Haiku #11 – An Illogical Choice

Image Courtesy: slayerment.com

In this modern age,

Where science explains life itself;

Religion still rules.

Note: This Haiku is written in the Indian context where political leaders and pseudo-experts claim that cures to dreaded diseases are contained within religious texts without any proof.

Haiku #10 – Self-Destruct

Image Courtesy: indianajones.wikia.com

The world conspires,

Brings you knowledge and power;

To destroy yourself.

Banned!

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

The government has decided that anything that does not conform to their version of morality will be banned; in the interest of the nation of course. Any manuscript, painting, photograph or film that does not uphold the standards that our ‘conservative’ government holds true, will be removed from the history books so that the innocent minds of the country are not polluted by it. Any reproduction, for commercial purposes or otherwise will be disallowed and anyone even held on suspicion of talking about such things will be beaten up by the ideological goons that may or may not have the support of the government.

The idea of the freedom of expression in this country seems to be quite skewed when one notices that things relating to artistic expression, depiction of reality and the cause of showing society the mirror are viewed as being obtuse, rebellious even. And on the other hand, things relating to the apparently ‘correct’ view of society, such as they are; that is sanctioned by the government, are given a free hand even at the cost of the resignation of the entire censor board.

I suppose if and when there comes a time in the history of a nation when those who seek to portray the truth have to leave it and seek exposure and asylum in foreign nations, that nation is not ready to face its own ugly reflection in the mirror of reality. That nation is surely going down a path where the government doesn’t want to show the truth to the people and when that happens, I think it means all is not well in that nation.

If our government is not ready to accept the reality of an abominable incident that took place in the national capital under their very noses and is not ready to accept a film showing the inequities and shortcomings of the state machinery and the minds of the perpetrators, the government needs a reality check and a break from trying to keep the ugly truth from the people.

And if the government still wishes to just ban anything that is worthwhile, go ahead. We will just download the stuff and then upload it again till everyone gets to see what you’re trying to hide.

On Retribution…

I've always believed what goes around, comes around. You do good and good will come back. You do bad, that will surely come back. You do nothing; you’re dead weight on this planet. However, thinking about retribution all of a sudden, I penned down the verses below. These things happen when I go into these sudden episodes of words flowing into my brain. Some people call it inspiration, some people a muse, I call it both.

So, here is my poem on the age-old phrase, ‘Karma is a bitch.’

Karma is a Bitch

Coming back to haunt your dreams,

Your every moment;

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Karma is a bitch, they say.

Just because I can’t, she will.

She’s coming for you,

Karma is a bitch they say.

She has been lying in wait,

A stalker she is;

Karma is a bitch they say.

No matter how, when, where, why.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

She will strike, I’m sure;

Karma is a bitch they say.

When you did me wrong, she saw,

She smiled and waited;

Karma is a bitch they say.

And now that you are exposed,

She sharpens her scythe;

Karma is a bitch they say.

You cower and weep and beg,

She still smiles and swings;

Karma is a bitch they say.

-          Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

Haiku #9 – The Cost of Life

A haiku, a small contribution towards the awareness of an evil that thrives on sucking out the life of our society: our children. 

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

In poverty born,

Bred without bread, books, abode;

At a brothel sold.

Arnie and the Artist

Yesterday evening turned out to be a most distasteful one among many that I've had watching the Newshour. Arnie was interviewing Vishvas and the same was dominated by questions relating to his past career as a comedian and stand-up artist. Arnie had a lot of pointed questions about what the nation wanted to know, relating to the artists’ body of work.

It seems that Mr. Vishvas had made jokes on ‘sensitive’ topics like racism, sexism and religious fervour and admitted to them with the defence that they those comments were made in humour and as part of a script during a performance. It is therefore to be understood that they were not meant to hurt anyone’s feelings.

But, the Hand, finding no other reason to find fault with the Sweeper politician, had raked up his past and brought to light the blasphemy that he engaged in during his many performances as an artist. And Arnie, in all his wisdom about what the people of the nation want to know, engaged in a dubious and baseless debate about how a politician of his standing (which is none at the moment), could pass such remarks. This, despite the fact that Vishvas apologized on national television for inadvertently hurting anyone’s sentiments.

He also went on to add that though he had apologized, it did not mean that was wrong. He quoted many famous artists who had done the same and then reiterated that it was done in good humour and as a comedian only. But Arnie boy, adamant as ever to prove himself the advocate of the people, public prosecutor supreme and all knowing journalist general of the nation kept trying to shout him down and absolutely refused the defence of poetic licence.

Poetic licence, as given in the Oxford Dictionary:

[The freedom to depart from the facts of the matter or from conventional rules of language when speaking or writing in order to create an effect.]

Poetic licence, as given in the Encyclopaedia Britannica:

[The right assumed by poets to alter or invert standard syntax or depart from common diction or pronunciation to comply with the metrical or tonal requirements of their writing.

The term poetic license is also sometimes used in a humorous or pejorative sense to provide an excuse for careless or superficial writing.]

Now what part of that was not clear to Arnie, I know not. And though I believe his research team to probably be one of the best in the country; I’m disappointed that he would go out of his way to sensationalize something that the media might rather stay aloof from. At this point, I may even say that the channel may be compromised because of the way they have gone after an artist, instead of questioning the politician.

Haiku #8 – On Uttarayan…

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

The Kite soared above,

And then down she came crashing;

Killer? Homonym.

Haiku #7 – Ready Redemption

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Sins galore have I,

In acceptance lies the key;

Repentance absolves.

Haiku #6 – Knocking on Heaven’s Door

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With empty bellies,

Standing under heaven’s door;

The Lord will provide.

Haiku #5 – Despair

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Far off lights I see,

But just darkness here prevails;

Too close for comfort.

Haiku #4 – Blight

Photo Courtesy: Google Images.

Down with infection,

A viral contagion;

Common cold it is.

Haiku #3 – The Visitor

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Gulmohar’s carpet,

Laid to welcome it back home;

Summer’s here again.

Haiku #2 – The Miracle Worker

Image Courtesy: Google Images

On burning coals can Man walk,

But on the ocean’s

Living surface, only God.

Haiku #1 – An Act of God

Zeus pierces the clouds,

And the nectar gushes forth;

Impregnating Earth.

An Unexpected Saviour

Usually, as a poet, I am not moved by the rains. It’s kind of weird, I know. It’s a bummer! But that’s what happens to me. But this year, I don’t know what happened. A certain somebody drew my attention to the particularly heavy unseasonal rain in my town and suddenly words started forming in my head. I had to literally grab a pen and some paper from company stationery and scribble furiously to get everything down before the words got washed away in the deluge of emotions that it evoked in me.

An Unexpected Saviour

These dusty days are here to stay,

With their heat and sweat and blinding glare;

And lack of shade or shadow firm,

Till as far as the eye can see.

This lonely road upon which I walk,

Is fraught with absolutely naught,

But sand and rocks and sand some more;

That beg for company not.

Into the distance rises firm, 

A dust-dervish that turns so fast,

That safety cautions me to move –                    

A little faster still.

A full-blown West Wind hurls at me

And tears form in my eyes;

It tears at me and scours my throat,

And burns my very being.

Just as despair and death creep in,

Does hope shows its blessed face,

And come pregnant clouds from that very West Wind,

That sought to destroy me.

They shower upon the disturbed sands,

To sooth them back to sleep;

Each drop a blessing in disguise,

That succour me from peril.

                                                                                 -Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

The Locked Door

There has been a severe spate of happenings in our nation, those things that should not have happened and those things that are often not named or just spoken about in hushed whispers in polite society. Yes, I mean the issue of rape, female harassment, brutal beatings and murder. These things have been prevalent in the past too and it's not like there has been a sudden surge of such criminal behaviour that has hit our nation, it is simply that the media had nothing better to show, so they picked up this story and ran with it. I read about rape, suicides and killings almost everyday in the newspapers, however these everyday rapes don't become topics of national interest. Why? Just because they didn't happen in the capital of the nation? These things are very disturbing - to me of course, but I'm sure a few others must have also realized this folly.

Anyway, I'm digressing. So coming back to the matter at hand, families today have become very protective of the women in their households. I'm not generalizing here, merely stating what I've observed in my circles. They want the women to dress 'decently', not stay out 'late' at night, not get 'too friendly' with boys and to keep calling home every two hours to report in. 

What does this say of our society? 

What does it tell us of our attitudes towards these happenings? 

How have these happenings affected the mentality of the people?

These recent events have, in my opinion, endangered the Woman even more. She has become a captive in her own house, it seems. She may be safe physically (or so everyone seems to think), but Her spirit has been killed. Her freedom taken away and Her choices limited to those deemed safe for Her. These limitations may be seen as cruel bonds biting into the soul and everyone may blame the Woman's father for these chains tied to her ankles. But, reflect for a moment from the perspective of a father who is perhaps very scared and horrified by what he is seeing on the news and only wants the safety of daughter. Is he really to be blamed? Is it only His fault?

Well, I don't think so and thus I wrote a few lines taking inspiration from the experience of one of my friends. It describes the strife between a father and a daughter but it also comes with a realization at the end.

The Locked Door

(A daughter’s silent scream)

I remember the day I tried to fly, my first flight to redeem          

The blue beyond that called to me, though silent it so seemed;

The wind above, the clouds below, though frightful it all was,

My wings I poised, my feet I set, to take off into the sky.

The clouds then took a blackish hue, a shadow form above,

My protector there from all to save, his daughter to defend -

Came swooping down and set his wings around my little form,

And set me back and held me close and shut me off the edge.

I shrieked, I clawed, till bruised he got, but leave me he would not;

But I blame him not, his child I was, regardless of it all.

                                                                                       

     -Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

Quite a number of women among those who are my friends have agreed that they carry such a sentiment, but I would like to know if women over a large populace believe what I've written to be true. So I urge the women reading this post to make a comment, however you may feel.

Where Is Spring?

This is the first time that I’m putting up one of my poems on the blog. The poem is titled similar to the post, ‘Where is Spring?’ The first line of this poem is taken from P. B. Shelley’s , ‘ Ode to the West Wind’ which became part of his lyrical play, ‘Prometheus Unbound’. Percy Bysshe Shelley is considered to be one of the most eminent Romantic poets of his age in English literature. In the above-mentioned ode, he has written  about the west wind rejuvenating the land after long months of winter. However, this poem describes the utter hopelessness and despair of the human soul that has no chance at redemption.

Where Is Spring?

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

If Grief is here, can Joy be far behind?

These are but sayings, to be said and forgotten,

For the life you see, lives in winter eternal;

Where suffering rains from the clouds of despair,

And the smoke of sorrow threatens every ray of hope.

This clammy dampness clings tight to me,

These uneven stones cut into my feet,

This oppressive darkness seizes my heart,
This fiery cold grips my very heart.

I can hardly see but I can feel –

This Darkness closing in on me.

I went for them, oh one by one,

Played cat and mouse just for fun,

I hunted them down and tortured them,

I made them bleed and made them beg,

For the mercy I was not to give.

Yes, I killed You and You and You!

But now of what use is the truth?

YOU are gone and I am here,

Now Grief and Fear and Death haunt Me!

These shadows steal upon me now,

Those dark shadows now jump at me;

That staircase never seems to end,

The roof comes crashing down on me.

I fear that I’m losing my mind;

No time makes sense, just the season does.

This – lonely night – of cold –

Goes on and on and on…

And now at last have I realized,

There is no spring for me!

- Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

Yesterday – Today – Tomorrow…

I have this habit of writing down the things that either bother or intrigue me and these things often come flowing out in the form of something that you might call poetry. Since I realized that I might be on to something good here, I started arranging my thoughts because poetry is not just inspiration from the muses as much as the arranging technique, vocabulary and style of the poet himself/herself; or so William Wordsworth said. It has been around six years now that I've been writing stuff but only the past three in which I've received proper guidance from my cousin and literature professors to develop a style and to stop rhyming everything that I wrote. It was only then that I really started writing stuff that other people also seemed to think was pretty OK and not the childish nursery rhymes that I used to pass out earlier.

Now I often look back at my old poems and give a little nostalgic smile at how naive and rhyme-bound I used to be. Sometimes I also curl my lips up in disgust at some of the utter tripe that I’d written. But then I feel that it’s a part of life and that evolution or growth is an endless process and I realized that every few months or years when I looked back, I found something to laugh at, in my diary. This is now clear to me that however good you think you've become or whatever height you've achieved, there’s always space to still go ahead and do something better because as a species, we are always in the search of bettering ourselves.

Every few years, something or the other becomes obsolete, so is the case with knowledge. What we know today may be proven wrong tomorrow or may be presented with improvements to it. So, it’s impossible for something to remain stagnant and be needed. For example, water that has remained stagnant for too long develops algae and fungus and can no longer be used. But flowing water keeps cleaning itself and thus is vital to majority of organisms on the planet.

Thus it is not only change that is required but what is important is progress or moving forward. Because there is nothing like standing still. You either move forwards or you move backwards, there is no other way out. You stand still and are promptly left behind by the world which is progressing at an incredible rate. Especially in the AGE OF INFORMATION that we live in. Yes, I believe that the post-war and modern age are over, we are now in the age where information is the greatest tool as well as weapon depending upon its application. Communication is the key to any and all events taking place over the world and if you were to be left behind the times in terms of information and your surroundings, you cannot cope up with the world again and all you will be able to see is it’s bumper sticker that says, “Farewell sucker!”

This is what I think about keeping up with the times. If anyone feels otherwise or wants to augment what I've written, raid the comment box!