WATER

                                                  

                                                 Let us Be Water for Once

For once leave aside your God

& be one yourself

A dimensioned God

For once be obscured and powerless

rend apart your intellect

Let importance lose reason for once

& to this atonal rhyme lend your life for once

and embark along in symphony with me

Let us Be Water for Once

For once dismiss the ornate obeisance

For once unplug your pecuniary pride

& don't be good or bad for once

and stand unlearned and mutable for once

Forget your civilization

Forget your voluntarism for once

Stop singing your psalms for once

And for once be reclusive & stand,

Stand thankless, uninspired, unmotivated, unjustified,

unopposed, unadorned and artless in the fierce copper Sun.

For once flow naked towards the horizon

Deciphering new punctuations

Walk on three limbs for once

and start afresh from nought

Discard the written hallucinations

Decay the decorum for once

Disprove the caricatures of Shakespeare's seven ages

& breathe, breathe a breath without your dignity

For once if only we could peek beyond the borders of thought

& look ahead, ahead towards love, death, life & water for once.

If only man could be water for once

Sans regard and reputation

Sans humanity and domination

end would no longer be forbidden & untold

& He could have gravity as his pitiless God

He could be still, merciless and fore-long

As a colourless matter, he could rule and shine

& could end his timeless envy with time.

           

          

                 

MY GRANDFATHER'S DEATH

It is not often that I write about proper nouns 'cause my conscience prevents me from writing about personal loss or bereavement. Also, I am an overly romantic believer of the fact that if you come from a difficult place and that is all you have to write about then you should stop writing. Further, I could acknowledge a million reasons why I am not the right man to write about "Acharya Shri Nirmal Chandra", The Gandhian reformer. There are people more qualified and dignified than me who can do that.
However, the person I could write about was my Baba and how he completely changed my concept about God, unknowingly.

My Grandfather died on the 15th of May 2013 at around 2 p.m. while holding my hand. I saw the most moral man of my life struggle to breathe in his last hours & yet I couldn't accumulate pity over his penance. Instead, I was angry (furious to an extent) I wanted to order him to stand up at once. Standing there, wailing at the painful sight of a man I loved, wrap into his end I wished to complain to whoever I could and that was when a realization struck me.

 That was when I wanted to believe that there exists a higher authority, A supreme being who could cure him irrespective of what his blood sugar indicated or whatever rubbish came out of the ultrasonography. I demanded the existence of A GOD.

Now when I recall that helplessness of mine I gather that just as my denial or refusal of the existence of a superior being will owe me nothing. Even so, my denial of an unalterable law or a lawgiver(I assume both to be the same)will never liberate me from its operation. And as the "first proper noun I ever wrote about" M.K. Gandhi said, "Humble And Mute acceptance of a divine authority makes life's journey easier".It is his definition of God that rendered my Baba's intellect the most.

"In the midst of death life persists, In the midst of untruth truth persists, In the midst of darkness light persists. Hence I gather that God is Light, Truth, Life. He is Love. He is the supreme Good.

Coming Back to my Grandfather. He was a man close to some of the mightiest leaders of India. Right From Dr Rajendra Prasad to Vinoba Bhave and a little brother to Jayprakash Narayan. Yet If there is one word in the English Dictionary That best describes Him it is "HUMBLE".Or at least that was how I knew him to be. He was My first teacher, the best too. He taught me everything right from calculating to drawing to writing. He used to teach me several mantras & I am ashamed that I have forgotten most of those. And I am sorry that I am unable to write much about him. It is only this little Homage That I am capable of. He was a man I knew in my family who had achieved supreme greatness socially and psychologically. Death came to him as a friend and he greeted it with incredible calmness.

I have heard of the philosophy of the 3 deaths. It says that every being on this planet dies thrice. The first death is when that man takes his last breath. The second is when he turns to dust and the third & the most painful is when his name is taken for the last time on earth. I am incredibly sure that that third death of my grandfather is still centuries away.
In my first post on this blog, I pondered quite superficially over death. Now I know it as an important part of a great life. The most beautiful part of a great man's life is that it ends. My Grandfather was an artist in every true sense of the word and his death was his greatest masterpiece.
                                               
                                                                                          A proud Grandson of a Worthy Grandfather

STILL SO BEAUTIFUL

The following poem is the ending salutation of a story that I wrote called "The Prosody".The story describes a nature lover whose life is tormented by a natural disaster. He loses his house and his family. When at the fag end of his life he lies on his death-bed this poem is his last offering to the love of his life, Nature.
                   

         Why did I fall in love with her
         Why did I devote my life to her
        She Shattered my world poles apart
      I lay in my Grave with a broken heart
    My life has neither a beginning nor an end
          I can neither fight nor defend
            Yet I find this emptiness
             to be so very delightful
            She happens to be a monster
             But still, she is so beautiful

Poetry is quite parallel to life. Having no reasons, requiring infinite patience to make it look beautiful, spreading boundlessly, demanding compulsion from the creator & ending so ruthlessly so as to leave no trace of tenderness or sympathy for the beholder much alike a mock casual blink of the eye.

Choosing poetry over all other disciplines is a cowardly act from my side for I fear that Science would leave me short and longing for answers when the guilt of resisting an ensnared lifelong atrocity would doom my mind. Poetry, on the contrary, lures me into itself 'cause it offers me the luxury of creating self-satisfying answers no matter how impractical they seem.  

Talking of Impracticality I encounter it as another Human testimony.When people tag events,expressions & fellow people as practical or impractical I beg not to be included in such rituals.I suggest an easier definition,that of a renowned philosopher "If we were all to die then the most practical thing on earth would be to die the very moment we were born or not to be born at all"(I might seem like a depressed soul talking of death at such a young age but i cannot help bringing in the word into my writing for the very word impulsifies me to imagine the whole concept of survival as irrelevant & even funny).Inadequate expressions like these create a doubtful,vague & nebulous sketch of nothingness. 

I assume by now you would have adjudged the above-written piece as directionless and confused but I didn't intend to create something wondrous. My intention was to define what poetry is to me and how it shapes up my life. I am a Poet. Disciplined in the fierce and unforgiving art of language and I ought to respect that.

Here's Something I wrote years ago. It is ridiculously childish but it is not something I am ashamed of. It still possesses my Poet's Vanity. Feel free to comment and please put forward your views in-hesitantly no matter whatever it is you wish to say.

from where did we ingress 
and what are we supposed to do
why do I love eating ice-cream
and why on earth is there a zoo in a zoo

what are the prickly borders meant to deliver
why does happiness cost hard and pain lasts forever
I see no joy in the human value to serve
& I am yet to find in my Physics textbook
The Force Called LOVE

It is a bit Daunting
to Imagine a Fitting End
I have heard them say How one
lies on 2 Yards past all pain
& takes nothing with him
not his house, neither his ego nor his Porsche 911

I feel scared or I feel excited
I don't understand what I feel
This is when I realize the limits of language,
the limits of fortitude and skill
This is when I realize,I am Human
and so am limited to Live and let live

It is a vague atrocity
that we can question but not challenge
we do move like puppets
in the hands of a drunk electrician

However fast I run
The horizon runs farther away
I sweat and Puke and mourn
Perhaps I should just sleep 
and sleep and sleep
all lifelong.

              But as I am thinking all this 
            I see some children out there 
  Dancing and playing in the rain and the rainbow's 
                bright and vivid lights,
  As for now I only have extraneous answers
          to these meaningless questions
       but dancing in the rain in this magical
                     beautiful world,
                   It all seems some
                MAD POET'S DELIGHT