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At the Frisking Point



What would you frisk for is now nonessential
What would you say if I got two hand grenades?
The pins had been long gone after piercing through

My soul for many a decade
It wouldn’t matter because you know
It’s just your job, my dogs, you know

And I was kidding
I got no grenades
And I got no gun

Those that would only bruise
My butt crack and my groins

But I do get some heroin between the pages here
I carry the novels around to hide my stuffs here
To show education is all that matters out here

Reading and education and heroin
And I do also get some poetry books

Flip through the pages you will not,
But see, I got the finest grass

Why bother, brother,
When heroin and grass are so good
What is bad is just
The bloody law and order craps

Your trick can only help catch the drunkards
They are just an enemy of good breath
Maybe you can catch the pill poppers too
Let them spit—see their ‘ice-cream’ saliva

While you’re at it
Check my country
If you can find it in me

In my pocket
In all my clothes

Check my identity that’s all over the place
Check my security that’s nowhere to locate
Check everything you can, in me; go on, check them

I can proudly say that I have things that prove I’m a human
I can very proudly say that I have things that prove clearly

I belong to no nation
And you’ll never find them

It’s your job, my dogs
And I was kidding

And I got no nationality
And I got no dog and no god
I got nothing but this man in me

All those that would just bruise
My reason and my sense

Neither have I robbed anything
Nor I got a means of fighting

And you are making a whore of my life
Let me live like a life-like human being
Close down the shop, gun-people; just beat it.

 --Concluded

* Swearing at the Manipuri commandos, literally in their face, is not a good idea in the Imphal valley; it is a fact but it does give you prompts to rant and ramble. Still considering the shits all around—as the agents of the government have their way among the commoners while they toil for the deaf and dumb masters—it does not matter anymore.


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