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

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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

Sea of Apathy

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Yet again, broke free,

Wrung down those chains of slavery,

To the horror of my family,

I’ve yet again nurtured that grey audacity,

To lick, taste, drench and dive into liberty,

I’m pulling down my sails,

Biding a stony adieu to those tasteless whales,

My soul’s losing out on its aesthetic smell,

I’m rowing to meet the shore,

I really can’t take it any more,

My Gold’s losing out on its lustre,

Dimming my melody, robbing my senses,

Blinding me dumb, spending me helpless,

Those poisonous fumes from that water,

Gales of Sustenance are useless now,

My sails are no more at their mercy,

I’ll drive out of this lifeless bay,

I’ll rather, go whoring into the day,

I’m moving out of this Sea of Apathy…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image from : http://www.layoutsparks.com

Those Many Days…

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Those many days with you beside,

Were spent gazing sails of boats sailing by,

Sticky you remain on my eyes, lips and cheeks,

From the little Sunlight concealed behind those clouds,

I am knitting love into your shawl,

Sticky you remain on my fingers, hands and shoulders…

Now the meaning of love lingers from your nails,

Into your ears, I’m adorning my tales,

I’m staring empty at a thousand evenings in veils,

While the city’s tearing apart on the other side,

While the traffic’s cacophony’s sucking our dreams pale…

The way you were wrapped around,

Ice felt sleepy, it did lose its chill,

I search you around, here and there, every now and then,

Before, the train signals green again,

A stone on my chest, a smile on my face,

Begins the same journey to our own ends,

To pick and pile currents of life,

My pace at the dinner table remains,

Love’s not grown old here,

Like those potato skins,

It peels out a lil’ everyday,

For a newer Me, for a fresher Me,

Sticky you remain on spade-hands of my wall-clock,

Those many days with you beside,

Were spent gazing sails of boats sailing by,

Sticky you remain on my eyes, lips and cheeks,

Sticky you remain on my fingers, hands and shoulders…

Debaroon’2013

 

(Directly inspired from the Bengali song, “Je Kota Din (Those Many Days)”, scripted by the young and talented music composer, Anupam Roy.

For the song, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7AGyNPkXF4 )

 

Image from : http://www.airninja.com

Hide of Pretence

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Floats away on the Arabian Sea,

Shreds of the ‘real-me’,

Ones loved witness dry and happy,

They’re done with the ceremony,

Where I was stripped off my identity,

Peeled off my originality,

Where I was inked for eternity,

Shackled from my belly,

Butted into that impossible maze of slavery,

The ritual with chants soaked in aromatic incense,

They ogled merry, sighed relieved immense,

Sorely rolled down on me, a shiny Hide of Pretence…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image from : http://www.turbosquid.com

Loving Me…

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My haughty honeybee,

Loving me was never easy,

It was never a question of only you and me,

Or, of glued souls on sands by the sea,

To love me right,

You have to open your eyes,

Pierce in me, your sight,

Into my being, you got to walk a mile,

Confront the deed that makes me smile,

Excavate my celestial gifts,

Taste my passion, my verses and beats,

You got to fall for his art first,

Only then, can you fall for the artist,

Only then, can you fall for me,

My haughty honeybee,

Loving me was never easy…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image credit : http://www.quick-good-fortune.com

Love’s Researched…

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When struck, your strings plucked to play,

Assume then, love’s a ball all the way,

Promises dance, swear to stay,

Twirls Joint laughter,

Tiptoes to the floor, Joint disaster,

When you’re understood,

The way she should,

Grows around a Paradise,

To express you don’t think Twice,

Slow and steady burns your lamp,

Beams up monstrous, kindles a sudden surprise,

Dulls down at patches damp,

And, again back to steadfast disguise,

Soon, a pond is born out of thy eyes,

Surfaces therein, lubricants of compromise,

Floats in logs of sacrifice,

Some make it through,

They make it true,

When freezes the clime ,

Frost-free remain only a few,

Some sink, choosing to make-up wise,

Some crumble away, breaking ice…

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Debaroon’2013

(Stay tuned for the sequel to this post, ‘Loving Me…‘)

 

 

Images from : http://www.123rf.com, http://idaho.for91days.com

Ride of Pride!!! (Chapter 2)

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Smartness not on their cards,

Stranded in a long long queue without smart-cards,

Serpentine, it crisscrossed the station,

Ones on the tail had their feet down in the stairs,

Unfortunately, all not smart enough this time,

They were indeed, running out of patience,

Big notes for small fares,

Quarrels for balances,

Exchanged are red-eyed glances

Verbal tussles through the token counter glass,

Staring out of his ways timid,

The official in blue did put up a lot of fuss,

Amongst swarming security, he was confident, he was protected,

“Impossible! No change! “, he often quoted,

Possibility crept in late,

Slower than a snail,

Amidst irritated whines, and angry wails,

The queue moved ahead,

Though, feet ceaselessly added,

Two other counters, two chairs and two computers,

Remained closed, remained deserted,

One man for a thousand travelers,

One by one, killed peak-hour minutes and seconds of daily passengers,

Made sure its length remained the same,

Made sure you remain pissed,

Throughout, your mood’s unchanged,

Chirping among themselves,

The multitude murmured dissatisfied, restless,

Played a constant multilingual hiss,

Awestruck, stood the family,

Felt as if they were pleading a ride for free,

She looked down in dismay,

She’d never expected it to begin this way,

For her it was hard to swim out of a sea of delusion,

“Wait n’ watch, there’s more in store, honey,

Only time shall clear your confusion,”

Read her husband’s face,

As he rejoiced her disgrace,

Her grin of pride mellowed down,

Now it only lingered below her frown,

In thirty minutes, and some more for the ticket-man,

Accentuated English flows from behind the glass,

It took him some more time to understand,

Finally could they reach those soldiers in green, booted brown,

Squeezed their pockets, jerked their flesh, shook their spirits unstable,

Squeezed his belly, rubbed their thighs, and legs, frisked them for metal,

For seconds, with legs wide apart, they were made to stand,

Out of her curtains separate, scared of her absentminded family,

She chose to preserve the riding coins in her bag, carefully,

Towards the platform, smiles back on face,

For, these were their moments, in grace,

Three minutes to the train,

Little aware of what’s coming up next,

Those fancy earphones on his ears would be hanging out of place,

Busy on his phone, the young lad will soon end up depressed,

He would rather choose not to fiddle with his gadget, or try to text,

Coming up was a ride that would simply blow away their brains…

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Debaroon’2013

(The NRI (Non Residential Indian) family (on their first trip to the city, ever since the lady left home for shores abroad, while, still a child) will soon board the train to realize the age-old myth, once again, “All that Glitters is not Gold.” )

To be continued…

 

 

Images from : http://chasingthemetro.wordpress.com, http://www.thehindu.com

Love’s Forever…

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Flowers on her tiny frock,

Danced restless, like the roulette ball,

Tumbled from one corner of her room to the other,

Nothing seemed pink enough, not anymore in that pink room,

Shadows of death raided the house,

Got her little mind drawing merry prophecies to stay afloat,

When voices outside soared,

To lash, hold back her galloping heartbeat,

Shouts rang in competition,

Louder, baggy with moisture, more binding, more final than the other,

Unable to get used to it,

Seek carefree shelter in maturity like her sister,

She had her ears against the door,

Used them to swallow whatever she could overhear,

Mom and Dad sinking deeper in fierce argument,

Screams ripped her heart apart,

So did every painful howl that sneaked inside,

A tearful fight, both wept aloud,

Their yells were oozing, flooded, they leaked, they seeped, emotions clamored,

She’d never heard anything stranger,

A brawl to bequeath enough love behind for each other,

Little did she know then,

This wasn’t going to stop, anytime soon,

Their strife to hold hands together till the very end,

No matter, Thanatos had planned it, altogether differently for them…

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Mom could sense her bones rolling into rapid decay,

She knew soon, they would powder away,

Her body dipped deeper, more consumed in the termination show,

Soon, it would be packed with only dead cells,

She’d held Dad’s hand all the way,

And, she hated the prospect of presenting him eternal loneliness,

His return gift for painting her life golden, all the way,

Their two angel-like daughters,

Will they survive gloomy, motherless for the rest of their lives?

Once, she left for her heavenly abode,

She wanted him to remarry,

Ensure her kids were never less cared for, never less pampered,

This was her last wish, and she demanded firm assurance,

The family that she had nurtured, watered all these years,

Shouldn’t dry up, affliction starved, shouldn’t wither away, incomplete,

Only sweet memories should exist, tears should go missing,

Like all these years, there were none,

This was how she wanted things to be,

The moment she ran out of time,

Closed her eyes forever,

The moment, she was gone…

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With every new Sunset,

Would arrive dark confrontations,

Dad would relentlessly deny accepting her plans,

Raging panicked at the future,

He made it clear,

Impossible would it be for him to hitch again,

To pack peace for her in her grave, this way,

The same stance each and every day,

Sitting away from one another,

Ceaselessly did they mourn the swift advance of the devil of wrath,

Fighting, mourning the soon-to-arrive immeasurable void of distance in between them,

Waging an already lost war against nature,

That an entire life shall stand in their way, have them permanently separated,

Was something that none of them could accept,

A truth that both wanted to fight till the end,

For he knew very well, he could never turn into a new path, ever again,

Without her, he could never have things her way,

That life, out of her shade, would soon go haywire,

Attempts to hold back his soul from wailing aloud lonely, seemed futile,

For he knew, by then he would already be half-dead,

On and on, they fought, bled love,

Till the day, her young daughters made it in a hurry from school,

Ill-informed that she was back home to celebrate,

That cured, she could now start afresh, all over again,

Things could be the way they were, that they could be the same,

Only to find Mom lying unperturbed in death’s embrace,

Dad staring numb into a lull,

She’d quietly passed away…

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Debaroon’2013

 

 

Images from : http://www.marketplace.org, http://www.ramonazabriskie.com, http://ruiizu-chan.deviantart.com, http://perpetualfolly.blogspot.in

Nothing Else Matters

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“Is anybody in?”                    

Rockets up her disgruntled scream,

Her winking eyes staring up, beating the Sun,

Crows were drooling on high branches till then, had their heads dripping,

Caught in the trance of that tranquil noon,

They awaken displeased, shocked, alert,

Flock away to a safer position for a better view, cautious on the mid-street wires,

Her shrill pitch jolts up the building, has its windows jerk open with a shudder,

Summons the healing cement and bricks,

Tweaks their basic motive to exist,

Fumes of wrath sink in the air, has it sullen and heavy,

Robs the day, bright till then, of its yellow order,

Culls down an entire slot of eyes,

Rocked out of precious hard-earned slumber,

Disturbed, curious at her loud emergency,

“I need help, I need mercy,

I stay in the shanty by your side, just adjacent,

A matter of less life, and much death it is,

I have a patient…”                 

 

Stitches on her face,

Bandaged sterilized destiny,

Bruises, cuts and blots,

Traces of fresh injuries,

Veiled her strong aura,

Labeled on it a leopard skinned future,

Together, they grabbed attention for her,

Got minds inside reeling,

Steering into varied lanes of assumed conclusions,

Leafing back their pages of experience,

The board on their entrance read, “Let No Addict Die”,

They decide to abide by, to let her in,

At least pull her soaring volume indoors,

Prevent neighbors from assuming,

It’s Showtime at the Madhouse…

 

Kicking slippers off her feet,

Unable to reply questioning male stares,

Low headed, she hurries into the empty office,

Collapsing on feeble plastic, she looks up at the gathering outside,

Gasping for breath, she rings aloud,

“I need some minutes with the owner, “

Her eyes drill into the void, her head hangs down,

Her gaze, fixed on her lap,

Unruffled by trickling droplets of sweat,

In confluence with narrow streams of tears,

Dripping from her nose tip,

Smudging her fate wet,

Her overworked sari…

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The chief in frowns, steps in,

Slams the door behind,

Hints in gestures to his staff,

To be ready outside, stay close by,

Her sobs thwart out of the room,

Her cries and pleads clamor,

Another evening meant fresh wounds,

New sessions of beatings for her,

She was withering away under the brunt of violence,

Her husband’s penniless rage in his alcoholic haze,

Now, seemed ceaseless, murdered her spirit every day,

Strangled her slow and steady,

Robbed her off whatever she made sweeping houses,

Her tanned youth, her days green, her vitality,

But, she swore before God,

She would be with him forever,

For after him, she knew well,

The world could only sell her,

Present her in charity, an anonymous death …

 

All of a sudden,

Shrieks of the chief bullet out,

Instantly, overpowers her howl,

Chairs screech, the door flings open,

Terrorized he runs out,

Grabbing the stony stair railing,

Abuses his profession, his commitment towards a cause,

Orders fuming red, “I want this woman out, immediately, “

Her honor won’t do, are we that hungry?

That’s not our price for treating her husband,

How dare could she take me for a pimp?

Could she think so lowly of us?

How dare could she reach out for her blouse?

How dare could throw that bait, could she try undress?

I want her out now, all at once…”

 

The most aged of his staff,

Rides on his advantage, wraps the sari around her well,

Cautious to touch, he was scared,

She was still screaming for help,

Her blouse still pulled down, forgotten,

While, they joined him to drag away her rebelling feet,

Staggering behind, she was spitting out shame, helplessness, begging an answer from the chief,

Shoved outside now, she still sat clutching the grill,

Weeping in hauls, a dark shadow eclipsed the atmosphere,

Steps deserted the gate, shocked voices growled from the office room,

Soon, she was gone,

Only a crushed slip thrown inside,

It read in the native language,

“Honor is too little a price,

I loved him,

We swore to be there for each other,

I have no money, but I’ve my soul, my life,

Help me, rescue two lives,

We’re perishing alive…”

 

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Debaroon’2013

 

(A day of strange observations in the life of an addict, when under treatment in a rehabilitation center in India.)

 

 

 

Images from : http://www.tinafarvardin69.blogfa.com/, http://www.dailyrecord.co.uk, http://foreignpolicyblogs.com