what's inside
Stapler
chackit! chackit! chackit!
It staples away. One tiny metal pin after another.
Holds so much strength, as it puts together separate pieces,
composing a comprehensible whole.
Inseparable. Unless hacked out mercilessly, without hesitation.
Strange how similar it is to life, with many-a-staple through us,
holding us together, bound tight.
Housework, ambition, children, marriage, norms,
After releasing one, there comes another.
We are overwhelmed, yet like hungry street-urchins
we cannot let go. Even when it tells us to,
chuckit! chuckit! chuckit!
Crowd
While getting jolted in the station crowd,
I wonder if I can spot your-like?
Someone who’s watching out
to protect any little girl-child.
Looking up to see nothing but a mass –
a crowd of thoughts block my sight.
I get mercilessly tossed and tussled
through judgemental thoughts.
Old faces, new faces, aristocrats,
bourgeoisie and the poor –
fiery thoughts, cold feelings of pain and despair:
Chaos. Crowd. Chaos. More.
A crowd in my head, crowding my life,
where there isn’t enough space;
yet everyone fits in so perfect!
I walk on, through crowded streets
oblivious to acrid feelings.
Crowd of faces, with crowded feelings,
on a crowded street, jostling around
a clouded person! I walk on –
miserably lost in the crowd.
Devi
Blue!
Electric blue darkens itself and vanishes
a red aura rises –
Orange!
Alarming! Vehement-hue.
Touch of ominous, invisible, invincible whirling aura –
Red!
It's dancing flames burning lividly into my eyes;
as if to dare me to join itself in the play
Dare!
Close your eyes.
Dark night.
Light!
See its brilliant reflection against the mirror,
held by her bridal-hands. Against her burning red veil —
carving itself an image, on the back of our head.
Fire!
Norms. She is a prisoner.
Life. Not for a girl-child.
Death. She doesn’t get respect.
Fire. That’s how she finally parts.
Fire to mouth, bones to ashes, ashes to clay, clay to water.
Ganga. Ganga. Ganga.
Epiphany
Accidentally surfaces
a new brand of narcotic.
Not distant from freedom…
foolproof timely understanding,
of symbolic cruelty.
Overstimulation, jubilation,
indulgence: Euphoric feeling
of the first high!
Lenience is addictive.
Getting dazed, yet no escape:
it will still be there, when awake,
running havoc in the bloodstream.
Spreading to flow into eternal circulation, –
escape from the lap of a polluted world
awaiting damnation…
A successful administration of
“Knowledge”:A new brand of narcotic!