I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world

I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world

Many lives might have lost there.  There might be loses of

many properties, many memories in the sudden attacks...

People could not make a war-free world

with antiwar songs and poetry so far.

Or the matter might be different,

some people could not make time

for music and poetry

till date...

Property Dealing

Let me make the deal on your favor.

I gave you all the corners of half opened doors

where I used to cry in my childhood.

All the empty walls of my sobbing murky evenings are yours.

All the agonies that even the termites could not destroy are yours.

I made almost everything on your name.

Jungle, parvat, basti, sahera,

Ashiq, ruswaan, shaayar, Insha all is yours.

After giving everything I had so far away I am not a destitute yet.

After emptying my both hands I just kept you for mine.

Disposable Sun: A talk with the Sun

I was talking to the sun

About doing something new.

The sun was making face like an ignorant

 I was little irritated at his pretentious behavior

Still I was explaining things.

I was saying about the history he had gone through

About the boring repetitions and the annoying stuff of life and universe

I was explaining how boring it was

To set in the evening and rising in the morning

Without a fail

I was explaining how imperfect it was

To be so perfect

‘Sorry’, the Sun said to me,

I understood very little of your words.

I know very little things; in fact, I don’t have any idea about any other day.

I just woke up this morning

This is the only day I have a life

To live, to die…

To repeat, to remember… 

Corporeal

[Entre la peur et le confort]

There was no moon. No ocean nearby.

Somewhere there was, albeit

A persistence for a sudden tide.

There was no cloud. No tempest.

Nobody was playing a flute that night.

The two bodies were looking for nothing

Other than the bodies.

There was no word. Nothing was promised-

Neither any of them  was expected.  

The moment when we were sensuous touching each other

There was no sense of hesitation, doubt or fear.

There was an orange tunnel.

There was a path for the sun to come down all of a sudden.

You were murmuring a lullaby

We didn't have a country that day... 

Death of Kankhowa

                       [Thi khabar garam ki ghalib ke udenge purje

                        Dekhne toh hum bhi gaye the magar tamasha na hua]

Kankhowa died, a word spread over the village.

Immediately I prayed to the unseen one.

I came out for the funeral.

I took some incense sticks and fragrant flowers with me.

All the relatives came.

Jati banh, the bamboos were being cut.

Lament was there all over the courtyard.

Everybody came. No one was left to came.

Since everyone came to the funeral;

buying a white cloth Kankhowa came as well.

Pain in My Ribs

*

I caught a little accident a few days ago, there is pain in my ribs now.

Can't take a turn on bed.

The best part is- no spring bird is singing in the nights

from the tree of monkey jack fruit in my garden.

No Oinitom is being echoed at distance...

*

What a strange relation it was, between your fingers and my ribs.

Your Fingers used to grow like the fern on the Naga-hillside,

- used to wave with the breeze.

*

I wonder if the vultures would eat up my ribs

or just plucking the meat they'd leave them on the ground.

Would you ever come to Falfali Bakori by any chance?

The wish was, you would caress my ribs with your beautiful fingers...

looking for my ribs would you join the Bedouins some day?

*

Within the cage of my ribs there is another sun.

That sun, too, is stuck in his cyclical task of rising and setting, without fail.   

May be another disposable Sun, but, recycled...  

*

A pain grows in my ribs. I nurture it like an expecting mother.

Till the date the pain is there in my ribs, it will keep reminding me of your fingers.

The fingers I chopped off long ago just like the fern on the hillside...  

The Princess of Termites

There was a library in my heart. She came and told, she had done diploma in Library science. She was beautiful like a princess. The door of my old library always remained ajar. She entered and started sorting some of the racks. It was good to keep someone on a trial period. It was an age old library, disarranged and full of spider webs. She started cleaning the dusts, listing the racks, cataloging the books. She was seemingly restless and energetic; as I could guess, she was in search of some particular book... may be a book that lost its cover page long ago. A book that might have no page numbers or index pages. Whatever, I was not sure about. I was happy since the library only used to collecting books without any systematic method or discipline. I never could ever throw out the old or unimportant books. I was very bad at taxonomy - what was less important for me, since everything carried its own smell and presence. As my library was unattended by me for long it was full of chaos. Within the chaos one day she got lost. One day I knocked her, got no response. The door was stuck. What happened? She was supposed to clean it up! I opened the door somehow and saw, all were turned into soil. I realized, it was too late, she was a princess of the termites.