Personal Diaries – ‘Evanescent Senses’

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My senses are pampered they say,

Or, maybe they label it that way,

Yes, they’ve been loyal slaves to the harsh Mistress of Aesthetics,

While, Mediocrity’s soothing Inamorata has been forever at bay,

Towards risky pathways to fame,

They disobediently sway,

Sucked in deep and deeper into quicksands of creativity,

That’s how they would perpetually want to stay,

Couldn’t tame them my deadliest reality,

From lush green lawns of mechanical apathy, and,

Fertilized with compromise, greener pastures,

They’ve always craved the quickest goodbyes,

Lightning departures…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image Credit: http://u0s7al00.deviantart.com

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Dragon’s Inn

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Welcome to the Dragon’s Inn,

Standing shady, luring sins,

A villainous desire draws you in,

A dip into comfort lethally seductive,

Your surrender to a deeper sink seems compulsive,

Into those dingy lanes, you’ve to report,

And, then time’s lost gazing the Red Fort,

Every morning, you try stroking out brave,

Departure is then only what you crave,

You beg futile to step out clean,

Now, out of your hands, life’s quietly slipping out, unseen,

Will devour you slow, scrub out all your sheen,

The ‘HI’ is yours, while the ‘GOODBYE’ is his,

There’s no looking back now,

Once in the grip of Delhi’s Djinn,

You gotta pay up for your share of Bliss…

Debaroon’2013

(As felt by an outstanding student of the Liberal Arts from a Prestigious American University.

A step into the Dragon’s Inn and now Delhi’s Djinn has her. She resides on the streets of Paharganj Delhi, selling herself to almost anyone and everyone, for a mere Fix.)

 

 

 

Image Credit : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hCVjreYp1E

Personal Diaries – ‘Wins the Hare’

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Hungry flowers are blooming everywhere,

Blind seedlings are mushrooming here and there,

Hues of helplessness are painting this part of the sphere,

The superior has little voice,

Starving secured on deeds right,

In its shell, awaiting the moment like the tortoise,

Sky high waves of ignorance are abundant in sight

Lashing dry sands of simplicity, wet,

Pace-less on highways, a peekaboo has it trembling in fear,

While, the inferior toils swift in sweat,

Wide-eyed it shines above ones, near and dear,

Empty sacks of wisdom are concealed crystal clear,

Hips and hops, some smart talks, hollow confidence dear,

Fake it to survive, knows the sharp-eared Hare…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image Credit: http://fineartamerica.com/

Personal Diaries- ‘Dancing Sane’

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Something you seldom  get to see,                        

A sober responsible me,

Saving my ass, voicing righteous,

The ‘should n’ should-nots’ in chorus,

But every second summons me myself,

Lures me pathways to perdition,

Roadways to beautiful destruction,

Someday I’ll be done with debts to the seed that bore me,

Sharpen my ears and sniff my way into the woods,

Towards those faintly audible chants of poetry,

For the dragon within roars enraged imprisoned,

Scratches my walls of flesh, spits fire, burns me, bleeds me,

I hear loud ceaseless screams, “Your only morphine is Enlightenment,

The rest isn’t for you to gain,

You dance Sane, you earn Pain,

On soils richly aesthetic,

Stands your warehouse of verses for the world to cherish,

Don’t leap for all that isn’t meant for you,

You’re only a devil born to create and perish,

Your pretense shall soon fail, towards the End,

A Hungry Creator shall scurry naked again…”

Debaroon’2013

 

Image Credit : http://lightworkers.org

SinRains

DE11_PG2_4-COL_LIG_1050209g

 

 

 

 

 

 

The sky screamed Sunless,

Broke loose crashed, gone unbearable,

Seeds of her follies, her tangles under the table,

Her moments with June – moist stress,

In howls, her man summoned menace,

Ravaged the land then, children of Eros,

Danced casanova, those faithless droplets,

Washed away, into the drain gurgled down her character,

Weighed down, impossible another slithery escape,

Cries unattended, septic now this disaster,

She bears his lashes silent, he scorns aloud in pain,

Panting a wet blue to a dim gray disdain,

Trickles to the ground, love’s last button,

She is running out of her sailing cotton,

Panic-stricken, slipping out naked, her disgrace…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

Image Credit : http://www.hindustantimes.com

Happy Independence Day!

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Back then, the brute was blunt,
Antagonism was far more proclaimed,
The villain had the balls to spit enmity,
In public, throw up stinky contempt,
Shone our target, we knew where exactly to head,
Fouled us for no cards red, had us boil in a soup of rage,
The hungry was taught sour lessons of dignity, self-respect,
Swords, cannons, then bombs of dissent,
We bought him down by the neck, sought was Independence,
But, it was retribution for all the pain back then,
Now, the enemy is far more sly,
Unseen it lingers close by,
Having applied that lotion of technology, it awaits in disguise,
To strike from behind hedges of pretense…

Debaroon’2013

(India celebrates its 66th Independence Day…)

 

 

Image credits: http://24by7news.com

Joker’s Treat!

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Life strolled naked,

Her hour yellow had arrived,

Her luck for the joker’s red smile,

Pity Taps gone dry yet another try,

Dirty rags forgotten,

Forgotten unwashed stained flesh,

Kissed that glass wall,

Rubbed on it some unfortunate stare,

Shooed her away her reality of the day,

Disposed now on tar to decay,

Filth today another hungry rainy day,

Behind that glass a doughnut someday,

The Joker’s treat, a flickering dream from the street,

Untamable ignited barked her desire…

Debaroon’2013

(On a young ill-clad girl, thriving on the streets of Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh, India. She visits McDonald’s everyday before it opens up for customers to try her luck at mellowing down that service boy for something that may be could cost him his job, to hand her out only one and one of that stuff on that big poster, a chocolate doughnut.)

 

Image Credit:

http://www.gnomeplanet.com

Lost in Sounds

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Ripens the dusk into a golden day,

Beaks squeak, stretch out new red gums,

Hungry has them the yawning Sun,

Squeaks sharpen shrill and shriller from within their cradle of hay,

A flutter of a pair of mature wings,

Duty shoots up, cries aloud,

Greetings to the Lord, out of the green canopy,

That hiss of the leaves then,

The clutter of the lark’s flaps into that wilderness blue,

The viper crushing through the crispy carpet beneath,

Boots on fried leaves, munch munch,

Wandered the Ranger sniffing scales astray,

Up and close with me, face to face,

Words shot out from his mouth,

Like meteors from a meteoroid,

They hit me everywhere, missed my ears though,

Strangers now to man’s gibberish, they were busy, you know,

The Viper’s soft crush sparkled into a slithery fleeting escape,

Rang like a bell, that long rub of slipping scales,

On their sleek couches, debated those baboons,

Sang the nightingale unnerved,

A stench of sweat jostled me back,

Oh! The Ranger, he was still talking, talking to me,

Listen! Thuds of the angry elephant,

His trumpets of caution,

On his way to trample and plunder,

Soars the volume, intensifies, as if reaching us that hush,

Branches being broken,

Shown the ground, bushes and weeds,

Facing each other we stood there,

Though I was away with my ears,

Frustrated, hands on holster, that Ranger,

He was yelling futile, still talking to me…

Debaroon’2013

(This piece is completely inspired by the 2013 Bengali (an East Indian language) film, ‘Shobdo’ (Sound) by Kaushik Ganguly.

The movie narrates a unique tale about a recording studio professional that has been making a living by naturally producing sounds, heard around us in our daily lives. For example, he shakes a half filled jar of grains fast and faster in front of the microphone to produce the sound of a passing toy-train. Another, example from the film itself is the scene where he creates the sound of the flapping wings of a hundred pigeons that depart the streets into the skies after a scattered mail of grains, simply by flapping together two bunches of ripened big leaves in each of hands, right in front of the microphone.

He develops a strange obsession for imitating and creating sounds around him. His passion stretches out of control to an extent where his brain slowly slithers out of the habit of decoding human speech with any kind of noise around.

He might only be able to comprehend you if you are talking to him in a sound proof room with pin drop silence. Anywhere else, he will not be able to understand human language and decipher the sound of human speech, anymore.

This is His story…

For more on the movie, Shobdo (Sound) : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shabdo

For the movie trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OOzquVF_fc )

 

 

 

Image Credits:

http://radmanlew.blogspot.in

Sharp a Contrast!

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Save us from the wrath of the day,

In shorts with folded hands,

Bowing our heads to the Goddess, we used to say,

Our class queues ascended in that assembly,

From shorts to trousers, cardigans to blazers we grew gradually,

The Poet now ran in our veins, Tagore rang in our ears,

His verses stood against time,

A part and parcel of our morning prayers,

Our pledge for life to fulfil His dreams,

Where men would radiate parity beams,

No matter how fair ripened their cream,

They’d to work on only themselves, individually,

Each drop should contribute to an ocean someday,

An ocean of voices, thoughts and actions for equality,

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Ten years down the line,

Now a stranger to that school,

Caught up in tougher currents of life,

I was coming down from a relative’s birthday party,

Stopped to pick up fags on my way, three hours to midnight,

A vegetable seller was getting home, back from his day’s work,

His only helper, his seven year old kid walked beside,

Adolescent eyes to the shop shone, ran the kid towards me,

There was something that he wanted to buy,

“Biscuits, I need them Dad”, he screamed back,

A big smile on his face, forgotten the day’s hard work,

Two local bakery biscuits, he’d won it all it seemed,

Biting into it slowly he walked ahead, elated in leaps,

“It’s already dinner time,” cribbing, his father followed,

The birthday that I’d just attended, seven turned a six year old,

She almost wrecked havoc in that decorated venue,

Her parents had brought her a new Samsung tablet phone,

Unhappy she growled at them,

“You know what I wanted a Sony Xperia Z,

Now I can’t even think of snaps marine.

Clicking those fishes with my hands dipped in that aquarium,

How will I click underwater while I swim with my pals?”

I overheard, switched into a state of shock,

Quickly recollected my naked little analogue years,

Pinched myself back to reality to find her sitting gloomy,

Her mom was away to change the handset,

The party continued, but I ate and left,

Saved myself of the predictable drama in store ahead,

And here I was, igniting both the fag and the engine, stray dogs bark,

The vegetable seller, his kid and cart fade away in the dark,

I sigh in wonder, “how sharp can be that contrast!”

Missed Tagore, his innocent world with light for all,

I drove away with our pledge, the Poet’s dream gargling on my mind…

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Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

 

Image Credits:

http://mpbfhsschool.com/

https://www.facebook.com/childllabour2012

http://lazy-lizard-tales.blogspot.in

Personal Diaries- ‘STRANGER’

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This isn’t my world,
I’m naive to its ways,
Born out of place,
In another age,
I’m a natural misfit,
Meant to quickly fade away,
My mind and its sways won’t let me survive,
But there should not remain any sad vibes,
Coz maybe when i wink again with new baby cries,
I mite just turn out into the right seed in the right soil…

Debaroon’2013

 

Image Credits :

http://coolvibe.com