Showing posts from August, 2015

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A translation of Laishram Samarendra’s poem of the same title, which was originally published in Khul Amagi Wari (1985)

In the land of the baby
Everybody is a baby
All babies — emotionally and psychologically ||

The wooden water tap in the land of baby
It has no water
The wooden power grid in the land of the baby
It has no electricity ||

An old man was hit on the head with a slinging stone
He had laughed at the babies
He had bothered the babies
The babies were told the truth ||

The Politics of Special Category

We do not have only military Special Powers acts but also enjoy the privilege of being in the special-category state under financial commissions of the union government.

Special status is guaranteed by the Constitution of India through an Act passed by the two-third majority in both houses of the Parliament, as in the case of Jammu and Kashmir, whereas Special Category Status is granted by the National Development Council, an administrative body of the government. While Special Status empowers legislative and political rights, Special Category Status deals only with economic, administrative and financial aspects. At present there are 11 states that enjoy Special Status and Special Category Status: Arunachal Pradesh, Assam, Himachal Pradesh, Jammu and Kashmir, Manipur, Meghalaya, Mizoram, Nagaland, Sikkim, Tripura and Uttarakhand.
—Sumit Bhattacharjee, ‘Special Category Status’ is the new catch phrase, The Hindu, Feb 2014

In everyday life, you are called special if you ar…

where would you end?

where would you
among the missing pieces in a puzzle
on the pages of a never-ending book
you think you’re going to end?

—wait for the fucking armymen
hold back for the trigger-happy policemen
put off for the person you love to destroy you?
—everything is possible for you

ruin and wreck
—oh, you believe in justice?
good for you
but where would you end?

by the fucking nambul-turen riverside crematorium?
i’m too drunk to listen to your choice
just be blessed
wherever you would end


like a vase thrown out on the concrete yard
like china dishes fallen on a kitchen floor
when the whole world turns against you
all the solutions maybe lie in death
like those of my dead father
and dead grandfathers
and dead uncles
and dead friends

maybe it runs in the blood of mortals
the family is fucking over-rated
maybe I should
blow up the government house
and leave this painful world
like a true gentleman

Saolin Sam Koi Kakter Is Back: 56 ‘Types’ of Moustache

I started shaving when I was 15 borrowing my father’s razor because I saw some unnatural hairs growing on my face. My mother and sister told me—rather they scolded me and reasoned that it would rather make the facial hairs would grow longer! What was that suppose to mean?

When I got some sense about the beard-and-moustache thing, I was 17 and the school teachers added insult to the injury because I liked natural growth and there was only one reason for the confusion: they were assholes. One of them who taught biology, would say that he read newspapers from backwards, leaving the political craps on the front pages, so that he can read the sports news first and then whatever-he-liked-we-never-knew craps in the shit-scattered newspapers. I’d assume he read about Sunny Leone (or any porn stars of those days), like the esteemed The Hindu featured ‘sensational news’ these days on their back pages. It was not that he liked sports, because apparently he was a fat guy who a few years earlier…

Haiku Laobiyu: A Series of Haiku Squeezed Out from Popular Rock & Roll Songs

Listed in order according to the name of the band/group/singer

ANTI-FLAG: Hymn for the Dead

The voice of the age:
Please sing a hymn for the dead;
In death we are one

BAD RELIGION: Voice of God Is Government

Neighbours, he loves you
Voice of god is government;
‘The’ might be missing!

BOB DYLAN: Ballad of a Thin Man

Something’s happening
Mr Jones, do you know it?
Are you all alone?
BOB MARLEY: So Much Trouble in the World

The people strugglin’
The ego trips sailin’ too!
Still so much trouble

CHUMBAWAMBA: Give the Anarchist a Cigarette

Nothing burns itself
Give the anarchist a puff
The fire needs a flame

CLASH, THE: Lost in the Supermarket

A special offer:
Assured personality;
Now here I’m all lost

It’s not you or me,
They have tanks and bombs and guns,
Since 1916


Your name might be Joe
We call you 6-3-0
Just follow the rules

GIL SCOTT-HERON: Home Is Where the Hatred Is

Home is where I live
Home is where the hatred is,
You don’t convince me
JOHN LENNON: Give Peace a …

on becoming objects

i’d consider there is no hope left in me
and when I recollect each passing second
of hopelessness and living for living’s sake
the things are becoming objects
the world is dividing itself up into objects
things do seem to be what they are
the world seems to be what it is
a second, a moment before they are recaptured
in words and a thousand-word defying image!
objects have no feelings
like I do, no, don’t, for my homeland
—imaginary, memorised, selectively

ps: a cross-diagonal reflection on how a planet and all things in it transubstantiate and get manifested into physically viewable objects in an interval of a few nanoseconds: oh, this could have been a studied title for a thesis on things becoming objects  

Around My Hometown in an Alphabetical Order

Some of the terms I might have missed:

Beef-Eating Fucking Hindus
Combing Operation
Contractor-Minister-Naharon Threesome
Contractor-Minister-Naharon-Bureaucrats Gangbang
Daktar, Enginiyaar & the Family
Demand Letter
EPL-IPL Watching, Beer-Loving Cosmopolitans
Funds & Grants
Hand Grenade / Free Cartridges
New Delhi
Sycophant Inc of Reformers, Scholars and Social Workers, The
Ten Percent
PS: Again. I have missed loafer, the kinda person like me, but I will not add it. My list, my choice!

A similar artwork

Mid-week Life, Graceless: In Letters and Words
1    Learn English the Manipuri Style: Alphabets and the new vocabulary for the kids
2    Unclichéing the clichés: A ra…

Type Freedom

Freedom typed in Adobe Garamond, CassandraTwo and Myriad Pro!

Just realise the Independence Day is only a couple of days away. Yet what does it mean but merely a day in the bleakest parts of our history. Even if the political system claims to be free, soveriegn and independent, these terms are shrouded in relativity while we grope in the darkness for some light on our ironically modern life. The following graphics are on freedom per se. 


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