Monday, April 29, 2013

Something



Everybody is doing something;
Working, talking, staring, sitting,
Sleeping, standing, waiting
Peeing…
I am doing nothing
Just watching

In a boulevard depot
A minute bus stop
I, looking
Doing nothing.

Everybody is doing something;
Driving, climbing, jerking, crying
Reading, writing, playing
Peeing…
I am doing nothing
But my mind is occupied by all these something.

A minute watch
Catch a touch
Of wall painting
And wall washing.

Everybody is doing something;
Selling, buying, tweaking, pulling
Some happy, some sad, eating
Some angry, some disturbing
A minute: Three people peeing
Wall painting or wall washing!
I am doing nothing
But my mind is occupied by all these something
And still feels like I’m doing nothing.




Note: The poem describes a minute bus stop in one of the terminals in Bangalore metropolitan city. Indian peeing on the wall is the most prominent things one could see anywhere in India – in front of the crowd. Very embarrassing!

Saturday, April 27, 2013

Being Bad Boys


Boys are boys. Girls are girls. Nicely said.  Boys will remain boys; be in Bhutan, India, Arab countries, Africa, and whichever community that they belong, boys are always boys.  There is no bars, no religions, no conformity, when it comes to doing something. They are damned bad birds. They sleep the whole day and enjoy the whole night. They talk about sex and the only sex, no love, no affection of sorts. They watch ridiculous movies. They play loud music. They never go to class. They never wash dishes, etc and etc.

Very recently, a group of boys rented the upper floor flat. Four boys stay there in three BHK. And it is very much the same with them. The same behavior, the same loud music, the same. They sometimes throw bucket of water down on the staircases. Crazy. Fully maniacs are boys, and because of these, boys are different species. They have no such thing as forbearance. They are animals sometimes. They have all qualities of donkeys, monkeys, horses, pigs.

In my class, we have one very mannered, up-to-date, perfectly well disciplined boy, a kind of very studious boy. He was more than me. But when time ran, he has changed. We told him that he behaved like girls. He changed now. He has now become crazier than any other fellow mates from the class. He bunks from the class, he sleeps in the class, and he fights with teachers. He has simply become hopeless, mannerless person. He simply doesn’t have future, I feel. In the distant land, there was a king. He wanted to find out from where the language comes from. He worked for many many years. The crazy king asked all his ministries to do some research about it. He concluded and laughed himself declaring, “Language comes from the society.” So, it’s society made. Boys aren’t made by society, I guess. They are borne tough and crazy by nature. And the polarity of boys is girls. Bet it, some girls are not that polar. They, however, are equally crazy or quite a lot than boys. Despite the fact, I have not much knowledge of ducky’s world. We are in drake’s world.

I have encounter many boys belonging to different set of religious group. From the surface, these boys would look religiously inclined and would look everything forbade by moral and ethical values or conformities of the society. They are not. They say something and do opposite right away. For example Muslims are so much bounded by confirmed set of beliefs that they are not allowed to make any kind of adultery. But they do. I have seen, they drink, make girlfriend, sleep like pigs and hardly ever prays. Because they are boys.

Me, I am a middle person, a kind of GNH follower. Not a fanatic in everything, and not so indifferent. I am on my way; doing all to assimilate and conform in the life. That’s me.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

Have I cast a Vote?


There I stood;
In front of the Electronic Voting Machine
Unable to decide…
Three pictures on the EVM
Reflected me
Who am I?
Why should I press the button?
Why I am here? ...

Three pictures on the EVM smile
One, my father’s enemy
Second, my cousin brother
Third, I didn’t know;
He never visited my village.
The trios had done nothing as such to the village.

I closed my eyes;
Tried to study their past
It was too late to decide
I heard so many voices
For three days in the village, saying;
Mr. X is good,
Mr. Y is excellent
Mr. Z is outstanding.

Who knows who is good?
Or bad?
Politicians are the dirtiest species on the earth
Even you and I…if in their place
Unable to decide…
So be it
Right is the freedom to choose.
I came out;
Perplexed and saddened.
Have I cast a vote?