,<br />
can my life be recycled?<br />
can you breathe some shape into the waste,<br />
so my dreams may flame again?AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-76661214180813898072011-01-05T03:55:00.000-08:002011-01-05T03:55:24.361-08:00Buddha smiles*the dark and desolate corners of the mind<br />
frightens me like the sight of a dog<br />
devilishly mourning at the full moon<br />
<br />
the horror…the horror**<br />
snaking down my bones<br />
like blood from a fresh deep wound<br />
<br />
they say<br />
Buddha smiles in the wound of the desert<br />
and proudly exhibit the jewel, Kargil; and boasts<br />
it brings unity ….<br />
<br />
in the night<br />
i dreamt of mushrooms<br />
and bubbling human skin…<br />
<br />
mother,<br />
are they going to drop the bomb?***<br />
<br />
<br />
* written after india tested nuclear bomb which was shockingly given the code name, 'Buddha smiles'.<br />
<br />
** Joseph Conrad - Heart of Darkness.<br />
<br />
*** Pink FloydAGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-79438126328745863732011-01-04T02:55:00.000-08:002011-01-04T02:55:29.838-08:00words slitherwords slither<br />
down the curves of my body<br />
like a snake on grass<br />
<br />
the hushed motion<br />
slanting into the abyss of silence <br />
like a lightening across the sky<br />
<br />
tongues unsheathed<br />
voyaging past the seen<br />
into the not-seen <br />
<br />
the waters <br />
silently conceived a pebble….AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-75369643522672526582011-01-03T02:38:00.000-08:002011-01-03T02:38:37.138-08:00the hourin the balcony <br />
watching the sun sink, <br />
sorrow, leaning on my breast<br />
as if sunflowers to the sun, whispered<br />
and i could feel the whisper, <br />
even amidst the honking traffic…<br />
<br />
i stared at the hour<br />
coming closer and closer<br />
which i can never sail past<br />
<br />
calm rose precariously <br />
to great heights, like waves<br />
splashing my soul often, foretelling<br />
the impending gloom – ineluctable <br />
<br />
silently i trained myself<br />
to laugh at the void<br />
the still wall that stops everything<br />
was always laughing at me<br />
<br />
more silence, more agonies<br />
i could not find the line<br />
that separated laughter and silence<br />
the more i tried, the more it receded<br />
like waves, from Prometheus bound on the rock.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-1145129375059889952011-01-02T04:51:00.000-08:002011-01-02T04:51:27.852-08:00timetime - <br />
it slants, forks & loops<br />
zigzags and suddenly straighten up<br />
i try hard to keep the balance….<br />
<br />
some say, <br />
there is light at the end of the tunnel. <br />
might be, my friend – <br />
it’s just the faith in it<br />
or the fate of it, <br />
that makes me trudge all alone<br />
<br />
the colourful wings of butterflies, spread<br />
but glued on the wall.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-36883111187877202042010-12-27T07:19:00.000-08:002010-12-27T07:19:51.339-08:00You Know, Jesus...you know, Jesus, today is your birthday<br />
You were lucky to be born as the son of God<br />
and kings from far of lands, paying tribute , with myriad of gifts…<br />
<br />
but here, dear friend; if i can call you like that<br />
new born kids, sometimes are food to dogs<br />
or seen thrown into the garbage bins<br />
or even just born to be sprayed by bullets or rockets<br />
as in Palestine, the holy land<br />
and the big brother says, they deserve it….<br />
<br />
maybe, you were unlucky, as your parents had to flee<br />
with you, from the evil designs of lesser mortals.<br />
but here, we can’t even flee from hunger<br />
and the imminent starvation and death<br />
or sometimes, my mother had to sell her to feed me….<br />
or sometimes, even sell me, so they have the luxury<br />
of a meal in a day, for another one month, without trouble......<br />
<br />
in that case, you were lucky, you learned carpentry<br />
from your father, and helped him, and ‘grew in wisdom’<br />
but we had the stigma of class & caste, and have to prove<br />
that we are meritorious, even to have our say in life<br />
and many of my friends said they existed, through death<br />
as they had no other option to be heard…….<br />
<br />
oh Jesus, you were really lucky<br />
because you came to save the world<br />
but what the fuck i am going to do with my life<br />
whom am i going to save?<br />
or who is that fucking savior to take me,<br />
and the like of me, from abyss…..<br />
<br />
and i don’t know, Jesus, my friend<br />
on your birthday, this year,<br />
another innocent was sentenced to life imprisonment<br />
for sedition, you know, that was the complaint raised against you<br />
in front of Herodias, the King.<br />
<br />
at least Herodias had the courtesy to ask you<br />
‘what is truth?’<br />
<br />
but for our judge, he had no doubt at all!<br />
and he emphatically said –<br />
maoists and terrorists are big threats today<br />
and they don’t deserve mercy….<br />
<br />
but do you remember, my friend,<br />
you forgave the one crucified on your right….<br />
do you remember….<br />
<br />
DEDICATED TO BINAYAK SEN.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-26061493632043342182010-12-22T03:24:00.000-08:002010-12-22T03:24:23.384-08:00i don’t believei don’t believe<br />
not in the sun, that sponge my pain <br />
and lamp the hidden crevices <br />
after all, there is no question <br />
of believing or not believing in the sun…<br />
<br />
nor in the moon, that waits for me <br />
to rock the cradle, as its soft smiles <br />
gently feathers my anguished soul…<br />
<br />
and never in the winds, that shakes my<br />
being as a tree in a stormy rain<br />
and put me in trance, so serene and blissful <br />
<br />
neither in the rain, that showers<br />
its passionate dreams bringing forth new lease of life<br />
making me wonder at the rainbow covenant …..<br />
<br />
oh god! then what don’t i believe, in You?AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-54858590026950391862010-12-19T05:34:00.000-08:002010-12-19T05:34:20.825-08:00fallen in lovefinally,<br />
your lips bloomed into a kiss<br />
as innocent smile from the cherubic lips<br />
while asleep…<br />
<br />
the fragrance<br />
cleaning out the hidden hurts & hatreds<br />
as the summer rain washes the city pure…<br />
<br />
i coiled inhaling the sweat of love <br />
lullabyed by your deep smiles <br />
surging through the clouds of disdain…<br />
<br />
and i knew, <br />
i have fallen in love<br />
i have fallen in love, again.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-90515176217613130112010-12-18T06:37:00.000-08:002010-12-18T06:37:08.522-08:00i feel born agiani feel born again - <br />
born to the vastness of human experience<br />
with a vivid memory of the irretrievable past,<br />
but sans any powers of communication<br />
or any means to transmute the haunting past<br />
to a livable reality.<br />
<br />
i breathe this vastness - <br />
i breathe this colossal silence of the vast dunes<br />
of memories....<br />
<br />
i wanted the joy of the dance,<br />
in stead, i feel the grit of the sand<br />
and its moisture-less grip over me.<br />
<br />
perchance, never in my life<br />
i have been carried away<br />
rather haunted by such an image - <br />
a bright, vivid and penetrating image of the woods<br />
responding to the winds and rain.<br />
<br />
it stands in silence as if in a trance - <br />
frightening, but so solemn a silence<br />
listening to the call the rain<br />
from a far off land...<br />
<br />
dancing violently its impassioned joys in the winds<br />
to the frenzied rhythms - <br />
- the lightening, thunder and rain - <br />
such a shower of passion<br />
whirling and whirling into a sharpened pitch,<br />
gradually falls into a silence - <br />
so serene and blissful.<br />
<br />
a savage, but sacred reunion - <br />
and so poignant its impact<br />
that my own heart strings being plucked <br />
to a maddening rhythm<br />
and slowly resonating to the plaintive notes<br />
like that of the 'solitary reaper.'<br />
<br />
maybe, under a parching sky <br />
and the infinite dunes<br />
i relive the images - <br />
branching out my soul like a banyan tree<br />
re-experiencing the lost music of harmony,<br />
bathing in the shower of love and passion...<br />
<br />
to my mind, which is a battlefield<br />
of such contrasting, unfailing <br />
and incessant clash of images - <br />
- of darkness and light - <br />
- of a grain of sand and the infinite blue - <br />
where the wholeness of the vision, always bullied by<br />
my own devilishly dissected views - <br />
<br />
all what i sculpture here<br />
at least it seems, <br />
to lengthen the distance to the abyss, <br />
or rather, my own faked self,<br />
betrayed by the irresistible passion for flesh<br />
and the impotence of the creative winds<br />
shortens the distance? <br />
<br />
i don't know....AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-76448627141050916822010-12-17T05:13:00.000-08:002010-12-17T05:13:36.034-08:00eternitythe zigzagged black ribbon<br />
sandwiched between the green<br />
slants to eternity<br />
with my life tossed up on the wheels …. <br />
<br />
will ‘he kindly stop for me’<br />
to free me from the dizzying speed to stillness?AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-61511612948469943542010-12-16T06:14:00.000-08:002010-12-16T06:14:57.282-08:00waiting for the winterdeserted and out of dunes<br />
you picked me up<br />
blanketed my being <br />
like the twilight of an early summer. <br />
<br />
do you still remember that summer<br />
when the gulmohar was ablaze<br />
and the fallen dreams<br />
made a bed of embers?<br />
<br />
life was so hot and so red, once…<br />
<br />
my friend, the warmth has oozed out<br />
like the freshness from the cucumber pieces<br />
over my eyes, in this unbearable summer...<br />
<br />
or from a match-stick, when burnt<br />
bent and brittle, as water dries up...<br />
<br />
now,<br />
for that inevitable and unavoidable winter<br />
do i wait…<br />
<br />
for the comforting silence<br />
just six feet down from the <br />
insanity of usual certainties<br />
for that inevitable winter i wait now ....AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-72119455552510321332010-12-15T05:42:00.000-08:002010-12-15T05:42:34.512-08:00either ....or<b>“One should be either a beggar or a rich person to live in this world. <br />
Otherwise, death will be the only solution” <i></i></b><br />
….<b>.Dinesh Reddy#</b><br />
<br />
<br />
yes, dinesh<br />
you are right.<br />
life has become an ‘either…or’ game.<br />
<br />
as the earth revolves ROUND the axis <br />
and FOR that axis – <br />
the axis ironically called ‘middle class’ <br />
life has become an ‘either….or’ game.<br />
<br />
either…<br />
the landmarks, the ‘ten downing streets,<br />
the ‘imaxes’, the ‘bowling alley’s<br />
or…<br />
the bastis and the gallies and the infamous streets<br />
where lives are packed like sardines …<br />
<br />
like a pebble thrown into a silent lake<br />
the middle class pushed the ‘cattle-class’<br />
to the periphery, that always slants to the invisible<br />
life has become an either….or game. <br />
<br />
from the treacherous but their comfortable forte<br />
be it beast-fested forests, un-mapped villages, <br />
on the sandy edges of vengeful rivers or seas.. ` <br />
to cities with a name<br />
they live in groups, to live as beggars, <br />
cheats, criminals and anti-socials…<br />
known as ‘breeding grounds’ of what not…<br />
life has become an either….or game<br />
<br />
or as mass without a face, but one that of an ass<br />
sometimes, as often known as, <br />
and comfortably labeled as BPL<br />
for the lifeless statistics<br />
that adds life to the hollow speeches of leaders …<br />
life has become an either…or game.<br />
<br />
the guy with a 7,000 crore scam on his collar becomes the brand<br />
with his personal library, homely food and with all other paraphernalia<br />
in the so called jail….<br />
life has become an either…or game<br />
<br />
this is for the ‘mass’, the common man – the NANO’<br />
EITHER ….<br />
buy this, specially engineered for you, product of our Indian brain<br />
that can silence the multinationals..<br />
………<br />
…………….<br />
…………………..<br />
OR…..<br />
and dinesh, you filled the blank with death<br />
the only solution you know…. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b># Dinesh Reddy (26), of Ramnagar, Hyderabad, India, jumped to death from the fifth floor of Radheshyam Complex in Sultan Bazar on Wensday (27th January 2010). <br />
<i></i></b>AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-20363898769542877082010-12-14T05:29:00.000-08:002010-12-14T05:29:00.391-08:00you never felt the budsdreams fallen<br />
like leaves in an autumn eve<br />
my nakedness silhouetting the sky .<br />
<br />
there was no one on my left<br />
nor on the right<br />
<br />
in a world of demands and accusations<br />
accusations and demands<br />
i forgot to leaf again like a birch in a winter<br />
<br />
i turned back, saw none<br />
no crowd to jeer at me <br />
nor to test my prowess<br />
left alone on the mountain, all alone.<br />
<br />
in the morning sky<br />
my prayers & pain silvered down<br />
the hill… <br />
<br />
and you never felt the buds coming out ….. <br />
as force never break open a seed’s shell into greenAGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-54490428513345587212010-12-13T06:03:00.000-08:002010-12-13T06:03:29.483-08:00it's my lifelike mosquitoes<br />
needs breed<br />
and get stuck on the web of life<br />
designed so perfectly<br />
even to absorb the impact of a <br />
'wayward' beetle...<br />
<br />
over a period<br />
like in the detention camps - <br />
where even a drop of water<br />
continuously falling over the forehead<br />
of a prisoner*<br />
<br />
the web breaks down<br />
<br />
and here i am - <br />
jumping up & down<br />
jumping to & fro<br />
just to connect two points<br />
with my silver dreams<br />
so as to weave a new web of life..<br />
<br />
and there is no king to get inspired<br />
and to fight for the 'lost paradise' <br />
<br />
the silver web, dancing in wonder, <br />
along with the breeze<br />
unmindful of yet another wayward beetle...<br />
<br />
the permanence of repetition.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* one of the several torture methods used.AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-76645265728446780482010-12-12T04:02:00.000-08:002010-12-12T04:02:16.159-08:00whyWhy, you brute<br />
why you did leave me?<br />
like soul from the body…<br />
<br />
didn’t you know<br />
that the rest is preconditioned – <br />
a meaningless repetition. <br />
<br />
mourning sans emotions<br />
wreathes of dead flowers<br />
words of praise, <br />
which has never been showered <br />
when alive..<br />
<br />
and the final journey,<br />
stinking prayers,<br />
the unbearable stench of incense,<br />
and the suffocating space finally allowed.<br />
<br />
oh why, <br />
why did you leave me? <br />
why did you leave me, dear friend?AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-41800609569049925372010-12-11T06:50:00.000-08:002010-12-11T06:50:33.193-08:00i combed the dreamsi combed the dreams<br />
that have fallen on your face<br />
like the foliage in an autumn,<br />
with my lips.<br />
<br />
then, as a kid, i looked<br />
into the sheet of water <br />
in your eyes, as if in a prayer<br />
'narcissus' broken down...<br />
<br />
and your lips reddened, like the clouds<br />
when the sun melts into the sea...<br />
<br />
we felt that silence - <br />
the ancients named it god<br />
and we named it life.<br />
<br />
under the statue of Buddha<br />
we silently laughed<br />
laughed to nirvana....AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-32409019763854395382010-12-10T05:48:00.000-08:002010-12-10T05:48:25.458-08:00on love & betrayalthat intensity of passion<br />
that incredible force of love<br />
that madness in your eyes<br />
are all lost, she always told me…<br />
<br />
even a mad guy<br />
is not mad always,<br />
i reasoned, aside. <br />
<br />
and when i rushed back<br />
with spring on my heels<br />
with all those what once missed<br />
she said - <br />
<br />
'lemme go to Tom <br />
or he may get hurt'. <br />
'maybe, you can drop me there'!AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-66375488179784897992010-12-09T19:29:00.000-08:002010-12-09T19:29:41.543-08:00hide & seekwere you there when i was born?<br />
i don't know, nor i think you do...<br />
no one has then ever told me anything about you<br />
may be, the lights over the operation table<br />
where my mother waited in pain, swallowed you<br />
or rather, on one noticed you, lurking under the light....<br />
but you were there, i know for sure <br />
<br />
when did i meet you for the first time, do you remember?<br />
was it on the daylight, when you play hide & seek?<br />
or when the sun ritually had to cast off its light? <br />
or when the tantalising silver disc was too mischievous <br />
that i had to scurry to my mother<br />
to river me with her lullabies.. i don't remember...<br />
<br />
over the years, when i grew up, as they say<br />
you were there, always, either left or right,<br />
sometimes in my front or back...<br />
<br />
too long or too short, sometimes<br />
too fat, or too thin, many times<br />
most of the times, threateningly invisible<br />
like the Christian god...<br />
<br />
why the hell do you follow me<br />
or rather i do follow you?<br />
i don't know, really...<br />
<br />
when you grow so big<br />
i smell the big mushroom in the sky in my history book<br />
that always made me puke, in pain<br />
<br />
why the hell don't you get out of me<br />
may be like the tic tic sound that left for ever<br />
from that broken clock, in that August morning..<br />
even then aren’t you a fucking winner,<br />
and me the loser, being eaten by worms <br />
silently in the infamous six feet mud?<br />
<br />
the curse i will never outgrow.<br />
<br />
why don't you leave me alone<br />
why don't you leave me alone.....AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-22700682669945495842010-12-09T01:03:00.000-08:002010-12-09T01:03:04.879-08:00parallel lineson the invisible plot of scramble for markets<br />
the seemingly parallel lines of democracy<br />
and religious fundamentalism, merged, <br />
conveniently, with high decibels <br />
of the urgency of a ‘safe nation’…<br />
<br />
i remember, i built castles on the sand<br />
and watched merrily as the waves<br />
leveled it, again & again<br />
<br />
but you hammered the bloodiest of nails<br />
of nationhood into us, <br />
cemented with lies, lies & lies<br />
that even the strongest of waves of reason<br />
got shattered, along with our dreams <br />
of having a respected identity<br />
<br />
division, i learned with numbers<br />
in my age of innocence<br />
but yours sharpened & perfected by the Court<br />
so that you could demolish minarets, then<br />
divide ‘the structure into equal parts’<br />
you could aramse trisul the foetus of a pregnant<br />
woman, just because she was a muslim<br />
could burn alive a missionary <br />
as he seemed to have threatened your territory;<br />
and call for a national debate on conversion…<br />
annihilate the other, as your faith reasons it<br />
and sanctifies it as dharma …<br />
<br />
what else i can expect from such dharma<br />
that forced him to take the weapon against <br />
his own brothers & sisters,<br />
least bothering the consequences<br />
<br />
and what a shame, you people still pawns <br />
to the abominable war waged by the state<br />
against its own people….<br />
<br />
Parallel lines are no more parallel…….AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5180151448702013014.post-91729374442483062902010-12-07T23:34:00.000-08:002010-12-07T23:37:51.088-08:00i am hungry #it's just four days<br />
since i had my last meal - <br />
a torn piece of dried chappati <br />
that my daughter unearthed from a<br />
treasure box on a road side bin. <br />
<br />
'take a bite',<br />
'it tastes like <br />
honey,' she said - <br />
and danced the dance of Ophelia.<br />
<br />
i cursed the moments i taught <br />
her the Russian tales and classics.<br />
<br />
in my new abode, under the newly-built flyover<br />
where the gaze of the passer-bys changes colour and intent<br />
when the dusk melts into the neon-darkness<br />
she put on the cloak of madness - <br />
starts to strut, some times strips the cloak...<br />
<br />
as i crouch like a beaten snake<br />
she starts to whistle and dance<br />
when the symphony of mosquitoes<br />
are drowned in the roaring slogans <br />
their flesh lighting* the darkness with hope now<br />
for a separate Telengana**<br />
and for a 'united Andra' then....<br />
<br />
she spits, spits, and spits<br />
until falls on my lap<br />
like a modern 'Pieta'<br />
only to jump as if pricked by<br />
multiple of Judas, to shout at me...<br />
<br />
'you dirty king', 'you stupid Lear'<br />
for your fucking arrogance <br />
for your fucking ignorance<br />
i pay with my sanity'.....<br />
<br />
<br />
# written sometime back when AP was burning as the struggle for a separate Telengana<br />
lighted with many suicides for the cause. <br />
<br />
<br />
* the number of students committing suicide for the cause of a separate Telengana<br />
is on the rise. the struggle for a separate Telengana state is over five decades of history.<br />
<br />
** the state of Andra Pradesh, in India is burning - one group asking for a separate Telengana state, (which is the need of the hour, may be) and the other asking for a 'united andra'. and they form the back bone of investors...AGAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14282922934240297424noreply@blogger.com0