Illusion, truth

Illusion, truth

Sea, the sky

The sky, sea

Fish, birds; swim, fly

In places they should be.

Eyes, as ears

Ears, eyes

Sound, vision; for years

Little they realize.

Thoughts turn the nerves,

What is felt and seen,

A dip in sea, or sky pristine,

At ease the scene reserves.

Reflection

I have come to my place!

Calm, quiet, serene…

Full of bliss, all the time,

Fruits and flowers,

Animals and birds,

I call my playmates;

Water’s so clean,

In the ponds where I bathe!

Huts that I thatch,

Foods that I cook and eat,

Cows that I milk and feed,

I play when I work,

From dawn to dusk,

I am ready, always…

Prepared to take off!

Readers might have a different feeling if they decide to read from the last line to the first.

Sorry for asking you to read twice, but I guess it is necessary because, although there is not much of a difference between landing and taking off, the poem tries to catch the sense that is somewhere in between these two actions, and perhaps also because it is a modest step to create a sense of poem working against gravity… not disrespecting the law of gravity, but exploring what happens when the sense also rises above.

Life

Fruits and flowers hanging on every branch,

Playing on swings,

Talking, chatting, laughing; Ha!

Soft breeze, a little older, is giving the push

From outside, to all the parts…

Giggling ripples in instalments,

With their teeth open wide,

Immobility enchanted…

Outside with the inside,

All engrossed in the game,

Colorful flyers,of different shapes and sizes

Singing with them, to them

With and without sounds

In different tunes and pitches;

Some flowers and fruits have fallen from the branches,

Are caressing the earth;

All colours have merged voluntarily into

An affectionate black shadow…

Underneath

A traveller resting, ruminating;

In this place of luminous benevolence of Energy,

Life finds its space!

choice

This was to happen,

Sky showers nectar and poison at the same time;

Choice has no choice:

Conscious, unconscious,

Buds bloom and disperse

As stories are sung in the background, or on the stage

From the ground despite predicaments!

The shell doesn't have grievance when the egg pops out,

Rushes into an eager mouth;

A moving tree doesn't regret,

When its perfume sneaks into a stranger’s veins;

Desires oozing out of the barks dead or alive,

Back and forth, in moments flowing in and out:

Without shape and measurements!

shades of weather - some triplets

Wind on the meadow

Husband gifts a green saree

From the silk outlet

Please give me your hands
Gently as the waves ashore
For the rest I need

Image in the clouds
A child feeds a little child
Rains washed the headache

Leaders with white hats
A broken booth abandoned
Tensed voting weather

The first summer rain
The Sun and the Moon change looks
Busy ants unearth

some triplets

Mom waiting with a
Towel stretched… the wet child comes
Rushing into it

Evening time… father
Drinks tea, Mom cooking good food,
Children do homework

Wind on paddy field…
Green grasses dancing freely,
Farmers smiling wide

Frogs are croaking…
Sparrows bathing in the dust,
Rains not far away

Darkness has fallen,
Pitch dark, crickets call fire-flies,
Forest plays darkroom

destination

From here,
I take off...
Don't know
If the pillars carry the time 
And the count of the stories I wrote,
And scrapped,
In the same place...
Spent the ink
From the pens that linked
Me with you,
Pages again surface afresh
In journeys that rest anew...

with different names

with different names
Doors all around;

With different names…

From all corners, closed;

Efforts are on, for opening them one by one

Hurling abuses and curses!

Walls big and huge;

Safe, secure, with different names…

Of strange food and language;

Talks are on, for breaking them one by one

With all the dressing weaknesses!

Blind doors and walls with different names;

Frozen cold on the ground…

Unwilling to warm up;

To break open

Despite the deafening sound!

Walls and doors;

For so long crafted by souls…

With different names;

Cracked in silence

Seen sleeping tired on the surface!

Finally a feather touch, they melted

The shell, with different names!

This poem is dedicated to my elder brother, Sri Sourav Sen, an English teacher at Birla High, Kolkata on his birthday (22-April).

nature

world in me

witness

peace

Charlie Chaplin – 125 years later

“Sir Charles Spencer "Charlie" Chaplin, KBE (16 April 1889 – 25 December 1977) was an English comic actor, filmmaker, and composer who rose to fame in the silent era. Chaplin became a worldwide icon through his screen persona "the Tramp" and is considered one of the most important figures in the history of the film industry. His career spanned more than 75 years, from childhood in the Victorian era until a year before his death at age 88, and encompassed both adulation and controversy.”

I was initiated to him by my father with whom I went to see ‘The Kid’ when I was 12. Like most of you, I can talk about all his films in detail. But I am not going to talk about that.

I am going to talk very briefly about his mixture of slapstick, pathos and social commentary in most of his films…something that touches a wider range of audiences transcending nearly all barriers that threaten democracy, even today! This is something I fondly refer to as ‘Charlie Chaplinisation’!

I have seen my domestic helps, with whom my childhood is inseparable enjoy his films inasmuch the same way as my father and his intellectual friends would. This is a quality which very few artists could match; a craft where he did not ignore any sub-text and or co-text in the master text that he was creating. Artists in every field are free I presume, and it would appear as an imposition for most to be conscious of whether their texts, be it films, songs, stories or poems, would appeal to all sections of society. You could argue that it is not possible to appeal to people who are not able to read and write through poems and stories. We could innovate and build in audiovisuals along with the written texts to reach out to them. The question is if we are ready to shred off our standoffishness in order to keep our intellectual alignments intact for a larger cause. Imagine a world where more and more people would take interest in reading and writing… how the world would be!

In my opinion, I think it is a craft worth emulating, especially in an era where we talk about inclusiveness. And promising thus I pay my respect to Charlie Chaplin after 125 years!

[Source of the first stanza: Wikipedia]

Being

Being identical

Being identical

I am an eagle,

Flying inside to land on myself,

I know it makes little sense,

To shred off my wings and claws,

And stretch as much… to fall

Into the abyss to be me!

All this while I have been floating,

Looking down on my preys;

Now my hunger has frozen,

My feathers detached,

Hang on,

I will come back in a while!

For this moment let me

In my land be,

And see me fly,

I am still floating…

Not as an eagle alone.

A different picture

A different picture

I am relentless…

To re-arrange the picture of the cluttered sky;

The biggest mirror,

Over you and me!

The still-born thoughts old and fresh…

I need to question the dust with the sun I have;

Sleeping inside my head,

What was the need!

From where does one start re-telling the stories…

Hiding under the deep sea;

Like the souls unwilling to be born to die or disappear,

From the helpless cradles!

When I look at you…

The swimming fish inside;

Appear as trembling constellations,

I will keep on re-arranging the stones on the land!

I know I am crawling with my soft flesh…

Like those babies unborn, or dead with their breaths;

And when the stones are awake and moved,

I will look up to a different picture!

Reflection

Close your eyes

Imagine.
What do you see?
Go back to the origin of your creation.
Do you find boundaries?
Your first story is written.
Come.
Take a close look after thousands of years.
Come.
Your first story is written.
Do you find boundaries?
Go back to the origin of your creation.
What do you see?
Imagine.
Close your eyes

A blank brown page

Scene: Apprentice in a doctor's chamber.
Action: Discussion about a strange patient

Apprentice       : A strange patient has come in Sir!

Doctor             : Tell me…

Apprentice       : He thinks his eyes are made of wood and his throat, of butter!

Doctor             : Ha!   

Apprentice       : And that if you left him in the open his throat would melt, his eyes would burn

Doctor             : Interesting!

Apprentice       : And one more thing…

Doctor             : What? You and your one more thing…tell me!

Apprentice       : The moment you meet him, he will shake hands with you, warmly congratulate you. He   does this because he thinks wars have ended and borders have been erased. All countries have unanimously decided to put all arms and weapons into a museum, also he will narrate to you as though he is seeing visitors in those museums eagerly seeing the please-do-not-touch labeled arms!

Doctor             : So what is your observation?

Apprentice       : It is a case of fear psychosis sir..that’s why throat is made of butter

Doctor             : Okay! But why his eyes have to be wooden!

Apprentice       : No clue…that’s why we need your expert help.

Doctor             : The burning part is understandable…he might be having some issues with heat, or the Sun

Apprentice       : Could it also be some heated discussion or some cruel acts

Doctor             : Ha! Can’t be ruled out!

Apprentice       : In the room where he’s kept temporarily, he has written a whole lot of rubbish

Doctor             : Like what? Is he violent?

Apprentice       : No! But he shouts saying….

butter gutter hitting list

wooden notes of ruling king

killingkilling only killing

little bird little bird

do as I command you

so many such beautiful things

killingkilling only killing

dancing dancing everyone sings

…and then he says… Goblgoblgoblgobl…dingdongrings…

…and goes on dancing, laughing aloud, spits a little as if to cleanse his mouth and then with folded hands as if to seek pardon, starts kissing everything in the room, like the table, the chair, the floor…while doing so keeps on murmuring…no nono, you cannot do that, I know you didn’t do this…this becomes dangerous after a while because the other day he was trying to kiss the table fan…

Doctor             : Is he violent?

Apprentice       : No!

Doctor             : Let’s go!

They look and start reading slowly…

Narrator           : [on the wall, they see] reads

NASA is now concerned only with this earth, they are developing a robust

Peace technology, ISRO is busy developing Peacetenics, and all universities

are developing programmes like Peace++, Lovetonics, Trustmetrics… … in all countries there are institutions of love, each better than the other where there are researches going on to see how love can be applied in all subjects without appearing silly …like love in history, love in mathematics, love in technology, love in law, in sports, in literature, etc. love in medicine, love in politics…people have suddenly realized that it is an en-ending field… and intelligent people from all walks of life have started taking real interest in it…there’s also another subject called understanding, which has become more important than solution providing, like understanding people, process, product, etc…

Patient              : [pointing at the doctor] Congratulations… you have cracked it Sir!!! We made it!!!

[Doctor gives a dead fish handshake and goes off the screen holding onto Apprentice’s hand]

[they come back to their chamber]

Doctor             : If his eyes are of wood, how can he write?

Apprentice       : He says he doesn’t write Sir…sorry sir…forgot to tell you that…

Doctor             : Then?

Apprentice       : He says he’s not writing anything, but wall readers are seeing those because of what is running in their minds!

Doctor             : Holy crap! Get me his details.

Apprentice       : Spouse. Child. Pet.

Doctor             : Has anyone come to look for him?

Apprentice       : No.

Doctor             : Anyone died in war?

Apprentice       : No.

Doctor             : Qualification? Age?

Apprentice       : 40+ Was a research scholar, but discontinued. Judged misfit. Thrown out of previous office. As a child was thrown out of school, fled from home.

Doctor             : Is he like this all the time?

Apprentice       : No sir, he’s very normal…but his eyes are always away. He keeps talking about his childhood days…it seems he has got stuck somewhere. Through hypnosis, we found out that he was dragged out of his school by a durwan named Ramu, who took him out of the school and brought him home…he was 13 years old. Later teachers of that school told his father that he has done something to be ashamed of…that other children will get wrongly influenced in his company…he broke the partition of his school, and he had asked a girl of his class whether she was virgin. This was his crime. Back in his time, these types of frankness people did not have. I think there was nothing wrong with the school; they have to take care of other children too!

Doctor             : [looks at him…thinks…hangs his head down, as if in shame, and very softly looks up] Any tragic / sudden death in family?

Apprentice       : No.

Doctor             : Attempted suicide?

Apprentice       : Do not know

Doctor             : [excited…shouts] then know!

Apprentice       : Okay Sir…sure…

Doctor             : How can this person, who has the potential to be a criminal, talk about love and peace and all that…

Apprentice       : Potential criminal! I don’t think so Sir!

Doctor             : Who is asking you to think? did you find anything in his wallet?

Apprentice       : Lots of debit cards, family photo, some money, and…

Doctor             : And?

Apprentice       : A brown blank page

Screen falls half exposing only the lower portion of the actors on stage. They stand still. Only the narrator moves, and reads,

“Notes by the doctor: Patient found alone. No family care. Un-resolved childhood issues. Deeply shocked by war, however, it is a case of fear psychosis and schizophrenia. Ruling out social concern,

Therapy

Shock”

[completely dark…screen rises, lights only on the patient]

Patient, in chains, shifted from the temporary chamber.

Lights on

Doctor:            Peace technology! Peace++!

[The doctor murmurs what is written on the wall and takes photos of the scribble. He could not see the scribbles quite clearly, it was almost blank. However, he thought he’d take the last picture.]

Click!

Curtain falls.

some threeliners

Train at night whistles

Ready food calls from kitchen

Children on terrace

Newly wed bride looks

Moon behind the cloud peeps

Groom sees pleasant smiles

Recession panics

Lovers meet in open air

For some priceless time

Compulsive begging

Compulsive begging

Calling bell rings.

Yes, come in please.

She has come from the Sundarbans

To a painter’s house;

I the painter will run my brush of her

For a high-end client;

Her struggling teeth opened up to give

Me something she’d want me to know as smile,

I smiled back, water? She drank the cold glass

With rhythmic sound that spoke of her class.

Go to the room and freshen up if you please.

She goes and comes back to take the comfortable seat

Sponsored for her for a while…

I had three canvasses arranged…one of her undressing

Second undressed…and the third of her organs alone.

My brush goes into the veins of the saree, the soutien

She loosened like the skin of a chicken,

As though she has done it many a times

To fill up the mouths of beggars in her family;

The first canvas done…over to the next…

The foundation is done…

I had in mind that the client wanted

An authentic picture… so the black hair with

Impoverished red lines, the ribs connecting her breasts

The eyes of daily dolor, nipples bitten by vagabonds

Had to figure;

Going to the third…the place of creation and destruction

The place of nurture and torture

Had to show;

I found myself borné…opened me up completely!

I am not Duhshasana for heaven’s sake!

In a moment, on seeing my hairy thorns up and about

She eyed me up and down… all of me!

Yes, good…I said to the object activated

My brush is rushing through the land

I saw fruits, flowers, birds in the garden

That hanged between me and her

Until it was time for her to leave

For an amount of alms up her sleeve;

For the final dressing, she’s not required anymore

Canvasses ready to undrape callers from door to door.

Note:

Sundarbans: The forest which is famous for sundari (beautiful) trees and the Royal Bengal Tigers. It is also the place from where budding/professional artists hire their subjects.

Duhshasana: One of the Kaurava brothers in the epic The Mahabharata. The name also means bad (duh) ruling (shasana). He is also remembered as the one who tried to undress Draupadi (wife of the Pandavas) in public.