![]() Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He is currently Regional Director at the Indira Gandhi National Open University. He has been writing poetry and publishing his poems for over thirty years. When Gandhi Crossed Dreams When Gandhi crossed dreams he had just been killed worms crept out from the soil. Blood oozing, holding on to stomach he said: This great country will live for ever in hovels, railway tracks and slums They are my countrymen I will see them through their daily bread the battling women I will rinse of dowry, child marriage the schools I will shade them with sun the street children I will bestow smile the teachers I will give classrooms I will equip the farmer with technology I will wreak vengeance on the strong who have money power but no will I said partition of Bengal would be over my dead body but they have killed me not my dreams. Be you Hindu, Christian, Buddhist, Sikh or Muslim if you keep killing them my body, phoenix like will rise in shambles what will you say then? A ghost,an apparition in this country of warriors, ghosts and the supernatural? The blood still emanating on to my shivering body, I wiped it slowly. Slept. Started dreaming again of Lions and the great Warriors.
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![]() Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He is currently Regional Director at the Indira Gandhi National Open University. He has been writing poetry and publishing his poems for over thirty years. The river lapsed Into aeons of time Bird plummeted into sea And orgy of violence As man did dance death The river did not understand That flashes of genius was born The river mourned Birds and animals died There was mayhem Man did the war dance Man did the death dance The river The birds The animals were silent They decided to be slaves To man ![]() Ananya S Guha lives in Shillong in North East India. He is currently Regional Director at the Indira Gandhi National Open University. He has been writing poetry and publishing his poems for over thirty years. Mother Mother the days In winter I remember Across pebbled roads And half lit markets Golden oranges springing forth And the fish with beady eyes You would choose and haggle And winter spruced in Shillong Would come to an end slowly Somewhere in my mind With rush of school The market would wither and die As monsoon rains ceaselessly Would take over The town changes with Malls I wonder how you would shop now With an ATM or walk across fliers In cities The chimney you sat in front of Is now museum piece The green pines do not look so green The hills distraught having witnessed change The moaning wind still hovers though rapaciously But those wolves that you spoke Of have disappeared into silence Of certainty The cobbled lanes look stoned The town is a relic The people bizarre And rains bring fiesta of delight With adventurous puddles Fruits ripen slowly Schools have mannequins It is good that you are not here. |
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