The writer from anywhere and everywhere when ponders on the question ' who am I?',receives some response in a lyric by the Assamese singer Bhupen Hazarika ....
" Ami ek jajabor' ( I am a gypsy ...)
Some of the writings including poems appeared in dissidentvoice.org, Leaves of Ink, Tuck Magazine, Virasam, Velivada, countercurrents.org, counterview.org, counterview.net, sabrangindia.in , etc.
Love with difference
I always wanted to love you;
But then ....something came in the way ....
My black tan looked dark
As your face shined like sun
The lackluster in my body
Was palpably visible
Causing annoyance to you
Every moment you looked at me...
My race, caste stood in the way
Like 'Rock of Gibraltar'
Disallowing any further communication
For propagation of ideas
I could not fulfill your dreams
Of presents - gifts to cherish
And save them as memorabilia ...
My poverty came in the way ...
Yet, I wanted to love you
But you were too realistic
Reminding me again and again
Of the vast gap ...
The wide difference
That love cannot bridge
Still, my one- sided love
Always relieves me from depressive moods..!
My resolute love reiterates
Though number of differences exist,
Loving you as human is possible ...
I am always fascinated by Nature
With its beauty and robust stature ...
The greenery, the colorful scenery
Flora and fauna bubbling in every
Nook and corner far and wide
From the blue sky to river side ...!
So amusing! So ecstatic!
So wonderful and electric!
But when it turns hostile
Life becomes futile
The sound and fury
The destruction in a flurry
Throws everything out of gear
Damaging all - far and near !
Enjoy the nature' s beauty!
Acknowledge its power of calamity!
This is unique dialectic
Mixture of both uniformity and behaviour erratic ...
Ideas and expressions cannot be hanged
Sounds and gestures cannot be executed!
Lives can be trampled
But their goals cannot be eliminated!
Where there is argument,
There is counter- argument
Where there are theists
There are also Atheists...
There were traditional conservatives
Neo- liberals, liberals and progressives
Each professed ones own philosophy
And claimed universality
Different shades of opinion
Cannot be crushed into one
Diversity in unity
Existed since eternity ....
Milk bottle in one hand hanging like a magic wand
And clutching a frail baby carefully with other hand,
She briskly walked through the thorny bushes crossing all hurdles
Treading muddy path with intermittent swamps and puddles
From the tiny hamlet to the health center
Supervised by a lonely quack who knew nothing but banter
She hastily thrust the baby into his arms
And looked at his face sensing alarms
Even before she could try to explain anymore
She could understand that her baby was no more
While she looked at the whitish milk bottle
The voice of the quack came at full throttle
With unemotional eyes and a heavy tone
Glancing at the bottle said,'Malnutrition' ....!
They marched forward
Without ever looking backward
Continued their stampede
And thought that they would succeed
In achieving their goal
Of terminating groups of ' small termites' soul .....
But they never thought that hereafter
The mutilated termites would come together
Back with increased resilience
Grit and vengeance
Prick their bodies again and again
So that they feel the pain
Inflicted earlier upon them with utter disdain
Insensitivity and sympathy feign