Monday, October 30, 2017

Signing off

You were waving at me
arm straight
right palm moving
a standing tree
leaves shading my agony
appeared like a thousand welcome
tuning at the shore of my heart,

but you were parting
singing a song, humming a bye
telling me that the same hand
will sign me off
scrap the rented tie
hired for some time.

We wrote stories
our dreams
with your gifted pen
we met on the same streets
same town
same honks travelled
rode
sounded like belly laugh
now
the beeps
howling,

but I don’t see the same storm
on the other side of the road
where you stand
when you laughed
thousand poems were born
I see the same yellow glow
on your face
written everywhere
from the college gate
to the cemetery
our meeting place.


Wait.
Before you,
let me go.
Yes.
I promise.
I will come back.
Sign us off.
At the court,
before the black and white
men, women,
with a borrowed pen. 

Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Tears

With little sorrows
tears never deceive
they come in rows;
when the giant throe arrives
the drops do not sweep
from the salty archives
in wonder, dolor, fear
they dry, disappear.


Larmes

Avec de petites peines
les larmes ne trompent jamais
elles viennent à la pelle;
quand arrive tristesse outrée  
les gouttes viennent à peine
des archives salées
en émerveillement, deuil, peur
elles sèchent, disparaissent.

Friday, October 20, 2017

The couple

Google images










moving
in every moment
nursing life
making love,
light,
watery,
airy,
filling the space
the two outstanding players
warm, attractive
in colorful foreplay
giving hands
simple sounds,
soft smells,
tender touches,
never ever feeling lost
the forever forgiving couple
the overlooking sky
the supportive earth
parenting, and raising humans
notwithstanding horrors and errors
of creation and recreations
for ages
in every moment
moving

Reversible style - Poems written in this style can also be read upwards. The idea behind the style is to let the poem rise above (a leap in existential term), even in its physical form.

Thursday, October 12, 2017

What is (not) in a name?

O my name!
What is it? Shoe what? Could you please come again Mr Shoe…
No problem sir, you can call me Super Tech
Hey …that sounds so cool…So you are Super Tech for us here in XYZ.


In the professional world, that was my first attempt in twisting my name for the benefit of my clients. I became Super Tech for my American and English speaking European clients; much later, when I came back from France and was given charge for France and Francophone countries, I became Sous Pratique for them. Never mind that it meant someone who was kind of deranged? Jesus do I even disagree; the other day I saw myself kissing my plate because I could have my meal on it! Even now, I sometimes kiss my pair of sneakers after coming from long walks! But that's how I am!

And those childhood scribbles on the walls? Did they ever show any sign of being ‘normal’; my mom, while cleaning the walls had just one word as a refrain, obnoxious! And she was creative enough to stress her syllables that could mean as someone who is perpetually or incorrigibly obnoxious! These premonitions were stark and vivid in me since childhood, and I am quite composed with my state of insanity; so coming back to the main stroy of Super Tech or Sous Pratique now - that was how I was known to ‘them’; the names became so popular that I even heard discussions on whether the two were one and the same; I was flattered, but deep inside, somewhere I was also reminded of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde too. But in my case it would be Dr Jekyll and Dr Jekyll, wouldn’t it? Enough! Enough of basking in self glory!

Worst moments

Let me now bring out one of the most embarrassing moments concerning my name; I went to Delhi to deliver a training on 'cultural sensitisation', and had two juniors with me. As was the norm, one was not supposed to talk too much with the juniors, maintain a distance, have different rooms; I never gave a damn to all these, never, ever, and I had one room booked for three, with one extra bed. One of the juniors brought me the first bill from the reception and was laughing his lungs out. Now laughing being infectious, we two also started laughing without knowing what the reason was; sometimes it does happen, doesn’t it? But when he pointed out the typo in my name I was shocked; instead of a ‘t’, it became a ‘d’; and because those juniors were so close to me, they were asking me, is it?

I was furious, and thought, for the first time, of my mistake; maybe I should have booked a different room, and maybe what they say about maintaining hierarchical difference was true; I hated them at the moment. I took the bill and went straight to the reception, was about to storm at the receptionist but couldn’t say a word because there was a lady sitting there. When I went back into the room, I saw the disobedient grins on their faces. How irreverent I thought, they never call me sir, they hug me instead of showing respect. Wait I will see them at their next appraisal I thought! Next morning, when I saw a different receptionist; I explained, and we three left for our first day. The second day’s bill was even more shocking; supra became super; luckily the bill was with me this time; I sat with a different receptionist and saw to it that my name was correctly spelt once and for all, but will I ever forget this worst moment ever in my life I wonder! Never mind, I became my ordinary self with my juniors again, as it were.

Names at different places

In Hyderabad, I was referred to as Supratika; however much I tried to make them stop at the /k/ sound, it became /ka/ changing my gender; later on I thought of it as a compliment; didn’t resist anymore because it was pointless. In Kerala, I was called Suprakrishna, I still fail to understand the logic, but when someone called me as Muthukrishna there, I thought I have to accept anything that came with my name, it’s good as long as they are calling me something.

The origin of the sin

My mom first named me as Pratik, then she added the ‘Su’ to mean a good symbol; later she was happy to discover that Supratik is also one of the elephants of Indra, the God of rain; she always wanted me to be fat, don’t know why; much later, when I shared with her different versions of my name, she thought she could have called me Pratik, or Gaurav (that was the first option, to rhyme with my elder bother’s name, Sourav). But what is done cannot be undone, besides, having your name changed is quite an ordeal and could land you up in even more trouble. I have grown up being in soup with my name; literally, because for most of my friends, I was soup; I was also called tick by many of my colleagues; one of my bosses would call me tic tic tic thrice. My non-bong friends would make fun of me by making the ‘su’ sound like a ‘shoe’ and pronounce it as ‘shoeproteeek’! They knew very well that for Bongs, it is pedestrian to pronounce /s/, so for all /s/, it is cultured to say /sh/!

Pet name

When I hug my friends now, I distinctly remember how I hated them during our cricket-football days. Most of our friends remember those frustrating days of hatred and animosity, which mostly centered around distorting names, with love and affection. Those who still do not know, Bongs have two names, one exclusively for the families and relatives and the other for the outside or for the professional world. And in Bengali, it is called ‘daaknaam’ which loosely translates into pet name, pet meaning ‘daak’ or ‘posha’, hence pet. I was named as Anto, as a short form of Antony; again it was my mom’s imaginative mind that tried to trap the glory of a film, a super hit one called Antony Firangi where our all time favourite Uttam Kumar played the role of Antony. Just as my bhalonaam (or good name, you get to hear this literally translated into English quite often, like what is your good name sir?!), my daaknaam (pet name) too went through many versions, of agony and discomposure; Tanto, Santo, Langto (in Bengali it means naked), Sando banyan, Aunty (this seemed like Supratika or Supreeti, much to my chagrin as a child) and a whole range of them; until much later I decided to give a meaning to it; I changed the spelling of my name as Unto, which means a preposition ‘next to’ or ‘toward’; I like the way it is enunciated in English by also maintaining the same momentum in Bengali too! I perhaps meant I could be next to or toward most anything? Nah!! But chalo thik hai.

What is (not) in a name


With time, with all the versions of my name I have come to realize the flexibility my name has; therefore, despite the vexations and mild irritations at times, I have come to terms with it; I have started loving it since a long time; from food to mood, my name, what does it not have in it I wonder! But I am what I am.

Monday, October 9, 2017

photopoems


Introducing photopoems:


Following are the twelve simple rules:

1. Small poems, of about two to four lines, shorter the better, it can be from 1 to 20 words, all in lowercase
2. May be with or without rhymes
3. Should necessarily be embedded in the image (photo, hence photopoems)
4. Highlight the image, may be talking for or against the photo
5. The text should have a lasting and relevant message necessarily for the world
6. It should help the readers retain and recite the lines with the image in mind with a connecting word, viz.  here it is kalidas
7. No names, except they are photopoems
8. Every form should contribute to the understanding of the text, e.g. here the font comic sans ms is        used to depict a comical situation
9. Texts may be ideally placed according to their starting point, e.g. for English, it is left hand bottom, for Arabic, it is right hand bottom; however, they can be modified according to the coloring and spacing of the image (photo)
10. The image credit to be given as per the flow of the language
11. The name of the author to be placed outside the text box, preferably beneath
12. No highlighter is allowed

Sunday, October 1, 2017

Death falls in place

Everybody dies
the child, the adolescent
the middle-aged
all dead
live in the mind
or in the picture frames
everybody denies death
for the lying breath.

The man, the woman
live
and continue to live
a thousand lives
alive body and mind
stories write
air plays a thousand tunes
through running nerves
sing, play, moan and dance
yet one day, the flute will stop.
Will arrive the final goodbye
but so what
for as long as they are
they are
those persons in the frames
light and sound
resting in the memory lanes
are dead in them
still in them they are!

Hearts still palpitate
brains catch the rainbow
mountains, rivers, high and low
you find the you in you,
treasured senses and their hues.

Everybody dies
yes, yet relies
on the stage and the skies
​​​​​​​death rests and lies
breath travels, sings, flies
life lives through the ears and the eyes.