Showing posts from March, 2014

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Unemployment: Numbers and Nightmares

The number of unemployed has crossed seven lakh in the trouble-torn Manipur recently; and it is frightening because there is hardly any way to cut down the figure

When I graduated from my college in Imphal, I could have become a clerk in a public office, or maybe a teacher; but those were too unaspiring; still they are. Other occupations, I had not really thought about; nor was there any vacancy as never out there. Maybe I could have been in a job, not related to the things I had learnt in my three-year bachelor’s degree course. Now and then there are exams only for government jobs but these are mostly impossible. It is simply unimaginable because that’s how the things stand today in the town and we are withering collectively in the existing socioeconomic condition.

Above all, you have to pay to get a job. And, for me, even if the aliens invaded Earth, I’d happily knock down a couple of them and surrender to the unearthly beings, rather than to pay bribe and get a job in any public…

What Is

In a world
So dark as it can light
We can see a whole universe
And light as it’s so dark
We can see none but just curse
What it’s hard is to tell which’s which

A junkie out of his mind
Looking at the pockets passing by galore, passersby
Knowing what it’s only a day’s shot
A sex worker still in her right mind
Pleasing some animals their urges
But through that back door’s what mortals scorn

And in the front door
The respectable and honourable lot show up
All cover up in white, purely, innocently
But you can see the plain sexual and criminal scums
Possibly only chlamydia and gonorrhea know
Oh, and this’s our sense of what’s right

What is wrong in heroin from Burma
What is wrong in coitus with everybody
What is wrong in fixing
What is wrong in fucking for money
None is written anywhere; none even the gods know
Decorum is overrated

Not even all our education tell
Not even, for us, our parents spell
The people, the junkies, the sex workers stay
It’s only the self-righteousness that change…


when in the darkness
the giants march forward
          all i had were my words
and it was too insufficient
          i cut myself with metaphors, i cut myself with redundant expressions
and vitriol one of them pours fucking up my balls
          as if their monstrosity is not enough
          as if their weapons those are not rough enough

kill the masters like the murderers they rape and kill the child

this is my hometown
the frowning clowns galore; let everything down
and am i fallen
just like the junkie in a police breakdown
let me go i got some money

with their wives i’ll plan and flee
leave the beasts behind; and make it a better place to live
but never it’s clear whether it’s you or me who is the spiv
fallen, yet life goes on
let’s wait for the dawn
oh, when

Democracy in the Theatre of the Absurd—and the Futility of Election

An impression, quite a tragicomedy, from looking at the establishment and the absurdity of its disguise to coerce in the name of people’s will and observing the condition of the stakeholders

The Indian general election, by its sheer number, is considered the largest of its kind in the world. From its face value, we can see the numbers are more important than anything else. Dig for numbers, spew venom for numbers, kill for numbers, loot for numbers. Do everything. For the numbers. Subsequently, when we go to a particular region, like Manipur—where might is right—the whole exercise is burdened with nothingness, leave alone the futility of quantity.

It is unsurprising to find the rationale behind the ever-increasing cacophony in recent time. The noise is going to be worse till April and May: the election is scheduled to be held around these months. People, they believe in changes, quite ironically because after all, the ministers are going to be responsible for the entire nation.

We are…

We Are the Atoms of a Shemale’s Ball

We will become one when we know the origin of the universe. By ‘we’, we mean no bloody nationalists, no Indian, no Asian, but the entire humanity. The ignorance about the origin has produced a universe of relative laws and theories, plus hopeless faith systems and beliefs. When the strictest science can merely do is to theorise, it is no surprise how we have found god and its ilk. The latest observation from the Natural Club of Scientists and Scientific Believers (NCSSB) shows an interesting evidence of who we are. We are the atoms of a shemale’s ball.

And the club has compelling proofs. Do you remember in high school, what the Physics books taught us about the basic concepts of space, time and matter? From the tiniest atom to the entire universe, there is a pattern—precisely the basic structure of everything is an atom, in which the protons revolve around the electron. This structure extends to the solar system, where the planets revolve around the sun and further it covers the univ…

Diseased, Distressed

Everything is a part of the whole
So many rivers of the Loktak altogether
So many guns of the shithole heap
So many drugs and chemicals
So many looters and robbers
So many rapists and motherfuckers
So many of the animals entirely
It’s only self-righteousness defending
Unconcerned feeling spreading
Oblivion creating, forgetting
Unfortunately the fact remains
No matter what the truth is,
What is true of the shithole
It’s only blasé indifference
It’s only another truth;
When there is no difference
Between the loafer and the officer
Between the killer and the master
Between the army and the revolutionary
Between the god and the dog
Between the scum and the chum
Children only got to play police and thieves
It is what they will become next decade
And us we got to be vanished any day.

Cremation Nation

How lucky is the man at the top of the queue
No more will he look again in his watch imported from Namphalong

Life is standing in the queue
But the going is not ever even
How unlucky is the man at the top of the queue
In the nation of cremation
When dead people stand listlessly in the queue of death

Beauty it might be impossible as a good cop
The ugly is clearly on this side of the fence
Once a dead man starts howling
Our folks say when there are more people, there are more shits
Perhaps the death is just like us
Perhaps we are just like the death
The man keeps hollering

And death imitates itself
And the going is never ever even
No wonder the queue becomes a commotion
Death owners, in line, have to send away their deaths
Death owners have just one wish
One is just too little
They are fighting, rushing towards the top
Death is so coveted

The air is crimson, only punctuated by pyre lights in some pockets
As more dead people and death masters join
The death is bleeding, smelling scum and all things obnoxious

March Audiography

A thousand voices from home call me
What I’m stuck is in the other thousands
When on each morning of unplanned silence
The wind, engine and horn gradually swallows
Soft strains of nostalgic melodies
And there is only more wind, engine and horn
With the impending sound of the approaching day
The mornings are far away so shortly
Thousands of heads are on the streets
Shoving, squeezing and sloshing
Kerfuffle in some corners yackety-yaking
Aimless tramps in sporadic spots murmur
The roads, the walls they speak their languages
So piously the day follows
As if it really makes sense.

Have the Tea First

No reverse;

In the land of honey the sugar tastes defeated
That’s why, presumably, ever the little guy gripes
He got no tea after he got his éclair; but tea first, perhaps

                           Each dingy corner has a master
                           And a bunch of thieves
                           And a bunch of killers
                           And a bunch of rapists
                           The headcount is the testimony

Our corner has a score of thieves
With old hands separating the two of them
One wears a tie and blazer
Two has got the guns
In the name of our ancestors I would suggest three;

Anyways when the powerful thieves amass in million
The thief’s at the commissioner’s office got the paise
Just like our blood is no match for our spring’s crimson skies;
Just like a garden eclipses the most expensive florist
It is easy to loot a thousand after looting hundred thousands

And when the killer murders the faceless minister
The death of my neighbour, from stray bullets, …

Them They Know Now

Do they know
They know not
Where we live
We live on the stars
But they know not
Where we live
All they do is to send
They only send
The army men
And more men
And more guns
And find us
In the killing field
In the ghetto
Hidden among the mountains

The army has found us
Them they know now
Where we live
We live on the stars.
Geography and democracy
And a chinky and army
And a country
And a revolutionary
All’s a pity
We know it clearly
They know not really.

Giant Leap Records: The Hub of a New Wave of Independent Music

We are an independent record label based in New Delhi. A small yet spirited bunch with a vision, we believe we’re not just a record label, we’re an ideology. Join forces with us and become part of this new wave!   
Official website:

Founded in 2013, Giant Leap Records is an independent record label based in New Delhi, India. The label was created with a vision to become the hub of a new wave of independent music in India.

We are a bunch of guys who are a part and passionate followers of the independent music scene in the subcontinent, and have witnessed the tremendous potential of many a great artist here: multi-talented singer-songwriters, hard-working bands and the likes. Thanks to a dedicated fan-following and a surge of music festivals held across the country, indie music has finally found solid ground. And not only is it here to stay, it is ever-evolving, with newer artists joining the scene everyday, bands getting experimental, the live scene expanding…

Parental Advisory: No Rat’s Ass

A label for stupidity
The Parental Advisory Label (PAL) shares a very close relationship with popular rock and R&B music. Sex, drugs and violence have been subjects of debates and sometimes rejected right away, in the modern entertainment industry throughout the globe. Historically, some disgruntled American parents believed that a warning label on audio tapes and CD covers can keep their kids away from the big, bad things of this big, bad world. That was the Eighties. We did get some impressions of the self-righteous parents in ‘Detroit Rock City’. Yes, that’s how people all over the world keep redefining absurdities. Back home it is no different; like elsewhere, rock music is equated with drugs and all things bad, apart from the belief that it is an unimpressive copy from other societies. If image could kill
In one of the ridiculous progresses of human evolution, we have an example in the government diktat to put smoking-kill labels on cigarette packets. All it does is to ma…


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