Showing posts from June, 2011

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Baby, buy me a buy

for we buy, they sell
for the sell, they put on a sale
for the sale, we buy

back in the old days
a very long time ago, there was a village
of simple lives and barter and no socage
with the bare essentials, with no shortage

surely it was an easy life
all a man needed was a beautiful wife
the winds of joy blew so rife.

soon the people got the sight
when the gods cried there should be light
since then no beast can resist the man’s might

back to the present world

move forward with the progress and economics
keeping up, now we have 1,000 kinds of bricks
building more buildings while we sharpen our tricks

more consumption and digestion and excretion
big business houses’ domination
without brands the world is lost in a web of motion

i am high when i buy, i buy when i am high
the ads egg on me to go to shanghai
and i also need the booze from sekmai

right here, right now

in this intricate, wicked banquet
with the legion of cutlet and omlette and sherbet
i need only a peg of chamelei and a pi…

Meaningless meanings

The meanings of meaning are ideal,
though limited by language. The scientists
of mass and matter see
the reason in macrocosm,
partly shadowed
by the low wavelength
of our mind
when compared to the vastness of the universe;
while the masters of gods and heaven
put some light on the shadow
with the faith and things like that.

Once on the same high pedestal, the scores of scholars
studied the social text on schedule tribes,
on the reservation discourse,
while a handful of the unfortunate folks
attended the show of intelligence.
Finally it concluded with a meaning:
the meaning of nothingness.

On other occasions, it comes
as the unexpected December rain
that we have to find the meaning
—for the rain, all the other similar things
and even the dissimilar things
and their reason of existence
and reminding me of Marx who said,
a reason is always there,
but not all of them are logical.

Sometimes everything is just an illusion.
Indeed the meanings are simple for us:

Leibak Macha, Ei

Hourasira yahou houjikpu, sendrang makhon yen makhon
kayaga loinana anouba numit amuk yakaire, adubu keidouruni
Leibak Macha eihakna asuk nganna hougatlaga; hougatkadabagi
saruk manglan kharaga sagatkhige; chariba, thakliba, kappiba,
khudingmaksu eidi kathok-khrabani; aduga houbu-houraba
yahou, uragani soidana yengningdraba oja, lai, amasung atei
leibak-ki macha mayam ama — aduna makha tadabida feijup
asi chingkhat-tuna ei, ngeihaktaga chepkhige

Hek hougatpada famelda kheini-churuppu leirammadi numit
ama houba yajariba Leibak Macha eini; palem ema ebemmana
chak tusu loisinbirammadi, chakkhom khara hukchillaga eikhoigi
klubki pukhri mapanda yoongba rellingda — sembang na eikhoigi
mayai kada, yachang-ngakpada makhel langba makhei yan-bagum
— eihaksu emanaba sing-ga yalluba yarabani

Nongmagi, nungtigi, toupham thokpa kharadudi touhouge;
meena tourakpa thabakta seedha-houdrabadi, makhoibu
thana-houdrabadi numit adu nongthi-nongmangbada kaikhiba,
nakhiba hakchang sarukta …

New Delhi, mid-2011

This is a dreamy narrative of a life
that has been going adrift in the waves of time. It is secretly floating on weekends. I feel it should die its natural death. But die less gruesome than being killed by the army or the extremists, the kind of common death in the supposedly safe corner of our world far away which I once used to call home. Die. It can only change if the world is turn upside down. The scorching sun of the stinking surroundings sears the soul. A hope in some minimalistic approach – as in trying only our best or a little effort to understand the issues together without the usual destructive dissonance – has fueled a part of my existence. Optimism is bursting when it comes to our profession and our future, at least I hope so. Otherwise, the darkness, the confusion, the despair are so clear if it is anything related to the turmoil that tears us apart day in and day out.

Life goes on. And I am not unsatisfied saying the whole thing is just hopeless, or in extreme cases, wonde…

We belong together

“I know that my unity with all people cannot be destroyed by national boundaries and government orders.” L e o    T o l s t o y

How amazing how we assort, we attach
in this mess more muddied than the mussiness
of our dirty desires that match with only that of
the monsoon skies that only long for rain?
Our life is the grim, blackness of the lightless nights.
How true how tight we are tied together!

And you look like so much like mewhen you look at it that way
And take it; I talk just like you talk
when I tally all
the talks and thoughts with the tinker's damn
for we belong together, we damn together.

In this darkness we can see
I can criticise as much as you can
You can curse as much as I can,
—as true as we are made of this land
—as high as we can climb the Koubru.

For we belong together
We are in the same shithole.

In every direction we look are the signboards
set up with the marks of our time
Of lost expression, of dead voices.
In every talk that we talk is the same tattle:

Capital protest pain and rambles

At Jantar Mantar, people come with
banners. Any protest, to any degree, is
an art. People come to protest from all over the nation, from Punjab and Haryana and Kashmir
and Manipur and Andhra Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh
to protest the heat, protest the hike, protest the hoard,
to protest everything under the sun. People come and
leave and their suasion, but it's just a daily function
and the burly policemen, if not for their unamusing   patrolling, they would watch as yieldingly as the
retaining walls, the road divider and others in
the locality, and the only thing the police
would do is to count the number of
people to report to their head
office, the number of
the people
who scream,
"Protest is an art of fucking oneself."
The number really
matters because we
are in a democracy,
which is based on the
number of people you
can spoon feed. Once the
trees told me, the asphalt road
reminded me: What is really important
when there is a huge barbwire between
the mainland and…


•  •• •• ••• ••• ••• •••••• • •• • •• ••• •• • ••••• •• • • ••• • •••
“How is freedom measured, in individuals as in nations? By the resistance which has to be overcome, by the effort it costs to stay aloft. One would have to seek the highest type of free man where the greatest resistance is constantly being overcome: five steps from tyranny, near the threshold of the danger of servitude.”
•  •• •• ••• ••• ••• •••••• • •• • •• ••

On solitude

Too many words already in this blog. Now I have got some pictures to make an equation out of this verbal diarrhea. These images, representing a theme on solitude, are taken randomly from my image folders.

☝ S C O R I N G  A  C E N T U R Y: If you have any quarrel with your nosy landlady or a problem with your neighbour's grocery store owner, dial this number. The Police Control Room, New Delhi. But for those issues with the local dimwits, dumbfucks, it depends on how quickly you can roll up your sleeves.

☝ W E A P O N  O F  C H O I C E: It's not only pen vs. gun, we can also play the music loud for some peace.

☝ S T E A L I N G  S I D E - G L A N C E: This is the perfect example of how much I have deviated from the theme I had in mind when I first thought about this post. A side façade of the noisy, crowded India Gate. But somehow I have managed to maintain the motif with these photographs of mostly, single objects in each shot.

☝ H O M E  I S  W H E R E  T H E  H A T R E D …

Milgram Experiment | Pale Blue Dot

| Shared article |

People say knowledge is wealth. I sometimes feel it’s not, but rather my poor bank balance should be. And education means employment. Too ironical, but education is really the job you get when you leave college and university. That’s why I feel so happy now that I have a job. Sleep, get up, smoke, go to office, smoke, work mechanically, smoke, rest, smoke, come back, eat, shit, smoke and sleep again. If anybody around here knows how to make a robot, then he or she can easily create it in my image. Possibly that robot will be better, for it will follow the instructions while I keep looking for ways to disobey. But I do love rules because rules are meant to be broken.
In this first half of 2011, I have came across two interesting things: [a] the Stanley Milgram Experiment; and [b] Carl Sagan’s Pale Blue Dot.

You have no other choice — you must go on, and I'll obey, proves the Milgram Experiment while Carl Sagan redefines the essence of our existence with the help …

No big deal

Usually I travel across the city on the bright green, bright red and orange buses and bright yellow auto-rickshaws and they inspire me to wear pants and shirts in these colours, for example, a green pant and a yellow shirt, and if I like them, you got no say in it, and what's the big deal in it?
Chuck Taylor has got his name lingering in our minds, when we came out of schools and colleges till now but Moreh is hardly four-hour’s ride from home and I can get so many fake but the same shoes at a price I can afford, much cheaper and also, it's not the local made but imported products from Malaysia and Thailand and Hong Kong and Cambodia, unlike the beetle shoes made in Kakhulong, so in wearing them, what’s the big deal even if you can get the original piece from AnsalPlaza?
AnsalPlaza reminds me of shopping, and shopping reminds me of girls though I don't mean to be a sexist, and never I endorse the superiority of a sex when the only difference between man and wo…

Maladjusted — The midnight madness

The night's old
But the morning's
so many dreams away

It looks it can be waited
It's not following the slow ink's running dry
watching through the gel pen's diaphanous body

Between this night and morning
So many of us are hindering
The clock's ticking

What is evident is all there, even in
the darkness of this hour, the phizog of
fucked-up people and polluted places and others:

The military is a faggot, cross dressing
in unsurprisingly, a faggot's apparel, and it is clear they are
castrated, forbidden to make babies.

The revolution is a misnomer, which only clarifies
through press releases — it's not
that kind of the gigantic natural whirl

But the general feeling rules this hour
Every gunmen of the mainland and hinterland
should be allowed to fornicate with their guns

Gunshots' inpiration,
the shrieking alarm clock must wake up all of us,
sleeping, dreaming about easy living and nothing else

Shall we execute our leaders at one place at one…

Yong choirol

Matam amada machin tongba hanubi amana takpirammi
Matam amada laiga miga samnarammi
Matam amada amuk kainakhi mina akampet ngangmanbadagi

Nongmei ama-mam yepladuna makhwangda makhoina hairambadi
mikha pondaba madom lepchaba ngamba tangdu leitaaba khunai ama sembani
Toubatabu niriba senpham adu mantiknabi-dabani

Miraokholaktuda miyamna laoribadi makhutna paiduna makhwangda
leiiradi yonjage, yolladi leiijage, thadajage bhot-tusu mirep leitrabasu,
yurem thakpa-thaktabagi, wakhal mirang thangbagi warisingduna ama oikhraga

Sana konung manungda leingakpasingdi nungairi,
Oktaba-oktabi kaya loinaduna, oinajari
A-oba amangbana thallaba taibang ama semli

Ateidi mi natre yong eigi mityengda, aduga hairamlabasu hanubiduna
lamdam asida houjikti onkhare lai, angamba-akanba kaya ama
aduga miyoiba kaya amasu leire yong eiga chap mannaba

Yong eina pambadi mapok sida mi oina poklamdrabasu
migi maikhum uptuna mi amuktang onjage, u-sa maraksida
chong-chongduna, amuktang oirabasu miyoibani haijahouge.



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