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

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

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

Monsoon Afresh !!!

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That gush and gurgle in the drain,

From charcoal skies down pours the rain,

Rolls the city on a day lit by lamps,

Streets washed, then a dirty revamp,

As if straight out of a swamp,

An odor of moist grass and fresh filth looms in the air,

Unchanged is that breeze slow, heavy with craving, luring wet,

Thunder growls, moments of hush whispers,

Fierce gales kissing cool, then windless lulls,

Mirth and anger of the drenched atmosphere,

To breathe back, you aren’t here,

It must be a virgin monsoon for you out there,

For mine’s grown more lush and green,

Now more pungent is the odor, banished serene,

Droplets touch, smooch and dry away,

There’s no more a celebration, or that reason,

Will this be the end to monsoon afresh?

Juicy cloud bursts can taste dry no more,

Soon the heavens shall be sending me a new sufferer,

To walk along the dark roads in the drizzle, out of your prism…

869f6443-8255-4752-95a8-06a0f40755e0HiRes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Debaroon’2013

 

 

 

Image Credits :

http://neerzphotography.blogspot.in/

http://www.hindustantimes.com

Ave Maria

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Shot her reflections divine,

Shone glass from the Church’s spine,

Amidst jeers, tears and cheers,

Past cries from an innocent rewind,

From those meadows, wails of the sheep and the swine,

Treads ahead the nervous bride,

Petals rain from all sides,

Fate has her trampling them,

No matter to save some,

How hard she did try,

Triggers and barrels guard her walk,

Lead bursts in skies above,

For a life in arms of the barter of death,

A drop of love in that ocean red,

Her surrender to the Holy Cross,

On the altar awaits her share of sin-gloss,

Her skirt’s cathedral train rubs away the ground’s pain,

She drags it across the aisle, suppressing frowns,

When against lovelorn lips of the groom,

Shy, her sight sweeps down,

Scared, she freaks out, a blemished start,

On her kismet, bull’s eye scores the poisonous dart,

Her wedding gown was already wearing a blood stain…

Debaroon’2013

 

(From the wedding party of the son of one of Colombia’s most feared and wealthy drug lords. Visualized on and inspired from Franz Schubert’s famous Opera composition, ‘Ave Maria’. For the musical piece, visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2bosouX_d8Y

The Ave Maria (Latin) (Hail Mary) is a traditional Catholic prayer asking for the intercession of the Virgin Mary, the mother of Jesus. For more, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ave_Maria)

 

 

Image Credit :http://www.bloominglovelyweddings.com.au/wedding-church.html

Driven Blind

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Release that clutch of yours,

Let that support go,

Can you then stand through that ride on the metro?

You could if you weren’t driven that mad,

Driven tipsy-curvy, halting screechy, driven that bad,

In search of that killer smile, that stranger crave,

Into that wardrobe of shoulders,

Scrolling past those slinging bags, young eyes on a survey,

The laptop man glances smart,

Shares his eyes to the screen and her,

Nodding, she raises over her partner’s shoulder,

Eyed is her hero anonymous, sketched erased,

Sketched erased, her moments of dark fantasy,

You see we’re too busy,

We’ve to ride through,

Blue-eyed through our blues,

To rub some life, win some dough,

To win the best of hers,

Then oil her chocolate, melt down her raised eyebrow,

We‘re safe and satisfied at the hands of the driver,

Ones that we handed over our matchless screwdriver,

We’ll let them run us, ruin us their way,

Steer us blind in our own lust,

Then bottle us, labeled the hottest sauce on display,

Weren’t we the ones in for a change?

The hot blooded, fearless of the lull after the rains,

We’ve never bothered to let that clutch go off and see,

To despise being driven, being at their mercy,

We’ve never bothered trying to run the show…

Debaroon’2013

 

 

Image from : http://pxylem.blogspot.in/2007/12/delhi-metro-rail-in-and-out.html

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

Pink Paharganj

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Dusk licks the old Banyan,

Shuts her pores with a kiss,

Ogles at the crows to send them cranky, alarmed,

That deity resting on that vintage stump is served her lamp,

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Lights flick white in that dingy sea of trade,

Reflects in eyes, shining ready for their prey,

Confident of languished hungry visits from the brightest of minds, gone astray,

Some Bags on the go, some await hooked, some packed personal, some for sale,

Stranger eyes are read, flung across are ropes of trust, unsaid,

When a ‘need’ sounds good, it is then understood,

Fools you the stoner’s paraphernalia, peace t-shirts, cargoes on the row,

Action turns into those narrower lanes, shoulder-wide alleys,

Hazy deals, suspicious frowns, then broader smiles and hugs,

Slither sly; make it hush and quiet, in and out in dying daylight,

A fresh wait, a fresh hit, no bait’s needed in this hole of the sphere,

Sucks you to those minstrels of pleasure for a share of their concealed treasure,

Hands in hands with the God of Urge, you tread in here,

The evening calls, triggers her daily moan,

Hails you for more, a Pink Paharganj…

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Debaroon’2013

(From the streets of Paharganj, the hippie back-packers paradise in New Delhi, India, known for its concentration of affordable hotels, lodges, restaurants, dhabas (North Indian road-side eateries) and a wide variety of shops catering to both domestic travellers and foreign tourists, especially backpackers and low-budget travellers. Over the years it has become particularly popular as a haunt for international cuisine and everything that a soul on the lookout for fun and pleasure can end up thinking of. For more on Paharganj, visit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paharganj )

 

 

Images from :http://darkhartetravel.wordpress.comhttp://shafisaxena-sightseer.blogspot.inhttp://web.stagram.com

My White Mare

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Gallops in my White Mare,

Arrogant, she seems to have pledged,

Won’t let me stand and ogle,

Swifter than the clouds, faster than the Hare,

She’ll swim the oceans, run the land,

Preserve me dry, on my skin those crystals of sand,

We’ll wade across the Bay of Bengal into Port Blair,

On to those blue beaches shining to conceal the Human Zoo*,

She seems to have promised herself,

She’ll fetch me love, truck and boat me to your Lair,

Gallops in my White Mare,

Arrogant, she seems to have pledged,

Enough of your absence, now she’ll dare,

She’ll piggyback me to you, make it fair,

Have you “a statue with a wide-eyed stare”,

She’ll piggyback me to the End of this Nightmare,

Gallops in my White Mare…

Debaroon’2013

 

*Human Zoo – The Andaman and Nicobar Islands on the Bay Bengal is a popular tourist locale, famous for letting tourists tread into its interiors to catch a glimpse of a multitude of scattered and rare ethnic tribes in their natural habitat.

Lately, the court has banned all commercial and tourism activities within a five-km radius of the Jarawa Tribal Reserve on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.  For more, visit:

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/supreme-court-bans-tourists-from-taking-trunk-road-passing-through-jarawa-area-in-andamans/article4329360.ece

 

 

Image from : http://www.glogster.com