Bob Dylan,

The house sparrowsFluttering from the hamlet thatches scarcely.Modern hollow man,Is your life a tweetOn the TwitterTweeting mechanically?

As for unnecessary politicization,Say you,What Dalit, what unDalit?

UnknownAs ego cannot feedIt alwaysAnd hypocrisyTaking us far.

Who will not look after meIn my old ageI just concernedWith my payAnd moneyAnd nothing moreHis thing of concern,Nothing his business of,But money,Money,My money,Not,Not his money,But my,My money,What my pay-scale,Pay-band,What shall I after retirement,What pension shall I be gettingHis thing of concern,How will he be a crorepati,Amitabh’s crorepati,Lakhapati not, khakapati?

Dark is dark.Dark will remain dark,The myster4y and myth of itNever, never can it be resolved,Dark is dark.The myths of darkness,Myths of darknessCan never, never be resolvedAs dark is dark,Let it be.The myths of life, the mysteries of the worldLie they folded inAnd if this be, how to resolve, resolve them,The myths of life, the…

Won’t they write lettersWith the hands,In pen and paper,I think,Just think aboutWill they forget to writeAs man has dumped the ink-pot and the ink pen,Spilling ink over,The pen leaking and the pocketUnder trouble,Fill in the ink and writeBut accept not,The handwriting used to glitterBut now the ball point penWhich too has the utility of its…

To give a danceWith his friendsIn company,Ready to partyRock and roll,With the bottle of daruThe daruman eve readyTo give a dance,A break-dance,Nachata hun, gata hunAur daru pita hun,Pilwata hun.A darumandance I, sing IAnd drink I,make you drink too.

Belted and chainedGoing together withTowards the sadhaka’s hutIn the secluded landscapeAway from human habitationJust with a cursory glanceTo be away to.

The Formless Brahma.

Of the Theravada sectLiving with the tigersFreelyWhich but astonishes meTo see the tiger babiesReared and trained and keptBy the Buddhist worshippers.

Where my home,What my address,Sometimes here, sometimes there,But finally where?

Taking me to SiberiaAnd its diverse populationSpeaking different tonguesAnd dressed in different attires,The Buryats, the Nenets,The Turkic Yakuts, the Siberian Tatars,The indigenous natives of it,The wilds and barrens of it,The frozen landscapes of it.

Not of jackals, foxes, wild cats, owls and bats merely.

Of the Orient,But of the Occident.Even Palestine cannot compromiseWith Israel,What to say it more?

With his publication in 1980Just with AspirationsAnd since then has been attempting to write verses in English.A poet Francis Baconian and Bertrand Russellian,He goes into the toes of theirs,Inducting in knowledge and wisdom,Fact and fiction,Logic and reason.A poet humanistic, he is nationalistic and patriotic tooAs for his connection with the freedom struggleAnd being a freedom…

Siddhartha turned into a wanderer.Left he the homeLeaving them sleepingIn search of light.Yea, light, knowledge and enlightenment,Prince Siddhartha turned intoA yogi, fakira.One night,One dark night,Prince Siddhartha slipping awayLetting them in sleep.But the pains of Yasodhara,Yasodhara,The world did not,Did not.The tears, tears trickling down,Down the cheeks of Yasodhara,The world did not,Did not.How could it be,How could…

And a painterA lover of the soul,A singer of the heart,A painter of the scenes and sights.

But got I not soAnd see it, how lucky is heThat black-complexioned friend,Desired he not, nor imagined he in a dreamBut got he a very beautiful wife.Now think I what should I do?The dreamgirl has come, but adjusting with not.

SilenceTo compose oneself.Silence,Just a minute’s silenceTo reinvigorate and rejuvenate oneself.Silence,Silence all that we need,Just a minute,A minute’s silence to re-compose myself.When the times are so hard,Full of chaos and confusion,Tumult sand disorder.Silence,Silence please,A minute’s silence,Just a minute’s silence, sir.To re-compose it myself,To reinvigorate and rejuvenate myselfTo be again at your duty,Just, just let me be…

In commonly waySharing it all with them,Hearing themAnd also replying toWith the common man agenda.Now the time is not far fromWhen the public mandate may go inFor his being the next prime ministerial candidateAs it appears to beWhich has gone in his favpur.

But talk you not now,Please do you something,Human rights,Without human rights,How will human beings look,Say you,Say you?Human rights,How long will you keep,Keep talking,Talking,Now it is time,TimeTo deliver,Deliver you?Do not,Do not violate you,YouHuman rights,Rights,Haven’t you tears,TearsWhich have not,Have not driedInto their eyes?

What it is in my heartIf ask you,Ask you aboutThe hurts and wounds,Hurts and wounds,Making remembered ofPains and aches,Pitfalls and stumbles uponMet in love.

All through the nightIn the bivouac of life,But but regretted she as Innocence personifiedAfter having turned stone.

Implicating him pathetically,A poor fellow he is.They say it that he is a criminalWhereas he saying to that he is not,Has been implicated falselyAfter gathering evidences,I mean the police and the lawyers,One the boss of the bad fellowsWhile the other charging feesFor justice sake,Honing his poor knowledge and wisdomTo be a good lawyer.The incumbent into…

You cannot be a doctoral examinerAs you teach in a college.Hearing him, smiled I,Said I not to,Never have I gone afterPosting and placement.If be this, let the varsity comeAnd test me,I am an expert on Jayanta MahapatraAnd the non-knowing will examine the theses on him.Something kept me from bursting,I am that Bijay Kant DubeyWho never…

NoonPanting and gasping for breathTo do the sadhna.Bhairava vahanaAnd God the Aghora Sadhaka,The Tantrica Divine.

How to say to?

Where the blue boyOf BrindavanFluting the pipeAnd Radha tryingTo overhearGiving an earTo the musicSo melodiouslyCalling?A Fairly Tall GirlRajanigandhaStandingWith a bouquetOf fragrant icy-white bloomsTo present.An ImageGandhiThe old manWith the charkhaSpinning yarnFrom the handloom wheelConjures uponThe mind’s plane.A ShayarI am a shayarJust for you, my loveAnd you coming to meIn terms of shayriAnd my romantic shayrana andaz.The…

Of her ownAnd stood I hearing her speechlesslyJust like turning stone,As what to say to, what not?Do you love me? Do you love me, say do you love me? ,I still hear the voiceAnd the heart feels it painIn remembering her, Oh, this lost love!

Could not,Your pains and pines,A girl so poor and destitute!

Kya yahi hai unki insaniyat?Coming from across the bordersThey come here do wreak havoc here,Is this their humanity?

The black stone, the blue stone,The snake stone,Is nothingBut the myth of Shiva,Shiva in sadhnaWith trisula,Kamandala,In the tiger loin clothAnd the rudrasksha rosaryMatted and three ash-linedOn the foreheadWith the trinetraIn meditationAtop the mountainIn some caveOr on the crematorium groundA sadhu, a sanyasin,A sadhaka,An aghor sadhakaIn tapasya, penance,Bare-bodiedAnd with the snake around his blue neckAnd that…

All that I have built,All the houses that see you are the houses of maya and mohaAnd what can I say more than this?In the maya’s house live I, in the world of maya dwell I,Maya and moha,The soul’s maya for this body,My maya for this life and the world.Maya my wife, Maya my son,…

I just keep seeingWhich but you do not,But what can I doAs I cannot help without it.My love-talk do not say it to othersAs they will laugh at meHearing it.

Had the connecting bridges and roadways been not,Could they have been modern,Had the radio, the watch, the cycle,The bus, the train, the tram been not,Had the school, the college, the pen and paper been not,Could you have been modern?Had medicines been not, could you have been?Typhoid, malaria, tuberculosis, small pox would haveFinished it all, what…

Cautioning against going outsideInto the hills and forests,Lonely and secludedAnd the fears lurking withinHer consciousnessAs per poverty, illiteracy, backwardness,Superstition and ignoranceAnd India too vast and exotic.“O, go you not outside at this noontime,Solitary and manless,They’ll catch youAnd take to Kamrupa amnd KamakhyaTurning you into a lambOr anything else, ”She used to say and frighten us,The…

Dawn-break,Jayanta Mahapatra,SunriseAnd sundown.

Many jumping to deathAnd they trying to makeThe plane crash over,Dark clouds of smoke and dustSwirling around amidstHullabaloo and pandemoniumAnd stampede.How had it been their furyAnd vengeanceThat they hijacking planes,Making them crash overThe world Trade Centre,How their hatred and vengeance,How their misanthropy,How their thought and idea,The heinous activity!

With the Milkman PartyVote for Cow SymbolOr the BuffaloOr the Milk Can.

After the partition moved to India,Studying at many places through different mediums,Did his post-graduation in EnglishFrom Govt. College, Ludhiana, University of PunjabTo qualify for the IPS examination finally in 1958And the posting and its aftermath took himTo Dehradun, Meerut, Agra, Barabanki, Farrukhabad, Lucknow and Ranikhet,And from there to the Cabinet SecretariatTo the RAWTo National Commission…

What is it to speak in terms ofEgo and flatteryAs I am not the type of personYou are looking for?Had innocence been there a flowerAnd had I painted it,It would have been my great asset,Which but you too know it not;Had ignorance been my poetry,It would, would have better.There are many like meBut the world…

And we sleep into our homesWith rest and comfort,I mean the truck-drivers,Poor and little-paid driversWith their expectant ownersAlways looking upto,But getting not,Everything spent on maintenance,Wages paid to the driver and the helper,Their food and advanceAnd on fuel,The driver honest or notOr a drunkardTaking wine to full at a dhaba,The roadside line hotelAnd driving all through…