Wednesday, March 19, 2014

A Letter to an Author

To 
Mr John Green
Author of a " Best seller"
'the fault in our stars'

dear sir,
i have finished reading your 'best seller ' and i feel absolutely disgusted. i really wonder how a pathetic book like this can be considered a ' best seller'.
we ordinary mortals have ' fear'. we live with fear.fear of rising, fear of falling,fear of hating , fear of being hated. in fact ' the side effect' of living is fear.a child fears the darkness, a grown up fears loss.a nation fears defeat and disaster. BUT WE ALL FEAR DEATH. there are innumerable stories , poems ,dramas, movies etc on the theme of ' death'.
We mortals suffer from ' fear psychosis' and in our society some 'creative' people  THRIVE on this human misery.death is inevitable. it is absurd but it is the ultimate truth.
but when novelist writes novels with only one motive ,which is to make huge quick money over this phenomenon called fear psychosis, i consider it as abominable.many people after reading your novel would let go a sigh of relief ' ahh, i am alright jack'. but have you ever thought about the excruciating pain the families and friends undergo after their dear ones leave them dying of any form of 'terminal illness'. tell me mr. green is there any illness in this beautiful world which is 'not' terminal?
creating fear psychosis has many advantages. your kind of writers make the whole medical world richer and wealthier in addition of you becoming a prize winning author in rather obscene way.

@ amiya

Friday, March 7, 2014

Ashes

Ashes

7 March 2014 at 15:14
Shelf full of second hand knowledge,
in my cellular brain fast asleep.
The wall screams 
with selfproclaiming paintings
crucifymy elegant consciousness.
Dervish dance of the dizzy garden
intoxicates my life force,
why should I stop ?

The hesitant sunset closeness
with rhythmic breath,
*******************************
*******************************
creates
destroys too.
The passion  makes 
your maverick thighs ecstatic,
eyes fearful.

Why not now burn the whole of me,
why not store the ashes from 
ghats of Banares
to take away
for another Sehnai celebration ?

@amiyo

* ashes > sindoor ( the vermilion powder used by brides)
* Banares > the hindu cremation site
* Sehnai > a wind musical instrument played during wedding.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Melancholic Ship

Melancholic Ship

Where we sat that day
there was this river 
touching our feet,
there was that boat dancing
and a little further away
a melancholic ship.

When you were weaving 
everlasting joys  on my lips,
The large ship there wailed
sounding her horn.

From that day on
bit by bit slowly
that melancholic ship 
pierced our everlasting pleasures
sounding that horn
Everyday.

@ translated
from purnendu potree.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Has my heart gone to sleep

Has My Heart Gone To Sleep?

Has my heart gone to sleep?
Have the beehives of my dreams
stopped working, the waterwheel
of the mind run dry,
scoops turning empty,
only shadow inside?

No, my heart is not asleep.
It is awake, wide awake.
Not asleep, not dreaming—
its eyes are opened wide
watching distant signals, listening
on the rim of vast silence. 

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Take them back

Take them back.

He gave me all,
This here,that there,
The joys , the pains
Of days and nights,
Rhythmical hopes
throbbing sterility
with ecstatic passions,
cloudy days, starry nights,
words he gave me
silence he gave me
tears he gave me 
laughter he gave me.

NOW its time 
he takes them back,
 make me a  beggar
with an empty bowl
to fill it with empty sky
empty void,
doing nothing 
being nothing.

@ amiyo

Monday, January 6, 2014

The Temple Town

The temple town


A temple town

3 January 2014 at 21:04
I understand when I hear 
the master singer,
I venture to ask her,
"when was your song born  ? "
She replied with an accented song
Her body made few flowers shy
Her looks made few rainbows weep,
She sat there away from a virtual world
away from any illusion holding my eyes tenderly.

I told her a story
to make her happy,
but at the end
she wept saying 
" i have a bitter past,
  a hopeless future
and a turmoiled naked NOW "
The tall trees around us sighed,
the birds sang like master singer's
final song.

It was a sunset afternoon 
in a temple town
the stone god hid his face
underneath red soil.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Mistakes

Shopping
many many mistakes 
for whole life,
cheap 
small,
wrapped in silver paper
large, enormous 
mistakes.

mistakes on rainy day,
mistakes on the paisley
designed bed sheet,
many expensive 
mistaken poetries,
Loving the mask
like a face,
Mistake of wanting 
Mistake of not wanting.

Mistakes burnt
Burnt to ashes,
Ashes to ashes
Until the silence 
of eloquent dusk.

@ amiya