Peace psychic and cosmic,
Shell you not,
Shell you not
With mortars and rocket launchers!
Disturb, disturb you not
The Buddhas,
Buddhas of peace
Lest you be disturbed.
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Iskconites,
Hare Rama people,Hare Krishna people,The people for Rama consciousness,Krishna consciousness.Iskcon peopleFrom around the world,Hungry, England,Poland, Germany,Norway, FranceTaking the name ofRama, Krishna with zest,Hare Rama,Hare Krishna,Rama-Rama,Krishna-Krishna.
The Jarwas, Jarwas,
What is your finding?Are they not the tribesOf the African connectionOr origin?Their language, food habit,Hunting spirit, living in the midst of natureAboriginal and primitiveOf the men of the Stone Age,Outside the circuit of civilizationEven now,The Jarwas, the dark-skinned JarwasSpeaking a no-man’s tongue,Living into the forestsSharing the joy of natureAs there is a wish within usTo…
My poetry is the result of
And the silence sufferingWhich I have borne,Undergone,As there is noneWho has supported meIn India,Everybody has just triedTo suppress me,Sidetrack me.Be they the academiciansOr editorsOr politicians,But the embers,The fires and flames of itCan never be,Never beWhatever do theyOr is it in their withinTo keep it extinguished.
Who are the Chakmas
Who are the Chakmas,How their script, attire,Food habit, living,The Chakmas,How their adherenceTo Therevada Buddhism,The villagerly kiyong, viharaApart from worshipping Mahalakshmi,The Goddess of Harvest.
Poetry as rock-built temples,
Housing the Divine,Grand and stupendous,The viewer viewing in awe and astonishment.
There is hunger all around, hunger and thirst,
Away from the circuit of modern culture and civilizationInto the country,Underneath the heating sun,Scorching sun and sun-burnt hot summer daysAnd the hot wind is blowing, the loo lashing,The hot wave ruffling it all,Everything hot-hot,The hot sun, hot day, hot wind, hot season,There is no respite, no relief from,People sitting under the banyan, peepul and mango…
You fire not on them
With mortars and shells.
They are the Buddhas, Buddhas of Peace,
You fire not,
Fire not on them,
The cliff-hewn and chiselled Budhhas.
You blunder not after firing on,
They are art and artifacts,
Your heritage, culture and legacy,
Disturb them lest you be disturbed.
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You are yourself a red rose
A red rose?Just like you have I seen you somewhere,Just like a rose,A red-red red-rose.
Saguna Brahma,
Cosmos.
Manushya sochata hai,
Aur kucch hota haiJo hamanei socha tak nahi thaa.Man proposes,ProposesAnd it happens otherwiseWhat we had not even dreamt of.
When I was not
When I had not been, God,Where was I?
I have forgotten
I have forgotten.
A red rose to the holy saint
For saving sacred and sacrosanct love.