SOME POEMS BY NILANSHU AGARWAL
Cry of Draupadi*
Venomous vipers haunt me.
Stormy scorpions pervade me.
Lethal lizard lying
before me.
Utter gloom, sheer horror.
Dark phobia, nasty
despair in the atmosphere.
Like Draupadi cry
I.
But no assistance
from Gopala.
Only Dushashans
and Duryodhans exist.
I am being disrobed.
I am being seduced.
My thighs violently pinched.
All are Dhritrashtras
here.
No Bhim to
consume Dushashan's blood.
Only Duryodhan,Dushashan,Shakuni
And Dhritrashtra
surround me.
Alas!I am being raped.
Kauravas laugh.
Dhritrashta's blindness has a
method in it.
"She is very laschivious.
She is a sex-hungry prostitute.
She can satisfy all",says Dushashan.
Of course,she has satisfied all.
Scamsters, gangsters,
brokers
Politicians,technicians and physicians.
All had touched her private parts,
Slapped the fleshy organs,
Kissed the frail
skin.
But, she is in tears.
Kohinoor is lost.
Past pristine glory can not be retrieved.
No national pride here.
No Gold in Olympic Games.
And no claim for the land occupied by the neighbour.
*According to classical epic Mahabharata,Pandavas and
Kauravas were cousins.Draupadi was the wife of the
Pandavas. The Pandavas lost Draupadi to the Kauravas in the gamble.
The chief of the Kauravas
were
Duryodhana
and Dushashan. They were supported
by their maternal
uncle Shakuni and blind
father Dhritrashtra.When Draupadi was
lost in the
game of dice, Dushashan tried to disrobe her. At that
time Lord Krishna, the Gopala protected her by providing her
with an unending Sari
(an Indian dress).Later on, one of the Pandavas drank
the blood of Dushashan to avenge the humiliation of
Draupadi. In this poem,mother
corrupt scamsters,gangsters, brokers
politicians,technicians and physicians are
just like the Kauravas.
Omnipresent Deodorized Dog-shit
O deodorized dog-shit!
You are all-pervasive.
O omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent
power!
I eulogize your high tower.
Present in every aspect of human life.
Breath and finer
spirit of all knowledge.
O, what a pantheism!
You are the supreme self.
Neti Neti!*
Thus spake the Acharya.**
The disciple confused, perplexed and
bewildered!
Anxiety engulfs him.
Curiosity continues.
He enquired and the Shruti*** tradition continued.
My limbs become languid
And my mouth becomes completely dry.****
Remove the dark mists of avidya.*****
Spread the light of Vidya.******
Quench my inquisitive thirst, please !
How is dog –shit transcendental reality?
Touching Guru’s .*******feet,
the curious student asked-
For years I have crammed and crammed and
crammed-
Supreme Reality is one.
Sang panegyrics in
its deification.
So celestial was the temperament.
You have shattered His domain in one stoke.
What is it, Sir?
I don’t understand your polemics.
The Guru surprised.
The Guru wonderstruck.
The Guru said mildly,
“I like the perfect compound of doubt and
faith I you”.
Of course deodorized dog-shit is
all-pervasive.
It is present everywhere.
Where, where?
In the deodorants sprinkled in the dirty
armpits.
In the lipsticks pasted on wrinkled lips.
In the dyed hair,
polished nails, branded tops and tight trousers.
Something more,
Something more, Sir!
Everywhere is it present.
The smiling faces of the stony hearts.
The grave expressions of the casual.
The world is so dusty.
Vice paramount
principle.
Primal sex dominant
passion.
But, we like curtains.
Stinking dog-shit is deodorized.
We can not bear too much reality.
We are in illusion.
So Birthday wishes,
So marriage feasts,
So, funeral lamentations,
Though the heart as poisonous as the viper.
Hey!
Come on, be ready!
Make the dog-shit as odorous as possible.
Let it be filthy and stinking.
Remove all curtains.
Break all masks.
Come out of your artificial self.
Eradicate all hypocrisy of civilization.
Let there be spontaneous overflow of powerful
emotions.
Disrobe yourself
And feel the pulse of life emotionally,
As there is more enterprise in walking
naked.
* Neti Neti :A
maxim of the Upanishads(holy texts of
** Acharya :Teacher
*** Shruti :As per ancient
Indian system of teaching,
knowledge should be transferred from the teacher to the taught through oral
tradition. This is Shruti.Vedas were also called by
this name.
**** My limbs become languid
And my mouth becomes completely dry.
These two lines refer to Swami Gambhirananda’s translation of Bhagwadgita
(1.28).
***** avidya
:Ignorance
******Vidya:
Knowledge
*******Guru: Teacher
Memory is being blurred
Memory is being blurred.
Images are getting dim.
I shall forget everything oneday.
Everything,everything,everything.
I don't want to.
But,I'll.
New life has so many challenges.
Daily new
adventures.
Daily new behavioural patterns.
The present putting
the glorious past behind.
Bad coin drives the good coin out of use.
New patterns,new associates.
Responsibility
destroying emotion.
I am weeping.
I want to come back.
But how?
I can't .I can't.I
can't.
I am being drowned
I am being drowned.
Flood waters are moving fast.
I don't know swimming.
I am lost on the railway tracks.
Locomotives are coming towards me.
I don't know which way to move.
I am being plundered.
Numberless weapons are towards me.
I am unable to cry.
I need assistance.
I cry for help.
No voice comes out of my mouth.
I use all my powers to create an oral
sound.
No use.
So,I lament.
No voice even in lamenting.
Utter desperation.
Utmost fear.
Ugly phobia.
I jump from the upper storey
And find my head beneath the pillow.
Oh ! my
God ! It was a dream,
But a terrible one.
Shakespeare in Tears
Shakespeare is in his grave
Away from the mad
rush of life.
Enjoying eternal
slumber.
No,he can't;he can't.
Shakespeare is in tears.
Shakespeare is moaning.
Shakespeare is market-friendly.
Write a thesis on the myriad-minded genius
And ensure a job.
Literary research merely prostitution
No new aspect is explored.
Mere repetition and
repetition.
A dissertation on the bard of avon
Nothing better than a prostitute
Having sex with
many.
A true researcher an
eunnuch
Unable to share the
vamp.
Mocked he is.
Mocked he is.
And Shakespeare is in tears.
Adult Franchise
Voting age lowered
From 21 to 18.
Victory of youth.
Victory of democracy.
No,No,No.
This is not so.
It is the conquest of the politicians.
We are merely contraceptive condoms.
More condoms in the
hands of politicians.
They use us for their gains
And throw us in vacant dustbin
After the use.
Rural
Rural
Girls are prohibited
To study at the colleges.
Boys are there,Boys are there.
You should avoid boys.
The moment they are married
They do nothing but cohabitation.
What a great paradox!
Till puberty complete avoidance
After puberty complete indulgence.
A Brahmin family
epitome of purity.
They are from Lord Prajapati's
mouth.
The woman of the holy caste
Using the same dirty rag
To wash the menstrual liquid
Numberless time.
What a great paradox!
An upper caste Hindu avoids a Shudra.
Defiled he is by the shadow of the
untouchable.
The same higher caste person
Grazing greedily...
Where?Where?Where?
The bathing fairsex of the lower caste.
The soap on her
frail skin.
Slight piece of
clothing on her breasts and hips.
He is not polluted by her touch.
What a great paradox!
Note:According to Indian tradition,Lord Prajapati is the
creator of this universe.Out of His mouth,there was the birth of Brahmin.Kshatriya,Vaishaya
and Shudra,the
other three conventional castes,came out of His chest,thighs and feet respectively.Indian
society is divided into a startified caste system.In this
ladder of caste system,the Brahmins(the holy
caste)were at the top of hierarchy,whereas the Shudras were made untouchables and they were prohibited from all social
contacts.
Who is
Who is
Discoverer of
Who is Vasco da gama?
He discovered the sea route to
Who is
He invented the law of Gravitation.
Who is Graham Bell?
Inventor of Telephone.
No, said I.
You, imbecile .
These
Just the reflections of an Indian's suppressed
mentality.
No better than an Indian's discovery of the
body of the opposite sex.
Eyes glitter, heart beats faster
After discovering the undiscovered
After knowing the
unknown.
Traditional long wait has come to an end.
Vasco da Gama's pride futile
Before the pride of the groom
In pinching and twisting the bride's
nipples.
Why this pride...
Why this pride...
Why this pride...
Perhaps our
traditional outlook.
Sex is a taboo.
You are pervert, if you discuss sex.
Taboo inhibiting,
repressing primary instinct.
Society is too much with us.
Today, sex is repressed.
Tomorrow might be hunger and thirst.
Basic instinct dominated by pseudo
religion.
So, we are Columbus, Vasco da gama,
After kissing the eyes, nose, cheeks and
lips.
Our repression making us mad with joy
On the discovery.
Earlier the drainage problem
Now overflow.
An Indian defeating
All the inventors of the world
By his amazing
pleasure.
When the nightdress falls on the floor
And beautiful breasts and creamy thighs are
open for massaging,
An Indian is
Frenzy of Flesh
Exhaustive frenzy of flesh
Scorching fire of senses
Digital obscenity of laptop
Reminding the dull poet
Of
the dance of Corpses
With the reptiles.
>
> Boom Times
>
>
Boom times
Right times
For
free enquiry
About P.A.
About her menstrual cycle
About the brand name of her sanitary napkin.
Domestic rituals
Venue for multilateral talks
On paucity of bleeding.
"Her stomach is inflated!"
"She has eloped with her paramour."
"My sister will mensurate tomorrow."
"My daughter has not attained
puberty."
"Which sanitary napkin do you use?"
The
holy conversation
Going on in Miltonic style,
Though the priest sometimes creates din,
Sometimes forms pandemonium
By profane discourse
On Shama,Dama,Tapa and Shubha Titiksha.
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> To Beloved
>
Shall I compare thy face to pure milk?
Thou
art more charming and white.
Often is it blended with waste.
But thy cheeks without any sign of dust.
Mine
desire is to find your inner being
Too
fair like naked sky.
Thy
external charms remind cloudless heaven.
This
love sick man in earnest need
Of the strength of your internal beauty.
Thy youth making me insomnia patient.
I
pass sleepless nights in thy meditation.
Give
me traqualiser of your soft skin.
This
mosquito better than the poet
Touching your red cheeks,
Ravishing thy hands
Ravishes it my heart
Showing me hapless
Before social inhibitions.
>
>
>
We are listless issues
>
We
are listless issues
Contemplating perfumed skin.
We
are flag-bearers of hot-stuff.
Our
souls are territories
For the integrated training of lust.
Scams are our rituals.
Pornography
is our Geeta.
We
are listless issues
Contemplating perfumed skin.
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>
>
Greedy Indians
>
Greedy Indians
With
eyes passionate
Watch acts forbidden.
With
tongues uncontrolled
Use laschivious words.
With
ears impure
Hear
licentious conversation
With
hearts dirty
Pine for the vicinity of the opposite sex.
They
are jealous
Of
the dogs,cats,rats and
lizards
Cohabiting in the open.
>
>
> To Lord Rama
>
Hey Dashratha's issue
Lord
Rama
Became an oversubscribed public issue.
By
the radiance
Of
the face celestial
>
>
>
On peeping through the Upanishads
>
On
peeping through the Upanishads
I
find my discourse sans extravagance of black boredom,
Bathing in the Vedantic
Brahma,
Pure
as the
Free
from frost,fire and fun of
flesh.
I
lose consciousness of I.
Aham Brahmasmi.
I am
you.
I am
she.
Dereft of dualism,no
desire of revenge.
For
I see my image in my enemy cruel.
No
thought of opposite sex,
As she is nothing but myself.
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To Lord Krishna
>
O
Lord of perpetual light
Consume the furious inferno of this muddy
pool.
Create eternal rainbows in this devitalized
landscape.
Be
an honourable guest in this sick heart,
Where nothing but the passions of blood visit.
O'
patron saint, cleanse this voracious pike
With thy hand divine.
Make
me aware of the spiritual occultism
With thine song celestial, O Charioteer.
Thence,my heart overladen with eternal springs
And
with green grass and cherry orchards
Will
sing a joyous
song
At
the triumph of Lord Krishna,
Whose radiant chariot burnt in darting glory.
On
this very burnished chariot
Gave
the elegant flute reciter
The Sermon of Karma Yoga.
O'Praise thee O'Gopala
For
thy eternal message of Karma
Saves countless ignorant humanity
From
taking an unholy dip
In the slough of passion and friuts.
Thence free from the fruits of action
Enjoy I eternal bliss in the scheme divine.
Nights of storm and days of mist
Trouble
me not.
Rather an ecstatic trance like vision
Affects me with my Lord's blessings.
Remembering thy early life with your childhood
mates,
Thy
pinning for the butter of the fellow villagers,
Thy
fascinating flute recital,
Which entranched the
hearts of the Gopis
And
thy never perishable imprint
> On the heart of Brij-dwellers,
> I lose smell of my flesh and music of
senses.
> Rather,I become conscious of my spiritual well-being.
> Therefore,O my fellow-men,
> Come,rise,clasp thy hands and sing in His glory.
> Thence thou too will be roused out of
spiritual stupor
> And the truer light of heaven
> Will burn in your blighted hearts.
> And thou will be saved
> From the terrible wheel of birth,rebirth and birth.
> So,come,rise,clasp thy hands and sing in His glory
> Revealed through his song
celestial-The Geeta
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> A Sonnet
A civilization is outraged.
The hydra-headed monster
Of terrorism prepares coffins for the
innocent.
A six month old's
flesh is scarred.
Petrol bombs at Godhara*
Mocking at the
concept of human rights.
Where are fundamental rights?
Where is humanism?
Where is secularism?
Where is socialism?
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere.
Only the naked
opportunism of politicians.
Godhara
re4minding the poet of 11/9. **
But, in
*Godhara is a
place in
severe tragedy occurred
there. Petrol bombs (i.e. burning bottles
full of petrol) were
thrown at a train, killing a number of hapless people.
** On this date,there was terrorist attack on WTC of USA.
What is Orchestra?
What is orchestra?
Symphony, he replied.
Mingling of
rhythms.
'It may be so,
But I find orchestrated rhythms somewhere
else'
'Where?'
'In
We create synthesis
Out of conflict
Of thesis and
antithesis.
No view is final for us.
There is always the scope for further
argument.
Religious tolerance is our motto.
If there is Vaishanava
cult,
There are Shaiva
and Shakta ideologies.*
So,
Of orchestra and symphony,
Of dialectics and
tolerance.
*Vaishanava,Shaiva and Shakta are the
cults of Hinduism.
Cause of Fundamentalism
Why did Godhara*occur?
Why did 11/9** occur?
Who is behind Gujrat
carnage***?
Narrowness of mind.
Non-acceptance of
the opposite view.
The antithesis is refused.
The other view is discarded.
The followers of the other ideology are
exterminated.
Dirty ethnocentrism!
Dirty jingoism!
O my peers,countrymen and religious leaders
Shun the superiority complex.
Take inspiration from the significant
other.
The other is not be exterminated.
The other is to
heard.
Let the storm of other ideas enter you
As the tempest of new ideas
Was accepted by Buddhism****.
Hinayana was followed
By Mahayana and vajrayana.
Then there will be no Godhara.
Then there will be no 11/9.
Then there will be no Gujrat.
Only the scattered light
Of multi-colored
rainbow.
* Godhara is a
place in
severe tragedy occurred
there. Petrol bombs (i.e. burning bottles
full of petrol) were
thrown at a train, killing a number of hapless people.
** On this date, there was terrorist attack
on WTC of USA.
***In the wake of Gudhara
massace, there is the frenzy of violence in Gujrat.
****Buddhism has three sects- Hinyana, Mahayana and vajrayana.
_________TEMPEST
OF PASSION
Nasdaq index has dipped.
The
body tempraturee has risen.
Imbalance between celcius
and Fahrenheit has generated
the heat.
My
soul is anaemic
With the fury of sex.
My
mind meditating on female body
My
whole endeavour to influence the fairsex
My
heart pinning
To
be the peer of nudity
Nasdaq index has dipped.
No
sign of bullish trend.
Only
the howling cries of bears.
Hey,
Bulls come and oust this bear
Invading the stock-exchange of the soul.
Union Carbide pollutes the nature.
Pangs of womanhood make me totter.
Deforestation creating ecological imbalance
Her
tender skin and ravishing beauty make me lose my
patience.
My
mind doomed to a certain death
My
soul not hearing the song celestial
My
voice unable to pray
My
breathing system disturbed.
O
Bosnian Serbs! do not cleanse the Muslim populace
Rather, come to this territory of my heart
And
indulge in the act of purgation.
O
Serbs, come immediately
Else
my Divinity
Will find it difficult to face my passion.
By Nilanshu
Agarwal
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