KAPIL ARAMBAM • In Pursuit of Freedom •

The Son of the Soil

The Son of the Soil


It’s time again to get up and for its sake
The cocks crow and the sparrows chirrup for daybreak
But what is there when the sun is so young
Untried for the grunge and grime of the day
As well as for the day, before I see the numberless teachers,
Numberless gods
Numberless assholes
Numberless sons of the soil etc?
It’s time to stay on for sometime.

Cigarettes and tobaccos are already set for a cordial reception
They make my day: No words will do, the first thing in the morning
All I want is them to be there by my bed.
If our early lunch is ready I should have a few morsel of rice
And I can go out like a loafer I’ve always been
And I can hang around with my mates in some street corner.

For once, for a day I do have the errands to run
For anything that people do I have to be a pain in their asses
Pick apart their craps; if not I’m incomplete
I feel the pain not to damn them, for once, a day
The kind of pain that resurfaces on downcast days
If not for this anathematising, how do I identify myself?
How do I call myself I’m the son of the soil? 

And how much are they working hard:
Doctors, engineers, lawyers, teachers, sex workers?
What do they got to do with me?
What do I get from their lives?
And everybody does it anyway; might there be exceptions
But it’s the only rule out here, to damn, to fuck off others
A loafer, it’s only important how can I break the rules of people
Haaire waataathee, haaidre waa maang-ngee.

If the buddies from the neighbourhood turn up, we can start,
The daily chores of the day are all set by default
Some grass from Saikul and some powder from Moreh
A bit of both or a bit of one of them will do;
All that we eat, all that we drink
All that we use, all that we have
If we die, if we are hurt
We have sworn in the name of the land
All’s in the name of the land.

If only the factor of happiness
If only there is money
I should do something worthy
But in life everything’s against me
Any case some that they make me laugh
Any case some that they make me cry
There’s nothing more to life.
There’s nothing to lose from life.
The street looks so serene
I should have gotten up sooner
Before the cocks and sparrows court the daybreak
Before our leaders smack their masters’ arses in foreign lands.


An Ode to the Great Nation



Military columns march in unison
Bagpipers and national songs in conjunction
And billions of people cry
The echoes of chest thumping ring dry
No machine gun, no howitzer would rival
As each file accentuates the orgy of ultimate love so artful
Between the brothers and sisters of a nation,
Nobody admits it though — that could be an incest definition.

The long forgotten national anthem rises its tempo,
To the peak its 52-second long climax grow
No matter that it was written for a foreign emperor
Now in the new kingdom we prosper 
As the zillion salutations shame the ungracious lots  
That’s all we need!
For we can live on his benevolence and his creed.

I cannot see beyond one such expression
The boundary created by fathers and mothers of the nation
It’s just not consummate,
And the length and breath of the flag await;
I’m obsessed with its purity
I cannot be a friend with someone who uses it overly
Like sex workers carrying condoms latexed in a Chinese sweatshop
— The country is supreme; that we can see clearly from atop
I’d write in blood, its supremacy.


In the Name of Freedom



The beginning ended a long, long time ago; the scum remains
When the flag was hoisted on a shaky ground
While in the name of future generation
Some patriots started revolution
And now the independence day is a day of general strike
More evident in Januarys and Augusts

In the name of freedom
I took a dump outside the authority’s building
Everything is permissible
I only found no water

In the name of freedom
My neighbour has built a mansion
He is a lineman with the face of a gigolo
He is a millionaire as well — he is

In the name of freedom
A lady in the locality goes around
With a purse full of condoms
Independence is another name for whorehouse

In the name of freedom
We have learned to believe all’s well
Even when the rebels hurl grenades
We wag our tail seeing them the so familiar shitpacks in our courtyards

In the name of freedom
I have rhymed army, whisky and country
But like the most patriotic armymen, and their shits and nuisance
The whisky shop opens only after 12 midnoon the liver e’en knows not

In the name of freedom
We have to tell our story from Shah Jahan
Through how Mumtaz died from oversex
While our forefathers never knew the fuck

In the name of freedom
The peddlers stray with his stuffs
And the policemen are in disguise
Looking for cocks and cunts amidst the stuffs

In the name of freedom
We went to schools and colleges
And become a manufactured product
The only difference with a toilet cleaner is we breath

In the name of freedom
Bombs and bullets have built their houses
We are not allowed in
We are even told when passing by, we should look away

In the name of freedom
The government indulges in daylight robbery
The authority, amongst its ilk, indulges in orgy
Never do they see the craps scatter around their places

In the name of freedom
No one’s got to lose and no one’s got to hurt
Yet the condition is no differnt from 1800s & 1900s
Time travel to 2100s in the name of freedom.

PS: In the name of freedom, the people are out in the street fucking with their own conscience. In the hills. In the mountains. In the valley. Freedom is inside the houses overdosed. Naloxone is the supreme god of freedom. Gun is the goddess.  


RNDSP 5: Imphal Amasoong Magi Ising Noongsitki Fibham, Loitongbam Pacha Meitei (1972)

(Imphal and Its Environs)




I

What I believe is what I see
But what I saw was not what I had believed
At the adopted home faraway from my fatherland
Once I had the idea of its innocence naïvely

That special land my forefathers belong to
That charm of the unseen land I had imagined from anecdotes
That special feeling of seeing the most beautiful girls
Who can in the entire world be prettier than Moirang Thoibi?

Thence it was a time for revolution
It was a time of degeneration
The folks were raising their guns
The folks were changing their gods

II
How heavenly it would be to live under the skies in Imphal
I would not have ask for more; alas, it was different; yes, it was
Just like the ubiquitous temples back in my adopted home
—Debauchery and revelry, can the visually impaired see plainly

If those were not enough
I saw in the different classes of people
Layers of dust and grime equally over the masters and slaves shrouded
Amongst them, Imphal was losing its holiness by choice

One fine day I had went to the Loktak
But its majesty was no match for the love
One man was making to his woman in the bush
The Imphal Grand Fuck had broken through bedrooms.

III
The mothers are going with their daughters to trade flesh
Outsiders are sucking out the fleshless bones of the natives
People are giving birth to bastards and forsaking the newborns on the streets
More people are on the streets, protesting, squeaking, against anything

The leaders, in cahoots with businessmen, are lost in orgy and merrymaking
And people are losing their voices, albeit giving in to sporadic animal yelling
And people are drowned in their hypocrisies
And more people are dying like me, unsung and unknown.

Imphal is melting with its vapours of verisimilitude:
And any tragedy is more atrocious when it befalls us,
And the cracks in the holy land have branched out across the environs
Such was the place I had believed, and I saw it.

-----------------------------------------------------


*Random Novels Distilled into Short Poems (RNDSP)
is a collection of bloody verses extracted from some favourite novels.
The series includes:

RNDSP 1: Post Office, Charles Bukowski (1971)
RNDSP 2: Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh (1993)
RNDSP 3: Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut (1969)
RNDSP 4: Fear of Flying, Erica Jong (1973)
RNDSP 5: Imphal Amasoong Magi Ising Noongsitki Fibham, Loitongbam Pacha Meitei (Imphal and Its Environs, 1972)


Check the entire RNDSP series
-----------------------------------------------------


RNDSP 4: Fear of Flying, Erica Jong (1973)



Zippers can fell like flower petals
Like in Laphu Makhong, sex workers fall for Chinese toys
Any kind of falling is scary
It’s scary to think about flying when I have pteromerhanophobia
It’s scary to get off the ground
But the trouble has been dictated already
If I don’t risk anything, I risk even more.

And the ads and whorescopes appear
You just take care of your smells, your hair,
your boobs, your eyelashes, your armpits,
your crotch, your stars, your scars,
your choice of Scotch in bars
And the knight in bloody armour will arrive
And fly away together to the moon

But what I wish is not what it is
Not what I want, not what I want not
In the name of fidelity, I sleep with my partner
Fuck the one you don’t want to fuck
And pretend he’s the one you do
And ignore the one you want to do.
That’s fidelity. That’s monogamy.
That’s called civilisation and its discontents
Oh! let the men bear my babies
But they are only interested in women in spurts 

The zipless fuck is absolutely pure
But I have never had one
And the society leers, for it is entirely made up of people who like no sex.


-----------------------------------------------------


*Random Novels Distilled into Short Poems (RNDSP)
is a collection of bloody verses extracted from some favourite novels.
The series includes:

RNDSP 1: Post Office, Charles Bukowski (1971)
RNDSP 2: Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh (1993)
RNDSP 3: Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut (1969)
RNDSP 4: Fear of Flying, Erica Jong (1973)
RNDSP 5: Imphal Amasoong Magi Ising Noongsitki Fibham, Loitongbam Pacha Meitei (Imphal and Its Environs, 1972)


Check the entire RNDSP series
-----------------------------------------------------




Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...