HAZAL = Humour + ghAZAL
I will live for you my love and I will die for you
but dahling, please don't ask me to buy for you
ask me not, to sing songs of your beauty
I cannot , may be the mirror will lie for you
believe 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 you they say and gives wings too
just send me the air ticket, and I will fly for you
don't just give up, stretch and try to reach it
although my ghazal is a bit too high for you
there's glint of daggers in caferati's hands, Raj
if you post another ghazal, the end is nigh for you
Friday, April 29, 2005
Your Words - English Ghazal
Your Words
"to your friends", they say, "don't ever give your words"
you will lose them both, your friends and your words
beware of those ripples, they might turn into a tsunami
like a stone, into serene silence, don't throw your words
words are cheats, mean one thing and another they say
better listen to them, before you speak your words
confused I stand on this shore, whom to trust now?
there you are on the far shore and here, your words
let them paint pretty pictures, with their colorful words
but like water you keep Raj, transparent your words
"to your friends", they say, "don't ever give your words"
you will lose them both, your friends and your words
beware of those ripples, they might turn into a tsunami
like a stone, into serene silence, don't throw your words
words are cheats, mean one thing and another they say
better listen to them, before you speak your words
confused I stand on this shore, whom to trust now?
there you are on the far shore and here, your words
let them paint pretty pictures, with their colorful words
but like water you keep Raj, transparent your words
Come walk with me - English Ghazal
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 hand
and had said with conviction, "come walk with me”
standing at the crossroads I just watched them pass
life kept whispering in my ear, "come walk with me”
when you start getting afraid of your own reflections
smash all those mirrors and come walk with me
with such warmth Raj, life had never embraced me!
as did Death, and said lovingly “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 hand
and had said with conviction, "come walk with me”
standing at the crossroads I just watched them pass
life kept whispering in my ear, "come walk with me”
when you start getting afraid of your own reflections
smash all those mirrors and come walk with me
with such warmth Raj, life had never embraced me!
as did Death, and said lovingly “come walk with me”
This Year - English Ghazal
This Year
Gujarat had good monsoon they said this year
bumper crop of swords was reported this year
who says politicians have forgotten their voters?
promise of new promises is being made this year
Congress kisses communists and Mulayam the BJP
everybody has a strange fellow in bed this year
Indian industry has grown up, the survey said
perhaps bonded child labour will be paid this year
for fifty-eight years she fought for euthanasia
will they let democracy finally be dead this year?
no fire in Kargil, but there's danger of flood
crocodile tears Musharraf has shed this year
she is smiling at me with those ruby-red lips
I wont ask her how many she has bled this year
I promise to bring home, some butter next year
but my child you'll have to eat just bread this year
"caferati sold out, get your share in cash or equity"
such lovely rumours, those devils spread this year
Gujarat had good monsoon they said this year
bumper crop of swords was reported this year
who says politicians have forgotten their voters?
promise of new promises is being made this year
Congress kisses communists and Mulayam the BJP
everybody has a strange fellow in bed this year
Indian industry has grown up, the survey said
perhaps bonded child labour will be paid this year
for fifty-eight years she fought for euthanasia
will they let democracy finally be dead this year?
no fire in Kargil, but there's danger of flood
crocodile tears Musharraf has shed this year
she is smiling at me with those ruby-red lips
I wont ask her how many she has bled this year
I promise to bring home, some butter next year
but my child you'll have to eat just bread this year
"caferati sold out, get your share in cash or equity"
such lovely rumours, those devils spread this year
Once Again - English Ghazal
Once Again
may be these fields will turn fertile once again
let us sow some seeds of dreams once again
I see the heavens bowing down at the horizon
is she drying her hair on terrace once again?
she asks me the proof of our first embrace
time to open my bleeding heart once again
I tell the same tale, and with the same fervor
the crowd goes strangely silent once again
was it my question or the way that I asked?
those hands firmly back in pockets once again!
with great rush everybody's running to bazaar
they giving away rumours, for free once again?
they tell me she is likely to visit my tomb
should I start turning in my grave once again?
night falls, I look around, but she is gone
was I holding hand of a shadow once again?
ages ago 'Raj' has stopped singing his songs
yet someone still cries, 'Encore' once again!
may be these fields will turn fertile once again
let us sow some seeds of dreams once again
I see the heavens bowing down at the horizon
is she drying her hair on terrace once again?
she asks me the proof of our first embrace
time to open my bleeding heart once again
I tell the same tale, and with the same fervor
the crowd goes strangely silent once again
was it my question or the way that I asked?
those hands firmly back in pockets once again!
with great rush everybody's running to bazaar
they giving away rumours, for free once again?
they tell me she is likely to visit my tomb
should I start turning in my grave once again?
night falls, I look around, but she is gone
was I holding hand of a shadow once again?
ages ago 'Raj' has stopped singing his songs
yet someone still cries, 'Encore' once again!
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Nest
they arrive early in the morning
I can see them from my window
scrawny little legs
scrambling to pick up,
whatever they can
at times,
fighting among themselves
for a piece of trash
when their birdlike cries
destroy my tranquility
(while I am enjoying Beethoven's Pathetique)
I shoo them away
but they keep coming back
what are they going to do
with their pickings?
will they build
beautiful, warm little nests?
or will they sell
their pathetic loot
of paper, plastic bags and bottles
to the trash-dealer
in the evening,
and take a sweet brown sugared flight?
these ragpicker children...
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
I can see them from my window
scrawny little legs
scrambling to pick up,
whatever they can
at times,
fighting among themselves
for a piece of trash
when their birdlike cries
destroy my tranquility
(while I am enjoying Beethoven's Pathetique)
I shoo them away
but they keep coming back
what are they going to do
with their pickings?
will they build
beautiful, warm little nests?
or will they sell
their pathetic loot
of paper, plastic bags and bottles
to the trash-dealer
in the evening,
and take a sweet brown sugared flight?
these ragpicker children...
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Words & Birds
words are like birds
that peck at my soul
(the soul that's left drying,
out in the open)
and fly away
never to return
and sometimes at dusk
they land on my desk
and won't go away
even if I feed them
even if I plead them
words after all,
have their way
until they have my soul
they won't go away
that peck at my soul
(the soul that's left drying,
out in the open)
and fly away
never to return
and sometimes at dusk
they land on my desk
and won't go away
even if I feed them
even if I plead them
words after all,
have their way
until they have my soul
they won't go away
Haiku & Senryu
haiku 1
beware of shadows
pregnant, each one
with scorching summer
haiku 2
blow gently on
the fire within
and it's summer
senryu 1
peck at my soul
and fly away
the wayward words
senryu 2
weak sorrows
constipated joys
words, mal-formed turds
beware of shadows
pregnant, each one
with scorching summer
haiku 2
blow gently on
the fire within
and it's summer
senryu 1
peck at my soul
and fly away
the wayward words
senryu 2
weak sorrows
constipated joys
words, mal-formed turds
The Executioner
He visits the cell,
the night before
Dotes on the virgin
waiting to be deflowered
Some look at him
straight in the eye
Some plead mercy,
the moment so nigh
But within few minutes,
everything is okay
They all go limp
Death is a whore
and he is her,
favourite pimp
the night before
Dotes on the virgin
waiting to be deflowered
Some look at him
straight in the eye
Some plead mercy,
the moment so nigh
But within few minutes,
everything is okay
They all go limp
Death is a whore
and he is her,
favourite pimp
The Ritual
“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 two roundtrips of the first sun, and countless many of the second one since grandpa died. 'I should have listened to him more carefully', Beni thought. In those two roundtrips Beni had grown about six fingers taller. These roundtrips, some called them years, but grandpa had told Beni that a real year is something very different. It had nothing to do with these two suns and their wobbly trips around this little planet. A year, Beni's grandpa had said, is the time a mythical blue planet takes to make a trip around a single sun, which is far more brighter than these two suns combined. "What a preposterous idea!" everybody had exclaimed.
His friends too laughed at him when Beni told them these things he had heard from his grandpa. Then he stopped enlightening them and just concentrated on playing. The kids in the village had much time to play around. Menfolk left homes early in search of food (if you could call them slimy wriggly green things food!), when the first sun appeared on horizon and they returned when it dipped to touch the other horizon. The second smaller sun followed its own unpredictable schedule. Grandpa was about to discover some rule about that unpredictable schedule, but then he died. Nobody was waiting with bated breath for his discovery anyway.
It was a hard life and it was the only one they had known since anybody cared to remember. Women remained in the house, cleaning last day's catch that their men had brought in and preparing it for cooking. Those slimy slithery green things were very hard to clean and cook. But they were the only food available. Men had to dig them up with great effort. Again Beni remembered his grandpa telling him a story about some great mistake. Nobody had believed him when he said that before the mistake, people lived in grand structures actually built by other people and ate many delicious things, not these slimy slithery wriggly ones dug up from hell. How could his grandpa know such things for sure? Nobody else's grandfather had told them any such tales, ever!
Beni himself had asked grandpa that same question once when they were alone. The old man had smiled through his muddled eyes at Beni and had said, "My own grand father had told me these tales. I remember only few of them. But they are enough for me to believe in what I say."
Beni looked up at the caves. None of his friends had come out of their caves yet. He shouted once more, with full steam this time, "Yooo Yaaahoooo". He smiled inwardly when he remembered his grandpa telling him that this was a name people wrote many times in their browsers, in some forgotten era. Though grandpa tried, Beni could never grasp what a 'browser' meant. The old fellow might have been going senile, after all.
This time Beni's call was answered with many shrieks of yaahooo. The kids descended from their caves sliding down ropes made from roots of dead trees. All trees were dead trees. Nobody had ever seen a single green tree as of yet. The kids gathered together in a bunch and they proceeded to their playground, merrily hopping on one foot and then the other. The playground itself was a big ditch. So big that it could take many many breaths to run across it. They had never bothered to count the exact number of breaths needed to travel across the ditch, for a simple reason. Nobody could count that high.
They started playing their favourite game. Some kid gathered six stones and placed them three at one end of the ditch and three at the other. Beni picked some pebbles and gathered them in a pile near the three stones at one end of the ditch. Then he took the first turn to throw six pebbles at Karu, his best friend who was standing at the other end.
Karu would have to catch the pebble and throw it as far away as he could, and then start running to the other end of ditch. If he could reach those three stones before some other kid could pick up the pebble and throw it back to Beni, he would win. Kirkut, they called this game.
After a while, the kids were tired and bored as usual and they stopped playing. "Let's us go and see what is there beyond this ditch" Karu suggested. There was a hush. Elders in the village had strictly prohibited the kids to wander beyond the ditch. Beni sensed his leadership of the gang being put to question and he stood up. "Let us go. Not far, just climb up the other side of this ditch and see what is there. Come on, and nobody speaks a word about this to your moms and pops, right?"
Reluctantly they all agreed. Beni was the first to climb out of the ditch and he pulled Karu up behind him. They all stood there. Squinting their anxious eyes, trying to see. But there was nothing to see. Just endless stretch of burnt brown land. No hills not even dead trees. Whole land was lying flat and very still, like his grandpa when he had died, Beni thought. The kids were unnerved. They had expected to see something interesting. Zami the little one was first to panick, "Let's go back. My Mom says there are ghosts out there." At the mention of ghosts, all of them took a step back and turned to retreat. But Beni stood still, "Wait, I see something. There, can you see it Karu?"
Karu had also turned back but at Beni's words he hesitated, "What? I see nothing. Let's go back." But Beni said with conviction, "There, I just saw a glint of something. Wait, all of you. Come on Karu, let's go and see what it is." Karu went ahead with Beni's idea only because he didn't want to be called a coward. Rest of the children stood in awe as Beni and Karu walked carefully, one step at a time, pausing and looking left and right before taking next step. When they arrived at the spot indicated by Beni, he kneeled down and began removing loose dirt with his bare hands. Karu was afraid to be there. He just stood nervously stealing glances all around him.
Beni's shriek shook him. "Look what I have found?" Beni was calling, holding some strange contraption in his hand. It looked really strange but Karu did not waste time marveling at its strangeness. He was glad that Beni had found what he wanted and now it was time to head home. "Okay, now let's leave before them ghosts arrive here," he said and started running back to the ditch. Beni followed him, his prize grasped firmly in his closed fist.
They all scurried down into the ditch and there they paused to think about Beni's find. "Show me, show me" the kids gathered around Beni and tried to touch the thing. But he held his arm high up, beyond their reach and shouted them down. Then he opened his fist and let them have their first glimpse of the strangest thing they had seen yet. All kids were watching the black thing in Beni's hand with utter disbelief. Beni wiped it clean with his shirt sleeve and held it up.
The thing was black but still it glinted in the bright light of the first sun. It was small enough to fit in Beni's palm. It was oblong, with rounded corners. It had... what? a window? Yes, that's what it had. Near the top end. And there were strange things like small white rounded pebbles stuck to its front. And the weird thing about those white pebbles was some figures written over them. Each pebble had a different figure engraved on its face. They had not seen anything like this before. Beni looked at them figures and tried to wipe them. But they wouldn't go away.
Beni remembered his grandpa telling him something about counting and numbers but he too could not decipher the meaning of these strange figures engraved on the white pebbles. His mother occasionally etched lines on the cave wall with burnt wood pieces. It was to keep record of the catch his father brought home every day. One vertical line for one of those green slimy things. But his father could never bring more than four or five 'slimies' on any day. So five short vertical lines was the maximum Beni could count. But this contraption had more pebbles. He counted them all, touching each one with a finger. Five fingers of right hand and then five of the left hand were required to touch those white pebbles. Then there were some other pebbles too, differently coloured. And while touching them, he discovered that they all could be pressed and would bounce back, without coming off the black oblong thing.
As he encountered difficulty in counting, Beni turned the thing over and looked at its back. There were no pebbles here, he was glad to notice. The back was smooth to touch and there was some kind of lid. He pried the lid open and something fell out of the contraption. It was a smaller whitish oblong thing and much thinner. He put it back inside and closed the lid back. Now he turned the contraption in his hand and looked at its bottom. There were some holes. One rounded and one like a slit, very small.
What is that stick, he wondered? At the top end of the strange thing, a short stubby black stick was protruding up. It was half a finger long. What the contraption is? His grandpa had never told him about this. But he remembered a ritual. A ritual that whole village participated in, once every roundtrip of the first sun.
All dwellers of the village would come out of their caves and gather in a circle. No hunting for the green slimies on that day. Then the elders would pick stones in their palms and putting it to their ears, would wail loudly in a singsong voice. They believed their words would reach distant shores, where gods resided. Beni had always found that ritual very funny indeed. He decided to try it with this strange contraption. The thing looked perfectly made for just such a ritual.
He arranged all children in a circle around him and knelt down in their midst. He took the contraption in his left hand and put it to his left ear, the stick pointing skyward. Then Beni started wailing, shouting those cries he had heard the elders shout, holding stones to their ears.
Beni was shouting the words, not caring a least bit about their meanings, as the ritual demanded. All his friends were clapping and laughing heartily as he continued his performance in perfect imitation of the village elders, "hal hel hellooo, hal hel hellooo, hal hel hellooo.... Can you here me? hal hel hellooo nine one two ... hal hel hellooo..."
Nobody answered his calls. But that was expected. It was a ritual, after all.
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Grandpa used to tell Beni many wonderful tales. Beni remembered only some of them. It has been two roundtrips of the first sun, and countless many of the second one since grandpa died. 'I should have listened to him more carefully', Beni thought. In those two roundtrips Beni had grown about six fingers taller. These roundtrips, some called them years, but grandpa had told Beni that a real year is something very different. It had nothing to do with these two suns and their wobbly trips around this little planet. A year, Beni's grandpa had said, is the time a mythical blue planet takes to make a trip around a single sun, which is far more brighter than these two suns combined. "What a preposterous idea!" everybody had exclaimed.
His friends too laughed at him when Beni told them these things he had heard from his grandpa. Then he stopped enlightening them and just concentrated on playing. The kids in the village had much time to play around. Menfolk left homes early in search of food (if you could call them slimy wriggly green things food!), when the first sun appeared on horizon and they returned when it dipped to touch the other horizon. The second smaller sun followed its own unpredictable schedule. Grandpa was about to discover some rule about that unpredictable schedule, but then he died. Nobody was waiting with bated breath for his discovery anyway.
It was a hard life and it was the only one they had known since anybody cared to remember. Women remained in the house, cleaning last day's catch that their men had brought in and preparing it for cooking. Those slimy slithery green things were very hard to clean and cook. But they were the only food available. Men had to dig them up with great effort. Again Beni remembered his grandpa telling him a story about some great mistake. Nobody had believed him when he said that before the mistake, people lived in grand structures actually built by other people and ate many delicious things, not these slimy slithery wriggly ones dug up from hell. How could his grandpa know such things for sure? Nobody else's grandfather had told them any such tales, ever!
Beni himself had asked grandpa that same question once when they were alone. The old man had smiled through his muddled eyes at Beni and had said, "My own grand father had told me these tales. I remember only few of them. But they are enough for me to believe in what I say."
Beni looked up at the caves. None of his friends had come out of their caves yet. He shouted once more, with full steam this time, "Yooo Yaaahoooo". He smiled inwardly when he remembered his grandpa telling him that this was a name people wrote many times in their browsers, in some forgotten era. Though grandpa tried, Beni could never grasp what a 'browser' meant. The old fellow might have been going senile, after all.
This time Beni's call was answered with many shrieks of yaahooo. The kids descended from their caves sliding down ropes made from roots of dead trees. All trees were dead trees. Nobody had ever seen a single green tree as of yet. The kids gathered together in a bunch and they proceeded to their playground, merrily hopping on one foot and then the other. The playground itself was a big ditch. So big that it could take many many breaths to run across it. They had never bothered to count the exact number of breaths needed to travel across the ditch, for a simple reason. Nobody could count that high.
They started playing their favourite game. Some kid gathered six stones and placed them three at one end of the ditch and three at the other. Beni picked some pebbles and gathered them in a pile near the three stones at one end of the ditch. Then he took the first turn to throw six pebbles at Karu, his best friend who was standing at the other end.
Karu would have to catch the pebble and throw it as far away as he could, and then start running to the other end of ditch. If he could reach those three stones before some other kid could pick up the pebble and throw it back to Beni, he would win. Kirkut, they called this game.
After a while, the kids were tired and bored as usual and they stopped playing. "Let's us go and see what is there beyond this ditch" Karu suggested. There was a hush. Elders in the village had strictly prohibited the kids to wander beyond the ditch. Beni sensed his leadership of the gang being put to question and he stood up. "Let us go. Not far, just climb up the other side of this ditch and see what is there. Come on, and nobody speaks a word about this to your moms and pops, right?"
Reluctantly they all agreed. Beni was the first to climb out of the ditch and he pulled Karu up behind him. They all stood there. Squinting their anxious eyes, trying to see. But there was nothing to see. Just endless stretch of burnt brown land. No hills not even dead trees. Whole land was lying flat and very still, like his grandpa when he had died, Beni thought. The kids were unnerved. They had expected to see something interesting. Zami the little one was first to panick, "Let's go back. My Mom says there are ghosts out there." At the mention of ghosts, all of them took a step back and turned to retreat. But Beni stood still, "Wait, I see something. There, can you see it Karu?"
Karu had also turned back but at Beni's words he hesitated, "What? I see nothing. Let's go back." But Beni said with conviction, "There, I just saw a glint of something. Wait, all of you. Come on Karu, let's go and see what it is." Karu went ahead with Beni's idea only because he didn't want to be called a coward. Rest of the children stood in awe as Beni and Karu walked carefully, one step at a time, pausing and looking left and right before taking next step. When they arrived at the spot indicated by Beni, he kneeled down and began removing loose dirt with his bare hands. Karu was afraid to be there. He just stood nervously stealing glances all around him.
Beni's shriek shook him. "Look what I have found?" Beni was calling, holding some strange contraption in his hand. It looked really strange but Karu did not waste time marveling at its strangeness. He was glad that Beni had found what he wanted and now it was time to head home. "Okay, now let's leave before them ghosts arrive here," he said and started running back to the ditch. Beni followed him, his prize grasped firmly in his closed fist.
They all scurried down into the ditch and there they paused to think about Beni's find. "Show me, show me" the kids gathered around Beni and tried to touch the thing. But he held his arm high up, beyond their reach and shouted them down. Then he opened his fist and let them have their first glimpse of the strangest thing they had seen yet. All kids were watching the black thing in Beni's hand with utter disbelief. Beni wiped it clean with his shirt sleeve and held it up.
The thing was black but still it glinted in the bright light of the first sun. It was small enough to fit in Beni's palm. It was oblong, with rounded corners. It had... what? a window? Yes, that's what it had. Near the top end. And there were strange things like small white rounded pebbles stuck to its front. And the weird thing about those white pebbles was some figures written over them. Each pebble had a different figure engraved on its face. They had not seen anything like this before. Beni looked at them figures and tried to wipe them. But they wouldn't go away.
Beni remembered his grandpa telling him something about counting and numbers but he too could not decipher the meaning of these strange figures engraved on the white pebbles. His mother occasionally etched lines on the cave wall with burnt wood pieces. It was to keep record of the catch his father brought home every day. One vertical line for one of those green slimy things. But his father could never bring more than four or five 'slimies' on any day. So five short vertical lines was the maximum Beni could count. But this contraption had more pebbles. He counted them all, touching each one with a finger. Five fingers of right hand and then five of the left hand were required to touch those white pebbles. Then there were some other pebbles too, differently coloured. And while touching them, he discovered that they all could be pressed and would bounce back, without coming off the black oblong thing.
As he encountered difficulty in counting, Beni turned the thing over and looked at its back. There were no pebbles here, he was glad to notice. The back was smooth to touch and there was some kind of lid. He pried the lid open and something fell out of the contraption. It was a smaller whitish oblong thing and much thinner. He put it back inside and closed the lid back. Now he turned the contraption in his hand and looked at its bottom. There were some holes. One rounded and one like a slit, very small.
What is that stick, he wondered? At the top end of the strange thing, a short stubby black stick was protruding up. It was half a finger long. What the contraption is? His grandpa had never told him about this. But he remembered a ritual. A ritual that whole village participated in, once every roundtrip of the first sun.
All dwellers of the village would come out of their caves and gather in a circle. No hunting for the green slimies on that day. Then the elders would pick stones in their palms and putting it to their ears, would wail loudly in a singsong voice. They believed their words would reach distant shores, where gods resided. Beni had always found that ritual very funny indeed. He decided to try it with this strange contraption. The thing looked perfectly made for just such a ritual.
He arranged all children in a circle around him and knelt down in their midst. He took the contraption in his left hand and put it to his left ear, the stick pointing skyward. Then Beni started wailing, shouting those cries he had heard the elders shout, holding stones to their ears.
Beni was shouting the words, not caring a least bit about their meanings, as the ritual demanded. All his friends were clapping and laughing heartily as he continued his performance in perfect imitation of the village elders, "hal hel hellooo, hal hel hellooo, hal hel hellooo.... Can you here me? hal hel hellooo nine one two ... hal hel hellooo..."
Nobody answered his calls. But that was expected. It was a ritual, after all.
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Desperately
Hidden beneath these
naked wrinkles of an aged skin,
Like black pools
of trapped, stagnant water
after the flood has receded,
Are left some breaths
And these probes
at my breasts,
suckling life away
incessantly
A forked tongue
slithering up my spine
slowly, surely
And every cell
like a traitor
Resonating
with the mysterious call
from unknown
I want to puncture
this blind old skin
and peek ouside
Once
desperately
***
(this was read at New Bombay read meet of Caferati on 20th Feb '05)
naked wrinkles of an aged skin,
Like black pools
of trapped, stagnant water
after the flood has receded,
Are left some breaths
And these probes
at my breasts,
suckling life away
incessantly
A forked tongue
slithering up my spine
slowly, surely
And every cell
like a traitor
Resonating
with the mysterious call
from unknown
I want to puncture
this blind old skin
and peek ouside
Once
desperately
***
(this was read at New Bombay read meet of Caferati on 20th Feb '05)
Echo of a Prayer
Like a seed that's sprouting
insignificant, little green hands
from deep down my womb
Holding on to a feeble beam of light
from a window, too small, too far above
the sound of my prayer tries to reach out
seeking God somewhere, out there.
And bouncing off
the merciless walls of skin
returns unanswered.
Its echo sounding like a twang of a bow,
in the hands of a gallant warrior
his arrow just missed
At least, the echoes are here
till the walls last....
What happens to the sound of prayer
when the walls of skin are shattered
Spring
don't tell me,
who adorned these breasts
with flame red tattoo!
the marks,
of Spring's nails
I recognize too!
Strangers
When I get lonely
around me, I create
a crowd of words
The risk I take
trusting those strangers
with my emotions...
what if they falter...
what if they carry?
around me, I create
a crowd of words
The risk I take
trusting those strangers
with my emotions...
what if they falter...
what if they carry?
Dusk
this dusk
like a demented mother
cradling the corpse
of darkness in her arms
sun goes down
her venomous breath
releasing slowly
the dark poison
into night's virgin soul
in this dark
abysmal night
not gems
of twinkling stars
nor dreams
of distant dawn
only
stagnant
putrid
death
of light
like a demented mother
cradling the corpse
of darkness in her arms
sun goes down
her venomous breath
releasing slowly
the dark poison
into night's virgin soul
in this dark
abysmal night
not gems
of twinkling stars
nor dreams
of distant dawn
only
stagnant
putrid
death
of light
Love You Hate You
"I love you" she had said, while we were jostling to enter the
classroom. Her fourteen year old eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Why? Why do you say that?" I had asked, blushing crimson. My
heart 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 a
straight face.
"You mean one thing & say the opposite."
"But why?"
"It's the cool thing going around, don't you know?"
"!!!!!"
..........
Saw her yesterday, in a queue at a bus stop.
Almost didn't recognize her.
Sparkle drained away from those eyes,
worry lines cut deep in that once smiling face,
a few grey strands to mark the years gone by...
Stopped my car and got out.
"Hey, recognize me?"
Yes, she did, reluctantly.
Offer of ride, silently rejected.
Just as I turned back, a voice from the past calls out.
Faint hint of that sparkle in her eyes
leaves me in eternal doubt,
as her eyes say,
"I hate you..."
classroom. Her fourteen year old eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Why? Why do you say that?" I had asked, blushing crimson. My
heart 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 a
straight face.
"You mean one thing & say the opposite."
"But why?"
"It's the cool thing going around, don't you know?"
"!!!!!"
..........
Saw her yesterday, in a queue at a bus stop.
Almost didn't recognize her.
Sparkle drained away from those eyes,
worry lines cut deep in that once smiling face,
a few grey strands to mark the years gone by...
Stopped my car and got out.
"Hey, recognize me?"
Yes, she did, reluctantly.
Offer of ride, silently rejected.
Just as I turned back, a voice from the past calls out.
Faint hint of that sparkle in her eyes
leaves me in eternal doubt,
as her eyes say,
"I hate you..."
Hairy Tale
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 design of God or Nature (take whatever you like) in giving us humans this disgusting growth of hair everywhere? Speaking of design, the designer should have spent some time testing the prototypes, before launching the product in market on such a huge scale. I don't think it is such a great design after all. Which engineer/architect worth his salt would design recreational areas so close to waste disposal?
Some may argue that this hairy growth is a remnant from evolution. When our forefathers were bored with swinging in trees, they stepped out of the jungle and started building homes. That’s why their tails dropped off. No use having a tail, when you are not swinging from branch to branch. By the same reasoning, hair too should have vanished long ago. In that era hair was the protection from weather. When we started building homes, wearing clothes, having air-conditioned homes/offices/cars, what's the use of having hair?
Look at the economic impact of hair. Every day men (a large section of them anyway) have to shave their faces. Now calculate the money spent on razors, scissors, shaving foam, gels etc. Then every month, the usual hair cut/trim. Add to that the amount spent by women on hair removing creams, epilators, hair dyes, hairsprays, hair oils, combs, brushes, stylers, and what not! Add to that the value of man-hours lost in shaving/maintaining hair.
If you add all these amounts spent yearly by men & women from all over the world on account of hair, I am sure it will equal the annual budget of a medium sized nation. Hundreds of thousands of schools, hospitals, libraries, homes for the aged etc. can be managed in that amount, if somehow we could get rid of hair. Some poor nation could use that money to buy a few hundred atom bombs, hydrogen bombs, fighters, bombers, carriers etc. for welfare of its citizens.
See what hair is costing humanity? I am all for developing a hair-bomb using all this money. Drop the bomb and have a permanently hair-free world!
Some poets may oppose this idea. But once all the women in the world are bald, the poets will start writing poems about shiny domes, I am sure.
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Why do we have hair? What is the great design of God or Nature (take whatever you like) in giving us humans this disgusting growth of hair everywhere? Speaking of design, the designer should have spent some time testing the prototypes, before launching the product in market on such a huge scale. I don't think it is such a great design after all. Which engineer/architect worth his salt would design recreational areas so close to waste disposal?
Some may argue that this hairy growth is a remnant from evolution. When our forefathers were bored with swinging in trees, they stepped out of the jungle and started building homes. That’s why their tails dropped off. No use having a tail, when you are not swinging from branch to branch. By the same reasoning, hair too should have vanished long ago. In that era hair was the protection from weather. When we started building homes, wearing clothes, having air-conditioned homes/offices/cars, what's the use of having hair?
Look at the economic impact of hair. Every day men (a large section of them anyway) have to shave their faces. Now calculate the money spent on razors, scissors, shaving foam, gels etc. Then every month, the usual hair cut/trim. Add to that the amount spent by women on hair removing creams, epilators, hair dyes, hairsprays, hair oils, combs, brushes, stylers, and what not! Add to that the value of man-hours lost in shaving/maintaining hair.
If you add all these amounts spent yearly by men & women from all over the world on account of hair, I am sure it will equal the annual budget of a medium sized nation. Hundreds of thousands of schools, hospitals, libraries, homes for the aged etc. can be managed in that amount, if somehow we could get rid of hair. Some poor nation could use that money to buy a few hundred atom bombs, hydrogen bombs, fighters, bombers, carriers etc. for welfare of its citizens.
See what hair is costing humanity? I am all for developing a hair-bomb using all this money. Drop the bomb and have a permanently hair-free world!
Some poets may oppose this idea. But once all the women in the world are bald, the poets will start writing poems about shiny domes, I am sure.
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Doing It Right
The Valentines' Day Special Love Poem?
her eyes lit bright
and hair in flight
such a pretty sight,
kissed her whole night
then in the morning light
holding her close & tight
"how was it my love?"
I ask the question trite
she ponders briefly
and gives me a fright,
"You are okay honey,
but your brother does it right"
her eyes lit bright
and hair in flight
such a pretty sight,
kissed her whole night
then in the morning light
holding her close & tight
"how was it my love?"
I ask the question trite
she ponders briefly
and gives me a fright,
"You are okay honey,
but your brother does it right"
In Search of Tantra
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 look at but this bleak rain outside and this lazy dog sprawled here at my feet inside this cottage. The old fellow has some teeth broken, probably from a fight over mating rights. 'He won’t have to fight with me for those rights over Chloe, that bitch wife of mine. I would give those rights willingly to any blind dog that wags his tail even slightly at me'; Raoul thought and surrendered himself once again to the three week old issue of Times of India on his lap.
Raoul didn’t want to look at the newspaper either. He loved looking at only beautiful things such as cavities in molars, root canals and dental decay. He loved creating beautiful craters where teeth once stood, proud and erect as if challenging his own masculinity, and then filling the craters with his own creations of implants. ‘Drill out the teeth of the world and then fill those gaping holes with divine implants, bridges and fillings from God’s own dentist’; Raoul had always wanted to advertise on TV. He would have but only for the prohibitive advertisement tariffs. His son Chip’s obsession for Satanic worship and cults of the East had brought him & Chloe to this place. A whole night and day’s journey away from Kolkata on the eastern coast of India, Cherapunji stands in the hills in Assam, infamous for world’s highest rainfall and also for tantric rituals of the ungodly.
Chloe too was worried about Chip’s obsession of satanic cults around the world, but she had dragged Raoul along. "Can’t you see, he is our only son Raoul. We must be by his side whenever he needs us. And looking at his area of study, he will need us anytime. Can’t you take a week off from that clinic of yours?" She had gone on and on and finally Raoul had agreed to accompany her with Chip on their son’s study tour of the oriental occult in India. The week had turned to three weeks and still the incessant rain prevented Chip from making the ‘contacts’ with underground of the local cult. Chip was interested in interviewing a tantrik yogee, a leader of the underground cult who was said to possess powers to enter anybody’s mind, even animals’! It has been four hours since Chip walked out in the rain searching for that tantrik. Just having finished her lunch, Chloe was taking a nap in the tiny bedroom of the cottage. Devoid of any open mouths to look into, Raoul was re-reading the same newspaper he had read several times in the last three weeks. No newspapers delivered here until the rain stops, the inn keeper had said. What are Bush and Kerry doing out there, he wondered. No way to know, with the TV short circuited and the batteries of his transistor radio sodden wet.
Raoul got up, to go to bathroom for thirty seventh time since morning. All this rain and its noise on the tin roofing of the cottage had made his bladder very weak. When he was unbuttoning his pants, he thought he heard a noise outside. He wanted to investigate. But he couldn’t control his bladder. Not now. Later. It must be Thor, that stupid old dog Chloe had insisted on bringing along. A long wait and then a weak stream. ‘Ah pure bliss!’ Raoul finally buttoned up his pants as he stepped out of the bathroom. And then he stood there with his jaw falling open. Chloe was lying on the floor, petting and kissing the dog, her clothes astray. KISSING THE DOG! Raoul wanted to speak, rather scream. But his jaws just stayed open as if he was sitting in the patient’s chair at his own clinic. "Chloe, what is going on?" he finally managed to croak. Chloe looked at him once and barked heartily.
Suddenly, Raoul’s knees gave way. His back was to the wall. He slipped downward until the floor accepted him. The last thought in his mind was, ‘how the hell this dog has all his teeth back in place?’ He didn’t remember doing any implants on the dog. ‘Then how the hell….and why this sudden clasping pain in my chest?’ Just as Raoul was closing his eyes for the last time, he heard the dog say, "wait Mr. Raoul. Welcome to the land of Tantra. Don’t go yet. See the fun. She thinks she is a bitch! Isn’t that what you always thought?"
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
Raoul didn’t want to look at the newspaper either. He loved looking at only beautiful things such as cavities in molars, root canals and dental decay. He loved creating beautiful craters where teeth once stood, proud and erect as if challenging his own masculinity, and then filling the craters with his own creations of implants. ‘Drill out the teeth of the world and then fill those gaping holes with divine implants, bridges and fillings from God’s own dentist’; Raoul had always wanted to advertise on TV. He would have but only for the prohibitive advertisement tariffs. His son Chip’s obsession for Satanic worship and cults of the East had brought him & Chloe to this place. A whole night and day’s journey away from Kolkata on the eastern coast of India, Cherapunji stands in the hills in Assam, infamous for world’s highest rainfall and also for tantric rituals of the ungodly.
Chloe too was worried about Chip’s obsession of satanic cults around the world, but she had dragged Raoul along. "Can’t you see, he is our only son Raoul. We must be by his side whenever he needs us. And looking at his area of study, he will need us anytime. Can’t you take a week off from that clinic of yours?" She had gone on and on and finally Raoul had agreed to accompany her with Chip on their son’s study tour of the oriental occult in India. The week had turned to three weeks and still the incessant rain prevented Chip from making the ‘contacts’ with underground of the local cult. Chip was interested in interviewing a tantrik yogee, a leader of the underground cult who was said to possess powers to enter anybody’s mind, even animals’! It has been four hours since Chip walked out in the rain searching for that tantrik. Just having finished her lunch, Chloe was taking a nap in the tiny bedroom of the cottage. Devoid of any open mouths to look into, Raoul was re-reading the same newspaper he had read several times in the last three weeks. No newspapers delivered here until the rain stops, the inn keeper had said. What are Bush and Kerry doing out there, he wondered. No way to know, with the TV short circuited and the batteries of his transistor radio sodden wet.
Raoul got up, to go to bathroom for thirty seventh time since morning. All this rain and its noise on the tin roofing of the cottage had made his bladder very weak. When he was unbuttoning his pants, he thought he heard a noise outside. He wanted to investigate. But he couldn’t control his bladder. Not now. Later. It must be Thor, that stupid old dog Chloe had insisted on bringing along. A long wait and then a weak stream. ‘Ah pure bliss!’ Raoul finally buttoned up his pants as he stepped out of the bathroom. And then he stood there with his jaw falling open. Chloe was lying on the floor, petting and kissing the dog, her clothes astray. KISSING THE DOG! Raoul wanted to speak, rather scream. But his jaws just stayed open as if he was sitting in the patient’s chair at his own clinic. "Chloe, what is going on?" he finally managed to croak. Chloe looked at him once and barked heartily.
Suddenly, Raoul’s knees gave way. His back was to the wall. He slipped downward until the floor accepted him. The last thought in his mind was, ‘how the hell this dog has all his teeth back in place?’ He didn’t remember doing any implants on the dog. ‘Then how the hell….and why this sudden clasping pain in my chest?’ Just as Raoul was closing his eyes for the last time, he heard the dog say, "wait Mr. Raoul. Welcome to the land of Tantra. Don’t go yet. See the fun. She thinks she is a bitch! Isn’t that what you always thought?"
(c) Rajendra Pradhan
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