Saturday, June 28, 2008

Social Transformations

A Lesson on Human Society

Chapter: Human Society

It’s not that hard to define. Very simple.

It’s the same complex food chain effect found in nature.

… Butterfly being eaten by frog  Frog being eaten by snake  Snake being eaten by vulture …

In order that all those who are to be saved need these bloody rule of elimination badly.

Now draw a picture based on the above scene. You just need to replace the animals by various social classes, genders, cultures, religions, sects, bands, groups, political organizations such as governments, NGOs, Anarchists, Communists, Capitalists, Post Modernists, Artists, Naxalites, Corporate, Mafia, Management Guru, Marketing Consultants, Laymen, etc, etc, etc.

And when you finish drawing, colour the figures carefully.

Bankrupt Minds

Streets are
Moving cars

They too
Want to run
Run and win

Coming out of chimneys
And are seen again

Sky is not the limit for
The sky itself

In fact
Limit is something like
You wait in vain

Everybody has to
Participate in
Cruel race
Of survival

If you stumble somewhere
Rests are bound to
Run past your body
Making you
And notorious enemy
Of game

Life is a game
With rules
To be broken
Each moment

You can win
You can lose
You can never leave

Black Hole Song

We said-
Let there be light!
And there was
Darkness everywhere

Is a mask
Wore by worn darkness

This light alike light
Sheds light
On our dark existence
On the dark limb of
Milky Way

It’s our face
Sheds light
On our dark backs

In a hanged over morn
Universe brushing its teeth
With the paste of motion
Sees its drowsy face
On the glass
Painted by our blood

Hip-Hop ghosts of
Sing eerie songs
From within
Black Holes
Holed inside
Walls of complexes

Civilized Robot dances
With despaired heart
With all time silent cat
Of time-space

Robot knows
What is
And how to pay respect to and
How to love it?

Loves us
We use them
And get used to them
We become machine

Welcome my son!
Welcome to machine!

A Real He

He grabbed
The dust of
Primitive thoughts
With his
Blissful Techno-Palm.

He wanders
On that
Rush and aloof
Post-Modern road.

Time chews
Sour bubble gum
of Winds of Change,

Blood drops from
Hypnotized eyes
Just as a song
Drops in

His orphan dreams
Drag his future
On global market floor.

He walks.
He eats.
He drinks.
He runs.
He falls.
He flies.
He dies.

Inside a simulated
Audio-Visual lab
A student of class three
Was asking
A question
To her virtual guru-
Did he become the ‘He’
Which he wanted to be?

-A real He.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Confession Corner

I’m Normal This Way

I forget others
And only remember myself.

Its just opposite.
I remember
All the others
And flatly forget myself.

You all may accuse me
Of being abnormal.

But friends!
Believe me
I’m normal this way.

In Crossroads

I am

One day
I’ll be there-

By the bank of
That silent river.


By the edge of
Your watery eyes.


Let my sun catch cold
When my moon sneezes

Today that I weep
Not weeping
At all

Today that
I walk on a circle
Of straight thoughts

Let me live
My life
In integrity
With others
With myself

Is There Anybody There?

Is there anybody there?

I need a glass of water
A glass of normalcy
The day was full of anxiety
I wanted to have some talk
To feel relaxed

After all
This is a complex world-
No one needs to be complex
In asserting this

All of us live simply
In this chaotic earth

Anarchy is banned
Only in laws
Not in real life:
Celebrate anarchy
With uncomplicated complexes

One has to search for order
With disordered eyes
A child is born
With a brain of man
Who knows-
What is inside
The mind of catlike life?

Clarity is liked by all
But complexity attacks it like
A virus of computer
You dump that with antivirus software
In virus vault
Again a new virus assaults your PC
Need of new kind antivirus again.

These days
Nobody asks simple questions

How can the questions like-

Are you sure?
Do you feel glad?
Do you trust yourself?
Are you going back home?

-Be simple today?

Everyone feels bad
In goodness of times

All feel happy
Being sad

Nobody likes to be called bad
But goodness is not in demand

I’m badly in a need of an enemy,
Who can make me jealous of others
Even myself

Is there anybody there?

Darjeeling deja’ vu

Silent roofs
Curl up inside
Purple fumes of uncertainty.

Within cold tremor
On the bare breasts of
Old colonial streets.

All of a sudden,
Twenty one years of terror and tyranny
Fall down
Like a rotten egg.

Cool celebration
Sleeping Stones
Static Dynamisms
A Still Storm.

End of political eclipse
‘Apolitical’ stands
Famous till now.

People start talking
And living politics
For once again.

And now,
Who can stop them?
They are in festive mood
Their gala of struggle.

Numb air
Breaths in oxygen
When protest blows in the wind
Just like a reckless hip-hop song.

They’ve cracked again
The forgotten password
To log in the world of dignity.

‘Land of Mystic Thunderbolt’
Is roaring
Punk slogans of justice and equality:

“We don’t need no education
We don’t need no thought control.”


We are so -
So are our colours.

You are true Bhaskarda,
All of the colours
This is the religion
Of colours.

We name them
[I don’t know
In fact
The name of colour.]

A rational
Never asks the questions like:
What colour you are-
Black or white?

But rational questions are coloured:
Coloured in several colours.
Several shades of colours:
Personality, psyche’, economy, genetics, milieu, culture…

As because
Nothing is colourless,
Even colour is not colourless.

Nobody knows
Your perception
Better than you.

So, I won’t ask you-
What do you perceive
By seeing me


Eating grass.

Foxes hang around
In a busy city road.

Red flowers bloom in an old fern plant.

Eyes mimic
The blind.

Horns of a cat.

Liberal parody of czars.

At 5 P.M. to-day.

Dream Azure

Have you ever

Now when the sky of emotion
Is about to vomit all out
-The droplets of silence

The dream seems
As gray
As the silent Teesta.

The words
Have another outlet
The pupils
The unspoken words
Flow through them
As the Teesta flows
-The grey Teesta
-The green Teesta
-The blue Teesta

Says that
She has nothing to say
And starts gazing
The northern hills
The northern hills-
Where her anxiety for emancipation
Propels like a hawk.

I speak to you
O Teesta!
Close your eyes
For a microsecond
If you want to keep them open
It’s alright:
But see a dream
As you know that
The dream
Is the uterus
Of to-morrow.

An orphan flower
Like an orphaned time
Crawls on orphaned road.

You must reach the ocean
And for that
You should have dream
And your dreams may perhaps be
As azure as your smiles
As soothing as your unspoken whisper.

Fantastic God

Nietzsche says
God is dead.
It’s ok
God is still harmful
Even if it is not alive

Truth of illusions
Give birth to unreal God
‘The supreme power’-
So called ‘The Omnipotent’

Hypocrisy born
From living womb
Of illusive Goddess

Gentle Vikings
Earn their profits
From this unreal reality

God is after all
A mere hallucination
The matter is
We all get addicted
By opium of God
We are always hypnotized
By you religious people
We are seduced by
Porno goddesses.

God is mere imagination
Not more than that
And this has
Always been dangerous

Gods simply emanate
From our unending fear

God is illusory
And this fantasy is
Never radical
But always reactionary


At last
I was lost
In your last word
That was lost
In the lost world of your last words

Have Fresh Air

This is the time
for you to come.
For you to see and know.
To know and win.

The tree of waiting
Is penetrating
the sky of ceaseless hope.

and have fresh air
Have fresh talks
Have fresh dreams
Tell me something new
As much new as History is.

Tell me something untold.

Don’t ever stand against
The question of this desperate Time.
Instead, you search a fitting answer.

Let’s have our own vision
Own eyes to see.
Let’s have our own brain
Own thoughts to walk.

This is the turn
For you to come
For you to decide

And have fresh air.

Tell me
Something new,
Truly new.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Fifth Corner

Contour Blues

Would you sing once
For this deaf?

Feel the greenish desert inside
Try hearing my dumb words
As someone is walking
On my eruptive road
While someone climbs
My eroded peaks

Smile please
And see my burnt face!

You said
You’ll erect upon
My trembling now
I think
I should kill
My killer complexes
Before my blank palms hold a storm

Who is not afraid of,
And possessive of
That Fugitive Future?

Nobody fights
To win over notorious victories
So that defeats may
Again mean
What they use to mean

Show me Yourself
Show me Myself
Show me seen

Seen is only the face
Not the faceness


Would you?

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

forum for art, literature & music (FALM): forum for art, literature & music

forum for art, literature & music (FALM): forum for art, literature & music



We talk.
We don’t speak.

Even though
Uttered are the words- “Hello!”

The space in between
Is then flooded
With the Silent Words:

The words unspoken
Each other