On Confusion

Cannibal Times

Come
I’ll eat you all

See
World has become
So much religious
(Even physics!)
And living so much expensive

You all are gods
Gods of your own world
I want to listen to your
Frustrations first
And
Wish to see
Masturbating
Before your own porno self

Go and
Sleep with the capitalists
In a city of communal riots

Class struggle
Demonstrates itself in
Class adjustments

All are violent and disturbed
In this risky
Peaceful co-existence

Democracy is
What people earn
Just as a bonded labour earns his privileges

Come
And
I’ll eat you all

I see me
In all of you

I see nothing
While I look at myself
Though I see
A lot

My mirror
These days
Scare me

I can’t keep gazing sky

Keep away that sky from me
The sky falls
On me


Cyborgs in Stone Age

The world has lost its art
History
Culture
Language
And real smile

The world has abundantly
Made sophisticated weapons
To kill and to be killed
But
Fewer medicines to save life

The world has its machines
Equipments, gadgets
For more efficiency and much effectivity
And for entertainment

The head is still there
But the world has lost its heart

‘Cyborgs’ -
Half human-Half machine
-Live in Stone Age
Where they hunt for profits
In everything
In love, in charity
Even in relationships

Emotion was stabbed to death
With Intellect-knife

Nobody is bare
Nothing uncovered
Even air and water are not transparent
Everything is covered with
Clear confusions

Fugitive

Fear of self
Is much deeper than
Fear of known enemies

We are running away from us

Shooting stars
Go away from planet

Run
Run
Run

It’s very difficult to face self
It’s hard to deny verdict of own mind

It’s easy to decieve self
But tough to escape punishment

Search of joy
Disrupts us at
All directions

A call comes
Continuously
From unseen abyss
Of self

One runs away from that call
There is no looking back

When eye opens
Everything seems to be devastated
You try to pick your belongings
But ash comes into your hand

Others are running
Everybody is running
One should run
Run away
From
Others
From self

Who’ll Bell the Cat?

Everybody is correct
Everyone justified
All is well
All intentions are pure

All are feeling
That
Life has become
Hell with complexities
Hypocrisy
And much show offs

We all know that
We wear our personalities
All around in society
We see
Masks after masks
Masks below masks
Masks above masks

I’m scared of my hidden self
I hide myself behind this mask

We are safe
We are masks

They’re just returning
From rally
Shouting slogans

It’s raining
They’re getting wet

The fascist cat is roaring like
A tiger

All are aware
All are convinced
That they’re
The ultimate prey

The question is-
Who’ll bell the cat?

Poems on Darjeeling

Darjeeling deja’ vu

Silent roofs
Curl up inside
Purple fumes of uncertainty.

Courage-flags
T-r-e-m-b-l-e
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
Rocks
Sleeping Stones
Static Dynamisms
And
A Still Storm.

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

People start talking
Moving
Loving
And living politics
For once again.

And now
Who can stop them?
They are in festive mood
Enjoying
In 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.”

Colonial Transitions

They said
Colonial transition
Will bring in the freedom for all.

Colony still exists
In the disguise of freedom.

So, this freedom
Seems to be a mask
For freedom itself.

Tourists may feel emancipated by seeing
The sunrise from Tiger Hill.

But Darjeeling itself
Starves
seriously
For
Emancipation.

Sometimes
Face becomes more important
Than bread.

Blending of bloods and tears
Yielded
World class aroma
Of
‘Darjeeling Tea’
for more than two hundred dry years.

Faceless Darjeeling fights for its
Face
Lost under colonial annals.

A history
Covered by imperial ruins
Waits
To be explored
In the riverbed of The Teesta.

Darjeeling Torso

Tea
Tourism
Timber
Toy Train
And
Tear

Smile! Smile!
See the ghost of glory
Behold the spectre of dignity

A live torso
Lies discriminated
And deserted on the floor
Of democratic nation

They love and serve the nation
They tune in to patriotic songs
Searching their heads
To live in pride and peace
And searching their legs to stand and walk firm:
They tell a spade a spade

They are taught family planning
And communal fraternity

By nation they mean
Rivers and mountains and deserts
What else more?

What they know
Is
The nation is deaf and dumb


People Cried


People cried
For water

-They got corruption.

People cried
For freedom

-They were labeled separatists.

People cried
For identity

-They were hit by lathis and bullets.


And now
What should they cry for?

Darjeeling Metamorphosis

The stretched silence was a womb
For a rebel tornado

Winds stumble against
Anti wave currents

Dry cough of hills
Relapse
Unknowingly

Confusions start growing
Again In the farming terrains

Hospitalised
Cinchona plant
Waits for its nutritious breakfast and medicine

Colonial tea plants
Sneak
On the creeping democratic land

World famous flora and fauna
Join laughing club
To learn the art of laughing

The storm
Stare
From behind
The shoulders of Kanchenjunga

Journey
Still remains to be covered

Houses
Are in fear of losing roofs
In the storm which is moving
Inside the rooms