Paper Knight

Amor mio

2011-08-17T12:05:00.000-07:00

Kuch Aks Khalb ke

2011-08-15T06:46:00.000-07:00

Aftaab se raushan nahin hota andhera khalb ka Ishq hai nahin hissa kisi lavz o alfaz ka
Ruuh hai bas jagir dildaar ka mohabbat hai bas chirrag is aashiq ka

Resham ke parde se nahin dhakte hain didein us Nargis ke
Mazhab ke deewaron se nahin rukte mohabbat is aashiq ke

Tasbih aur zunnar kya rakhein hum aashiqon ko duur tha aakbat
Rakhein kaise duur unhe jinhe mila hai noor e mohabbat

Wohi akidat hain is imam e ishq ki hai kohinoor is falsafi e mohabbat ki
Wohi taj hai is badshah e mohabbat ki manzil hain is Musafir ki

Winter The Capricious Mistress of the Indian Plain

2011-08-07T09:41:00.000-07:00

The Air is clean crisp and neat

The Sweat has dried from the City Street

The Garbage stinks no more from Hellish Shores

The Season comes for Love in Indian lores

The Summer so loved of Britain's clime

Oh the Gaulish spring favored of Bards in Prime

Do fade in the hot eyes of Bhaskar pouring his heat

The Sweat leaves only Mangoes as enjoyable treat

The Hills and their Queen of all

Do dress and hold Beauty as thrall

But all is lost to the souls of Plains

The ragged souls tied in Chains

Burned by Aftaab in his affable way

Where his regime holds the Greatest sway

Skins burnt and parched by the Midnight Sun

Can but aspire for the Paradise which them does shun

And Burn them alive in the roasted peat

As hot lava flows for every heartbeat

To such thralls of pain a leisure comes to bless

A time frail and of duration too less

That waters their burning hearts

And saves them for a time from Ravi's flaming darts

That salves their burnt dark skin

That burninig passions to celebrations wean

Thus the dam breaks on the Indian Heart

And thus at last does the repreive of Winter Start

The slow chill enters the marrow and shakes the bone at place

Yet the Gods at such times are given greater grace

For finally the chill does come

The taste of Ambrosia for all and some

The Sweat cool and allows the Dancer to open his pace

For the winter chill does allow the Joy and Grace

As Men and Gods celebrate the sky

That Gives them the right to spread their wing and fly

Such is Winter a heaven on the Indian Plain

Which removes of the land all mark and stain

And gives a heaven for the people all

To celebrate with abandon and let hard work stall

The World is enriched yet for another day

As the people celebrate their living lay

The burning passion of the Lover as he takes his Mistress at night

Is tempered softly and reduced slight

Not in quantity but in the flame of Romantic Quality does he stake his time

As he enjoys the sight when his Mistress's lip the Garden of Indra does mime

Her eyes with their soft grace evoke the beauty of the Immortal Dhruva's race

And her smile which all the wonders made of Men does disgrace

Her alabaster skin which the colour of the Gandharvas does mime

Her hair with the shine of Kuber's Treasure does mock time

The sweaty nights do primal passions bring

But the cool Usha does allow the man to feel Eros's own sting

As his Mistress lies not only as Venus to him

But the Lakshmi who brightens his heart's passages dim

Her soft skin so fragnant of the smell of Amour

Is yet to treasure as the fragrance of her passionate Ardour

As the poet feels himself to be a God or hero of Old

For how else could to trap a Goddess he be so bold

And Winter in the plains gives him the time to prance

As a Lordly Lion can he to his Heartbeat Dance

Visit those he loves far and near

For Sweat shall not away from Darkness him steer

For now is Byron's Lake washed in cool Selene Light open to him

For now is the clean silver land shown to him

I am a bard yet but a common man

To tell of a Woman's heart I dare not nor can

But Winter is but a treasure to all

Trapped in the hot an humid Prison Stall

The Flowers bloom in The Indian clime

And to treasure them is it the greatest time

And trapped in Summer it remains a dream

To cool oneself in Winter's Stream

And as the cool air does comfort those of The Caucasian West

The Indian pains suffer to paas Phoebus's test

His Chariot is said to have burnt the Indian Skin

But Ancients knew not that every year he tries to win

As the Cooling Air the Indian Plane does shun

The Aryans of East await Winter's return

Droplets(A Rubbayi)

2011-06-09T05:07:00.000-07:00

Beyond the moon and my mistresses's eyes don't speak
If not her vocal symphony then don't speak

If not on how best to love her don't speak
If not on the Love we share don't speak

If not how the Gods are slaves to my Love Don't speak
If not on the one who is the Universe why speak!

2011-06-09T05:01:00.000-07:00

Femina

2010-09-03T03:19:00.000-07:00

(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

2010-05-10T00:24:00.001-07:00

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

2010-03-13T20:34:00.001-08:00

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

2010-02-04T04:37:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-16T03:00:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-13T03:56:00.000-08:00

(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.

Mindreader Apotheosis

2009-11-18T23:01:00.000-08:00

(This is the fourth part of an ongoing prose series in this blog, the first part was Mindreader, the second was Mindreader Once Again and the third was Mindreader in Deluge)This is weird and most awkward. He had, had physical affairs with the most voluptuous and beautiful girls on the goddamn planet. He had killed this girl's hot sister and he had tried almost like people try food, every variety of girl on this planet, then why, why was he unable to kill her. His usually perfectly coloured world, coloured sensibly coloured in the red shade of passion was a mess and a blurr with this girl. Her golden rays always messy never shining with the plethora of planning but giving a messy blurring to her life seemed to actually make him desire her wild spirit more but surprisingly this was not his rather usual urge to tame her and to make her obey his strong will but to mingle in the blue waters of her life, to let her be her own self the mountain spring while he would be the hart of the forest of her life. He never surprisingly wished her to change but suddenly wished to change his ownself, his inner soul to resonate her grey cerebrality and yet the presence of her green and blue simplicity. This time it wasn't those idiotic ex-Mossad bodyguards which were his problem but actually his own body and mind. He remembered the terrible headaches the worse fear and that blank forgetfullness that engulfed her sister and sympathetically reflected in his own body. He remembered the terrible terror of each that he had killed and that welcoming sense of forgetfullness. He was quite proud of his work and took an artist's pride in the kills he had accomplished and that invigorating sense of release and satisfaction. Each kill brought with it a sense of pain and ectasy only available otherwise in the art of Hierros Gammos.However suddenly he wished to forget all of this and just be the normal physics graduate from India he was pretending to be to capture the eye of Melissa and just be that be there for Melissa, be a part of the fabric of her life and have her as the brightest red fabric of his life. He did not manage to even think of killing her as he went for date after date with this simple girl right underneath the noses of her bossy set of four bodyguards. And yet he could not kill her for he was floating on the ectasy of love's light.

He condemned himself that Love would be his greatest fault and it would end on the planet his mortal lease. He tried to once again feel that thrill in his loins that came when he saw the target in the cross hairs of his MFGX2( A German Sniper rifle). He tried feel that ectasy of pain that he felt in his own body as his victim slowly wasted away at the hands of his slow flowing poisonous reprimands that he so brilliantly collected from the whole planet. However, the ectasy and love for the slow froth of death would just not come with the Golden joy of love that permeated his being with Melissa. He wished for nothing, not even her body, for he desired the greatest her sparkle of the Eternal Jewel, her vibrant, multi-hued soul to satisfy the dank blackness of his own soul. He chided himself that he had tried every flavour of woman on the planet, how then could this drab American attract his eye, but Love obeyed not his mind. It broke every adamantine barrier of logic or flattulently empty physical points of Questions he put forward for it and owned him. Love permeated and became his being and there was no escape for this poor fly.

He was trapped into the soul-quenching hunger of love that minded no logic nor any physical feeling or response but just struck when it felt like striking and compelled a slavish brute to be created from the independent human being that existed before its arrival. Mindreader had been squashed flat by love.

His customers however were not so free minded, they tired of the wait for the death of the second girl though there man was travelling with her for months so intimately that killing her would be as easy as breathing for him and they were irritated with his retience from killing the girl. They started pushing him to kill her and brought the condition to a point where he could no longer return without killing the girl the next day. He knew then that his hand was forced and it wouldn't be he that died if he refused but his only family members in the whole world. He would have to kill her, but he also knew that the prophecy was coming true. There would be a death the next day, he just wondered whose?

Mindreader in Deluge

2009-10-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

(THis is the 3rd part of an ongoing prose series on this blog. The first part was Mindreader and the second part was Mindreader Once Again)

His new assignment was simple. Kill an American Billionaire's two daughters and kidnap the youngest. He followed a simple rule of never asking his employers the need for the task, it kept him both alive and actually sane. This time his timeframe was of two months and a fat paycheck of three million. He was quite satiated with his life and quite eager to once again taste Death.
...................................................................................................

He landed the next day in the International Airport and for now he was Shameer Khardiff, a Spanish Soccer fan. As soon as he was processed and let out of the Airport, the first thing he did was to leave for Mr. John Doe's villa in the outskirts of the city. His week of recon brought in a whole lot of bad news for him. The body guards quite ably guarded their "principals" from any form of sniper or staccato gun-fire as well as stab instruments. Their were each ex-Mossad operatives and hence not only non-buyable but also suicidally tough and impossible to beat in hand to hand combat or close range armanent use. Poison was ruled out by too faithful servants and car accidents or bombs were nullified by a combination of able Bodyguards and suitably modern technology.

There was only one process left-the playboy. The only place the bodyguards did not venture was the girls' bedroom and that is where they would have to be killed. He had seen the two girls, the elder would be easy, she was the super model princess of the family. He would target her first but of the younger daughter he wasn't sure but then there always was risky sniper shots to take care of her. She was as sexless as a nun and wouldn't have aroused the most sexually famished creature on the planet, let alone him but the elder one, that one was going to be fun. Once the deaths are doled, he would then think of the kidnap. Accordingly he contacted his employers.
.............................................................................................................

A month later Miss Jean Doe the elder daughter of Mr. John Doe met Archduke Phillip of Austria on a tour of Italy. His Alfa Romeo and Ambassador suite in Caesar's Castle quite easily attracted her eyes but to this perhaps his smart look in Armani Suite have certain complementary effect. It was a quickly established scandal that they were seeing each other and that they were both residing in the same suite.

However Miss Jean Doe's premature death due to a weird cerebral stroke put an end to this happy love story. A forensic surgeon in mind of suggesting Concentrated Peroxyacyl Acetic acid which leaves but minor trace in the human body tragically died in a road accident pitiably also producing the mutilated body of Archduke Phillip in the other only recognised by his passport. Soon Rome had a new story of a curse as all those who had seen the happy couple a few months back died tragically in accidents and in a week all stories and traces of Archduke Phillip had vanished. The weeping royal family of Austria informed, the one with that name in the family was missing for two months and was presumed dead on a cliff climbing accident but the body had never being found. How he ended up in Rome was anybody's guess.
...................................................................................................................

A Chicago window was being used at that time the eyes of the voyeur fixed intently on Miss Jean Doe's younger sister, the Einstein of the family.

Proclamation

2009-09-19T03:07:00.000-07:00

Mindreader Once Again is the second installment of Mindreader

Mindreader Once Again

2009-09-19T02:17:00.000-07:00

Another succesful kill. Sometimes he stared at the heavens whether in the plains of the highland villas or the sands of the torrid deserts, sometimes in the plains of river alluvi or even in the winds of the coast, what was his success, what was the quantum in his life. Each victory in the pathetic excuse of his life would perfect that vaunted title he had taken, the best murderer in the planet and it would result in another job and another and another and another.................................................................................. that marred his soul in the eternal confusion called life. But did he want to kill again? But then again did he want to die? Did he want to lose all those pleasures he had gained his life? Did he want life? Did he know Life? What was Life? An Eternal ectasy and symphony of pain? Was he even alive?

The boy had grown into the perfect haunted man. The man for whom Death held no charm yet neither did life but yet he went about sensing the climax, the arousal of it every day and found the sweetness and the taste of both. The intoxicating charm of the sensual oblivion of Death the sensory overload and the cheer and sweetness of the beating heart of life itself.

The pain and hope seemed intoxicating to the boy as he rose metres above the humdrum of these greatest Necromantic drug of all and lived its ectasy and its honour and its pure pleasure. Such state of affairs pushed him to spend every penny of the vast fortunes of his bank account between every kill as he tasted life "to its lees" and prepared each waking hour hour to fight and yet welcome that inevitable oblivion that waited for him at the ever sinking horizon.

He didn't know defeat, especially not at the hand of a two bit bird. He had learned to fight on and on and on.
He had tasted every girl this world had to offer from voluptuous models to the aristrocrats to the poor lovers. He had tasted the olive and cherry of the west and the chocolate and honey of the east with the ebony of the equator. He had tried every Aphrodite, every Helen, every Laila, Sheba and Rambha and Menoka. He had sunk in Beauty and come out all the more stronger and kept strengthening his resolve. He felt he had acertained that Love was one thing he had flushed out in those intimate embraces and loving touches and he had felt the feminine heart as it pounded and surfeited to his feet not only the last droplets of its physical treasures but also those delicate strains of her heart in thrall to his embrace. And he had enjoyed grounding it feeling not a thing in his heart for he believed it dead and he lived only on the strength of his loins and muscular physique.

He felt that he had beaten the two bit bird and sang one day:
Let me not to fear for it scares of me
Let me not to Death surrendered be
Let this world not know for they are my thrall
Fate and Death have with my hand pushed to stall
Let Love not come near me
For my thrall for Eternity it is to be
I command Emotions this day
I come the new Messiah in even newer lay
For I am of Fate and this world, Lord
Bow to me, your new GOD

The exultation lasted always till the bank got dried and then came the task, the pain of poison, the pain of a bullet, knife, bomb, he had endured all and willed each time for the all cleansing clean Death to end all pain all strife, for Freedom but then again his mighty heart willed his punishment on, he wouldn't die, he couldn't die, he lived to die another day. Then came the pleasure of life, in food, music, parties, engrossing books, exotic vacations in the never ending vacation. The loving embrace of a simple rural belle or the welcoming bed of the aristocrat. Sometimes it was the exulatation of the killing and fighting of the Evil in Humanity but with it also came the pain to be suppressed with movies and Nature and Death Defying Sports. He was the violent enigma of pain and death.

....................................................................................................

Three months had passed and Spain had exhausted of Daughters and Rebels to satisfy the unquenchable thirst of Life. The Ardennes caged Life no longer in his rugged beauty and so with empty purse walked out Death to the Living World.

Mindreader

2009-09-05T05:01:00.002-07:00

( An Episodic narration of a prosaic story which is yet a poem)

The boy stared hard at the two bit red bird. It was so easy to kill, a single sling shot that was all it took to snuff off the livid flame. With practiced ease he eased into the shooting position, it must be remembered that whether in bow or sling the main stress was to feel and see the target with sensitive eyes and to hear the very heart beat of the victim even from a distance of upto a mile and not stare at the dart or the stone. Once the victim's body and mind were yours, all you had to do was ease the twang at the dart, not to push the dart or to stare at the dart, your target would be achieved. The boy had imprisoned the bird's mind and soul. Now only to release, then with practised ease the string was given its much desperately sought freedom. There is a unique majesty in the flying shot........................... The flowing air seeking to debunk it and it mysteriously cutting its own path in the parabolic saga of beauty and ultimate truth revelling in its own strength and its pride. The spattering speed taking it like an immortal God in the very splash and explosion of mortal incardine staggering gouts.

The bird fell dead and the smiling boy went up to it to claim his trophy when he saw the still beating pump opened to the view of the world. He smiled and sat beside his dying victim revelling in the despair and steep accusation of those faltering eyes boring into those of its victor questioning the need. Why should it die? It had harmed none, it was but the most beautiful creation of Mother Nature, Oh, then why, why should it die? It served no purpose to the boy as food nor as garment or respect. Then why was it removed so futilely for nothing but boyish sport? Why couldn't its life had served a purpose? Why this futile death?

But the questions found mute gloating stare that only revelled in success of its sport. The flame in heat of rage before subsiding to ash.

However when the Gloating boy went to lift his prize there was the squeak all around him but it bespoke a human tongue. Its message chilled the spine of the fleeing boy who never returned to lift his prize from the decomposing earth as flesh and earth bound as one as energy and soul and the proud red plume sunk in the ground to the bone dry skeleton that passed into dust. Thus was beauty destroyed but it was rage that said:

Mortal whelp of the nether sands

To you are barred joy's lands

You will do but what you love

That is help people to snuff

You will kill and kill each day but you will relieve your victims

You will like oil that over slip always skims

Relieve and die with those you hunt

You will feel death but you dead will shunt

You will read their minds and their hearts

You will be crushed like apple tarts

Yet you will live till that day is reached

When from hatred is leached

By a woman you will love to fault

But from killing her you will be unable to halt

The death will release you from your bond and fate

For you will see me again on that date

When the day comes kill me again quick

For then together in this mortal realm we will never again stick

*******************************

The man's heart had come in the the in the intersecting lines that some call cross-hairs. Which would be faster, the heart or the femoral artery or the carotid artery or lobular venacava and the cranial explosion. He would have to die fast as he would savour the same pain as his victim. He better die quick as these days the experience was getting nigh unbearable. With resigned he wished for something like a zillionth time that he would not have to do this to live but what can he do? He was the best sniper in the country and thus automatically the best Hitman for the job. He chose the cranial cavity and then stepped into the mind of the victim, soon he was walking his gait, thinking his thoughts and the jailer of the gaol for the man's heart and soul, the trigger got pressed almost by itself. He quickly stashed his thick wad of cotton in his jaw trapping the tongue, teeth and his face.

Even the speeding beauty of the bullet was thing to watch as it immersed itself a mile away in between the eyes of the victim, where the mortal sweetness of satisfying warmth outpoured as perfume. Then his body, which he had already put in lying position hit the first spasm followed by those terrible 1 minute 15 seconds of cold chill and heartbreaking fear of the void and the wild spasms and laboured breathing, till the final absolution.

Shit! He had misjudged the wind, the bullet had torn apart his lower right brain and the hypothalamus but not the neurospasmic control section of the heart. That terrible fear, he hated his life,simply hated it but he would have to live some way or other. Nobody defeats him especially not a two bit bird.

(To Be Continued)

Mindreader

2009-09-05T05:01:00.001-07:00

Flights of Fantasy

2009-08-10T04:54:00.000-07:00

Today I am Chengiz as I stare over the Mongol Waste
No I am Timur with my army riding in haste
To the next conquer, to the next plunder
To make waste of others blunder
Yet I am wrong
Today I am Don Juan which I have been for long
I am again the master of Amourous Tales
Again I depend on my luck which never fails
My hunt for that true love, I long continue
My love for Heidis and Julias,I always rue
Yet I feel I am the daring Achilles
In search of Immortality, I kill Hector the flawless
I am again Parris
But then who doesn't want to step in shoes his
The gift of Helen, He was lucky but fool
He should have also learned to use war's tool
Then again I am the hapless Romeo of Lay
Who died for one girl but could have had a thousand any day
I won't be that fool for anymore, I am rather Zeus himself
Who else has in the bedroom of more women delved
Who cares, I am the valiant Ghatothkach son of Bhim
A Death worth having was received by him
Today I am Samudra Gupta, the Great
The Emperor before whom all foreigners did fret
The great warrior,who unified India of old
I only wish that I was that bold
I am a warrior in search of fame
I pass blood drenched fields of limbs and body with no name
I am a lover with a crooked smile
Girls fathers lock them seeing him coming from afar even a mile
I am the most famous of actors today and I am the best chef of fame
I am a Gentleman, Girls swoon hearing his name

Then I get a cold drenching spray
I realise I am awake and ready to face life's fray
One of the poor old sods whom no one knows
One who one day ends his existence and from Earth quitely goes
No one monument, no remembrance, nothing he gets
He is remembered by those for a day, whom he begets
A man has but one life but his history remains
He is just one fool from whom fame abstains

Fun retitled

2009-07-30T03:45:00.000-07:00

My last post was basically to entertain which no one seems to have found interesting, so This time I am blogging a rather more serious blank verse no blatant comedy, this time around. To anybody whom I had made aware of my desire to put up my short story "Immortal Trove" which was originally written for Bombadil's short story competition- I am sorry but it will take some time. I haven't had time to upload it yet. Thank You and keep following.
Talk to me
Go talk to the nefarious elements the ghostly sprites of the night
Talk now to the hell bound spirits that stutter you mortal frame
Go seek the dew drop of the fallen sky the latest victim of your nefarious evil
Live near that idiot toad that causes death

Listen from them for they shall tell you of the woebgone fool
For he has takes humanity's cause and is served no interest none
The fool fights that others may sleep
That one more Romeo his Juliet may meet
That one more Rustam doesn't seek the death of his Sohrab
That one more mother her son doesn't lose
That one more soul to the devil isn't lost

I know he is a fool as do you as do us all Normal one's
But is he really for is there anything called Normal on this Mortal Plane
He is immortal in the eyes of death
For Gory fields are his home and ruined decapitated limbs his art
The fool lacks love for this cause, he but has lost his family too
In that sticky red wet thing
Due to that bloated and torn human Liver on his hand
How can those hold a rose?
What is a rose who has torn alive his still beating enemy's heart
Why did he leave his home?
Well, the fool left it for us

Where is the peace he sought?
Why more thrashing limbs?
Where is the brotherhood he desired?
In this world of perpetual sin

So live your life take no note of else
You are the winner if you have a filled purse
And your family, no not they
If you have a food-filled belly

Lets find some fun

2009-06-15T01:34:00.000-07:00

Thank you to Mousumi for becoming my first follower in this Blog. If anybody else comes across this atleast sign to boost my morale.
Now this month I won't write any lyric of my heartfelt poems rather Lets have some fun with Limericks.
Here's one
The Fall
There was a man in Ipswich who was rather rude
He ignored the law and danced on the streets, lets say lewd
You all know what I refrained to say
So, the Bobbies arrested him, Come what may
But then they left him laughing saying he was a dude

Limericks are almost always lewd extended jokes and though it is a British imaginative proponent, It was the Germans who took it to the next level. I have written in personal collection an extended lyric following the German style and intend to write one here as well. The only law with a Limerick is that you have to follow a rhythm and each unit stanza should have the rhyme scheme of AABBA even if it is a five hundred line poem( that is the largest, written by Herr Greund in 1748) each unit stanza should be of five lines and should follow the same rhythm and same rhyming scheme. For example
The Table
There was a table set for ten
But it ended up that those were filled by men
The hosts and guests scratched their heads
And decided to solve the crime without calling Feds
The Hosts voice boomed and the Lady's was like rain

A Quarrel ensued and that was considered cultured and fine
A solution was reached, an armistice was made ready to sign
Men were to eat first followed by the ladies fair
The fools had poked the Lion's lair
The ladies reminded the men that next day at home they would dine

So the amicable solution was at last reached
The foolish men had their pride leeched
They stood at waiting for the dining ladies fair
At the food they only did stare
One saintly said it was better to be hungry than living stitched

Limericks are almost compulsorily awkward and foolish and necessarily rubbish. So, do comment in Limericks of your own, you can even invent words but make sure thay make sense, and lets have some fun.

A salty candy

2009-05-20T02:46:00.000-07:00

Watch that fleeting sparrow,
Today it is free to flyNot Bound To this unwholesome earth where so much sorrow man finds
Ah! see that, he doesn't cryHe isn't fettered by the human binds
Of love called though DivineYou should know for you printed yourself in my very marrow
You I loved with all that is mineYet you reminded me of the overcast sky
I must say Thanks for you reminded me what I need
I am a man so I can't cry and I am uglySo bound I am by my unwholesome deed
I don't deserve to love you with my fats on me straggly
I am not struck this noon with ungainly heat
But your name carries my every drop of blood yet
My every heartbeat

Apology

2009-05-20T02:17:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the inconvenience in the next story. The title is "Love to Lose" but having being unable to understand the blog options and having directly pasted the story from a file, The paragraph differntiations and the title got a bit muddied up. This won't happen in future.

2009-05-20T02:00:00.001-07:00

Love to Lose Ahhhh! Another day of college and another day of those boring idiots who call themselves students.....Really all Ajay could wish was that he would escape this ritualistic torture someday. He was fortunately or unfortunately different from the regular teenagers..... Everybody says that I am handsome in a weird way if I only acted normally. Normal What in GOD HELL or anyone else's name do they mean by that. All these idiots giggling like the stupids they are outside the class over singularly humourless jokes thats normal or calling everyone Dude without understanding the racial etymological roots of the word..... Everyone of Ajay's classmates agreed that all Ajay needed was to once fall in Love to be something like "Normal". He didn't really fall in any category, He wasn't the gormless Nerd nor the hunks and neither the reclusive and exponentially violent "Politicians" and this didn't really allow him to mingle.....Well another day of class if it can be called so.One Teacher tries to teach Arts the really proper way they are supposed to all these idiots start shouting too tough.ALL THEY are interested in are manufactured notes to pass the Exam not really understand the beauty of the Literature and the texts I wish I could escape I guess that is why I can only mingle with the Elders or take recluse in books. I can't even imagine flirting with these idiotic plastic doll girls. Ah! my dreams that Beautiful face tthat voluptuous figure that unforgettable sari.............................Ah! Rabindranath's dream of vermillion....................Not these braindead size zerosizes...... Ajay's problem lay in the fact that it was difficult find his so-called dream girl because the variety was truthfully extinct.....Today is the first day of class of the second admission students. Even they seem more comfortable than I am for pity's sake. Two of them are friendless, ofcourse now I realise they are same as me. Great perhaps some company at last. What is that idiot Shubhojit saying????? Shubhojit was the unanimously accepted Dude of the class, funny, courageous, downright handsome and highly strong along with being a great guitar player and good singer and his only bad side was he pulled jokes on everyone. His present target being one of the people marked by Ajay,"Hey Negress Who exiled you from Africa? Or should we call the zoo and inform we have an escaped GOrilla here?", then he started his asthmatic laughter accompanied by all of the sycophanatic class. However, they didn't manage for long for they witnessed something never seen before. Nobody knew Ajay could be so demonically strong. He hauled Shubhojit from the desk to the floor and gone was the woebgone poet to be replaced by a cold and fierce fighter whom the combined strength of the class failed to budge. He made a pulp out of Shubhojit in seconds and stood panting as the rest of the class stood aghast.................................. ... ..The verandah is cooler than the Dean's office. I don't know what came over me.Atleast I am not in too much trouble. The Dean was happy with that paper......what is the bloody name......Oh! whatever...It was in that last seminar in the college. He has left me with a warning and Shubhojit is sent to the Hospital he will be alright............What the hell came over me????? Okay I guess I am getting the right signals.I am in Love and predictably there she comes. I wonder why they were teasing her about her skin colour.Okay she is talking Gotta stand straight..Beautiful face, High cheek bones,Full lips,Full Bosoms,I was never decent anyway, Skin glistening like diamonds in this sunlight, Full Figure strapped in that red sari.God, She is beautiful, Wait a minute Whats she saying,,,,,Yes of course vermillion powder.She is married and has come to drop her sister-in-law,God another skimpy jeans.Where is that hand going,just the cheek,she realises my condition.Atleast I get to kiss her soft palm and envy the one who gets her whole.The verandah doesn't seem to end, Got to go in the bathroom,Can't let others see my tears...Boys don't cry. Atleast after this fateful day Ajay and Shubhojit became the best of friends and he became "Normal" externally to a great extent but his mind remains the same and wasn't it a great poet who had said "The World is a stage and all men and women merely actors". In life we always learn to act and then we find that not all species are extinct and some need to fall in, fall is not the best of words,but in love. There are some however who need to fall in love to lose.Best of Luck Ajay for your college life. Bye Dipanway Maitra

The Mourning

2009-05-20T00:50:00.000-07:00

Never shall I forget that whiff of perfume your heavenly scent
Never shall I forget those cherry red lips so passionately delicious
Never shall I forget those enigmatic pools your eyes of nature's colours spent
Never Oh! Never shall I forget that unforgiving night so vagrantly precious
You chucked me off like I was nothing but an obstacle smelly
But Thank You for reminding me I am but fat and ugly

I am no handsome beaux who deserves one so beautiful as you
I am not rich and have no money that I deserve To craddle you
I am not any college hunk nor a personna in people's view
I am certainly not anything then how did I dare to even think of you
You reminded me that I am nothing but a fool
In folly who looked too far and hence fell to Misfortunes tool

You know I still remember that first day I saw you arrive
It was I remember like seeing the sun for you come to earth
I was stunned having seen none so beautiful in my plaintative life
Ah! Misery I knew it awaited me but I joined a queue in which of others there was no dearth
I hated myself tried to stop myself but there was nothing I could do
I was a bloody damn fool so I loved you true

The day I spoke to you first YOU remember that
I was hesitant but determined of mind
There was nothing I could do Like a Goddess in front you sat
I pushed all fear behind
I walked up and asked you of your time
I yet don't know what made you do it but you agreed without brushing me of as slime

Ah! Ectasy the first walk with you our first time together
It was the day I felt I was the luckiest man
The dappled moonlight,the neighbouring heather
The silver sheen,The beautiful empty field, None mattered then
Only you did your almond eyes, your silvered skin
Your raven tresses, their mystic bind, their heavenly scent, the neck so lean
The aquiline nose, The highbrows and sculpted cheeks
I felt You made even heaven's damsels meek
Your beauteous body envied of the creator that made
You seemed to be the track for my life's exorcism laid
Your soft bossoms on which I did lay
I wished them to be Life's foundation, come what may
Perhaps it was the werelight which made us crazy so
For you agreed to make love with this ugly rake beneath you so low
Huh it was ectasy It was heaven to me
The field Valhalla appeared to be
I don't know what was on your mind
To me it was our nuptial bind

I don't know what time passed then
Years, Months or were they days or weeks
How should I know I was in joy's heaven
I don't know how friends I did rebuke or insult in deed
To me Was Then Love the ford my life's rivers did need
You I followed like a dog on leash
Now everyone is happy except me indeed
For you were my oasis in desert vigil from society abolished
But now with you gone I am but dying in a mirage of hate
Of myself of others of all indeed
I am but a spurned lover but I am too late
To apologize to friends whom I spurned in their need
Now I am alone left nothing but myself and my grief and mourn
This loner chooses to die rather than meet with sights forlorn
I choose not remember you using me as a notched sword and thrown
So I mourn alone of everything shorn