Brain Pain

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Nourished and caressed his blood cells,

The tropical Sun’s ordeal,

From the Ganges, humid winds and moist spells,

His body, a mirror to his years,

While post-school, ceased ticking his brain,

At the epicenter of his central nervous system,

Evolved a tumor out of his skull’s membrane,

Only perpetual childhood now to nurture,

Cancelled were all his bookings to a manly future,

Cherish every second was what the docs prescribed,

Now he could be gone any moment, medication surrendered,

Thereafter, his parents gifted him a young bride,

The child locked in a man’s shell had to hear wedding bells,

Chucked out of his ancestral house, deserted to die,

He smiles in a squat on the floor of a mental facility,

Chuckles innocently, “I miss Mom, she used to play with me, sleep by my side,

I miss Dad; he saved me every night by sleeping with my angry wife”

Debaroon’013

(A Salute to sapiens that surround us…)

 

 

Image credits:

http://www.kosovo.net/hororhos2.html)

Breathless Love…

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Passion cried the Sitar,

Duped them the Morning Star,

Misbehaved their tiny boat, in tosses scaled the river,

No oars, no boatman, no direction to bother,

While the monsoon moaned to its wettest climax,

Tucked and tied inside, they sat glued to each other,

Lashed, spanked and drenched them, the water,

Deaf to thunder bolts echoing the tidal grove,

Unfazed, entangled in arms, they challenged Nature,

Till the clouds cleared with an embarrassed Sun’s signature,

Deserted on the backwaters of Kerala,

Many a breath, then breathless they made Love…

Deb’013

 

 

Image Credit: http://paradise-kerala.com

Eid Mubarak (Happy Eid) !

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Minarets stood like lighthouses over the sea of taqiyahs*,

Lent out was a gigantic shade for the sons of Allah,

As if, the Sun bowed along with a million bows,

On speakers Holy prayers rolled, kissed the skies,

Trickled down the Masjid stairs, sank into the atmosphere,

Smiles in piles, greetings and hugs followed,

Jingled bangles, atar heavy the air, rang laughter galore,

Kebabs, sweets, jewelry and clothes,

Shops ran along the road like the never ending shore…

Deb’013

(On Id-ul-Zuha, from the Jama Masjid, New Delhi, India , October 16, 2013)

* taqiyah – is a short, rounded cap worn by Muslims, across the world to emulate Muhammad. It is a must for men to wear them while offering prayers.

 

 

Image Credits:

http://stunningindiatourmoments.wordpress.com

http://ibnlive.in.com

http://blogs.wsj.com

Words of Clay – “Gardener of Beauty”

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From His prison of aesthetics, can you grant me liberty?

From that hypnotic trance of His artistry, can you set me free?

Will I ever be able to alter my duty?

For at the celestial factory,

He sculpted me himself for sheer exclusivity,

To serve my years in flesh till the dusk of eternity,

As a zealous Gardener of Beauty…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

The journey ends with this post…

Thank You! readers for all your appreciation, inspiration and support. 

 

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

Words of Clay – “Danced the Frogs…”

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Touched down heavy those clouds dark,

Swelled those droplets Divine,

Beams rolled roaring across the skies,

Stray dogs did no more bark,

Tied helpless, mooed cows from the shed,

Grunted wet that homeless swine,

Visible the pond, swayed away the fog,

Celebrated therein, the tailless amphibian clan,

To tunes of the whistling tempest,

Chuckles of the swaying trees shy,

The hymn of the peacock, jingles of the hopping fish,

Beats of the thunder high,

Danced, Danced the Frogs…

Deb’013

Artist : Gauri Sakhuja

Words of Clay” is a poetic journey through the creations of Gauri Sakhuja, a young and talented Indian sculptor from her latest solo exhibition at Triveni Kala Sangam, New Delhi, India.

 

For more on the artist, visit : https://www.facebook.com/gauri.sakhuja/about

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

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

You can have him, Mom!

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Mom and Dad

Sunlight caught the air nude,

Unravelled blemishes in it,

Dust and exhaust beamed in dots,

The night’s gone for good,

Pages of Sin turned over,

There was nothing that I would want to remember,

Except that dad was relaxed and satisfied,

Though I know mom must have been robbed of sleep,

Rolling restless, deprived and hungry, till late she must have cried,

Tells me that frown of strain amidst her closed eyes,

I hate to see her crave in despair,

I hate being her glossy alternative at home,

I hate to distract her man’s desire,

My time’s up , I’m well aware,

Mom, when you contaminate my food today,

Add a dash of poison,

I will grow grey, sick and dull, then quietly pass away,

An ailing end is what father would see and know,

Erase your man’s option mom, you know he loves it more,

Just keep my dad in spirits,

Light his flickering fire, now shall be starved of my youth,

Don’t have me sick and moan beside,

For pangs of your man’s lust slash me all the time,

Be there for each other in every clime,

Have me in your cherished frames from the past,

Let me sink into that big sleep divine…

Debaroon’2013

(Voice of a Bangladeshi 15 year old girl, Orola, victim of a three-way marital arrangement.

Her father started sleeping with her by the time she was 15 for he preferred her over her mother. This is a fact that rendered her mother hurt and deprived to an extent that she started mixing wild herbs in her food to spoil her health for a few days, only for her chance to sleep with her husband, her love.

Inspired from the marieclaire article, “My Mom And I Share The Same Husband

http://www.marieclaire.com/world-reports/news/mom-daughter-same-husband-2)

 

 

Image from :

http://www.marieclaire.com

Indigo Depths

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Into indigo depths of that calm ocean,

Let us sink in for our eternal promotion,

Can you hear that breathless still?

Bubbles in your ears, out of your nostrils?

We’ll paddle into that swaying forest, perpetually moist,

The fate of those scrubs and bushes born drowned,

We’ll kiss them wet, celebrate their fate, pluck some for our crowns,

Ball to mute motions of the prey and the hunter,

Adorn ourselves with forgotten treasures from sunk  plunder,

In tight embrace, we shall greet dolphins and whales,

Will turn down their pleads to come along,

Snort some air from the surface,

We’ll rather, butterfly deeper to the creeks on the bed,

Scare away the snobbish Electric Eel, conquer his hide-out,

Let us then suck each other off our last ounces of breath,

Lips on lips, closing eyes, the end’s switched on,

The mermaid’s harp, you can hear aloud, shall slowly faint,

Our beginning we never could paint,

But, the end is ours; we’ll design it our way,

Our resurrection shall engrave our love immortal,

Our passion shall have the shark stop for an impractical ogle,

Now foams our vision, our senses are in a lather,

We are bunking His test,

We’re skipping His mandate,

Scrubbing off our skin, bar-codes of His conquest,

To dissolve our naked clutch  into the water’s beauty,

Our stripped  souls into its blue patented liberty,

Let us  switch off for the best…

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Debaroon’2013

(May our Souls rest in Peace in Embrace…Amen!)

 

 

 

Image from :  http://www.hotelclub.com/http://www.sammiseahorse.com/

Slums of Kandivali

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Across the road,

Flourished another world,

The one brazen, unpolished,

One, sans the glass, the elevator and the décor,

The one that would never make it to the skies,

Might, only paint more green patches brown, only stretch to suffice,

In here is no business for the booted and the employed,

It is from here that cheap menial labour is deployed,

Amidst dirty parlours, dirtier bars, open drains and stony mud paths,

Breeds headless greed, short cuts to heal fates that are meant to bleed,

Amidst the stench of minerals therein, filthy liquor and spiked weed,

Fuelled by reflections of a shining Mumbai, its bright and golden beams,

Thrives hot aspirations, hotter dreams,

Some are eroded infertile, fragile on vision-less shoulders weak,

Some slither focused on scales of tactics,

On illegal buoys sail quietly on the sea of illiteracy,

Towards a shore concrete, green with a turf of prestige,

To mingle, then vanish unnoticed into whiter layers of that city…

Debaroon’2013

( Kandivali, or Kandivli is a suburb of Mumbai of Maharashtra, India, for more, visit :http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kandivali)

 

Image from : http://www.panoramio.com