An old house sounds proud of
disturbing neighborhood’s sight.
Punished to follow lonely fate…
to feel a strong desire for transformation,
but a house can’t move, can not speak,
a building lives in feeling isolation.
No guilty, they persuade life from childhood,
waiting for others to remember them.
Doing nothing to change,
waiting for others to decide
if their life will be
or won’t be timeless inside.
They listen to other people voice,
no way to defend them from the noise.
Not expecting to hear sadness or offense.
Probably they don’t have a luxe
to have a chance.
IIT, NIT, BIT
Are not my cup of tea
Everyone thinks for riches it is the key
Heavy heart, heavy mind
Everyone sees, yet blind
No escape, no way,
For what society thinks makes my everyday
Suffocation, reputation, pressure
My heart hurts out of measure,
Hate myself, hate them
Internally I am turning numb
Help, understand, care
Save me from this nightmare
In my home, my cage
The Door is ajar,
But I remain closed
Suffused with rage.
The light shines through
Pings me in the eye
Oh! Had I dozed?
Maybe, but not long before
By the status quo.
While sleeping dogs lie
Tigers do not rest
Restless in the wild
And in their cage,
Ready to fight
But if hunted,
Ready for flight.
Here I am,
Secure at home
Four walls and a dome
Discomfited by just light!
It’s not all sunshine
There’s hoax, there’s hurt
Some think is necessary
And is just fine.
I, I wonder why
And I cry.
Then I see that they are attached,
To what they have
To what they don’t
With strings so strong,
They’ve twisted the strands
Into all that’s wrong.
Is it I, I wonder
Am I that tiger?
If not I, then who?
Can I pull those strings?
This way and that
Till they detach?
Will I be hunted?
Have an encounter?
Be put in a cage
And up till the end, flounder?
Please, the time’s not right
Don’t ping me again
That I may wake
And wander out
Of my home, my cage…
Rubber trees are in the Indus,
for the single use, extract latex,
give direct/indirect Rubber product…
Human society is similar
being money, instead of rubber
No longer born and grown,
but sown and cultivated…
Banking on inherited memories rejuvenates me.
As and when I remember the memories
That me and my people long to cherish
And those me and my people despise to relish
To remember not as memoirs
But as inerasable scars.
The nation, the geography, the war, the leaders
The language, the temples, the forts and those statues,
And the ethnicity
Then comes the innate xenophobia
That declares me and my people as more equal than others;
And others do live in History’s mischief,
Bloodshed as part of the living
And for the living of me and my people,
And the making of the histories
That I and my people have today
As glorious moments of the past for the present
But for those who produced this wicked ‘hero’
That is unexplainable.
The Unforgettable’s enigmatic inexplicable
And this makes me feel the heroic deeds
And the unheroic moments as great periods
And people who built that fort and this temple.
I only consume History.
Learning from the past bloopers
I reconstruct the future through THIS present.
And those present here.
There is NO present as such
For humans live in past glories
And memories that are painful
To think about the future
And the prospective futures.
Those (are) perceived either in fear or in hyper ambitions.
The past seems to me
A mere wars- the wars fought
For a feudal by feudals
Or those whose slaves-
(Both physical and social)
Those kings and their courtesans
Those numerous wives and those concubines
The titles and the moribund army
The modern PROMOTERS of democracy
Yet the common man was ‘there’
But not living.
I exterminate all the above
Including the democracy,
The dictatorship of the prolitere,
The religious kingdom, the Islamic republic.
Egalitarian society for all- the inclusive growth.
I will have equality
Where people are equal
In all but something
Giving room for
Those like I who would like to produce
History- future history.
I produce History
Not for History’s sake
For myself– my sake.