DEBASISH PARASHAR - POEMS

Debasish Parashar is an art and culture enthusiast, singer, lyricist, multilingual poet based in New Delhi, India. He is an Assistant Professor of English literature at the University of Delhi. He has  sung for 'In Search of God' and 'Raag'. His write-up on Majuli has been listed amongst top 100 online #worldheritagesites stories globally in May 2016 by Agilience Authority Index. His works have appeared in Sentinel Literary Quarterly, Scarlet Leaf Review, Enclave/Entropy, Indiana Voice Journal, Asian Signature, Five2One, Mused, Gazeta National(Albanian translations), Muse India, The Australia Times and elsewhere. Debasish's works are featured in three international anthologies namely 'Where Are You From' (New York), 'Apple Fruits of an Old Oak' (U.S.A) and 'Dandelion in a Vase of Roses'(U.S.A). Find him on https://debasishparashar.wordpress.com and MrDevParashar@twitter.

---

                             Roots Are Sticky


I come from a place where flowering of bamboos and
unnatural deaths are supposed to be bad
a migrating place whose time coordinates are trapped inside
a trapezium stuffed with bamboo shoot pickles and slices of Dominos Pizza
reconciliation.Is it?
 
doped into a dialect of disassociation
the small place of my birth feels ticklish and sneezes
even its sneezes come in packages these days
 
I come from a place that has no brothels no night life
its days are hungry beasts caressing nights
in cars,multiplexes and parks.Mood is on but shy
 
from honor to gossips
inter-caste marriages have covered a tedious journey
in my small town for heterosexuals
 
confession is a form of protest
and my people have started talking,sharing,confessing
on TV,Facebook,Insta,Twitter,blogs,etc. etc.
a migrating place
migration is a form of liberty a protest in itself
and my place is migrating with sticky roots.
 


                                   To Liberation


your body is a barkhan
diminishing
at the tip of my fingers
I thought
but,
you become more than a body
in the process I age myself
as a raaga Hamsadhwani mutates into a Bhairavi
 
cuddling in a garden of whispers
aarohs and avarohs
through death and dreams
and faith and whims
I become you
 
you sit at the tip of my fingers
bathing in red ink you bend my fingertips
dismantling hierarchies
you dig your teeth deep
into the arteries of time
that my soporific body is
 
blood trickles out
through a hole wider than dementia
to speak of indomitable angry soliloquies
on unequal battles,witchcraft,
burnt Queens and bald widows,
zenanas and feeble whispers
 
you strip this nocturnal chaos
passion strips patriarchy
bit by bit
for a new dawn
dismantling hierarchies
 
(Raaga:Special melodic modes used in traditional South Asian music genres like Indian classical music and qawwali.Hamsadhwani and Bhairavi are respectively evening and morning raagas.
Aaroh and Avaroh: Ascending and descending notations in a musical composition like a Raaga.
Zenana: The inner chamber of a house for the seclusion of women in India and Iran)
 
(Albanian translation of this poem was published in Gazetta Nacional in Albania)
 


                                 More Than Love 1


in strange mornings
when rivers turn into roots of memory
and skies into an orange pool of taboo
I often think about                      meeting you
like strangers                               across rooftops
sundances clouded by leaves of red spring
will not even stop us
from sharing glances                  across rooftops
how strangely you drape           my pashmina mornings
around your naked breasts
how strongly I feel
I know
my strangers                                 across rooftops
in a Bhupali morning like this
we shall meet each other
like strangers
more intimate                                than lovers