Femina

(views earnestly requested for the whole big poem)
I know not when the world was made or when was I born
I know not when I from safety was shorn
Ripped dripping in my mother's blood, torn from her swollen belly
She felt a great relief to see me leave finally
Her load had ceased, in relief and joy she slept
Perhaps due to her pain a little wept
Then she woke with forgotten pain
All her curses in vain
And in undiluted joy she lifted my unblemished arms
Promising to protect them from all harms
So must have said the girl's mother who lies on the street
Drowning in her own blood and shame and left with nothing but leers to greet
Her fault is paramount, take of note
She was beautiful and yet not with richness besott
Her vulva wasn't any man's to own yet or freely given
She had tried to earn to survive on her own decision with men even
Her fault was a cheap alley in unholy dark
Where only the lower humans show their inhuman human emotions without cover but stark
But what of the great men of Hero's race
Where was their chivalric grace
Of manly strength
Or an attempt to prove their manhood at any length
Why they went deaf and blind
As her shrieks ripped their ear-drums and left blood and fear behind
Why lily livered yellow-hearted fear when they are supposedly the masters of the race
Where went their courage and strength or is lust and exploitation the only male grace
Why close your windows and not brave those dogs of men
Why not brave the darkness instead of cowardily hiding in your residential den
What fault of the girl or the boss who expected her on time
Why such destruction as she drowns in her hymen's slime
Why these leers on her her exposed breasts and legs or her bleeding vagina
See you not those bite marks, those scratches, that blood, focuses not on your retina
What right do you have to leer on her to possess her or lust for her or one of her race
When you failed to protect her, failed to protect her grace
Cowards throw a blank atleast
Prove you are little human not a total beast
Leer not on her nether regions you deserve not them to own
Cut yours where courage is supposedly sown
Now does your feelings arouse
What of courage then as she suffered did you drowse
Tortured screams heard not any men or God
Why then must you be considered our Lord
When you are helpless and useless too
Why your grace and good will should I woo
What of the mother who to protect her did promise
Why was her divine protection so remiss
Animals are we and Animals remain
As Cowardice and Lust does on humanity reign
The guffawing police feeling her by eyes and hand
Shamed the only man of the land
Who her had covered sheltered given
Given a hand and proven himself a human even
Tried those dogs to fight
Injured and suffering from his own plight
For neither Politics nor media was interested yet
And without them the coward police and people were silent at any rate
And yet she cried on the dark road to the bright leering eyes
And all she had were ashamed embarrsed sighs
The society of cowards made shamed her and not the dogs or cowards even
Instead to her was desolation misery penury given
Called a whore and left alone
Only with a mother the world's sins to atone
The brightest face given to the deathly pallor of the dark
As other's escaped with the dark faces kept in light stark
What a world
Of its soul and humanity sold
And yet she cries in the dark
As the dogs around her still does bark.

The Fallen God

The kite was flying like a Bird of Prey in the Eastern sky which was getting dark every second. It flew to the four corners of its bound feeling freedom till the twine was pulled.A majestic God of the true ancient theism of Humanity bound to a lowly mortal. It was angry it flew to the right and the left, feeling the warmth that Phoebus had cast on him. He drew on the dream of Bhaskar in the glory of his mid-heaven throne and how he had felt threatened as this puny master of the sky had crossed his scared bound. It fluttered with the memory of the pleasure of that victory. And yet there was that pull, a lowly Mortal pulling a God and that too the victor over the sun God, he gathered wind and flew higher streaking into the dark inky pail to break the mortal's bind. He strove hard but the mortal was tenacious and held his ground, a true warrior at heart and pulled at the twine. The kite smiled, he loved a Good challenge, he was Lord of the Winds and the Prince Of North South East and West, he would be victor over such a puny challenger as this mortal. Hah, what was this, the Eastern Horizon had fallen dark and this mortal was trying to pull him to Earth away from his fiefdom of the Sky. The overt adamancy of this mortal! He gathered wind in his wings and flew higher and cut to the right or to the left but you had to appreciate the mortal, he held on.He pulled and pulled but in the end the result happened, the twine broke. The Lord of the Sky and the Wind was free................


He flew to all corners of the sky he was free; free as the wind: the master of his own pleasure, owner of his fiefdom of the sky, victor over mortals and immortals alike. A true free soul. But what was this the wind was pulling him to its own will, no no no: he was their Lord but they had rebelled and he realised he lacked the shield of his twine. He burnt in rage; he fought hard these demons that were vanquishing him and guiding him to his very mortal end on the Earth, away from his fiefdom of the sky. He struggled fluttered fluffed flew to all the sides created of the Gods called on every last reserve of his strength but he was vanquished.

As he was vanquished and slowly the Earth came to greet his vanquished but mighty heart that with a mortal as sword and twine as shield had ruled the heavens, he realised the Gods or God need humans to survive not the humans the Gods. With this knowledge was vanquished the mighty Lord of the skies, the Kite Incarnidine.

Opium

Unwary, foolish of creatures the most mean

When away from your nature did you wean

They, the most brutish brutes in the animal world do remain true

Know their place and never their position given do rue

So are they better than you mean brutes or your hallowed Lords

As you divided your imaginary heaven into multiple Gods

Fools that you are you I do not blame

Long ago did you wean away from your Humanity's aim

So forsake those losers like me

Who free from these bonds do try to be

Who follow their instincts or their heart

Which away from accepted Norms must dart

Why am I yakking I am not an addict

You are to your Opium, a master strict

I hate this problem I hate you whole

When instead of me you try to save my soul

Listen to me wasting your time

When this discussion must be for you a sinful slime

Sorry then hate me now

You have ostracized me from my life anyhow

This was a sinner who told a tale

Who tried to be human but his unwary soul did fail

For you and your Ivory Walls are stronger still

One more Butterfly in your wheel they helped you to kill

How can foolish human the God challenge

When his priests are their to extract revenge

Thus finishes a sinner's tale

Who to be human and Love did fail

The Red Insignia

There many things which piss people off but me nothing pisses me off, you know why because I was pissed off.", a usual statement for Dipnarayan or Dip as the people preferred calling him. He was the usual Bengali intellectual, long panjabi and jeans pant. His side bag trawling behind him and his head and imagination in the clouds. The fool was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he had already gone on a step of self-degeneration, lost his talent of poetry and become just another half-drunkard Government clerk who tried to act as an individual intellectual and all he had become was an afficonado of art which he did not understand and drank country liquor for reasons he did not know and took smoking to show his over-filled brain. Yakked and yakked about art and politics he did not realise or know and basically had become a brainless imitator with the age old quarrel of who is better Nazrul or Rabindranath and tried to show a knowledge of acting which he had lost. However, he truthfully did feel a melancholy and depression in his bachelorhood and that was the reason for his pseudo-intellectualism for he was a true intellectual in a forgotten age and had talent which he himself no longer remembered. He was on the footsteps of greatness in poetic world and had published two volumes to rave reviews to supplement his great collection of short stories but he lost his pen and to know the reason for it we all need to see the last story he published, "The Red Insignia". The cause that racked his life was the most foolish lie we tell to ourselves, the greatest delusion "Love" which but deludes us from the ultimate truth whether we like it or not, "Lust" but enough Bengali romantics every day fall prey to this their own delusion and some thankfully take their lives and remove a load from Mother Earth but others like Dipnarayan become even more the cumbersome and useless load of the society and Mother Earth but lets forget all this and read the story as he had penned it. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Surkumar was born of the pagan race. He loved the pomp and fervour of his religion. He loved the colours and the enthusiasm of his festivals. He certainly loved each second that he spent in decorating the red vermillion powder on his black mother made of stone. He loved all people and in college was well known as the poet-in-town. Why did you have to break this colour with the grey confines? Why did you have to give birth to the red bird in his heart which would never fly? Why did you have to be his life when you would only take it away? Oh! Why did you think of your soul when you burnt his own to live but ashes? Ahhh Shaharzad, why did you have to fleece him alive? He was a man often told not to be born in this world for his grey and chrome confines had he coloured to the colour of his soul. He cared not for love to one of flesh when the Greens and the Blue and the Yellow were for him to love. He loved the black of the asphalt mundane, the blue-grey of the smoke fatal often to be found. He loved so much that to Love he had not learned and yet you such fertile ground found. Shaharzadddddddddd those black gazelle eyes that burned his soul, why did you possess them, can you tell? Your black garb that only allowed that red fire in those smouldered black eyes did expose and the baying hunt that in them seemed to burn as the gazelle that tears apart the delicate bush when chased of the baying race. So did you burn the defense of intellect and studied disdain and desire for desire to rule. You burned amok the saffron cloak and in it put the red of love. Surkumar's world seemed to take flight on the red wings of the flaming bird that screamed amok its call to race and challenge to the world as it rose over the confines of frey barb and the brown brown earth that seemed to real to reality know. The tongue of flame burnt Surkumar's throat as out shot the long suppressed words. The family who had long he forsook rejoiced their son's return as the red bird burnt words on his page with its flaming wing being his pen. The exultation, the joy he had never known warbled as his tongue flew into words he could hardly comprehend and plots that he hardly knew. The world stood stunned as the Golden Giant rose long in the brown Earth conceived. The burning ectasy of seeing nothing but those pair of eyes every moment of the day and the soul that burned produced the ash of the letters that every day did suceed. Surkumar was not desirous of this Shaharzad, why then did you burnt his soul? Why soil the burning flame and go after it had burnt to an inferno that consumed its own source? Ahh! Shaharzad, Surkumar could not forget your gazelle grace or your slippery loss. For your name was imprinted on his sanguine flow and he burned in the flame that you started but left to lose. He had not thought but you were of the race of submission. Submitted you did to the curs that had hounded your life. You submitted, oh! you did to that degenerate septugenerian on your patriarch's call. You remember the grey cell where Surkumar was put to the black bars for requesting that grey populace of your blood for you. You remember those purple spots that for you he endured. Do you remember him on his knees in the market in front of the Grey beard that had brought you to this world? Do you remember offering to him his soul's religion to abandon and submit and be of the submission's race for the grace of your life to him? And then came those black shadows that pierced and broke his body apart and tore him to the white sheets and green walls for days but yet he lived. He did see you again on the day you and your groom saw each other's face. You showed for the first time ever your expectant ever haunting face and he burned ever more to remember that red draped gold trussed phase. Today Surkumar did float on the black gimlet boat on the pagan goddess at hand and he but wondered what was life when life had flown out of hand. The face that would ever haunt his open or closed penthouse lid as the Avonian bard had said, had come with him to haunt him ever, his failed immortal damsel in distress. Those haunting eyes his soul had burnt and left him to burn alone while she seemed to wait beyond Baitarani and beyond Styx to wait for him to alone. What is left of ravaged life when life itself chooses to escape.............................................. Shaharzad. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dipnarayan's this story burnt a wave of criticism as some literally claimed that he had mistakenly written a story but was attempting to write a poetry while some tried to ban it feeling that he was insulting a race of people. He just never managed to explain to the people to treat the story as story and not to get all insulted or overtly critical about his narration of a fiction that he described to be enigmatically fact and yet a fiction. This too was overtly criticised that he was trying to sell his mystique and here the poor fool had tried to write a story on the stuppidest concept of love or the lady-eternal-in-her-wait for she truly waited eternally for the appreciation, the knight-in-arms, which never came. Fate indeed. The fool was possibly forever discouraged of the idea of writing that would gain so much infamy and chose to simply quit his pain and wallow in self pity untill one day he mercifully reduced the Earth of its useless load and with a cerebral stroke just rolled over and died.There was no hulla-ballo and no press till seven days after his death and atleast he had some peace in death, no critic came with his piercing needles to divide his pain atleast. Nobody knows why he had left writing but he certainly wrote one word on one paper while dying..."Shaharzad".

Suicide

Forget me when I die
When in ashes my wanton passions lie
When you have toasted me as the recent dead
With the man you have chosen instead
But why do you forget me now
I don't ask for anything from you anyhow
Why do you alive me kill
I acknowledge I have for receiving you no skill
Nothing from you do I expect
For I know in your life I am less than an insect
Why then push me away
When your voice gives me reason on Earth to stay
Why I am I rambling such utter lies in verse
When to me you are polite and friendly not terse
Why do I malign your form
When you have unleashed no impolite storm
Why do I not recognise your choice
To have another a different voice
I don't deserve that I know
Why then in my mind on you rancours sow
I don't know about you I can't tell
This is truth though my passions for no dime will I sell
I made a mistake to feel for you
Knowing and Warned that you I cannot woo
You have no fault the fault is mine
That I have let such slanderous thoughts in my mind shine
It was my fault not yours that for you I felt
But something more confusing never have I dealt
Sorry that I use you in this set of line
I will remain obsessed though you may never be mine

Mindreader:Requiem

(This is the last Episode of Mindreader Series, The other four Mindreader, Mindreader Once Again, Mindreader in Deluge, Mindreader Apotheosis are in the Order in THE BLOG) The day is dusty. The streets of this hell hole called Arizona is always dusty, the damn climate makes it difficult to see clearly, forget killing. The poor Melissa, she is thinking she is on a Holiday with her hot Indian Fiancee, she doesn't know that this day-trip involved a death, it was impossible for her to visualise such an animal hate in any human being, let alone in the being of her delicate poetic Fiancee but there it was effervescent and lying just under the surface.

Our boy had grown up into a man but was yet the child that had but impulsively killed a bird. He had learnt not to take the harsh rigours on the emotional contour of life. He was strong and not only in body but also in mind for else he could never have endured so many deaths and yet go on living as each time he died along with his victims. He had the physical strength to bring the balance by killing evil in this world. A life spent in Gym had given him the physique Adonias and Apollo would have envied. He had satisfied each second of his life with Exotica that Aphrodite and Urvashi would have shamed and yet he had taken grief, joy ectasy and pain with the same breath but he had never learnt to live by the heart. The fool thinking that because he had never used his heart, his heart had died but the heart never dies. He had not learnt to be as Heartless as he hoped to be nor was he ever heartless and this was only proved when that fool gave his heart to the one person he never imagined he would. He had only slept with all those voluptuous women but he had never loved them, he came to love the tranquil blue of Melissa not the fiery red of her sister.

Again now he was getting ready to kill her. He knew her routine better than herself. At exactly eight she would come to the balcony of the room they shared and would think he has gone for a jog. Her Bodyguards thought they had secured every room from where a sniper could hit her but they discounted our boy's tremendous skill. He was too far away for them to have accounted for but his gun was a modified weapon capable of Distance and Accuracy. Actually it was a prototype for the United States Marines but he had enough friends. He had made love to her fiercely the last night for the black night was but a preparation for the Golden Day Of Death.

She always was punctual and he was ready as well. The Gun was levelled its barrels black and glinting in the sunlight. The hard roof seemed tense to the hunter's stance of the boy he was ready. Every cord like the fatal day when he had taken the red bird. The catapult was no more, the gun in his hand seemed hungry and baying for blood, but whose? His back tensed, the sweat shirt stuck to his back with sweat. He had never sweated before prior to the killing call. He straightened, she was here.

He lined his sight. Melissa, peaceful Blue Melissa whose tranquil waters had quenched the Eternal Fire of his life. Her curves, her body he followed from her toes to her ample sustenance, nothing to break his resolve. He had burned in much more pleasureable fires but then her face. His sight would have broken was he not rivetted on it. Those lips, that brow had taken away the heart he had thought he had managed to throw away and now she owned it. Those eyes, ahh those maddening eyes that taught him to live that made him hope he had lived in some other way, that made him wish for a life he never had. Those Goddamn eyes.

His sight was blurred, the tears were blinding the sight and the resolve of the gun. She can't die, she shouldn't die, stupid Bodyguards save her seemed to emanate from his soul. She can't die, her waters many needed to quench their thirst of life. She would not die but what was he without his fire, who was he without his fire. Her stupid bodyguards in their arrogance had made her his easy target but she cannot die that would be unfair.

But then perhaps the two-bit red bird's curse would come true. Perhaps fireless he would not live a broken life, perhaps it would be the red fire that would burn to ashes, the blue water would not be damned. Seeking his soul for answers and requests the hair trigger in his hand was made ready. The time had come for Destiny and Fate to decide.

The Gun was levelled, the trigger pressed. The bullet went like the catapult dart in the same parabolic path. It bent and a chest pain hit our poor boy, in blinding agony he saw Phoebe hidden by even greater incardine... the two bit red bird was here. The boy smiled as agony burned his soul and body and racked his brain Melissa was saved. His heart had decided to stop but the boy held on watching dazed as his gun fell storeys below. It was again the same day, again the bullet dipped and again the Bird's chest was there in between the trajectory. Again the sweet fountain splashed as the dart went in. Blinding pain racked the very essence of the boy as he gazed at his soul being ripped and yet smiled at the perfect beauty, Melissa was saved. His chest burned with its own fire but Melissa was saved.

But what use is water if there is no fire to quench. What good is love if both don't take equivalent Judicial stretch, as Melissa seemed to straight stare at his soul and amid his soundless scream the bullet penetrated the two-bit bird and cut the soft bosom of Melissa. Then both agonised seemed to stretchedly witness each other's soul through the gloom of darkness in their common pain, the red bird fell to rise again in spirited form like the time last

Listen Mortal though are both rigours of pain
Know this in life both you true Love did gain
A gift to all Gods did not give
But together you were not meant to live
Die now with forgiven sins
Hate me not shooter for not protecting her from your pins
You have been punished enough
And Life to her would have been tough
SO what if the joy of living you both could not gather
Gaze at each other as you die together

In a few more seconds, this time for real, the flame from this world was quenched as metres away the blue water too having done its job did evaporate.