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Showing posts from July, 2011

Take for a ride to nowhere

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We are all made up of stars, nay, steel
revving and moving
If not for these states of our being
we are only as useful
as a Moreh quilt in the summers of Delhi.
But we don't care for the land, Moreh or Delhi
This land is your land, your land, my master thinking animals.

A free verse and some smell from last night

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I was searching for some poems last night
and found them in my flat, in the toilet;
the last place I would go to,
if not for the first morning rush after
a cup of coffee and a fag;
But then so smelly they were,
lying listlessly as if
this is the month of yongchak;
so I left them alone, and
I felt like a poemless person.

Maikhansigi marumsida

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Maikhansigi marumda loomlee,
eihak punsigi marek mahao louri
Maikhan asina leiramdrabadi wajei
naronda kari tougani kijei |

Wanglaba sambal, tharaba fucklang
Leiramdrabadi maikhan asi
Eidi norok taramba tare
Eidi ekai meichak, meihouramba tare |

Laori, khongli, oinajari, pennajari
channari, nungainari, tounari, chatnari,
hatnari-soonari, noksinnari, kapsinnari, ngangnari
Amangba marakta poot-thanari
Paath-thi komthi lakta iraknari
Hing-gai namba marakta namm-nari
Hingnabagidamak, chatnabini-hounabini
Makhoigi maikhan marumda |

Maikhansigi marumsida mangli manglan
Punsigi panthungfam ||




   Meiteilon Seireng       Numit Kappa
http://numit-kappa.blogspot.com/

On dreaming in colours and light

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Hadda be the happening should be what it oughta be happening
Perhaps it was cursed to collapse, happening not, and it's only too much dreaming
Never it has been so close to all the ideals that appeal
The ordeals they are damned from the beginning, and we just kneel to the misdeals
while we live and fight with all the damnation, these existence's salience.

Hadda be the red and crimson that bleed and coarsen
just tinct lightly and allow other shades, to a little extent, be brightened
It's so bloody cherry but would it be so pristine with green
Been so long the verdure has been so unclean.

Hadda be the colours colour correctly
Hadda be black the black, and white the white but the palette it is
of all the scattering, squeezed fucked-up paints and the confused overused brushes.

Hadda be the neon light shining everywhere; the shimmering pale blue dot
might clear up a bit and we can declare we do have some light to ignite our thought.  

Hadda be the colours so true, the days …

When I'm high

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When I'm high
so high on the shots I have had
in the hills of sorrow
I let myself down, when I'm high,
when I look down on the valley of misery.

Roots under boots

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On the clash of the passion and
things we have drowned in blithely
and going back to our roots and
the marching terror of the powerful;
And us, the wastrels; them, the ruiners.

Monsoon blues

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The drizzle-mizzle sings sad songs for me
In the July skies lie the unfallen rain chastely
In its artlessness has lost the melody
how, one time when falling, it used to be a lullaby
Splattering on the tin roofs endlessly.

Thunders of bullets, showers of blood, the abrupt eerie silence
The past is otiose with the wasted memories' presence
Yet the memories are still the present tense
In the storm we have not failed to sense
Of wretched common existence and cold suspense.

Come hither, and see the shower is so erratic
while there are dreams about grabbing the happiness basic
But come rain or shine, the air is always heartsick
The only thing that can work now, sure enough, is a little magic
Else the monsoon makes life more frantic.



The tale of two settings

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Just around one of the posh corners in a South Delhi street, there is a huge hospital, which is known for its state-of-the-art facilities and its eye-catching architecture. Money can buy the best facilities. Money can cure so many diseases. Money makes the difference. On the other hand those who would come there for the treatment are not only the match-it type of people, those rich men and women who are as suave as the fine lines that mark the interior of the hospital; but poor folks, while disclosing fearfully their love for lives would also pawn their belongings, sell their land, and come for some chance to get the diseases out of their poverty-stricken bodies. Well, this is the same old life’s qualm. This hospital is also one place where it is truly what learning from the surrounding can be about. People have reached the zenith in modern technology, just a glance at the inimitable architectural grandeur of the building suffice to bear witness to the forward march of the human civi…

On the Road

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C o r n y    I m p r e s s i o n s     o f     t h e     D a i l y     D r i v e


I promise I’ll keep this article to the barest of impressions, on the experiences I have been having in my rides across the south Delhi streets, more specifically, in the daily drive to and fro my workplace. Well it is too important for me to recollect the thoughts, but first, it is my vanity that makes me state it unabashedly and secondly, you will be surprised if you find nothing substantial in it. There is not! Yet the gross distance becomes measurable as I lead across several kilometres of my life that offers insights into daily lives. A sequential narrative will make it uncluttered, or at least it will make me appear systematic, and in a kind of human tendency for whatever I am, how I show my mask to others is also of importance though I don’t give a damn. 




It is ridiculous. Ever there are some people around us, for instance, who exaggerate the importance of the exterior expressions, those superficial…

Detergent power

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If the clothes be so grimed
with unintentional grunge
there's no other way but to wash it

Cut, don't fry

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As it was no use
running my fingers on my paunch
enjoying a bullock-cart-paced life
sitting all day at a village hotel where
frustrating folks get in off and on
taking a break from the bullock-cart-paced life,
I decided to go for a change.