Gambling away
One’s own life
Taking risks
Leap of faiths
Seeking
The unknown
But gambling away
Others lives?
Especially our children’s
Thinking we own it
Is always dangerous
And wrong
A young aspirant
Gave up
So did the other and another
Fathers said
Fans need to be banned
Anti suicide device
Need to be checked
Let us control
All the factors
Look for loopholes
The peripherals
While avoiding
The truth
Sisyphus facing the
Heaviest boulders
Dared to pause
And not push
Not realising
It is not a choice
He or she had
Who decides
Size of the boulder?
Boulder of expectations
We unwittingly
Force our kids
To inherit
Boulders
Which crush them
Then we call them
Idiots who quit
We look for others
To blame
For our collective shame
Perhaps
It is the time
To imagine
Our young Sisyphus
Unhappy
With boulders and crucifixes
Of our expectations
– Jan 2025
Category: decadence
What will become of us?
Maybe the culprits and reasons are the same so are the innocent victims. Be it Gaza, Ukraine, Manipur and other conflicts or wildfires in elite neighborhoods of Hollywood. It is a skewed idea of entitlement, unchecked growth and greed. To feel entitled to encroach and occupy – not just other nations but also nature. To completely disregard basic tenets of human existence and Nature. To stop being human to create luxuries out of miseries at the cost of the environment.
What will become of you and me are in the images of the world today. The destructive progress will reach our homes too before we know it. Natural elements like earth, fire, water and air will try to tame the shrews we have become. Earthquakes here, snowfall there, wildfire here and floods, landslides there – we refuse to read the messages they bring just like we refuse to learn from the history of hate and war.
What will become of you and me isn’t hard to imagine…we no longer even persevere and aspire to leave a peaceful and safe planet for our children. What will become of us and them?
Turn of Tides
Waiting for the tides to turn
When and where exactly do the tides turn?
When the river rushes downstream to meet the sea?
Or when sea water surges in one long big wave?
Which of the two will flood the banks?
They say glaciers are melting
Sea levels will rise and rivers too will swell
Wonder how much land will be swallowed by the waters?
And what will be left behind?
I hear the unrest of the sea of humans
They too are waiting for tides to turn
For some it will bring in fortunes
Others may simply drown
But no one knows which way will the tides turn
Whether the river will rush downstream
Or a long sea wave will hit upstream?
Everyone pretends to be in control
Unaware how their actions affect the other
While we were watchful of water waves
A fire engulfed a forest somewhere
Humans rushed to save animals and
Animals taught humans love and empathy
Maybe that’s the game
To return to one’s own self and roots
One must brave the surging seas, the fire and vanishing forests
Fighting natural elements is tough
But tougher it is to battle one’s own kind
Who believes that my end will turn their fortune tide
The fool can’t foresee the surge will drown us all!
The river bank watches yet another epic battle
Ah! The vicissitudes of Time and Tide!
time #river #sleeplessnight #poetry #tides #climatechange #empathy #love #protests #shotononeplus #blues #riverbank
Kaleidoscope
Escaping with little
Leaving home behind
A refugee in the world
Only a sky and courage to behold
Empty mansions
Tired caretakers
Only wealth to behold
A hostage to greed
Twain realities coexist
Yet they never meet
Peace is easy to violate
War remains difficult to negotiate
Ah! World…so predictable
With no new way ahead
We trudge the known bloody paths
Self-similar war games
Us and them
Power bereft of reason
Reason bereft of compassion
Compassion bereft of love
Love bereft of logic
Logic bereft of purpose
A farce called out
Wit bored of sarcasm
Futile cynicism
Kaleidoscope needs to be shaken
A new pattern must unfold
Out of all brokenness…
My favourite spot
It is easy to imagine
You are sipping
Your morning tea
On your favourite spot
Reading your book
And suddenly
It’s all reduced
To rubbles
Except the place
Where you are sitting
In your favourite spot
You look for elevator
You need stairs
You need to run
Ground beneath feet
Did shake
And now it’s just you
On a high rise
With roof blown
Staring in disbelief
Incredibly lucky? Isn’t it?
To be perched precariously
To watch the scene change
Within seconds
You don’t know
Is it a nightmare?
Where did this missile come from?
When did the war reach my home
Till yesterday I was a civilian
A honest tax paying citizen bystander
When I did I turn into a victim?
A witness to such horror?
Do they even know I am alive?
My dear and near ones who
Probably are watching TV
Sitting in their favourite spot
Will they count me among the dead?
With no signal, no electricity or kitchen
I will have to wait
With this rage, confusion
Fear and grief
Why were we abandoned?
Who abandoned us?
The governments? UN? God?
Will this attack bring peace?
Cease-fire atleast ?
Nations will spar
Deads will be numbered
And not named
Living ones will have no names
Only identities
Suspended in disbelief
I wonder if the house
Was it insured for missile attacks?
But was this an official attack?
Will there be a paper work?
How will they prove?
Everyone will spin the narratives
We are good in condemning
What we cannot prevent
Words, words and more words
Us and them
We forget – they made us
And we made them
Imagine, it is not too difficult
Planet on the brink of extinction
But till the end money needs to be made
Stocks to be bought and sold
No need to see what companies do
Buy and sell
As long as they bring in dividends
Was this missile made by you and me?
Play the probability game
The answer may be infinitesimal
But finite
Ofcourse we didn’t know
Where our money went
Taxes and investments
We were just doing jobs
Building our homes
A place to be
With a favourite spot
To sit, sip and read
To plant our succulents
I look around
My spot, books, succulents
All are there
But rest all is destroyed
Reduced to a pile of contrete
They will find me
They need to mourn
And avenge!
26/10/23
The ‘Cancel’ Culture
It has been an interesting week. It began with my tryst with ‘cancel culture’ during Gandhi Jayanti. I guess across all sections there is a growing trend of cancelling Gandhi and of course Nehru. We all know how and when it started. But given the traction it has received we must introspect.
I don’t think it began in recent years, resentment towards these two leaders was always there among a certain cross section but now it has got amplified thanks to modern narratives and propaganda being spread through Whatsapp university and social media. Their own personal lives and lifestyle choices are casting a very dark shadow on their roles as powerful leaders who shaped India’s non-violent freedom movement and nurtured India’s new born democracy in its infancy.
It is ironic that as we gloat and compete for IITs, build new IITs, the leaders who steered India towards higher education and scholarship are being vilified and defamed casually. With their names too being removed from public spaces, I really don’t know whether their legacy and commitment towards non-violence, equality and high quality education for all will be remembered at all. Perhaps they will be known only for their personal life scandals just like film stars, writers, artists, or celebrities lives are often reduced to. I really don’t know where this ‘cancel’ culture will lead us unless there is another counter culture to balance it. I guess we are headed towards collective amnesia that Marquez and Galeano often talked about. We will not remember the past or how it shaped us because we are too busy cancelling it.
News from France has been interesting too. Bedbugs have entered our daily conversations too. Almost everyday I get to hear about bedbug related scares, jokes and their repercussions. Campus talks apparently are questioning kinds – why should French bedbugs be in the news at all when almost all big cities and countries have it? There are conspiracy theories afloat. France of course is not in denial and they are doing their best. My son’s room and entire residency underwent sanitization. It is evident from the recent focus of media stories on ‘islamophobia’ in France or this bed bugs saga that there is cancel culture propaganda and messaging. Like us, the French are apparently blaming their neighbours (who have fallen out over Brexit) for their woes and negative publicity.
Students of course have been kept busy with coursework and high level courses. After classes they huddle in discussion spaces available around the campus. Apparently, these spaces have reference books, tiny cafes and cluster desks for students to sit and discuss. Since classes are of 3 – 4 hours duration, they are allowed to walk out in between to get their cuppas. Teachers are highly impressive and they hold the attention of the class for 3 -4 hours at a stretch. From what I understand European universities have very rigorous undergraduate courses so students from elsewhere, even those who are doing double masters, are struggling a bit. They all are taking courses as a challenge so I guess they are happily engaged between classes and looking for groceries they need.
Finally my son went to a tiny Indian neighborhood thanks to his Ecuadorian classmate who wants to try cooking Indian cuisine while my son is getting introduced to Latin American sauces and recipes.He finally found – green chillies too – he was missing their taste and flavour the most. They are having nice little cultural exchanges and celebrating diversity. He gave a hearty laugh saying there you are trying to plan a festival to celebrate diversity but here we are celebrating it every day – bonhomie is amazing and no one mocks others.
He tells me, most students are very critical about their own nations and their politics so they don’t insult or mock others. I guess most nations are failing their youths in some way or the other. From what I hear, it gives me hope.
I am worried about how ‘cancel’ culture will play out in our nation’s future. Good journalism almost got literally cancelled by those who are in power last week.
France has kept its education and universities standards very high which is very heartening and it was evident when Nobel prize for Physics was announced. French Nobel laureate took the call during the break and went back to her class to complete the lesson. It says volumes about their commitment to teaching and nurturing younger generations.
Incidentally, when ‘Attosecond’ Nobel was announced, my son was doing his first lab class which he said was a great fun and nothing like the set practicals students do here. Yesterday he also said, “wish there was a way to enrol in undergraduate mathematics course here all over again and then do masters”. I had tried to steer him towards mathematics but now in French University corridors he is developing a deeper liking for mathematics. Engaging deeper is hardly visible these days in our education sphere when the focus is just to pass the exams with top grades and get qualifying degree for good jobs or positions which are so few.
My ironing lady was earlier looking for teaching jobs for her daughter who has done B.Ed from Bihar and now she is seeking any household help job for her. On the contrary, I met a brilliant MTech qualified student who is pursuing B.Ed. So we are in absurd times – qualified teachers don’t have jobs but engineers are seeking teaching qualifications as they are out of jobs too.
As a nation and as people we will keep going in circles I guess while making radius smaller and cancelling everything beyond that radius. Good luck to us!
Destiny and Luck
In the name of the
Sun and sky
Let me lament
For the lives
That derailed
One late evening
Just as their lives
Were chugging along
As ever, they were
Destiny’s offspring
Unware that
That the game
Of destiny is
Forever fixed
Death is destiny
Life is luck
Suddenly many
Many lives
Ran out of luck
On that late
Summer evening
Destiny it is
To be born
In a land where
Apathy is normal
Kindness an anomaly
While their lives derailed
And were mutilated
Beyond recognition
In another far away land
Operation Hope
Was combing forests
To look for
Four lost kids
Their destiny
Lost game to Luck
Train Journeys
Anyone who has travelled by long distance trains in India will find it difficult to come to terms with this recent horrific three train collision and its aftermath.
I have travelled frequently to and fro between Mumbai – Kolkata, Mumbai – Pune, Mumbai – Sholapur, Chennai – Kolkata, Mumbai-Delhi, Kolkata-delhi and on other various routes till last year’s trip to Bombay with my son. We cancelled the return ticket and booked a flight due to multiple reasons: long delays as freight trains, I was told, were being prioritised, decline in food quality, and absolutely no reasons given for inordinate delays of 6 hrs, 10 hrs etc. When I did rant, I was often told that signalling systems were being revamped so I must not complain in the interest of the nation.
These long distance trains are microcosms of India. A compartment becomes a confluence of culture, class and plurality. Much to your annoyance or delight (depends on what kind of co-passengers you have) it is always a memorable journey.
A train becomes a singular entity ferrying people of all kinds to their destination. The variants being tea, food and other kinds of vendors, the railway kids who come out of nowhere to sweep the dirt away from under your feet, or to collect plastic bottles, beggars, singers etc. We can find all kinds of people to engage with as the train hurtles down the tracks.
In an accident like this, it is so difficult to trace vendors, railway kids, beggars who were there in the train. Maybe some of the elders will be located through their fellow vendors but what about those kids?
They too of course have a network. Once I had offered to buy a stick icecream for one of the tiniest ones, he smartly told me to wait till he got his friend from the other compartment. In no time, there were a bunch of 10 to 12 of them to have the ice cream much to the annoyance of co-passengers. I got much unsolicited advice on how they can’t be trusted and they are part of larger gangs, they rob etc.
My most painful unpleasant memory is of Coromandal express, of a stranger who tried to assault me while I was asleep and ran away before I could alert anyone. The trauma has made me a light sleeper so I stay awake either reading a book (till I am told to switch off the lights) or listen to various kinds of snoring, chugging sound of the train, kids wailing or staring out of the window into the dark interspersed by lights of small villages, towns or cities.
This microcosm of India – our long distance trains like Coromandal will continue to prevail as multitudes of Indians cannot afford any other option. One can only hope against hope that each one who lost their lives will be identified, including the vendors, vagrants, juveniles etc.
It isn’t just the trains which collided and jump tracks killing so many people. It is the trust we all have that our systems are functioning smoothly and we are on track that has been broken time and again. These deaths no longer feel like an unpredictable accident, it is again the cliched – chronicle of the death foretold. We all know our nation is being put on a track which will lead to disastrous consequences. How long before we won’t just be a spectator of multitudes of dead?
Storm
There bellows a strong wind
A storm arrives from strange lands
Just to irrevocably change
Everything that is and will be
Overnight it sweeps away
The cobwebs of Time
Changes the entire
Landscape of survival
There is no way to stop
The raging winds, tides
Lightning or the rains
No way to lock it all away
Change becomes eternal
Certainties uncertain
Life transforms
For better or worse
What remains same
Are dawns and the dusks
Motion of the planet
And yearnings of a heart
There is no going back
To recreate what it was
One that did not withstand
The winds and the storm
Yet condemned to hope
And dream
We sail our ships
Trusting oceans of Time
Life and Death
Stink of death
Hits the nostril
Some poor creature
Took the plunge
Not realising perhaps
Its certain death
We can’t see it
But stink is unbearable
More than the
Death itself perhaps
Of that pitiful creature
That was living
Life and living
Death and dying
Polar opposites
Starting and ending
Out of nowhere
An unbearable stink
An indelible mark
Life slips away
Just like that
Into the cloak of death