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)

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

With You, For You, Always

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Our Protectors?

Khaki clad Pillars of our Democracy?

Law and Order Monitors?

Look where do they come from?

Mark what have they read till this long?

Notice those outdated degrees that brought them so far?

Grown out of trash texts, and,

Female-shunned backgrounds,

What else can you expect?

A few hoarse animals fit for nothing else,

But to toil in those Easy Uniforms,

They’ll raise their manly hands on Women Protestors,

And, then they’ll swear to save our Women,

Laughable a breed, our Police,

Lodging an FIR isn’t important,

A 5 year-old’s Rape is tooooo Trivial, a matter,

The kid’s parents are Harassed,

Paid 40$ to keep Shut,

To stay away from the Media,

Forget their missing daughter, Flee the city, Instead,

Searching their premises Isn’t Important too,

Public servants? Our Protectors?

What Apathy!!! What Disrespect for our Women !!!

All you Rapists, and Female-Crushers,

Have a Blastttttttttttttttt in my City,

With You, For You Always is Delhi Police…

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Debaroon’2013

(An enraged expression from an Indian, a resident of Delhi.)

Based on the following events:

  • Delhi Police delayed lodging an FIR after the child went missing, failed to do a proper search of the building where the family lived and also allegedly gave Rs 2000 to the girl’s father asking him to stay away from the media. Later, the girl was found locked in a room of the ground floor of the building.
  • An Assistant Commissioner of Police, B S Ahlawat on Friday slapped a young girl at least four times, inside a hospital where she and others were protesting against the brutal rape of a five- year-old girl.
  • He was suspended, immediately. ( As if suspension works! He would be back to duty, sooner or later, the same Man.)
  • Be a little patient if you can, watch the incident LIVE…it’s in HINDI (the Indian national language, but it’s short, so do WATCH IT guys…http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRpAPCB__LU

 

 

Images from : http://newsatonce.com, http://www.ndtv.com

“I’m Burning, I’m Burning”

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Iran, when did you end up infected?

I never knew so far has spread,

This deadly plague,

Now your women shall suffer,

You shall have your share of screams,

More cries from more Mothers,

Semi-charred children happily smiling,

Pirate-eyed, wearing hanging skin, craters on their skin, scary scars,

Unaware, half their lives have been eaten up,

Razed to the ground by their own creators,

Hungry Dragons camouflaged as their Fathers,

You’ll have your share of wrath,

Your slice of mourning,

More sleeping mothers, sleeping wives, sleeping children,

Shall burn, shall be doused with Acid,

Your ears shall echo their agonizing wails,

Tardily extinguished by harrowing pain,

“I’m Burning, I’m Burning”,

Your days will hear,

So will your nights,

Only, Man and his ‘She-Zombie Slave’,

His smoldered prey,

With her spine crushed for life,

Will be forced to breathe,

Starved of justice, beg the streets,

Barbaric law shall materialize,

Only savages will hunt, and monopolize,

Bake cakes out of Her,

Cook her blind, to live a Curse,

With smoldered toddlers,

Clueless, their daddy had them grilled,

With a question to scissor them apart, very soon,

Along with their roasted mother, her ceaseless tears,

Her hidden face, burnt enough,

To compete with their hellish fate,

With blisters of dire disgrace, manholes of affliction dug for life,

Tattooed to last till the end, they’ll have to survive,

Only, the brute Man and the Living Dead,

The Manist Werewolf with his Tarnished Mermaid,

Will thrive…

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Debaroon’2013

(Totally inspired by the essay, “The Aftermath of an Acid Attack in Iran” by the sensitive TIME contributing writer on the Iran and the Middle East, Azadeh Moaveni.

The real-life true story of Sommayeh Mehri, and her little daughters, when her husband doused them with Acid, while they were all asleep.

Sommayeh’s only two mistakes: She was a woman in Iran, and that she had filed for a divorce.

Courtesy: TIME, Asia’s February 4th, 2013 edition,

For more on the attack, Azadeh Moaveni’s nerve-wrecking essay, and 2012 Sheed Awards winning photographs by Abolfazl Nesaei, visit: http://lightbox.time.com/2013/01/24/the-agony-of-injustice-in-iran/#1 )

Photo Credits: Abolfazl Nesaei, http://lightbox.time.com )

Happy Women’s Day

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Mother’s tongue, trembled,

Her worst dream, if it went black,

Lips shook in fear,

Opened up to the shivering lore,

She sang the parrot was all set to flee,

Tear out off bondage, out off captivity,

Be gone till hell freezes over,

Abandon its cage, forever,

She would leave me alone the same way,

Deprive my days of crawl of her, fly away,

Every night, she would make sure I wasn’t out of sight,

Would weep her song to sleep,

Await her to grab me tight,

Sense her warmth,

Her heart wishing the lyrics never turned true,

Thickened over the years, her motherly glue,

Still has me gripped close to her,

Has me enlightened…

 

Young hands, tender fingers,

Scripting love in secret,

Under the teacher’s eye,

In between classes,

Innocent letters, double mid-pages,

Exchanged at recess,

Smiles that made up school,

Urged me to properly wear my tie, to pass on,

Wishing the same classroom for both of us,

Every fresh year,

Got lucky only twice,

My wait to turn worthy enough,

Brought school to an end,

Ill-timed confession comes up on Gmail,

My proposal makes it, six years down the line,

By then, she had ripened into a lady,

Dating someone else,

My second woman,

Little years spent in her dreams,

Has me enlightened…

 

Then, came Cleopatra, herself,

Blemished beauty, broken heart,

Sniffing a brand new tale,

A desire to bathe in sins,

Drink up a hurt past,

Rejuvenate in passion bathtubs,

She tumbled over undesired love in a younger head,

I cherished her company,

Crawled up to her side in the middle of the night,

For in her tunes, her mature vibes,

I loathed sinking intoxicated,

Unaware of her “go-as-you-like” mode,

I slipped into the lake of ache, I drowned,

My time was up,

Thuds of her pounding heart,

When Venus was close,

Seasons spent in her embrace,

Has me enlightened…

 

Next, straight, out-of-fashion like the inaccurate wooden ruler,

Her biggest weapon, simplicity,

She existed in her world of shoulds, should-nots, and should-bes,

Planning in dreams,

A future for a hassle-free walk on the grid,

Opposites, we made up for each other,

Poled together like iron and magnets,

Until, she gave up,

Strained by my undying hunger for experience,

A life on the edge,

Tainted by my bohemian ways,

Hurt in university,

She did finally release her clutch,

Instants soaked in her emotions, genuine then,

Has me enlightened…

 

Fragrances from Delhi, Ludhiana and Bangalore,

Told me how less have I lived life,

How much more of a man I still had to be,

Showed me roads to richness, paths to glory,

Tired, some had to leave,

Some are still standing by my side,

All pinched me realization,

Taught me the must-bes to hitch,

Ways to tie up loosely,

Carry less load, walk straight non-stop, often unburden,

Side-effect free algorithms to ditch,

To live loveless, miles away from pain,

To relentlessly write-on,

Life’s too short to cry and crave in vain,

Their kisses, their hassle-free care, their blows,

Ways to return, start afresh,

Fight to a comfortable end, permanently delete,

Has me enlightened…

 

(Dedicated to all you precious women out there, for making a difference and being there, somehow or the other, in each and every second of our lives.

With you around, the season’s always spring…

 

Celebrating International Women’s Day, March’08’2013)

 

Debaroon’2013

 

Image from : http://www.99colours.com