DESTINY...................................................

A piece of me falls off
    Every moment, every day
Tiny bits spill out
    As I walk along the bay
Spread out along the path
    That I tread night and day
Reminding me of me
    That were and was to be

I turn around the post
    And walk the beaten path
To pick my pieces up
   To search me where I was

But, recover, as I do
   Somethings are lost for good
I search me where I was
   And search is all I can

'cause I was what would have been
   but I am what was to be.........................................

The Railway Platform

He was a boy, a little boy

With hungry eyes and stolen joy

With filthy hands and eyes so red

A dusty cloth covered his head

He searched along the dirty aisle

Where leftovers and plastics pile

For crumbles of an eaten bread

Or droplets or a tiny shred

The searching eyes ran up a seat

To find the tidy toddler eat

It was a meal, a normal meal

Really! They say, “so no big deal!!”

With teary eyes and days of dust

The dirty boy with sudden gust

Leaped on the seat to snatch a bite!

A thunderous slap caught on so tight.

Time seemed to stop and vision blurred

“Get off the train! Filthy bastard!”

The scurrying men with eyes of hate

Did push the boy towards the Gate

With helpless eyes and hurting feet

Bloody faced, nothing to eat

With Gentlemen swearing profound

The little boy lay on the ground……

The whistle blew and bogeys drew

And suddenly out of the blue

With searching eyes and steady gaze

The toddler stared back at his face

The baby face and curly hair

Fixed on itself a wise old stare

As if to say “I’m sorry mate”

“It wasn’t me, it was your fate”

He was a boy, a hungry boy

With bloody hands and stolen joy…………

The Loner

I stood alone when the storm broke out
I stood alone when the wind was loud
I stood alone when the waveless sea
In the green blue tinge, would flow by me

I stood alone on the crowded sand

When the blue eyed boy would hold her hand

I saw the moon and the sun go down

I saw the diving dolphins drown

I saw the silver clouded sky

On which the birds of season fly

I waited for them all to stay

They left the lonely sea to me, and went away

They went away...............

The Unfinished...

Why do I feel the endless pain?

The ringing voice "You are insane"

Why do I feel like falling free?

From taller heights to eternity

Why do I feel a nudge behind?

Shattering my peaceful mind

Why do I feel a needle prick?

As minutes pass and seconds tick

What did I do for not to do?

What have I left ?

Please tell me do

The restlessness, the red eyed stare

Mirrors me back a mystery dare

What did I do for not to do?

What is the dare?

Why do I care?

As mornings pass, the red eye stare

Mirrors me back another glare

What did I do for not to do?

Just tell me do

You know I care

Just let me dare....................

The King of all Kings

No words

Just a bow.............

Kobi guru

Thy are the King of all Kings

The Lord of all Lords

THE ONE ANSWER SYNDROME

We all have grown up living life and trying to understand the nuances of life in between intervals called "examinations". Exams have always been annoying intervals during my growing up days and it must be the same for millions of more Indians all over. More than any other exam the ones that I found the most senseless were literature tests. I still don't understand how somebody can rate or compare creative work of two different individuals. What baffles me even more is how one can rate the interpretation of art.

Art ,I always was taught to believe, should be interpreted the way one chooses to. I like to call this "syndrome" among us Indians as the "one answer syndrome".

We like to believe that there is only one correct answer to every problem. It is a strange irony that in a country where religions, cultures, civilisations have coexisted for ages , there exists a system which teaches the millions of children that there is only one true solution to every problem. A child does not have the freedom to interpret a painting the way he wants to. A young boy has to interpret the works of Tagore, Ghalib, Premchand the way it has been described in a "guide book"!!!!

This dangerous trait of our education system has been clearly reflected in our political system. How many times have we seen political parties opposing eachother just because their ideologies do not match??? How many times do we see the opposition leaders protesting good policies just for the sake of maintaining their status of being an "opposition"????

We need to learn to accept an alien ideology. We need to learn to coexist and grow together. Our country needs an "opposition" that "supports" the government when it is required.

26/11 was one incident that made us hang our heads in shame. The dirty mud slinging, terrible statements from opposition leaders proved the fact that this "one answer syndrome" is deep rooted in our culture now.

We do not know how to accept a different solution to the same problem. We do not know how to accept personal failure. As the future of this country it is our duty to change this trend. Our next generation should now have the freedom to think and look for solutions. They should not be forced to accept the "one answer" to the "one problem".

We need minds and not recorders.

-----[This write up was previously posted in Deshnirman.]

THE LOST EDEN.......................

It is a legend amongst old Calcuttans.......The whole Eden crowd would go "booooooowwwwwwled" as the great B.S.Chandrashekhar stood at the top of his mark to spin out another magic ball..........Gone are those days........

Gone are those days when a full Eden crowd would stand up to clap for a winning side that was not the home team........... Eden.........the stadium that hosted the greatest cricket-lovers of the world.

Memory still remains of the South African team taking a victory lap to a standing Eden crowd, all clapping in unison, in appreciation of the end of a great sporting event............Those were the late 90s............The last days of the great Eden...........

Cricket has changed.......the game is just not a game anymore.......it has been "Modi"fied......... bat and ball take a backseat behind liquor barons and Tinseltown glitterati...................

The game is no more about patience........it is about speed, agility and mongoose bats...............

And along with that our beloved Eden has died a slow death.............

It was the winter of 1996 when Eden died its first death........with rowdy crowds throwing bottles in the field................

And today it ultimately gave away when a hapless Virender Sehwag raised his bat to a silent crowd................. a crowd oblivious to good cricket, a crowd losing touch with "sporting spirit"........blinded by the glamour of winning............

as sportsmanship gives way to gamesmanship the Eden of my childhood is no more................ The Eden of Cricket is dead.............

An innocent dream

The silence speaks the mind of us

We want no war no fight no fuss

The cries of pain, the agony

The evil smile, the gluttony

The dark old men with blood on hand

The ugly witch, her magic wand

Keep pushing us to depths below

Allowing us for not to glow

No pain, no tears no fear today

Just sparkling eyes that give away

A better day, a brighter sun

The road is clear so let us run

Just let us be, just let it be

The love, the life is what we see

The King

A royal yawn

The animal that has fascinated me all my life...........

The king of the jungle.........

The symbol of grace........

But when you come to think of it..........it is the lioness that does all the hunting!

That is what you call Lazy Elegance..........

THE CRIMSON SKY

The rifle shot, the flying grenade

Keeps the sleepless child awake

In shock amongst the marching feet

He stares across the bloody street

He tries to crawl and get away

From this chaotic disarray

But Alas! He does not.....

And sits there still ....All alone

He knew the place that he was in

Would keep him safe from worldly sin

It was the tender touch, the lovely smile

The fragrance of the mother's lap

That kept him waiting right in there......

Calling Mama in despair.......

The shudder of the rifle shots

The screeches of the dying men

Kept growing on his little ears

Hoping for a world he knew

To shimmer up into view

He stares up at the crimson sky

To see the bleeding sun deny

The light that made a brighter day

Dumbfound the little boy there lay

As Mama slept an endless sleep

A sleep that he had never known

A sleep that left him all alone

All alone, he witnessed the war

The war, a license for man to kill

The war, that we all call CIVIL................

The crimson sky stared down below

Smiling gently with a reddish glow

He's seen it all, he's known it all

But when the end to this would come

HE doesn't know, he just kept mum............

-------------Dedicated to all those children who have woken up to chattering rifles. To all those children who know a gun better than a violin. To all those children who have seen more blood than milk............

CHANGE..............

The dreamer stares at light ahead

The skeptic buries beneath the dark

The clash of goals unfold again

Again and again

The bush gives way to a newer path

As the aging road stares in despair................

[The sketch is based on a photograph by Jane Chilvers and the self portrait of Henry Fuseli]

THE WISE MAN

The wisdom of the years gone by

Rest quietly on the wrinkled face

The pain and joy of death and life

Reflect against the shaded skin

The grief and loss of old values

Fall off the face with greying hair

The hooded hat protects the soul

From chaos and oblivion

The grimace on the face awaits

A peaceful end to mortal means..............

A journey to eternity......................