Friday, September 25, 2009

Dream Away

Dream away

Tender day

Hear my cries

Take my sighs

Fade away

Dust and clay….

Morning skies

Angel’s eyes

Flowers to bloom

Pharaoh’s tomb

Times and tides

Awake, arise….

Silent love

The blue above

The faithful sea

Magic tree….

And the stories

Bleached memories…

Painted graves

Fever raves

Rivers talking

Fear stalking

Eyes of goats

Teardrop floats….

Morpheus beckons

Daughters and sons

From the eyeballs

Eternity calls

Oblivion…ahoy !

Hope and joy….

Much love, friends Happy Puja…..

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

An Ode to a Dying Cat

A cat sits on my porch everyday

With hardened jaws and a drooping face

Seems like he’s got something to say

Something very somber, that’s my guess

He’s rather old, and he seems very wise

And his eyes remind me of silent sages

Maybe he IS a saint in feline disguise

Conspiring against time through the ages !

Doesn’t move, though at times he winks

His whiskers quiver in the breeze

Our Lord in Heaven knows what he thinks

Oh senility, that dreadful disease !

The twilight bathes him in ashes and gold

As he sits like a statue, it makes me sigh

I stare at him and think of miseries untold

And that someday, this sad old cat shall die

Maybe he’s Macavity, repenting his crimes

Having given up his dark and evil ways

He gazes at the blank pages of the times

And seeks some peace in his last few days

With these flowing times the cat shall fade

Beyond those horizons, so tender and red

Or perhaps, deep into some silent night

He'll melt away in the motherly moonlight

Flowers shall bloom and flowers shall wilt

Empires shall fall, and new ones shall be built

Cats like these, they live, and then they die --

“Cast a cold eye on life, on death, horsemen, pass by”….

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Sisyphus, Unleashed

It is in these moments of wild madness

that I feel how much I love myself

It is in these moments of saintly delight

that I discover the hopeless optimism

that drives me on

It is in these moments of hollow mirth

that I realize the futility of sorrows and despair

It is in these moments of heavenly glory

that I open the treasure-trove

of faith, hope and love

It is in these moments of absurd joy

that I get all the strength to fight

my tears and sighs

These are those maddening moments

of beastly happiness

These moments are all lies – I know that

But it is in these very moments

that I truly live….

I live…..


That wild afternoon reverie….

I dreamed myself wandering –

faithless and tired, along the

desert sands of the twilight land,

Lonesome, hungry, yearning for some dust

between my fingers

which had withered away like

some unknown saintly flower…..

Bitten by my own lies,

Smitten with my own image

Suddenly, like a crazy midnight howl

of some stray dog,

the curtains lifted.

I could feel the whole world trembling between

my boot-heels

And then it came –


Like the realization of sawdust

Like the homeless orphans who die

Like the strife between my own ribs,

It came……

I could feel the mad spirits

staring at me from the other side of the sky

And those seven great serpents

hissing with blue fire

on their seven forked tongues

And the seven wild children of the night

were dancing atop those flames

with seven red roses on their hands

And on each petal of those roses,

bits and pieces of eternity were stuck

I tried in vain to scrub those bits off,

But then, I saw myself in a crystal ball

with everything I own,

and everything I have gambled away…..

I stared deep into my eyeballs,

which I had gambled away in

some long faded dreamy hour of


till I drowned in them…..

And then I reached a new world…..

Twenty nine sad conch-shells welcomed

me there…. but their sounds got burnt

in that blue fire atop which those

seven cherubs kept on dancing with the

mirth of life…. And that of death –

side by side, hand in hand….

With the charred remains of

those sounds, I built a castle

first, and then a kingdom….

and then a worship – to

fight myself……my faithless self;

The nights were ancient,

But the battles were medieval…

and the battlefields were empty,

with rows and rows of public lavatories

with the words ‘Victory’ and ‘Defeat’

etched on their closed iron doors…..

When these seven cherubs will grow up,

they’ll become seven seraphs….

And they’ll carry all the nights, all the

meaningless dreams and all the droplets

of time and tide waiting for none save

those who had gone inside those

public lavatories and had painted

blue sunflowers and butterflies on

their inside walls,

in their wombs

And everything else shall vanish

in the mist….

And I shall be engulfed by the great

oceans of nothingness…. Where even

those blue fires which had burned

the twenty eight hollow sounds of those sad

conch-shells of which one was silent refuse

to burn

But it was not a haunting midnight


It was a late afternoon reverie,

nothing more and yet nothing less….

And when I woke up,

The blank wide world

stretched to the horizons before my eyes….

That was all…..

That was it –


Sunday, September 13, 2009

Eternity is Dead


Everyday… and faces

Mostly unknown

A thousand whispers gather

Stories build up….

Skeletons hang from the rooftops

Misty mornings…. Vacant shores

Lonely horses and lonely skies

Ancient forests….

Leaves…. And crowds…. crowds…..

Eternity is dead….

Every night…. In sleep…

Somewhere, deep down,

Life seeps in….

Clocks – stare…

from the other side….

Silent, like the oaks

Rain….rain….and that

single voice from the stars

Shapeless, hollow…..

Moths play around

That mystic halogen haze…..

But beyond all these,

the river of desire runs……

And thus, all stories unfold….


Clouds gather

Meadows and phantom darkness

Fires leap up from the womb

of the river

And so, like the times, a thousand

stories are woven

across the skies of a thousand and

one desert nights….

Arabia…. The Bedouin tents

Laughter and the horizons…..

They sit around the fire

They tell stories

They sing

They dance

They live……

Dust and sands in the breeze

Cobwebs, hourglass, mist….

Puppet-shows…. Battles….

And then, the clouds….

the clouds…..

Someday, it’ll rain,

Till then, let’s dream on……

Another First Midnights

This is the other world
Where the death-cold eyes
of fishes meet
The three great forked tongues
of the serpent touches the dark
hood of the sky
The black fire burns with the
blue silence of Ovid

But not the cold pallour
nor the nameless dread
of the unknown makers
of the pyramids, with their
names etched on the sandstones
Only the knitted brows
and the silent sullen forehead
of the Pharaohs and phantoms…
Only the death-mask-pale
of the shapeless moon, moon, moon –
Mother of bats, owls, shrieks
and cobwebbed cellars swirling with the
banished blue

But the other fire burns
in Babylon…the Sultans
and the sleepless sparrows
and horses stare on, in wonder
of the moaning graves,
parchment graces and the
swelling breasts of the virgin sea

The three great bells
wait for the Resurrection
in silence, in silence…
The skulls of the planets
dance with the maddening harmony
of the emptiness of the smokes…

The hands of Colossus strive to
tear away the lullaby of the sonority
and the rhyming clocklessness of times
from the womb of the lost tides
and lost souls – shivering in the
maddening numbness and clouds

This is the place where the last
pantomime steps down from
the proscenium and the first puppet
begins her show
This is the place where the Magi
reaches after chasing the starry
mirage of faith and Jerusalem
This is the place where
The Father, the Son,
and the Holy Ghost disappears
in front of the vibrating eyes of
Sisyphus and all other absurdly
happy strife and void and eyeballs
This is the place where the waves

become still and wait for Philomela to find
her lost voice This is the place where the last
teardrops and sighs of all the restless jesters
become one and the same
with the soundless dirge of the lost inferno…
This is the other world –
The world beyond all twilight meetings

and bohemian grains of sand…

Rhapsodies -- end
Reveries -- silent
Verses -- unwrite

Pages -- burn
Crickets -- sing

Finality -- attain... attain... attain...

Saturday, September 12, 2009

The Only Shit I Take

Loser loser on the wall,

Who’s the sickest of them all?

Loser loser on the wall,

Build your tower and build it tall

Loser loser on the wall,

Give me hope, coz I’m small

Loser loser on the wall,

Fight the rain and fight the squall

Loser loser on the wall,

Lose to them but do not fall

Loser loser on the wall,

I feel lonely, gimme a call

Loser loser on the wall,

You’re my master and I’m thy thrall

Loser loser on the wall,

Take me to a shopping mall….

Loser loser ho ho ho !

You’re the only friend I know

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Blow with the wind o blow blow blow !!

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Take my arrow and take my bow

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Take my dreams and off we go !

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Stick to me through high and low

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Fight the yes and fight the no

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Lose to them but strike them a blow

Loser loser ho ho ho !

Flow with me o flow flow flow…….

Loser loser hee hee hee !

One two one two one two three

Loser loser hee hee hee !

I worship worship worship thee

Loser loser hee hee hee !

Love me, love me, please love me

Loser loser hee hee hee !

You and me in a jamboree !!

Loser loser hee hee hee !

Take my faith and make me free

Loser loser hee hee hee !

Sit by my side and tell me a story

Loser loser hee hee hee !

Let's twist and shout in morning glory

Loser loser hee hee hee !

Dance dance dance dance dance in gleeeeeeeee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And now, the point I’m trying to make

I love my bread, I love my cake

I love gambling with my life at stake

But it’s that defeat for defeat’s sake

That’s the only shit I take……

Sudden Rain

Don’t seek for morals in those stories untold

Don’t seek for sighs when true sorrows unfold

Read to me from your pages, read me all thy dreams

Sing to me the song of sleep, though of love it seems

And those raindrops – oh, they refused to learn

To worship that lake where all your sonatas yearn....

But the river and the forest – they’ll never forget

Those ancient songs of love, that sad and silent sunset

And in that empty field they stand in rows and rows

Like soldiers frozen in love, a million timeless scarecrows

The sullen eastern breeze, it carries their unsung song –

Far beyond those skies, where their souls belong

The desert stands empty as the moon bathes the sands

The moonlight is like wine, but it's water he demands

Oh, he’s tired, thirsty and dying – fall on him as rain,

For Ithaca seeks her green for Ulysses to cry again !

And I’m that hopeless soldier who’s lost all his wars

My armour hides my wounds, my helmet hides my scars

Seventeen miles from here, my epitaph you shall see

In a blank piece of stone, I’ve preserved it all for thee…..

Monday, September 7, 2009


Duniyadariir khyala bondhu

Ekhono chintey baki

Chintey parley bolbi rey bhai

Sholo ana i phNaki

Erporey aar thoi nai rey

Nouka boye jaye

Shomoy nodiir e’kul-o’kul

Osrujoley naye

Sakin gyachhe, naam o gyachhey

Rother myalaey bhhir

Ratirkaaler bhhishon jhhorey

Bhanglo shadher niir

Emni para kyemni dhara

Bhulaye ocheton

KhhNachar bhitor ochiin pakhii

Uraye dey rey mon……

Mon paboner dokhhina gang e

Ektarakhan khNuji

Kothaye geli nayontaara

Hariye gechhish bujhhi ?

Eight Reasons as For Why I Don’t Post Personal Stuff

The Buddhist Analogy of the Eightfold Path

  1. Right View: My views are my business…. And I shall judge whether those are right or wrong.
  2. Right Intention: Perspectives matter…. Revolution may be the right intention for A, but B has the right to differ
  3. Right Speech: I never gave a damn. People who love me do not mind. And as for people who don’t love me, I’ve got nothing to give them but for the effects of my flatulence
  4. Right Action: I do what I feel is right. But other people might feel differently. My flatulence shall greet them as well
  5. Right Livelihood: I’m studying to be a lawyer. That explains.
  6. Right Effort: What the hell is that? Go ask Buddha. Stop bugging me.
  7. Right Mindfulness: Doesn’t exist. For me at least. My shrink told me not to bother. Hence I don’t
  8. Right Concentration: I’ve been suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder since I was 14.

P.S. Buddha didn’t say how to define right and wrong. He spoke of the conscience (Atmadeepa Bhava : Light the Lamp of Thy Conscience, as he said to one of his disciples on his deathbed. But I wasn’t there. Hence I plead ignorance)…..

Maybe he meant those pre-existing norms, mores, customs and such other didactic bla bla s that shape the human conscience, but the times have changed. Anyway, that’s enough I guess

P.P.S. One reason as for why I’m posting this crap:

Samadrita has threatened me with dire consequences if I don’t tag her in a post. And going by her recent blog entries, she’s getting freakier every day, and she might just end up actualizing her threat! Here I tag you, dearest friend. Have mercy on this meek soul. Amen.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

That Faithless Faith

Last night she came to me

Like a crazy rainkissed epiphany

Like the clouds that seem to be

Like the dreams I dream to see

Just the tides to roll along

With the window that sings my song

Like the moon when she’s sad

Like the tempest when he’s mad

And the clouds covering through

The night so empty, the night so blue

Creeping down my window-pane

The sad and sullen autumn rain

All those pains and all those sighs

All those rains and all those skies

All those wounds – they dry up, and then

The sadness comes back again and again

The streets are empty – bitter and cold

No lips to kiss, no hands to hold

Yet the vision – it comes and goes

Like the river that flows and flows

Lost my sword, lost my shield

Fleeing from the battlefield

I toss and turn and then I feel

But for myself, I’ve none to kill

And the fairy – there she goes

I’ve given her my plastic rose

She smelt it once, she smelt it twice

Her hair had clouds, her eyes had ice

Fire dancing atop the waves

Dancing atop the moaning graves

Dancing with the restless souls

Dancing towards the endless goals

Last night she came to me

From the other side of the sea

She tied me up with the cherry tree

She whipped me and she made me free

Felt the flames but not the pain

Felt the water but not the rain

Felt the wound but not the blood

Felt the river but not the flood

I seek my laurels to rest upon

When I’m dead when I’m gone

Write nothing on my grave

Save the fact that I was a slave

Waiting for the stars to fade

Waiting, sleepless, on my bed

Waiting for the love that died

Waiting by the riverside

The river’s deeper than my dream

Never had the guts to swim

But someday it’ll come back, I know

Until then, the rain and the snow ….