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Showing posts from December, 2013

A Brief Story of Time

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It is getting chillier each day in New Delhi.  A few days back, a single quilt was enough to beat the coldness but things have slightly changed—we have unpacked additional heavy clothes and like the socks know we are impossible without them anymore. The weather-people predict we are edging towards colder direction, as the year draws towards its fag end. We can wait for the warm surprises in the days to come. Indeed this is the last day of the year.

Time freezes when we talk about the New Year. In its statue we have been given the chance to reflect upon the days, over the weeks and months, some of which have slipped into memories and the others into the obvious black hole in the back of our mind for good.

Now is the time to live—this is the wisdom from a spiritual perspective. However, neither the frozen moments nor the unearthly ideas can define the concept of time—rather it is as mysterious as the universe itself. At its best, we can understand only the almost negligible linear mom…

Loudraobi Cinquain Extensions

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I

Louby
Surreal licker
Lap up with all the love
Let me vanish from this world
Come close


II

In the thickest of the jungle, be there
Let me see your shapely legs no one can steal
Far from this life so banal, there though, you are so rare
Down I stroll as I hold my breath—am I chasing
All these emptiness and meaninglessness
From no one though I have the signs and seals
I allow myself to be consumed in you, by will
Your sensual touch and your tongue blend with the flesh
And orgasmic lick of death seems more real
And even if they make me will, will I will not
And I'll come closer, so near you and call sweet names
And in the climax, help me leave for good, you do
And I'm going to vanish into foggy air in some December.


The Oliver in Our Master

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‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
And the Oliver in him blossoms
In some ways more than my penchant for others' stuff
Like writing here in a foreign language
More than this, the hidden Oliver in him
He speaks in a couple of foreign languages
‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
And he stands, his nose slightly tilts up
‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
And his leather face, his shameless face
It glows when his master nods
‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
He kneels and begs and weeps
He got a wife to pamper
He got to spoil the children
He got to loot for his grand kids
‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
He got to loot for his line of descent
Ancestry has found a new name.

After Hiroshima and Nagasaki
We don’t even have to rethink
It’s gotta be his home and his bloody dogs’ kennels.

‘Please, sir, I want some more.’
Please do take too, that golden box of fæces.








Music in Pictures

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Music can be reproduced in pictures—as much as the text is visualised in writing and a visual is textualised or verbalised from motion pictures. Only our imagination limits and can tell how much we can see in addition to listening to the musical notes. And the story goes on... That 'bloody novice' is written all over my graphics because I don't even know how to use the basic pen tool in Photoshop, but that's no match for my desire to design. Here I go!






Strange World, Stranger Rules

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We live in a funny world; and our thoughts and action, even funnier. It is so apparent in the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community. The law of the land, on one hand, has been redefining bigotry and encouraging the pathetic moral police and culture vultures—instead of making the lives easier for the people. On the other, our near and dear ones and neighbours are too moralistic to accept nature as is. Why do people find it hard to ignore what is happening in others' bedrooms?

If we want to loot a bank, no one can stop us—but when we talk about sexual orientation there are thousands of people up in arms against one’s desire of expressing and embracing sexuality, let alone accepting and tolerating individual differences. Certainly, some people have always been proving that we came from the caves. The inability to accept the reality tells a lot about ourselves, about the people. It tells as well why it is important to highlight the news for a power-memory.

Things an…

Scatological Blues

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The big doctors fainted
And the small doctors fainted
And all the doctors fainted

All they got were real brains
The all-familiar mortuary of the land sees
Thousands of similar death all

But the day was all different
The big king had died
The big king of the land

And the big doctor and the small doctor
They opened the big king’s brain
All they used to get was real brains

But the big king got dung—dung for his brain
The brainmaker god must be smelling dung
The doctors fainted smelling the dung

Thousands of big men of the land
They are gifted with dung on their brains
The dung is scattered everywhere in this land  


Minority Report: Regionalism Is a Lie

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Each corner of India has its own problems, ranging from social diseases to political messiness. Wise people in the country classified the issues, which are localised and region specific, under certain areas of regionalism. In some cases, however, there are more than meets the bloody national eyes, as we can see from the frustration of living in a fringe region.

Fortunate are those areas where there are lesser problems. Even more fortunate are those people who live in relatively more developed pockets of India—though we know, none is better if we state it generally. Financially the metros and bigger cities are benefitting from contemporary world economy but the number is highly skewed, because an agrarian country like India lives in the villages.

On the other hand, living in one of the several fucked-up areas of the country is no less than living a life of disgrace with no sense of dignity or whatsoever. For instance, in Manipur, the government teaches the people that we are in the la…

brown clown crown

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brown clown crown
brown clown crown, what is up your arse?
when the bastards ask who you are
we can hear brown clown crown
you are the brown clown crown

brown clown crown
there’s always a meltdown
when you come to my hometown
watch the showdown
between man and animal and man
and man and animal
brown clown crown
brown clown crown, down down
brown clown crown, what is up your arse?
It is no wrong, call it a circus
Ringmaster, call it a circus

the downtown is so dark
the uptown is glittering
In the middle, are sandwiched the people
brown clown crown
no surprise if you have seen the heart
with blood’s colour so dark
with eerie silence punctuated by gunshots
with the cacophony of deception

brown clown crown
run down the people the bloody people
they have no right to live
just do just do, brown clown crown, just do
The throne’s in your side
No matter how high ‘tis
The seat’s lowly on your back on your butt!
On your decorated farcical chair, your zone
brown clown crown, what is up your arse?
brown clown crown, down down








Nonagonal Ingthamtha Haiku

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and Instantaneous Impressions of Life on a
Chilly Winter Morning When the Universe is
Conspiring to Kick You Out of Your Bed
Because You Got to Earn a Fucking Livelihood



I
Misty morning blues
Thick layers of air—no view,
Goodbyes see no hearts

II
Inside heavy clothes
No one sees the hidden loots
The society’s shits

III
Bombs, bullets and blood
Explosion, firing, flowing
God got a big ass

IV
Dewdrops on the grass
Soft smell from the shrubs so fresh
Dry lips, harder kiss

V
The lightest fog covers
A drib quite enough to wet
Cold flowers, cold leaves

VI
How would it taste like?
Maybe only the Death knows
Living’s too busy.

VII
Room heater, Old Monk
Pork, spinach, and etc;
Hei, and etc

VIII
It’s all relative
Warm hands on flesh that’s no warm
Cold hands, dead feelings.

IX
We have lived our dreams
When the universe conspires
Time stops; memories.


Millennium Development Goals at a Glance: Manipur and Beyond

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In 2000, several leaders from across the world came together, believing a collective effort can change the world for good—and thus heralded the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs). A total of 189 countries have pledged to free the world from hunger and diseases.

The goals comprise eight main targets (see the screen grab) covering a range of issues from eradicating poverty and hunger to ensuring environmental sustainability within the stipulated time of 2015. It is no wonder then how it has been hailed as the most successful global anti-poverty campaign. It has been delivering results and additionally, the leaders have started looking beyond the deadline and making targets that could possibly change the way how we think about development in days to come. Behind the action plan there was a belief: Assuring economic prosperity and the well-being of people is essential to bring lasting international peace and security.

The facts and figures show, without telling: one of the targets inclu…

Sankirtan Blues: Cultural Heritage or Museum Artefact

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Sankirtan is ready to go places, literally, with recognition from the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) as a cultural heritage. The acknowledgement suggests as well this art form should rather be kept away in a museum.

A credit for such a local cultural stuff on the global platform sounds so delightful with reasons galore. In the excitement, however, we miss might a few points why Sankirtan should rather be a museum artefact than a heritage —for an equal number of opposite reasons. No doubt, it is so close to the contemporary Manipuri culture but that’s a problem in the first place.  

The news first. UNESCO is building peace in the minds of men and women, so it says on its website. It has the Intergovernmental Committee on the Convention for the Safeguarding of the Intangible Cultural Heritage, which meets once every year. Sankirtan is the sole entry from India to be included in the heritage list in 2013.

The Sankirtan Story

Sankirtan is, to qu…

Love and Hate Collide in Imphal

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In a small, shanty town like Imphal, it is best to lower the expectations while planning to visit the places of interest. Beautiful, no doubt, but the people are repelling. I have a few other thoughts—other than just visiting and making impressions—of belonging and alienation. 



The first uninterrupted 23 years of my life out there had fed me too many preconceptions as well as bare truths and lies. Now I’m away from home, yet in an annual ceremony of remembering home over the past seven years, a visit once a year has always been remarkable, not to exclude the excite-factor.

Each vacation does change our thought processes surprisingly. For instance, we used to think we can piss anywhere and we did piss on the walls fencing the Raj Bhavan, which houses the honourable, His Highness the governor. Like smaller stories that make a bigger story, the case is no different for this privileged government house. A case so worse happened once a few years ago, during a mass uprising, when a score …

Bad Humour

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<①>  Of Nothingness

I'm being unjust
When I went to the market and bought the pain in loads
It's funny how all we find in that commotion was pain

Use the pain fro' another world to spew venom on this
Tho' it's just this plain darkness I couldn't bear to leave as is
But rip up, and let the light bath it

When you play the song
'You want to change the world
When you cannot even change your underwear'

I lost a part of me
Though I wouldn't mind, losing others, losing all
Nothing makes a difference, nothing.

<②> Truth Alone Humps

You cannot capture truth in any medium
It is as deep
As deep as the thought of the masters
The truth is there beyond our reach
And it stays there ever beyond
And it is only a representation, you are showing
A representation,

The real truth is in the homes of the rich
Embellished in costly paintings on their walls
The framed Ras Leela and Sagol Kangjei,
The truth is in the doors of the powerful
Smell it in the dogs t…