Friday, April 30, 2010

ख्याति व बाज़ार मूल्य

उसका गुंडाराज
उसकी ख्याति है
मेरी ईमानदारी
मेरी ख्याति है
हर कोई चाहता है
बनना साझेदार उसका
मेरा नहीं
क्योंकि नए साझेदार का हित
अधिक ख्याति मे है.

उसका स्कंध
मेरी तुलना मे
बहुत कम है
क्योंकि उसकी दुकान
अच्छी चलती है
उसकी बिक्री अधिक है
वास्तविकता यह है
कि स्कंध का मूल्याङ्कन
किया जाता है
इस आधार पर
बाज़ार मूल्य व पुस्तक मूल्य
जो भी कम हो
उसका बाज़ार मूल्य अधिक है
जबकि मेरा पुस्तक मूल्य.
उसकी वास्तविकता
निहित है - स्वार्थ में
अर्थात - उसके पुस्तक मूल्य में
जबकि मेरी वास्तविकता
परमार्थ मे -
अर्थात
बाज़ार मूल्य में...

(२४ अगस्त, १९९२, हर्मंन माइनर स्कूल, भीमताल, नैनीताल, उत्तरप्रदेश, उत्तरांचल)

इक्कीसवीं सदी और गांधीबाद

अनुभूति होती है.
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की.
जब कभी मैं,
सोचता हूँ,
उसका भविष्य,
देखता हूँ,
घरों मे काम करते मजदूर,
होटलों में,
वर्तन धोते बच्चे,
बेघरबार,
मजबूर,
गुन्गुनातें हैं,
'मेरा घर है स्वर्ग से सुंदर'
मेरा ह्रदय,
अवरूध बतलाता है,
उसका मार्ग,
क्योंकि मैं
गांधीबादी विचारधारा
का व्यक्ति हूँ.
---
अनुभूति होती है,
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की,
जब कभी मैं,
देखता हूँ,
यह लिखा हुआ कि,
'देखो सुअर फूल तोड़ रहा है'
मेरे विचार से,
विज्ञान इतनी
तरक्की कर रहा है,
आज फूल,
कल स्कूल,
मात्र पावं की धूल,
मेरी आंखें,
मेरी विचारधारा,
अवरूध बतलाती है
उसका मार्ग,
क्योंकि मैं,
गांधीबादी विचारधारा
का व्यक्ति हूँ..
---
अनुभूति होती है,
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की,
जब कभी मैं,
देखता हूँ,
बस चलाता ड्राईवर,
सिगरेट को मुहं लगाये,
धुआं फेंकता है,
'धूम्रपान निषेध' पर
मेरी आंखें,
अवरूध बतलातीं है,
उसका मार्ग,
क्योंकि मैं,
गांधीबादी विचारधारा
का व्यक्ति हूँ.
---
अनुभूति होती है,
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की,
जब कभी,
कोई बीमा एजेंट,
जीवन को
असुरक्षित बताता है,
अर्थात
जीवन के आगे
प्रश्नचिंह लगाता है,
मेरी विवशता का
लाभ उठाता है,
मेरी विचारधारा,
अवरूध बतलाती है
उसका मार्ग,
क्योंकि मैं
गांधीबादी विचारधारा
का व्यक्ति हूँ.
---
अनुभूति होती है,
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की,
जब कभी
मैं देखता हूँ,
व्यक्तियों को,
मित्रों को,
मंदिर के सामने,
मत्था टेकते,
घंटा हिलाते,
हाथ जोडते,
मंदिर से गायब मूर्तियाँ,
मेरी विवशता को
सहलाती हैं,
दान-पात्र मे पड़ा दान,
मेरे लिए
प्रेरणा बन जाता है,
क्योंकि मैं
गांधीबादी विचारधारा
का व्यक्ति हूँ.
---
अनुभूति होती है,
इक्कीसवीं सदी के
भारत की,
जब कभी मैं,
देखता हूँ,
उस कुली को
बजन उठाते, खेती करते
बस कंडक्टर से
लडते-झगडते
शाम को,
मधुशाला के द्वार पर,
मधुबाला के नाम पर,
सोंचता हूँ,
उसका भविष्य,
शोध करवाता है,
अपने विषय पर,
मेरा अध्ययन,
मेरा मस्तिष्ट,
मेरा ह्रदय,
गहनता समझने का
प्रयास करता है,
लेखनी,
थक सी जाती है,
'जियो और जीने दो'
दोहराती है,
समस्त विचारों को
एकत्र बतातीं हैं,
प्रश्न कर जातीं हैं,
क्या! क्या!
तुम गांधीवादी हों,
स्वयं को गांधीवादी कहते हों,
शर्ट और पैंट मे,
सूट और टाई मे,
एक चादर मैली सी,
पैरों मे खडाऊं,
क्या! क्या!!
तुम झूठ कहते हों,
मूर्ख हों,
कष्ट सहते हों,
स्वयं को
गांधीवादी कहते हों,
मेरा सटीक सा उत्तर,
मैं गांधीवादी नहीं,
मेरी विचारधारा
गांधीवादी है,
यहाँ
विचारों की आंधी है,
यहाँ
विचारों की आंधी है...

(२३ दिसम्बर १९८८, तिलक कालोनी, सुभाष नगर, बरेली, उत्तर प्रदेश)
हिंदी साहित्य परिषद्, बरेली द्वारा 1988 में पुरुस्कृत रचना

Monday, April 26, 2010

जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ

जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ, 
मेरी लेखनी,
मुझे बिवश करती है,
अपने स्पर्श को,
लेकिन मैं उस घड़ी की
प्रतीक्षा करता हूँ,
जब मैं स्वयं,
उसके स्पर्श को
बिवश होऊं.
बिवषता के अंधकार में,
उजियारे मात्र को
चमकाने के लिए,
लेखनी थामकर बहुत कुछ
सोचता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

कभी गीत, कभी ग़ज़ल,
कभी कविता,
साहित्य,
हर क्षेत्र में विचरण
करने के पश्चात्,
निष्कर्ष निकालने में
स्वयं को असमर्थ पता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

कभी भूत तो कभी भविष्य,
बीते कल को याद करता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

वास्तविकता की पुस्तकें,
अपनी रुआंसी हंसी को,
होठों के चुम्बन के लिए
बाध्य करती हैं,
अपनी बीती हुई गाथा,
दोहराती हैं,
याद करती हैं.
वे जो कमल के पुष्प के समान,
कीचड़ मे भी मुस्करातीं थीं,
अठखेलियाँ किया करती थीं,
शाम को सांझ डलते,
कभी कभी उस द्रश्य को
याद करता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

बीते हुए क्षण
अकेले मे ही याद आते हैं,
अश्रुओं की वर्षा,
तो कभी,
ख़ामोशी के ओले,
अपनी-अपनी कथा,
स्वयं ही सुनाते है.
आशाएं और आकांक्षाएं,
गीले कागज़ पर
लिखे कुछ अक्षर,
जिस प्रकार
फ़ैल से जाते हैं,
इसी प्रकार,
बीते समय की छवि
गीली आँखों से
देखता हूँ,
सोचता हूँ,
तत्पश्चात निष्कर्ष,
रोता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

भविष्य,
अर्थात - आने वाला कल,
मात्र कल्पना के अंधकार मे
फंस जाता है,
जब कभी बीता हुआ कल
याद आता है.
कल्पनाओं को संचित करने के लिए,
स्वयं के मस्तिष्ट को,
स्वयं को,
असमर्थ पाता हूँ,

जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

मानवीय शरीर के छिद्रों के समान,
कल्पनाएँ,
अनगिनत हैं,
कुछ छिद्र सरलता से
दृष्टिगत होते हैं,
ठीक उसी प्रकार
कुछ कल्पनाएँ,
महत्ता/आवश्यकता दर्शाती हैं,
वाकी सब वकवास नज़र आती हैं,
फिर भी वकवास पर अधिक
ध्यानाकर्षित करता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ.

कलम की स्याही,
स्वतः ही,
कुछ हल्की सी होती जाती है,
आखिर वह भी
अपनी व्यथा दर्शाती है,
बिना आंसुओं का रोना रोती है,
विना निद्रा के
सो सी जाती है,
बिना दर्द के कराहती है,
अंततः
स्वयं को कुछ उभारने मे
असमर्थ पाती है,
उसके इस विचित्र रूप को
समझने का
प्रयत्न करता हूँ,
जब कभी मैं अकेला होता हूँ...

(७ जुलाई १९८६ - तिलक कालोनी, सुभाष नगर, बरेली, उत्तर प्रदेश)

Friday, April 16, 2010

मेरा नेहू

मेरा नेहू, संस्थान महान है

जब जब सूरज उगता है
जब जब चाँद निकलता है 
जैसे जैसे, किरण बड़े
दिन के तेवर और चड़े
कल-कल, थल-थल, बूँद गिरें 
नदी, झील, तालाब भरें 
ऋतुओं का परिवर्तन, एक मेहमान है 
मेरा नेहू, संस्थान महान है
















बंद रखो मुंह, आंखें खोलो
कर्ण-प्रिय भाषा ही बोलो 
आपस मे दीवारें कम हों 
हाथ मिलाकर दिल को टटोलो.
जैसा हों बस, हों जाने दो 
लेकिन दिल मत खो जाने दो 
रिश्तो में इतनी दूरी क्यों 
हल कर लूं इस एक प्रश्न को 
जीवन का बस एक यही अरमान है 
मेरा नेहू, संस्थान महान है.

भिन्न-भिन्न पौधों को सींचें 
भिन्न संस्कृतियों को भींचे
हर कोने का प्रतिनिधित्व है 
हर इक का अपना अस्तित्व है.
देश का कोना-कोना बोले 
समतल बोले, हिमतल बोले 
फिर भी भेदभाव क्यों इनमें 
मुझको तो लगता है जैसे 
मेरा नेहू, इक लघु हिंदुस्तान है 
सबका नेहू, संस्थान महान है.

पूरब से पश्चिम को देखा 
उत्तर-दक्खिन खींची रेखा 
सीमाओं से परे हटाकर 
मानवता का दर्पण देखा.
प्यार दिखाकर बैर भी देखा 
हंसकर देखा, रोकर देखा 
सबकी आँख, भिगोकर देखा 
बिन टांगों का जोकर देखा 
मिटकर देखा, मिटते देखा 
वाक् युद्ध मे, पिटते देखा 
जुड़ते देखे, कुड़ते देखे 
सही मोड़ पर  मुडते देखे 
ऐसा देखा, वैसा देखा 
बिन मूल्यों का पैसा देखा 
छोटे देखे, मोटे देखे 
बिन पैंदे के, लोटे देखे 
लम्बे देखे, पतले देखे 
कुछ सिक्कों पर मचले देखे 
रोते देखा, हंसते देखा 
जंजालों में, फंसते देखा
खाते देखे, पीते देखे
मर-मर कर भी  जीते देखे
झूठे देखे, सच्चे देखे 
सबसे प्यारे, बच्चे देखे 
बच्चे रोशन करें नाम को 
मेरा एक छोटा सा यह अरमान है 
उनका नेहू , संस्थान महान है .

नेहू का , नेहुटा देखा 
बिन फादर का बेटा देखा 
इन्टरनेट का एक्शन देखा 
नेहुटा का इलेक्शन देखा. 
क्लास पदाते, टीचर देखे 
उनके अच्छे, फ्यूचर देखे 
कभी नहीं हड़तालें देखीं 
नहीं चडाते मालें देखीं.
बिल्डिंग देखी, सड़के देखीं 
बिना बात पर, भड़कें देखीं.
इसका देखा, उसका देखा
नेहू ब्रांड का चस्का देखा.
लडते और लड़ाते देखे 
पड़ते और पदाते देखे 
करते और छिपाते देखे 
लिखते और छपाते देखे.
मेरा अनुभव सारा सपना
इसका-उसका, मेरा अपना.
मिलकर रहना, खिलकर रहना
काम करें तो पिलकर रहना.
जीता देखा, हारा देखा
बिन गिनती का पहाड़ा देखा 
सब कुछ देखा, कुछ ना देखा 
आँख खोलकर सपना देखूं 
ऐसी क्या श्रोत्रिय की झूठी शान है 
मेरा नेहू , संस्थान महान है ,
उनका नेहू, संस्थान महान है,
सबका नेहू, संस्थान महान है ….

(18th July 2009, House no L 57, nehu campus, Shillong: Meghalaya)
Tomorrow is nehu foundation day and I have been asked to recite a poem, so this composition took birth…. Thanx to all those events, individuals and objects which have inspired me to compose this.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

मेरी उड़ान

तुमने, क्यों दिए मुझे पंख?
उड़ने के लिए ! सचमुच.

उड़ने का साहस, जब कभी मैने किया,
धरती ने खींचा है मुझे,
अपनी ओर.

पंख प्रदानकर,
मुझे ज़मीन मे गिरा दिया,
मैने देखा है
मेरी स्वतंत्रता पर लगा प्रश्नचिन्ह,
इन पंखों के कारण.

काश - मेरे पंख न होते.
न होता, कदापि, दिशाओं का युद्ध,
एक दिशा, एक मंतव्य, एक उद्वेश्य,
यह 'एक' ही प्रदान करता,
संतुष्टि, सौहार्द्, व प्रतिष्ठा.

पंख विहीन हूँ मैं, पंख होते हुए भी,
क्योंकि कोई 'एक' दिशा नहीं है.
यदि पंख दिए तो दिशा भी देता.

तू सोचता है, तुने बहुत कुछ दिया,
दिया - हाँ अवश्य दिया -
बहुत कुछ -
बलिदान -
आर्थिक, मौद्रिक व अमौद्रिक,
सामाजिक व शारीरिक,
मेरे पंखों के लिए.

मुझे पंख दिए (दिशाविहीन) ,
ओर छोड़ दिया,
झाड़ियों के जंगल में,
उड़ने के लिए.

जब जब मैने उड़ने का प्रयास किया,
धरती ने खींचा है, मुझे, अपनी ओर,
झाड़ियों से युद्ध करने मे,
रिसा लहू,
क्योंकि कोई 'एक' दिशा न थी.

तुमने एहसान किया,
मुझे पंख देकर.

काश!
तुम समझ सकते,
मेरे पंखों से रिसते लहू की पीड़ा.

तुमको इसकी अनुभूति मात्र मुझे पंख देने का परिणाम है...

6th Feb 1996, 10 PM, Qr No 29, Kanglung: Bhutan

मेरे सपने

मेरे सपने अपने थे, जब हम केवल अपने थे
आज मुझे मालूम हो गया, सपने कितने अपने थे

कितने भी दुःख, कष्ट, सजाएँ, हंस के सब कुछ सह लेंगें हम
जीवन की हर धुंध ओड़कर, अन्धकार मे रह लेंगें हम 
नहीं झुकेंगे कभी कहीं हम, ऐसे देखे सपने थे
सपने केवल अपने थे, जब हम केवल अपने थे

हर मुश्किल अच्छी लगती थी, जैसे कोई नया सवेरा
नई किरण की नई रौशनी, नया नया सपना था मेरा 
नहीं कभी समझौता खुद से, ऐसे देखे सपने थे 
सपने कितने अपने थे, जब हम केवल अपने थे 

कोई शूल चुभा जैसे हो, आशाओं का धुंधला पड़ना 
कब तक पतझड़ को देखे हम, ऋतुओं से कब तक हो लड़ना 
रिश्तो मे इतनी दूरी क्यों, क्यों ये सपने अपने थे 
सपने कितने अपने थे, जब हम केवल अपने थे
मेरे सपने अपने थे, सपने कितने अपने थे.  

२८ जुलाई १९९९: ५:३० संध्या : कान्ग्लुंग : भूटान  

अपेक्षा

नहीं अपेक्षा, नहीं प्रतीक्षा
नहीं नहीं, इक सपना था
मैं अपना था, केवल अपना
और न कोई, अपना था

आंखें प्यासी, चेहरा झुलसा
और ऋतु ने, कहर किया
डर लगता है, उस प्रकाश से
कभी नहीं जो, अपना था

जीवित हूँ, पर मृत से बदतर
दंड मिला, किन कृत्यों का
आशाओं की बगिया मे ही
जीवन मेरा दफना था

मेरे सारे सुख, तुम ले लो
अपने सब दुःख, मुझको दे दो
तुम खुश हो, बस यही अपेक्षा
एक यही, बस सपना था

तेरे आंसूं, मेरी आंखें
दर्द कभी मत तुम सहना
ईश्वर, भाग्य, नहीं कुछ भी सच
मात्र कर्म ही, अपना था... 

(२२ जुलाई १९९९: १०:३० रात्रि: घर संख्या २९, शेरुब्त्से कॉलेज, कान्ग्लुंग: भूटान)

शिलांग मे पंद्रह अगस्त

मैने सोचा भाव कुछ बढने लगे हैं
क्या कहूं अब शब्द भी लड़ने लगे हैं
समय की करवट को देखो आप अब
आदमी से आदमी डरने लगें हैं

फूल काँटों में खिले मंजूर है
दवा जो भी दर्द दे मंजूर है
ज़िन्दगी मे हर समय सुख हो मगर
एक पल भी कष्ट हो तो क्रूर है

रात देखी सन्न है, खामोश है
सड़क, वाहन, चाल सब मदहोश है
देश की स्वतंत्रता का है मज़ाक
स्वप्न आँखों मे मगर मदहोश हैं...

15 August 2006: Shillong: India

जब जब मैने, आँखें खोलीं

जब जब मैने, आँखें खोलीं 
मेरी आँखें, मुझसे बोलीं 
मुझ पर तुम विश्वास करो मत 
स्वप्नों की तुम आस करो मत 
मुझको तुम स्थिर रहने दो 
मूकों की भाषा कहने दो 
कर्ण प्रिय शब्दों की दुनिया 
करबट लेकर आँखें खोलीं 


मेरी आँखें, मुझसे बोलीं
जब जब मैने, आँखें खोली


सीधा  साधा, गुणा घटाना
क्षण भर को ही, जीवन माना

कंधे  झुके, झुके थे मस्तक
नहीं कहीं थी, कोई दस्तक
छुप कर क्यों, वह वार किया था
पहचानो गोली की बोली 
मेरी आँखें, मुझसे बोलीं
जब जब मैने, आँखें खोली

उठना, उड़ना, उड़ना, उठना 
आसमान पर टिकता घुटना 
बिन पंखों के उड़ा जा रहा 
हर ऋतु का था, मजा आ रहा 
हल्की सी, उसकी आहट ने 
पलकों पर की, ठाक-ठिठोली 



तब जब मैने, आँखें खोलीं
मेरी आँखें, मुझसे बोलीं


आँखों की भाषा विचित्र है 
हर आहट का मानचित्र है 
आँखों से वह कह सकते हो 
शब्द कोष मे वह सकते हो 
बिन अधरों, बिन उच्चारण के 
वर्णन उसमे, हर कण कण के 
सूखी, गीली या पथरीली 
भूरी, धानी, हरी या नीली
आँखों को, आंखे ही समझें 
मेरी आंखें, मुझसे बोलीं 

जब जब मैने, आंखें खोलीं
मेरी आंखें, मुझसे बोलीं.


(21st April 2005, Shillong : India)

एक पत्र नवाज शरीफ के नाम

कितने वीर शहीद हुए हैं, कारगील के हाथों मे
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

हम सब सीना तान खडें हैं, बहुत दिनों से नहीं लड़े हैं
शायद तुमको खबर नहीं है, कितने हमने दर्द सहे हैं
हमको अब विश्वास हो गया, देश भक्ति की बातो मे
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

बस लेकर लाहौर चले हम, द्वेष भाव को भुला चले हम
एक नयी शुरुआत करेंगे, ऐसा लेकर ख्वाब चले हम
कायरता का रूप दिखा है, तुमसे शरीफ नवाजो में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

हमने तुमको गले लगाया, तुमने पीछे छुरा दिखाया
द्रास, बटालिक ओर बडे तुम, लेकिन नहीं होश मे आया
दब जायेगी तेरी बोली, जी-८ आवाजों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

पाकिस्तान होश मे आओ, अफगानों पर मत इतराओ
दम कितना है, देखें तो हम, सीने से सीना टकराओ
याद दिला देंगे तुमको हम, दूध छटी का लातों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

प्रथ्वी पर बलिदान हो रहा, जन गण मन का गान हो रहा
बहनों का सिन्दूर, किसी का बेटा भी कुर्बान हो रहा
इक शमशान उपहार मिलेगी, बर्फ घिरी चट्टानों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

अमरीका का प्यार मिला था, चीनो का दुलार मिला था
हँसते खेल रहे भारत को, कश्मीरों का साथ मिला था
सबने दिखा दिए अपने, तेवर तुमको अखबारों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

करूणा बरस रही आँखों से, चारों ओर उपहास हो रहा
घर का भेदी लंका ढावे, ऐसा कुछ आभास हो रहा
कुछ भी कर लो पेशावर में, गिनती है गद्दारों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

अब तो सोच लिया है हमने, यदि युद्ध नहीं लगता है थमने
रक्त की उस गर्मी से देखो, बर्फ नहीं देंगे हम जमने
नहीं देख पाओगे तुम फिर, पाक कहीं इतिहासों में
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

कितने वीर शहीद हुए हैं, कारगील के हाथों मे
इक इक का हम बदला लेंगे, कह दो रिश्ते नातों मे

(2nd July 1999, 4:30 AM, Kanglung: Bhutan)
(dedicated to the martyrs of Kargil War...when we use to watch on TV that every day the dead bodies of our army men was brought in the cover of our national flag... it was a terrible time, for their parents and near and dear ones.... as well for us indians who were in Bhutan, we use to discuss and pay homage to our fellow friends fighting for our country on the frontiers....I composed this poem and shared with many of my friends there....)

Saturday, April 10, 2010

EMOTIONAL HEAVEN

Emotional Heaven of Physical satisfaction
Proportional gain of Manual experimentation
Tempting backs and smiling hints
Filling pots, leaving no footprints.

Deriving pleasure of life
In the absence of a wife
Laughing up and laughing down
Management makes you a better clown.

Full satisfaction, no production
Emotional Heaven needs to have must introduction.

(31st May, Exam duty 9 to 12 AM in MPH with U Pelgen & Paul, at 11:30 am, Shercol: Kanglung: Bhutan)


The words 'Emotional Heaven' were used by Lhato Jamba in the farewell speech for Mr Somnath on 30th May 2000 and further he added that Mr Somnath provided him Emotional Heaven which one usually gets from ladies. Some colleagues understood it as some indication of being gay.

I AM TIRED

Am I getting tired?
Chirping of the birds,
days after nights,
and
nights after days,
penetrating through
window panes,
would not last much.
From life
as if I am fired.
Am I getting tired?

Gaping at the half moon,
Oh! Moon,
Sun after Moon,
and
Moon after Sun,
showering diamond drops
through the eyes of sky.
May be tomorrow or thus,
Or, if I am admired.
Am I getting tired?

Vying with that banyan tree,
which has seen,
Spring after Rain,
and
Rain after Spring,
Unchanged, unlike chameleon,
through the tilting of leaves.
Shadow to be hired.
Am I getting tired?

Swimming in the standstill lake,
Or dead-body on an ice cake.
Resting after being tired.
Tired of having done
unwanted unwillingly.
Tired of having seen
things at wrong places.
Tired of having behaved differently, unwillingly.
Tired of admiring
the wrong.
Tired of having
Pretended, willingly.
Tired of Things,
People and Places.
Tired of Everything, Everybody.

I can feel
The melting ice,
without any prejudice.
I would wake up tomorrow.
That tomorrow which
never comes.
That tomorrow which
never dies.

But not today.
Fearing to be fired.
Today I am tired.
I am really tired.

(19th Feb 1998 at 5:30 pm, Qr No 29: Shercol: Kanglung: Bhutan: while in fever)

I MISS YOU

When I enter our bed room
instead of bed
I look at the broom
more of the clothes to see
and the dust floating
all around the room
I get tempted to touch your clothes
just to console my heart
of your symbolic presence
of your sweet touch
and the feel of that fragrance
you are with me
all the while
when I miss you
I feel your presence.

Becoming impatient at times
waiting for tomorrow
tomorrow of hope,
happiness and
of togetherness
filling smoke all around the room
and trying to stay
in this peculiar smell of smoke
I know I can not choke
getting habituated to it
but I am sure you would appear one day
and this smoke would provide
odour of real life
and would make us gay
my tears would not stop falling
but might have more density
remembering the days of your physical absence
for you it may not make much sense
but I still feel your presence
when I am alone and
when I miss you.

Whenever I go through -
‘when hearts are loyal distances make not difference’
I become assured
of your dear and sweet love
love that comes
from bottom of your heart
love that makes me feel
of your presence inside me
and of course willingly
or unwillingly
my presence within you
inside you
can I feel the way you feel my presence
can I be of any physical help
I wish if I could
I know my presence must be disturbing you
in my absence
may be it may not disturb you
as much as in my presence
I do not want to miss you
in your presence
be far
far off
but do not allow me to miss you
I already have missed you a lot
but I confess honestly
I miss you as much
as if
I do not have life as such
I miss you very much.
I miss you very much.

(14th August 1999, 2:30 am early morning when DD Metro is showing Gumrah hindi movie)

INVIGILATING

Standing, moving and sitting,
Chatting, checking and
Sometime sipping.
Knowing, not so well,
The speed of their pen
And the flow of the liquid
From their pen.
While I am standing
Moving and invigilating.

Their dry ink-pots
may intend to convey
The end of pen’s life.
It should not dry up
because
Continuation is Life.

But I cannot but witness,
their dry faces and wet hair,
their targeting eyes and
the movements of their eyeballs,
their drying pens and pots,
keeping of their pens,
in pen whole,
closing of their boxes,
turning pages to see
the effect of used ink,
and the eyes
without a blink.

I enjoy it
While I am standing,
Moving and invigilating.


(2nd Dec 1998 at 4:10 pm Exam duty in MPH with Ganguli)

LIMITED RESOURCES UNLIMITED IMAGINATION

Blacks –
Are we blacks?
Do we really hoard?
We just need a black board.

Within limited resources,
can we ourselves force?
Cries of destitute,
Abandoned and homeless,
Healing benches,
And sounding chairs.
Smiling faces of theirs.

What would be the fate,
of this nation?
Just can we depend on
Unlimited Imagination?

(July 1996 in Sherubtse when I asked a black board for class XII, Vice principal (Mr Thakur Singh Powdyel) told me that I should use imagination since we have limited resources and unlimited imagination)

MEETING

Meeting of two hearts,
may not be,
meeting of two souls.
Meeting of two bodies,
may not be,
meeting of two hearts.
Meeting of two minds,
may not be,
meeting of two bodies.
Meeting of two hands,
may not be,
meeting of two minds.

Alas!
I pray –
Not infront of an Altar,
Or a Picture.
Let it be so!
If not
Then
The Meeting would be,
a meeting
- of two rivals,
- of two parallel lines,
which would
give effect to
pretensions,
and which would give birth
to two living dead bodies.
(Birth of dead-bodies)
Not exactly living,
But moving dead bodies,
without a slightest feel of
Sense of Direction.


(2nd Dec 1998 – 2:55 pm Exam Duty in MPH with Ganguli)

MAY BE OR MAY NOT BE

Counting nights,
without her.
Does she also have nights?
When this counting would end?
And would begin
another counting.
Her nights would end,
with the beginning of our nights.
That counting would be ours.

My days are not numbered,
but nights.
That counting would be for days,
not nights.

Darkness of nights,
and brightness of days,
would reverse in its reflection.

Counting of days for nights,
and counting of minutes for days,
would keep on be there,
till the last breath of life.
Till the theory of
‘Time’
is practiced.


(23rd March 1998 at 11:45am Exam duty in Room No NB(A))

NEW LIFE

Dying,
with an expectation of
New life.

Life,
not a sign of death.
Without its fear and fancy.
Imagining
Life after Death.
Hoping it, to be better
than the present one.

Depending on better tomorrow.
Tomorrow –
always better than today.
Today –
Always better than yesterday.
Past –
Present –
And Future.
When
Death would be Past,
And the Life
Present,
I would wake up,
for that
Fresh beginning of Life.

Life,
which would be unperishable,
but not be so revealing.
Life,
which would be undramatic,
but not be so relieving.
Life, which would be uncrowdy,
but not be so lonely,
So disturbing.


(2nd Dec 1998 – 2:40pm
Exam duty in MPH with Ganguli)

PAST CANNOT STAY

It is not that
the Sun would stop lighting
and stars would stop shining.
It is not that
the warmth would cause uneasiness
or the cold would cause more pleasure.

Past can not stay!
Realising this truth - I say,
living in Present -
with pretended satisfaction
and unwilling happiness,
that -
this would give us
light in the day.

Not that my intentions are calculated,
not a penny of that (as a matter of fact).
The devastation of
the Mother Nature would
guide our way to Future.
The Future -
- a cold wave,
- a reaction of an action,
- falling of the blooming flowers
- and shaking of the Earth,
no dearth.
Till when?

The Future –
plantations –
an effort to begin life,
upholding the stem
to the deepest possible corner
without a slightest murmur,
Till when?

Sure -
Past cannot stay!
more than its due age.
past cannot become future,
irrespective of the behaviour of
the Mother Nature.

But sure,
future has to become past,
in all the regions,
and in all the nations.
Please No Miscalculations.

Believe it –
past cannot stay!
Bulls would keep on fighting,
dogs would keep on barking,
birds would not stop chirping,
crows would not stop crowing.

Everybody would keep on working,
every work would go on.
Eating, sleeping, washing, Cleaning,
and so on.

People would grow old,
rain, summer and cold.
It would grow,
whatever we sow.

But still I say -
past cannot stay!

Listening to the pompous voices,
using jargons without choices.
need for an attitudinal change
and a step towards cultural exchange.
Angles of wishes
and salutations.
Habitual of living in
so called rich past,
rich for it’s compelled obedience,
and supportive fence.
Rich for being land-locked,
and not being blocked.
All open
anything anytime,
everything everytime.
All the way,
just think
can Past Stay?

Past cannot become Present.
Present –
taller trees,
polluted rivers,
wider roads,
diluted covers.
Medicated filtered water,
for so called better life
and better future.
Procrastinating the arrival of tomorrow.
Flowering ideas and vision,
hippocratic behaviour and mission.
Smiling face
while keeping crying heart.
Showing happiness
while being sad.
Claiming bachelor-hood
while being Dad.
Till when?
Till then –
I say –
Even present cannot stay!
Present can never be future.
But when would future be Present?
Our own future
not very personal
but very selfless
and eternal.

(31st March 1999 - Exam duty in MPH with Antony. 9:30 to 11:45 am)

TRANSITION

Sleeping,
Unlike before,
being the same body
And soul,
as before.
Sleeping,
when there is no sleep
in eyes.
Turning right,
turning left,
Marking the eye on the cleft.
Keeping the head,
in and out the quilt,
on and off the pillow,
far off
from the eyes' glow.

Conditioning the body,
for the nights ahead,
and the days,
far behind.
Preparing the bed,
for the weight ahead,
and the sound,
far behind.
Building a Room -
Room inside room,
for sharing happiness
And sorrows
within that room,
not beyond.
Without keeping the eyes,
Full of pond.

From sleepless nights,
to dreamless nights,
The Transition is
Full of Imagination
and Expectation,
Full of commitment
and sacrifice,
And of Devotion too.

2nd Dec 1998 at 3:35pm Exam duty in MPH with Ganguli

WELCOME HOME!

With both of my hands folded,
And the deepest of the deep of my heart wide open,
May I welcome, our family members back home here in the Sherubtse family.
I welcome you from the heat of summers,
To the rain and showers.
Heat does not cheat with the near and dear ones,
Rain does not drain with not so near and dear ones.
Willows of Wet Weeping Cyprus and that of Pine,
Welcome you home with some pious drops of old wine.
Lucky friends had an auspicious ride,
I am sure, you must all have enjoyed.

Every session, every new academic year, every season of rain,
Sherubtse feels fresh, becomes richer, in quantum and volume, in totality,
Of its very own version.
Dear, new family members, I welcome you to this sweet home,
Sweet for its environment, sweet for its people,
And sweet for all good-sweet things.
This small learning hub would certainly provide you the atmosphere,
Very positive in thought and very creative in nature.

This session i.e. 2000-2001 would be the first session of this century,
Of this millennium.
This brand new academic year of Sherubtse should promise
The Royal Government of Bhutan,
Of a better quality of education,
Of a better quality of graduates,
Of a better quality of educated citizens, and above all,
Of a better quality of human beings.

Nothing in retrospect,
The euphoria of new thought
For a better and challenging future,
Sherubtse should sail in.
For a better tomorrow of dream,
Sherubtse should sail in.
For the kings of knowledge and serpents of untruth,
Sherubtse should sail in.
For doing the undone, completing the incomplete,
For our good, for their good, for the good of humanity,
Sherubtse should sail in.

We might witness expansion of our boundaries,
Expansion of our wings, our physical boundaries of the campus.
We might witness larger number of new entrants.
We might witness crude constructions and few invisible promotions.
But all this would be of real worth
If we witness the expansion in the horizon of our thought,
Of our thinking.
Our thinking for humanity as a human being,
Just as a plain human being.

NPs and Palas would have to stock more,
Jigmes and Choedas would have to increase the size of the door.
And the prices would accordingly soar.
Little more greenies in the Sunday market,
Affecting not so much my deep pocket.
A projected by-pass from above upper market
To little ahead of Rongthong,
May be just as we have one in Dewothong.
More bricks and more sand,
Good musicians with a proper band.
Good periodicals and better books,
Yes, why not, we might have some very good looks.
Students more, teachers more,
Buildings more, rooms more,
Playgrounds more, coaches more,
Computers more, channels more,
Facilities more, Ngultrums more,
What to do,
Yeh dil maange more.

Tashi Delek

WHY PEOPLE ASK

What is your father?
Which is your country?
You come from which university?
Do you belong to that big city?
I just feel a pity.

They do not stop here and go.
I do not know,
how they dare and know.
I am from a village,
may be not of your age.
Does it matter?
My father is a peasant,
may be illiterate,
it is my fate.
Does it matter?
I studied at University Zhoomri Tallaiya.
You might have studied at Oxford Bhaiya.
But does it matter?
What you are and what am I?
Lets concentrate on it,
Just try.
Be yourself and do not use mask.
If you can, than just you ask,
yourself but not me.
Is it you or thee?
You may reach somewhere.
You may not then dare.

(5th April 1995, Kanglung: Bhutan)

YOU CAN

You can climb any peak
you can swim in the waters of rivers
you can reach any height
you can cross any limit
but remember
do not let you sink
do not let you bow down
do not let yourself die
if you really want to live life
Life of a being...

WORLD EARTH DAY – 2000

Men of Tomorrow and Tomorrow is Earth Day,
Sickle like Moon and what not to pray.
Seventy Two percent we have forest coverage,
Let us conserve beyond average.
Development, conservation and talk of acid rain,
Let’s join hands and not let it go in drain.

Chirping of the birds and there is Ozone Layer,
Polluted water and the stream, still fair.
Long long trees and long long saws,
Black necked crane and crocodile’s jaws.

Jumping monkeys and dumping dolls,
Smoking factories and crying polls.

Singye Karm deserves luck, better than the best,
What is our role, let’s just have test.

[College auditorium at 9 PM on 21st April 2000, on the eve of World’s Earth Day during a debate competition organized by Singye Karm (Nature club of Sherubtse College, Bhutan), I was one of the judges.]

Friday, April 9, 2010

WHEN I GREW BEARD

The harvest gets ready
for the season of spring
and the oath taken on the pillar
of a self-made temple
seems to be fulfilled.

Keen for cutting the harvest
and getting ready to take
another oath for the next target
or following self-ruled routine.

Day by day it gets thicker
and thicker, showing
some uneasiness to others,
giving chance to
their non-expressing minds
some expression of thought
‘sir looks desparate’,
I overheard
When I grew beard.

Forgot my own reasons
given to them by me,
by my ownself long back
sometime for my so-called desparateness.

Talking about my eating style
without disturbing my inner self
and outer side showing them
the marks of rich recipes.

Scratching every now and then
and cutting maintenance cost
by manual maintenance.

Do I really look old in you,
I tend to feel when they say so.
Why should they be taken so seriously.
‘Sir is doing another Ph D’
I heard
When I grew beard.

There are lies,
may be a safe place
to roam around
for flies.

Covering my lips
and obstructing many times
for their better optional use.

Hiding a pit covered
all over with grass around.
Releasing words without obstruction
and showing its genuine place.

I have to think a lot
before it gets thicker
and for being able to tell the reason
of its thickness,
of its being thick.

The weather gets cold
and I have got a reason to be told,
Yes for winters
I get geared,
When I grow beard.

Yes I am getting old,
at times I have reasons
to feel desperate
and yes there is an oath
in waiting for her,
I am not BenHur.

Just a person like anybody
with emotions.
I do need expression
and it becomes mode of expression,
of feeling alone,
feeling busy and
with commitment waiting for the dawn.

Still they at times tease
and remind me,
it is getting dense.

But how can I close my ears
to the whispering sound of theirs
‘he needs a close shave’
I overheard,
When I grew beard.


1st August 1999/00:40 night

VISION FOR SHERUBTSE

Blinking stars were all above,
clouds in the waiting,
not to shower,
but to offer,
a cool fulfilling morning.

The murmuring sound,
hissing was everywhere found,
the dreams were being read,
and bellies still to be fed.

Tomorrow would be better
than today.
Who knows,
who would be sad
and who would be gay.

Surmounting pressures
on the heads
and the backs.
Stereotype views
and some
just on the stacks.

Surfacing already squeezed visions,
singing of insects,
face movements,
without caging the actions.

Alas!
The future -
coffee houses, walkways,
restaurants,
and the learning hub.
Thank god,
we did not dream
of having a pub.

Suddenly,
the realisation of present,
devoid of logic and reasoning.
Torn jeans, dancing ponies,
where bushes speak.
Books are secondary
to guitar strings.

Cloudy morning again,
again the pompous language,
the same podium,
the same darkness ,
steady clock tower,
again the same pain.

Waiting for Blue
And cloud free sky.
Taking darkness away.
Blinking stars,
reaching out the Mars.

Of course,
Sky is high.
But we can reach,
if we try…

(29th July 1997 at 8:45 pm in Conference Room during staff meeting. The agenda of the meeting was the vision for Sherubtse)

THE TYRANNY OF LIFE

The certainty of means
Quorum not complete
Not responding to the call of the time
The uncertainty of the ends
Voice not heard
Putting the arrows together
Stable like mountains
Not knowing the future of an end
Life has it
Where the arrows will be targeted
When the bows would bow down
Why the end,
the certain end
And whom to blame
For the beginning of the end
From where the angles appear
And the miracles are crafted
And destiny is shaped
Shaped without the pulls and pushes
Without the gain or loss
But certainly it does happen.

(6th Nov 2003: Aizawl Tourist Lodge: Chatlang: Aizawl: Mizoram: 10:50 pm)

OM MANI PADMA HUM

Whispering sound
of those nearly shaven headed lamas
could not allow me
not to resume
my wild imagination
and my not so wild inspiration.

Not a single mark
of unwanted hair on the face
and the wanted ones
not to be kept in layers.
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum.

The chanting was
as furious as
the color of their clothes.
Red in color
but green in mood
the clothes
every inch of it.
Some with boomer
in their mouth
and hard English rocks
in their heart
clinging to the religious future
as told by
doma chewing seniors.
Red their lips
and red their clothes
pampered hips
and voyeuristic blows.
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum.

Nothing short of imagination
and the ability of reproduction.
Non claiming fatherhood
and still green in mood.
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum,
Om mani padma hum.

(Exam duty 2nd October 2000
9 to 12 AM in MPH)

FROM THE VERY BEGINNING OF THE STRUGGLE

From the very beginning of the struggle
              the twain were excited
              without much of motivation
                           and self,
That was not something obscure or
              fleeting on the shelf.

Kindering like Baby Doll
              chanting mantras
              to show religiousity and
              to sound like Hanging Poll.

Looking in the crow’s eye
              something like being ready
              to bid Good bye.

Praying not for ‘A Good End’
              but to win, any how
              hand in hand.

Thinking as if without hurdle
From the very beginning of the Struggle.


(5th March 1997 at 9:40AM Exam Duty in Room No 14)
Published in Rig-Phel, 2000-2001, p 64

FOR VICE PRINCIPAL – MR THAKUR SINGH POWDYEL ON HIS FAREWELL

Blinking stars were all above
and that ‘sickle like moon’.
who knew he would leave Sherubtse so soon.

The lunches and dinners
In the students mess,
He was there to offer vegetarian pork as food
And would of course say ’how good’.

Let there be any occasion
Be it the fading off of the glory of soccer
In the football field,
Be it a seminar or any other field
Let it be our annual fete
One hundred percent he was there to say ‘how great’.

Very many examples without repeat
He brought us together in the mindmeet.

Such was our Principal Vice
With your kind permission sir,
Can I say ‘how nice’.

March 26, 2001 - Monday: Kanglung : Bhutan

EYES AND LOVE

The expression of Love
need no words,
having no language of its own.
But it turns them down
when it is shown.

The very feeling
brings the two together,
when the eyes speak
without uttering a single word,
without any physical advances,
even without chances.
When the eyes speak.

The cascade,
Oh!
That beautiful lake beside.
An island addressing the two,
side by side.

Penetrating my body
with the sound of love
and unknown breeze,
again the same sound of love,
no voice, no noise.

Speaking to my Love in eyes.
Eyes can speak no wrong,
though without words.
Eyes can express
nothing but Love.
Eyes can see no evil,
evil of action.

My dark brown eyes,
express something,
I wish it never dies.

(12th Sept 1997 at 11:45pm)
also available at: http://www.poetry.com/poems/eyes-and-love/7065251/

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

MEMORIES WE CHERISHED TOGETHER....

Farewell poem 1999 batch

Never ending process of learning
demands nothing but attitude
which needs to be developed and nurtured
Not because it is something you lack
but it is something you still have to develop
Skyscrapers may teach you the very basics of it.

Bhagi has to climb high,
she really wants to fly
on horse’s back and cap tight
Bhupen has to be little polite,
when he lifts TT bat and wears woodland kite
Buddhiman needs to cut short his budget,
which he does by a cheaper puppet
Chandra looks all the more mature,
balancing with good muscles
but rude tussles,
walks like a most senior,
must he know the color
Chimmi keeps low, but she isn’t slow,
she may fall sick, by her own pick
Chogyel has to work hard,
even when it is dark
keeping his camera on
touching marina’s prawn
Devi Bhakta has to prove his name,
when he goes to Mahabaleswar’s fame
Dorji Dhap has to keep left,
but let yourself do right even on the cleft
Harka has to divert her stamina from the fields, to the studies
may not be to become sanyasis
Jigme Nidup has more responsibilities
not forgetting his prime duties
cutting short
his habit for his better throat
Jigme Thinley has to change his glasses
if he wants to be with the masses
Jurminla can not be a beggar
or a nescoffee hawker
he is tall enough to change the dough
Kencho looks cool
but cannot be made fool
he is quite reactive even in YMCA captive
Kinley Choppel looks unpredictive,
he needs to be more active
he hides more when he speak
he speaks more when he hides
Kinley Wangchuk is busy studying
what others do not
he looks great in blue shirt
and red cap and what not
He works when others sleep
and he sleeps when others work
he looks quite happy and gay
I mean Kinzang Topgay
Lhaden Lotay has to make friends
following trends
she even does on what others make fuss
Loknath has to share his height
books would make you bright
Norbu looks simple without any dimple
had tough time ones
now he can even beat drums
Pema is solid with short hair
has to build up connections to be fair
Phuntsho wants to become finance minister
forgetting his father mother, brother & sister
Prem has sea-shells around his neck
has power in his reck
smiles like gates
yes I know what he hates
Rinchen makes it great
thinking of her fate
has to be little cool
even when she is in swimming pool
Rinzin looks calm does not need balm
wants to touch heights
would of course make plight
Rudramani makes sound of silences
has beautiful lenses
should express little
otherwise he’d need a pill
Sangay is not serious
at times he is furious
attendance no problem
does he really need to come
Sayden flies high without feeling shy
has already made her way
she can but not may
Sonam Dorji speaks less
as he does in cost, I mean is he lost
Sonam Gyeltshen is selective
which may not be effective
to be precise be wise
Thinley has wide forehead
he can lead but not be led
has a charming face
history he can trace
Tshering has changed a lot
has made a good slot
is devoted
without being voted
Ugyen has an Identity may be praised
RSPN WWF from all he is chased
Vikram does his best
to prove his name in the test
he does it well
with a good smell.

I wish all of you the very best of luck
if you believe in it
otherwise
May Almighty shower his love
and blessing just to fill your pit.

MEMORIES WE CHERISHED TOGETHER… In retrospect - for Commerce Graduates of 2000

Farewell poem 2000 batch

Your life at Sherubtse just five years,
Full of fun and tint of tears.

Chokey got hurt but still he cleared dirt,
Dechen Pelzom kept cool
but unlike school,
Dechen Wangmo is senior
but in no way inferior,
Deepa did show but could not blow,
Jaibir changed all his gears,
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Karma Dorji is a localite but still polite,
Karma Drukpa is serious
and in no way furious,
Karma Jamyang is difficult
and only he could insult,
Karma Lhato became vocal
but still be social,
Kencho was arrogant but still had cheers,
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Kinley made new friends
and did some errands,
Kuenzang joined her but could not cover,
Melam got busy but in no way noisy,
Muneesh did prove, made lots of move,
Nawang was studious and had her peers,
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Pem Choden changed colors
and forgot others,
Pema Nawang played responsible
but sometime drill,
Phub Dorji smiled
when other could have cried,
Rinzin Dorji used left but did not try cleft,
Rinzin Wangmo as usual was near to dears.
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Sangay Choden did change
but for better exchange,
Sangay Rinzin showed that he is mature
but still he could not cure,
Sherub Dorji proved equally mature
for what he himself is not sure,
Sonam Choden looked all the same,
Cricket, TT & some for name,
Sonam Gyeltshen could speak for his peers.
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Sonam Gyeltshen spoke whenever he got chance
and on few occasions he did dance,
Sonam Zangmo was exceptionally attentive
and for that she got the incentive,
Suraj Pradhan acted outside stream,
may be he acted sometime even in the dream,
Tashi Wangyel - about him what to say,
at the moment I just can pray,
Tshering Dem kept short in the profile of dears.
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

Tshering Dorji snapped almost each one of us
and was poetic even while making fuss,
Yeshey Lham changed her glasses
but still could not be with the masses,
Bina Rana kept low in the studies
and did not cry when left by her buddies,
Kencho Dorji was regular
and stayed singular,
Dechen Choden did everything for the cheers.
Full of fun and tint of tears.
Your life at Sherubtse just five years.

AN ORACULAR

The Realism –
shadow of a being,
retailing values,
jumping in and out my head.

Just thinking about
climbing on a fir tree,
trekking on snow-clad mountains,
zigzag roads without end,
creeping over and under my bed.

Rethinking out and out
quizzically about,
existence, means and
survival,
deeply about,
uneducated educated,
confidently about,
irruption of corruption,
stealing off and on my bread.

Starting a bout
of reconciliation lesson,
of realisation lesson,
of betraying corruption,
flicking the so-called fad.

Idealism to reality,
Searching for an Oracular,
Lasting values without an end,
And Becoming Valued.

(27th Feb 1997, Kanglung: Bhutan)

A NORMAL MAN

Dedicated to Mr Pema Chogyel, Eng (H) 1st Year - 1998

Looking at his soft fingers
                  and kind eyes,
                  without sight.
I feel –
his vision is much clearer
                  than a man,
                  having eye-sight.

And his fingers have
                  much strength and power,
                  much to express.
His fingers can see,
                  can feel,
                  and can shape the future.

He knows pretty well
                  what his ears could express
                  and friends could tell,
                  his fingers would
                  start listening
                  without being dull.
He is a normal man,
                  much normal than a man
                  who is normal.

He can see no evil –
                  he can feel,
                  he can do no harm, or
                  he may not act in an unexpected way,
                  for he knows the punishment
                  much better than anybody,
                            anyway.
If it is really a punishment
                  he is passing through,
                  but they.
He has ascended from the past
                  which might have been abnormal.
He is a normal man,
                  much normal than a man
                  who is normal.

He sits next to Television,
                  which gives an artificial vision
                  of real happenings,
                  of past and present.
But I could see the future
                  in his eyes,
                  And in his fingers,
                  much clearer and brighter future,
                  full of realities and challenges,
                  full of vision and sight.

Wearing well ironed ‘GHO’
                  and shining,
                  polished shoes,
                  shampooed hair,
 and milky white ‘LAGEY’
                  Without a slightest feel of
                  that peculiar stink,
                  and a very normal blink.

He operates just normally
                  with all intact peripherals.
He is a normal man,
                  much normal
                  among we Abnormals....

(3rd Dec 1998 at 11:10am during exam duty)
GHO - Male dress in Bhutan
LAGEY - White cloth used on the cuffs

Published in Rig-Phel, 1999-2000, p 19

ABODE OF CLOUDS

The Cotton patches
Trying to kiss the sky
And the eyes at times
Making the feeling so dry.

Bundles of literature
Loaded on these patches
Travel across borders
Conveying the message of love
At times gets the speed of a jet
And return
Making the feeling so wet.

Dancing trees
Kissing each other and shying away.
The branches behaving like wings
Trying to hold
The cotton patches
And the patches demonstrating ignorance
Slow and steady in alcoholic speed
Walking off and on, over and above
The fence
Making the feeling so tense.

Questioning united we stand, divided we fall
Falling while getting united
And walking towards the next terminal
To discuss the next move
To the best of their ability
Choosing the right mode
That’s how is
The Clouds’ Abode.

(22nd July 2003 Nongshilliang – Nongthymmai – Shillong – Meghalaya)

AN IRONY

Oblivious of the harsh realities
of existence.
Pulling on,
Without making much sense.

Witnessing the fading-off
of the clouds,
leaving no footprints.
Observing equable mental climate,
without advancing any hints.

Devoting
best of time,
Irrigating barren land,
not knowing the fence.
Watching,
clear and clean sky,
Sickle like moon.
Climate of opinion,
splitting how soon.

Decoding the presence
of thought,
of yesterday.
Trying to apply it
for future,
I know they may.

Considering the attitude
for tomorrow,
yet hence.
Oblivious of the harsh realities
of existence.

(22nd November, 1998 / Kanglung, Bhutan: 7:40 pm)