tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-106708722012-01-26T22:42:43.544-08:00Rajendra Pradhan's English WritingsRajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.comBlogger571100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-84073844047741072752008-12-03T02:33:00.000-08:002008-12-03T02:34:55.396-08:00

Yet another terrorist attack, yet another bloodbath and yet another debate. The much brandished claims about Mumbai’s resilience and yet another crowd crying for some political heads to roll. The scenario has now acquired an eerie familiarity.Yes, there is reason to cry, to weep. But once that is done with, there is even greater reason to think deep. “When will this stop? How can we stop it from

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-52066739713934028842008-11-24T09:13:00.000-08:002008-11-24T09:14:54.232-08:00

I think of yousurreptitiously,as if letting off a fartin an air-conditioned conference hallI do think of you,often and as freely astaking a leakon a respectable compound wallpatron of my faitha false prophet or-my illicit loverwhatever you areI have been waiting for your call© Rajendra Pradhanhttp://rajpradhan.awardspace.com/

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-8127872459059661422008-10-20T10:02:00.000-07:002008-10-20T10:03:42.171-07:00

where have you been?Long time no seehe said to mewith angry eyeswhere have you been?why did you leave?not even good-byes!my shame hung heavyon my stooping shouldersfor I could notrhyme my answersanymorehe kept tauntingneedling meriddlingwith his piercing staresthe poet in the mirroras I shavedyet another night's useless cropoff a vaguely familiar facethe only thing that growson me these daysI

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-12088308979498995812008-03-17T22:20:00.000-07:002008-03-17T22:24:47.218-07:00

It has been a while since I posted anything here, or on any online forum for that matter. Health is the reason. Last year I had an accident and survived with a brain injury. Some days are normal, but most times I get dizzy even by just waking up or walking.But I hope to come back. Soon.

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-26316464487490782612007-12-05T07:31:00.000-08:002007-12-05T07:33:15.120-08:00

September 6, 2007Usha aunty visited today. You know her, don’t you dear Diary? She the one with a mustache and likes to pinch little girls’ cheeks. “Look at those two little devils! Aren’t they simply adorable?” I winced at her remark. ‘Don’t call me a little devil; I am a TEN year old girl!’ I wanted to retort, but held back my tongue ‘cause my mom was there you know!I’m tired of these aunties

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-5637216801453969142007-12-05T07:00:00.000-08:002007-12-05T07:20:49.636-08:00

[A play on clichés]Heart in his mouth, he pleaded, "Don't leave yet honey! Who will clean thismess? Just give me five minutes and I shall finish my meal.""Don't you have any manners? Don't talk with your mouth full." She retorted. "I have to hurry or else I will be late for Rhonda's birthday party. She haspromised to bring some deliciously handsome guys from her office to the party. I am staying

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-69977596726187354922007-08-17T22:51:00.001-07:002007-08-17T22:51:38.127-07:00

Don't Ever Get Caughtan inspirational taleIn ancient India, gurukuls were the learning centers where students stayed for years until they graduated. Unlike modern institutions, the students of a gurukul would pay their fees only at graduation time and it was called Guru Daxina. At one such gurukul, at end of the course, the teacher gathered all his students and spoke to them. "Students, I have

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-67890659022416717992007-08-17T22:47:00.000-07:002007-08-17T22:49:50.842-07:00

it is that time of year again, to take a breakfrom pilfering, politicking and tax evasionas from our beauty sleep we wakethe plastic people of a neon nationneon nation is lit like a Christmas treeits glory shines across a global skyto suffer and die in dark they are freethe meek ones who never ask whynever ask why we hoist flaccid flagsand what the celebrations are aboutthe culture story may be

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-17175111388498904562007-07-03T07:39:00.000-07:002007-07-03T07:40:17.549-07:00

she wanted to hawka naked left breastfor the price of a cigaretteI said, I can get twenty thousand for the priceso why don't you include the right one as wellafter all,it is unmarkedas yet(c) Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-10107782731743894642007-07-03T07:33:00.000-07:002007-07-03T07:39:03.430-07:00

little paper boats set afloatbobbing upand downbreathing a lungfulof comments and swimming upfor a whilebefore sinking, finallyin the murky depthsof disinteresthoping to be searched forand born againinto another lifeor network (c) Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-36022948146469929362007-06-30T08:30:00.000-07:002007-06-30T08:33:11.282-07:00

“Poetry won’t feed you! Study hard and get some education. Only that will see you through life” my father scowled at me. I was not of money earning age yet. I might have been about twelve at the time. Still, my father’s remark was justified as I think now, looking back across all these years, notwithstanding the fact that I had proved him wrong, just once.I was in sixth grade then and my teacher

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-43073290230590275862007-06-03T22:57:00.000-07:002007-06-03T23:03:07.251-07:00

Suleman was busy writing new code for his dream project. He could have delegated the job to any one of the three hundred and fifty software programmers in his company. If he wished, he could have assembled a team of the brightest among his staff and put a project manager over them to supervise the project. But this task he had chosen to do himself. This was the top secret project his company had

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-25519458869214943112007-06-02T09:51:00.000-07:002007-06-02T10:11:03.086-07:00

(this was written for an exercise on Shakespeare and Company Network of Writers. The picture was the clue given.)***Hellooo! Hellooo ! Who is this? array kaun hai bhai? Will you speak up a bit please? I can't hear a thing over this din. Achhaa! So it is you again. Array bhai I told you na, don't call me so often. I am on it, I told you so already. Rest assured old man! This constant nagging

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1152851343679174832006-07-13T21:28:00.000-07:002006-07-13T21:29:03.680-07:00

I fear rainIt will wash awayyour namethat I scribble in the duston back of every busthat leaves my town © rajendra pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1152851282189993042006-07-13T21:26:00.000-07:002006-07-13T21:28:02.200-07:00

Red tiled roofsThat breathed fire in summerAre green velvet nowThe blue skyIn million intermediate shadesFinally, has turned dark greyBlack charcoalOrange FlamesGolden bhuttas roastingAnd your lips purpleWith bloodOf fresh succulent jaamunsRain is just water drops falling downTransparentColorless© rajendra pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1152345294017737142006-07-08T00:50:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:23:26.990-07:00

Dreading Death***When was it that I started dreading death? I can’t even decide whether it is death that I dreaded or the full stop that it puts to little things we foolishly think are perpetual.I must have been about eight when I heard this word ‘death’ for the first time. It is not an age when one understands the meaning of life, let alone that of death. There was a lake near our house.

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1152344924594755352006-07-08T00:47:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:25:40.823-07:00

The ReunionI watch her climb down the steep slope. Her gait defies the few grey strands she has tucked behind those delicate ears. Those grey strands are the only noticeable sign of advancing age, seen from behind. I smile inwardly at her defiance to this era of hair dyes and streaks. Sandals in hand, she is taking small, deft steps with those bare small feet of hers. I wonder why everything

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1152344344698778642006-07-08T00:38:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:26:55.030-07:00

Written as a fun exercise based on the original story, to explore the other side. Reading the original not necessary but recommended before you proceed. (this will not form a part II of the original, hence posting in a new thread) Reunion - The other SideI knew my wife Preeti would rise early in the morning. Last night Rajendra had told us about the early morning walks he needs to take for his

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1147195971678148382006-05-09T10:29:00.000-07:002006-05-09T10:48:40.423-07:00

He who fills the universeand yet remains apart,how could I fit him inside a mere heart?so I became a mirror and-His reflection I caught within menow however big He is outside, will also be so, forever,within mebut unaware I wasof laws of reflectionuntil the moment of revelationwhat was right, is now lefttruths that I knew have become untrueblack turned whiteand eyes, Blue© Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1147195750094241272006-05-09T10:28:00.000-07:002006-05-09T10:47:21.253-07:00

these days I remember the stories you used to weave and would ask me to believethey make me awareof breaths that we takeand venom that we spewof lives that we fakeand lies that we liveuniverses aparttime is fine sandand our untwined handsmake a coarse sieveyou should have stayed when the world was conquerableor so, I used to believe© Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1147195665676372562006-05-09T10:26:00.000-07:002006-05-09T10:27:45.676-07:00

on my quest for selfI embarked with zesteach resolute step like a mistake, perfect I began by winningto millions' surprisethe great swimming raceand life was my prizebagful of wants stuffed in a skinalways some roomfor one more sinI claimed as my ownwith pride profoundtiny breaths snatchedfrom vastness aroundarriving finally to claimmy rest, my birthrightI heard a soothing voice from behind a

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138696679683651462006-01-31T00:36:00.000-08:002006-01-31T00:37:59.696-08:00

SilenceSilenceWas what I cravedSo I piled up some stonesAnd built towers taller than dreamsThen barred their windows with my weathered bonesLeaving no escape for my screamsAnd here I sit alone In this depravedSilence (c) Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138392886349812642006-01-27T12:14:00.000-08:002006-01-27T12:14:46.350-08:00

A dogthat chases its own tailis bound tomostly, failBut the onethat succeedswill live to tellHow his ownarse does smell

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138392835013912442006-01-27T12:11:00.000-08:002006-01-27T12:13:55.016-08:00

    Republic Day in Rictameter          Mother had many names and no face, just wrinkles For her, nothing. But some twinkles, she had asked for her starry-eyed children So she got a constitution and two more names None sweeter than Mother   (c) Rajendra             Rictameter is a form of poetry with nine lines.

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138392676105363762006-01-27T12:09:00.000-08:002006-07-08T14:28:27.713-07:00

Digital DemigodsThe other night, I was watching news on the telly with my family. The reporter was droning on about some politician’s visit to a home for handicapped. Bored, I picked up the day’s newspaper and successfully shut the idiot box out of my mind. After a while, I was startled to hear my daughter call out excitedly “Dad, now I know what you are!”I froze mid-action. What black deeds from

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138392540221002532006-01-27T12:03:00.000-08:002006-01-27T12:09:00.223-08:00

Once Againmay be these fields will turn fertile once againlet us sow some seeds of dreams once againI see the heavens bowing down at the horizonis she drying her hair on terrace once again?she asks me the proof of our first embracetime to open my bleeding heart once againI tell the same tale, with the same fervorthe crowd goes strangely silent once againwas it my question or the way that I asked?

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1138392194262427432006-01-27T11:53:00.000-08:002006-01-27T12:03:14.280-08:00

This YearGujarat had good monsoon, they said this yearbumper crop of swords, was reported this yearwho says politicians, have forgotten their voters?promise of new promises, they've made this yearCongress kisses commies, and Devegauda the BJPeverybody has a strange fellow in bed this yearIndian industry has grown up, so said the survey bonded child labour perhaps, will be paid this yearfor

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1136135557713435402006-01-01T09:03:00.000-08:002006-01-01T09:26:04.843-08:00

   The Sun that sets today will rise again tomorrow with the same glory Earth will spin on The new day will bear a different name and number But we will have changed A few more cells dead and shed, to feed the dust mites new ones born to take their place Here is wishing your mites a bon appétit and you, all the might for the fight

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1133641551498118492005-12-03T12:25:00.000-08:002006-07-08T14:29:51.003-07:00

The Crow The little hamlet of Ambala surrounded by green hills on all sides has just one source of livelihood, Lake Ambala. It is situated near Ramtek, fifty kilometers from Nagpur where I live (in India). Lord Rama is said to have stayed at Ramtek during his fourteen years of exile. A temple stands there in his honour. Ramtek is also the place where Sanskrit poet Kalidasa wrote the epic Megha

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1133640192695576102005-12-03T12:01:00.000-08:002006-07-08T14:30:49.003-07:00

A Trilogy of Coincidences(Call them coincidences, divine interventions, willpower or whatever. These are true events. )I had married quite young. I had fallen in love much before that. We two had vowed to be together for life, at the tender age of eighteen. Since then, we had spent enough time living apart, I reckoned as soon as I got my first pay-check. It was just after I graduated and got my

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1125778739144776842005-09-03T13:18:00.000-07:002005-12-03T12:42:25.553-08:00

is it rain or you within,dancing in dropson my parched skin?*each drop bringsa piece of skyeach pore becomes an eye*dance in rainI still doand the rain dancesaround you...*

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1125774177075363742005-09-03T12:02:00.000-07:002005-09-03T12:02:57.076-07:00

The heat. Nothing but the heat wherever one can see. The heat that one can actually see, not just feel. Wafting up from the asphalt that has gone soft under the relentless sun, making those leaf-bare trees seem to shiver in this scorching summer afternoon. Dusters rising in tight columns, dancing frenziedly around trees like demented ghosts, snatching away whatever dry leaves still left hanging

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1125773932407507662005-09-03T11:58:00.000-07:002005-09-03T11:58:52.406-07:00

Each one traversesthis path only onceI too must, but for my own reasonsI carry on my shoulders a bagful of seasonsWhen hunger callsI pause,take one out and put it in my mouthCandyfloss monsoonsIcecreamy wintersHot chilli fried summersGetting spicieras I travel furtherBite by bite,I have to finish them allbefore I reachmy voyage's landfall© Rajendra Pradhan

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1125773795857945072005-09-03T11:54:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:32:22.780-07:00

Aparna was against the idea of moving into this magnificent but old house. She wanted to live in the posh apartment we had purchased the year before. Her job at the art gallery would be easier that way. But the architect in me had instantly fallen in love of this bungalow. So what if it was a little away from city? A dirt road for just a mile or so, and then the highway would take me quickly to

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1125773654217097842005-09-03T11:53:00.000-07:002005-09-03T11:54:14.216-07:00

PALIMPSEST:1. A manuscript, usually of papyrus or parchment, on which more than one text has been written with the earlier writing incompletely erased and still visible.2. An object or place whose older layers or aspects are apparent beneath its surface.Dance bar girlShe looked pretty in the flickering lightswirling ghagra, bare back, hair in flightGyrating suggestively on the glass flooramong

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1118904198034293262005-06-15T23:42:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:33:25.026-07:00

'I am definitely going to enjoy this trip', Jiteshbhai thought as he took the window seat. Mostly business men traveled on this train. But today he found the compartment occupied by five comely girls. He guessed from their conversation that they were going back to college in Mumbai. All doing MBA at some fancy institute, it seemed. Now Jiteshbhai didn't plan on doing anything naughty. He was no

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1116132607921384772005-05-14T21:48:00.000-07:002005-05-14T21:50:07.926-07:00

Truth &Truth & realitytwo sidesof a coin called perception***LifeAfraid to wake upinto another dream,from this nightmare***Then n nowI must have grown upYour soothing words,don't hurt me anymore***

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1115444687093886552005-05-06T22:43:00.000-07:002005-05-06T22:44:47.096-07:00

Cosmic Dance(a poem with some science facts and a little fiction)Traversing the infinitely curved Space & Time, emerged a ray of lightwith its speed unchangedand basked in my plight.“On my speed are built, all laws of your Nature.You are nothing butjust an effaceable signature.Just a speck of dust,that was blown away by the mother of all explosions.” I pondered & smiledand said in a mild fashion-

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114792264067791432005-04-29T09:29:00.000-07:002005-04-29T09:31:04.066-07:00

HAZAL = Humour + ghAZALI will live for you my love and I will die for youbut dahling, please don't ask me to buy for youask me not, to sing songs of your beautyI cannot , may be the mirror will lie for youbelieve me my love, I didn't kiss the neighbour(I knew you had put somebody to spy for you)digging my grave, I paused to hear her say"hand me the spade honey, let me try for you"love cripples

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114792131942115922005-04-29T09:27:00.000-07:002005-04-29T09:28:51.943-07:00

Your Words"to your friends", they say, "don't ever give your words"you will lose them both, your friends and your wordsbeware of those ripples, they might turn into a tsunamilike a stone, into serene silence, don't throw your wordswords are cheats, mean one thing and another they saybetter listen to them, before you speak your wordsconfused I stand on this shore, whom to trust now?there you are

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114792010863328752005-04-29T09:26:00.000-07:002005-04-29T09:26:50.863-07:00

Come walk with me"let's seek the Truth" he said, "come walk with me""that way is the tavern" I said, "come walk with me"where have they all gone, who once held my handand had said with conviction, "come walk with me”standing at the crossroads I just watched them passlife kept whispering in my ear, "come walk with me”when you start getting afraid of your own reflectionssmash all those mirrors and

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114791923541382052005-04-29T09:24:00.000-07:002005-04-29T09:25:23.543-07:00

This YearGujarat had good monsoon they said this yearbumper crop of swords was reported this yearwho says politicians have forgotten their voters?promise of new promises is being made this yearCongress kisses communists and Mulayam the BJPeverybody has a strange fellow in bed this yearIndian industry has grown up, the survey saidperhaps bonded child labour will be paid this yearfor fifty-eight

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114791875923593882005-04-29T09:22:00.000-07:002005-04-29T09:24:35.923-07:00

Once Againmay be these fields will turn fertile once againlet us sow some seeds of dreams once againI see the heavens bowing down at the horizonis she drying her hair on terrace once again?she asks me the proof of our first embracetime to open my bleeding heart once againI tell the same tale, and with the same fervorthe crowd goes strangely silent once againwas it my question or the way that I

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1114109273187584282005-04-21T11:47:00.000-07:002005-04-21T11:47:53.186-07:00

they arrive early in the morningI can see them from my windowscrawny little legsscrambling to pick up,whatever they canat times,fighting among themselvesfor a piece of trashwhen their birdlike cries destroy my tranquility (while I am enjoying Beethoven's Pathetique)I shoo them awaybut they keep coming backwhat are they going to dowith their pickings?will they build beautiful, warm little nests?or

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1113670916685413262005-04-16T10:00:00.000-07:002005-04-16T10:01:56.686-07:00

words are like birdsthat peck at my soul(the soul that's left drying, out in the open)and fly awaynever to returnand sometimes at duskthey land on my deskand won't go away even if I feed themeven if I plead themwords after all,have their wayuntil they have my soulthey won't go away

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1113670756180406282005-04-16T09:58:00.000-07:002005-04-16T09:59:16.180-07:00

haiku 1 beware of shadowspregnant, each onewith scorching summerhaiku 2blow gently on the fire withinand it's summersenryu 1 peck at my souland fly awaythe wayward wordssenryu 2weak sorrowsconstipated joyswords, mal-formed turds

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1113670641866174022005-04-16T09:56:00.000-07:002005-04-16T09:57:21.866-07:00

He visits the cell,the night beforeDotes on the virginwaiting to be defloweredSome look at himstraight in the eyeSome plead mercy, the moment so nighBut within few minutes, everything is okay They all go limpDeath is a whoreand he is her, favourite pimp

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1113670567377892232005-04-16T09:55:00.000-07:002006-07-08T14:35:07.046-07:00

“Yaaaahooooo!” Beni called out to his friends. It was their secret call. The one he had learned from his grandfather. Very wise, the old fellow was, Beni thought. But other men in the village used to poke fun at the wise old man. 'When grandpa spoke, those men snickered' Beni remembered with faint anger.Grandpa used to tell Beni many wonderful tales. Beni remembered only some of them. It has been

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109139012947057552005-02-22T22:09:00.000-08:002005-06-16T06:32:54.613-07:00

Hidden beneath thesenaked wrinkles of an aged skin,Like black pools of trapped, stagnant waterafter the flood has receded,Are left some breathsAnd these probesat my breasts,suckling life awayincessantlyA forked tongueslithering up my spineslowly, surelyAnd every celllike a traitorResonatingwith the mysterious callfrom unknownI want to puncturethis blind old skinand peek ousideOncedesperately***(

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109101575382382062005-02-22T11:44:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:46:15.383-08:00

Like a seed that's sproutinginsignificant, little green handsfrom deep down my wombHolding on to a feeble beam of lightfrom a window, too small, too far abovethe sound of my prayer tries to reach outseeking God somewhere, out there.And bouncing offthe merciless walls of skinreturns unanswered.Its echo sounding like a twang of a bow,in the hands of a gallant warriorhis arrow just missedAt least,

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109101108177625382005-02-22T11:33:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:38:28.180-08:00

don't tell me,who adorned these breastswith flame red tattoo!the marks, of Spring's nailsI recognize too!

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109100785883334982005-02-22T11:32:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:33:05.883-08:00

When I get lonelyaround me, I createa crowd of wordsThe risk I taketrusting those strangerswith my emotions...what if they falter...what if they carry?

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109100740684333412005-02-22T11:31:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:32:20.686-08:00

this dusklike a demented mothercradling the corpseof darkness in her armssun goes downher venomous breathreleasing slowlythe dark poisoninto night's virgin soulin this darkabysmal nightnot gemsof twinkling starsnor dreamsof distant dawnonlystagnantputriddeathof light

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109100695795867802005-02-22T11:30:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:31:35.796-08:00

"I love you" she had said, while we were jostling to enter theclassroom. Her fourteen year old eyes sparkling with mischief."Why? Why do you say that?" I had asked, blushing crimson. Myheart missing a beat for the first time in its fifteen years long life."Because I don't, you stupid!" She was practicing a new language.'Reverse speak' they called it, she had explained trying to keep astraight

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109100394633282042005-02-22T11:25:00.000-08:002006-07-08T14:36:18.163-07:00

Yet another day, yet another morning. I stand before the mirror, razor in hand. I squeeze the shaving foam bottle but nothing comes out. Only last week I bought this stupid thing! Gone already. I stare at the face in mirror, with its nightly crop ready for harvesting. A crop that will feed nobody, and yet cost me a fortune over my lifetime, shaving it daily.Why do we have hair? What is the great

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109100111634951872005-02-22T11:19:00.000-08:002005-02-22T11:21:51.636-08:00

The Valentines' Day Special Love Poem?her eyes lit brightand hair in flightsuch a pretty sight,kissed her whole nightthen in the morning lightholding her close & tight"how was it my love?"I ask the question triteshe ponders brieflyand gives me a fright,"You are okay honey,but your brother does it right"

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10670872.post-1109099934487008902005-02-22T11:12:00.000-08:002006-07-08T14:37:59.296-07:00

Raoul looked at the dog sprawled at his feet and then looked away. There was nothing to look at in this world anymore, he thought. Outside the rain was still going full blast like a drunken old sod. Why did I let Chloe convince me in accompanying her and Chip to this damned place called Cherapunji in India? This godforsaken place on earth, where it rains for weeks without a respite? Nothing to

Rajendra Pradhanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04529416802379940879noreply@blogger.com1