Showing posts from October, 2011

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Good Old Days No More!

Nostalgia, when burning and craving for the days of yore, has two eyes; regardless of its intensity or apathy: One eye that sees a point of time from which it has been plunged, the moment of remembrance; and the other that sees the time out front. In as much as looks are deceiving, we would never see the images in our world but in the back of our mind. Perhaps it is an illusionary clock to show the perspective of time, as we live and experiment yesterday’s life with today’s and today’s with tomorrow’s and so on. Reminiscencing the sepia-tinted memories as we found once in old family photographs, wishful contentment of even the wretched old days and taking delights in the sublunary actions and pleasure — on numberless hours so many times have we lost ourselves, unable to find our way out of the good old days’ retreat. And it’s hard to deny that the silly smile, in our private moments while thinking of the things, is too deep and convincing. From the old days, quite different from nost…

Beyond the Aspen Groves

What is it that we wish we have
and that we always wish we have;
And what is it that we wish we don't have
but by good chance, we never have?

And it’s a tale of woe:
We always have
But wish we will never have
And we don’t have
But wish all the time we have.

For long we have wished
A road beyond these aspen groves
Of dreadful silence, and inside
there lies a troubling voice in us;
Of shattered lives and emptiness.

Propaganda Foursquare

In Manipur, the negation of things which we are today, but which we are not suppose to be, will make us what we will be tomorrow. We have been the people who we are not, and it is quite essential that we take the people-less off and be the people-full what we are supposed to be. It is unfortunate that this process of resistance has its origin in the cynicism around us. We have been brought up in such a milieu where blood, violence, avarice, irrationality and other such negativism rule the roost. There has been an undercurrent, though, flowing swiftly to show we are a product of our times, that we cannot do away with it completely but that we will not be, never be bogged down by the inevitable pressures, and equally, we can always strive for a better living condition and experimentation with the stand we will have to take foursquare now.

NEGATION AS AN ACT OF RESISTANCEWhen the fake clothes of our society are stripped off completely, there is nothing to be lost for we are lacking the v…

Treading Between the Lines

In the meridian sun,
Blinding is the blazing light,
My eyes' bruised in the brightness,
While the world's so black and bare,
So close it’s to the cryptic.

Being beautiful and ugly,
There is a mark that divides
the masked beauty of the grotesque
and the ugliness in grace;
No beaut nor vile per se.

There’s an illicit closeness;
The poor and the rich, their ‘tween,
Only the sharpest blade cuts
The fine line that parts through them
is what makes us posh or poor.

Everything is in reverse;
Your gun that kills me and them
My gun that kills you and them
What is it that cuts through us,
but for sure it’s not our guns.

In Koubru and Baruni
Lies a division divine
While we would dream for heaven
Disguised gods have enshrouded
What lies between us and them

Love and hate, their mean closeness
Between them there’s no conflict
What you love is what you do
What hate is not, it’s not love
But a sense in flesh and blood.

Run through the high and the low
There’s a horizontal line
of unknown he…

October Fifteen

Sixty two years ago, a story began with a sad beginning and for the narratives, there has been no conclusion. The rhetoric can be spared for those who love deliberation and articulation but this is a fact: Manipur was annexed to the union of India. And annexation, it is quite clear from dictionary definition, that it means 'the formal act of acquiring something (especially territory) by conquest or occupation'.

The revelation of thought takes men out of servitude into freedom.     Ralph Waldo Emerson    
India will never buy this story, omit the learned scholars who have read and understood the land with their frame of reference that they have built from great erudition and patriotism and nationalism and all fuckism. This is the problem. Understanding and feelings are quite different things altogether.

Some general knowledge. Manipur is a tiny state, a hinterland in India. From being a proud country, with national identities defined by its history, culture, philosophy, national…

You Got the Things

You got the things
You got the things, Imphal!

The valleys and hills
Very hilarious,
People living in
Alienation and
in alien nations,
People living in
pieces for peace.

You got the things
You got the things, Imphal!

Bombs and bullets,
Malfunctioning balls and bollocks
And booze and the over-sized boobs
From all across
Seven oceans;

So many of them
People can have them
Throughout their lifetime

You got the things
You got the things, Imphal!

And every one is excited,
Peeing in their pants
How would—

You got the things
You got the things, Imphal!
You got everything;
All the things we need not
All of them but the things we need.

Mellow, Mellow, Lazy Fellow

On some daily tedious chores, I am in a position to mark on stones that those things are only possible on Uranus and that I can never do them on Earth. Yet in some unlikely things, which might even baffle the most active and the most boring person alike, I would dedicate all my time.

Once in high school, our science teacher taught us about the virtue of laziness. He lectured human beings, at one time, was so lazy to walk to the market to buy their groceries that one of the innovators came out, in a very Steve-Jobseque way, and invented the automobile. It was the story of the season. This sounds blasphemous to the teacher and his teaching community if I say it now bluntly, but the master had shared the knowledge in some context, that we should be hard working, do our home works neatly and punctually, and that it’s no big deal to be lazy. So it’s alright to be lazy. That day, when I came back from school, I was so lazy to have my meal that I skipped it and dozed off at the tuition, bein…

Deadly Alive

I felt the cable wire on my shoulder blade
out of nowhere, it fell from the roof so myteriously

as if the invisible gods have arrived finally
bringing with them this useless thing:

it started moving, winding across my neck
it started tightening around my throat,

With one strong  thrust against the wall I fell down,
It cut and pierced as I writhed on the floor

I was spasmodic, jerking, forcing,
clinging to the wire with my bloodied fingers
clasping to cut it off, wriggling to save my battered neck.

And I had the most wonderful moment in life
as I fought for my last breath, choking

Death and its shadow I saw just around the corner
I was so alive in the congestion, the lingering clogging.

Pics Ad Lib

No left no right
Smooth forward
So far not good.

Easily Mistakable Solace

For every minute I stay away from my home
I gain one minute of bloodless coup, of living
a safe life of bright yellow happy economy.

All said I feel more homesick: the withdrawal from
never getting to see the golden arch dendrobium on our walls
back home, so galore in April. And now it is already October.

I walk backwards 5 meters for every 10 meters forward
and it makes me well-balanced. It takes me a long time
to reach my place from work, though, this is unwilled economy.

And elation and desertion, the raw faces of my folks
so insipidly show and I notice their spontaneity,
leaving behind the stories after stories

of our lives, of conflict, of felicity,
of dreams, of drunken lives, of queer sexuality,
of illnesses, of political fighting, of poverty;

I cannot help but offer them sweet flowers,
though less concerning it is than our imagined stories,
for what I’m away is not at all what I’m home.


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