And this is the world,
Accept you it or not.
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I am not a modrn, a modernist and a post-modernist,
The same manWhom you had seen me,Who had been before you,Is still before you.You just try to see me and you will come to recognize meAs I am the same person,Changed in time, changed in circumstances,Under itOtherwise am not soAs am the same manYou are failing to recognize me.You take off your specs, I mean…
Has the experience
Think aboutIn a maturer way,But the policies will remain the same,But in a changed worldHe will have to choose in between changed situations.
Is allegorical, full of references
TennysonSometimes mimicking, sometimes parodying,But Swiftian in essence,A poet conventionalBut so differentJust like an islanderTelling of the islandsNot the colonies settled.A poet Donnian, PopianHe is more of the 18th centuryRather than the twentieth,Sarcastic and cuttingAcross the lines,Hope intermixesTo reproduceWith his remarks and judgementsIn an Australian presentation.
The communists are not the easy fellows to be dispensed with
Keeping areas under strict supervision and vigil,Who comes from where, who goes where,Deputing men and women,Putting on an espionage missionAs for the domestic purposes,Blood-thirsty, power-hungry,With the hands on the trigger,Ready to wage a war on the democrats,Yea, the muscle-flexing comrades and cadres,The power men dealing with power,May give life, may take lifeAs for power-keeping,Keeping the…
The song of it sing I,
To Deoghar and Dumka toJamtara,The clusters of hillsDotting the highlands and downlandsWith the forestsWith red-mouthed monkeys,Hanumans, black bears and tigersRoaming large.The hills shining blue,Standing solitary,The landscapes secluded and manlessAway from haunt,But full of mahua, sagun and saal trees,A summer full with the scent ofBlack-berries and jack fruits,Mangoes full with,Plums in winter wild and prickly.The palash…
Why do they keep saying
The menfolk and womenfolkPraying as thus,Blessing as thusThe would-be expecting mothers?God, give her a son,Not a daughterAs the sonThe candle-lightOf the family, the clanAnd to be the father of a daughterIs to be lowly beforeAnd the dowry too matters it?
And this is the world,
Accept you it or not.
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They can be Ph.D. guides or supervisors
As it is not in my lot,They can be Ph.D. guides or supervisorsBut I cannotAs because they in universitiesAnd I in a small town but govt.-salaried college.They without the research experience can beBut I cannot be a Ph.D. guideAnd even if, I shall have to be in a look outFor probable research candidatesAnd they too…
The history of Delhi is not the history of India
As what more do we knowAbout Bengal and Orissa?A few mausoleums and graves and tombstonesCannot enlighten upon it all,The history lying earthed.
Brahma
The Formless Brahma.
The protagonist of hers whispering
Moving into the corridors of thought and idea,Sometimes on the terraces,Doing the self talk at midnightHolding parleys with the soul of manAnd the wind swaying by,Rehearsing the drama of lifeInto the theatre of silence.A poetess of memories and reflections,She intermixes thought and idea,Derives from the residues of meaning,Sleepwalking, daydreaming, soliloquiesAnd monologues and hinges towardsPoetic justice…
Your love-song,
Want I,Want I to sing,SingA love-song,A love-songFor you,You!Your love-song,Love-songWant to sing,Sing IFor you,YouBefore I go away,Go awayFrom here,Here!
The Lepchas,
Their costume and clothing,Dressing,Clan-wise organizationAnd each of the clans associated withThe name of the sacred lake and the mountain,Their basketry and other works,Their Lepcha script,Lepcha alphabet,Folk songs and dances,The centuries old tribal people,Indigenous, mountain range people.