Happy New Year

I have retreated so often

Yet I fail to learn

Past never gave me

What I expected of her

I think about places to go,

People to meet and things to do

Apologies, wishes, and

Congratulations are in order

This will be a happy new year

Why I thought about you

So you have decided

To part ways

I only hope it is worth

The distance that separated us

Measured in light years and

Time difference which created

Twin identities out of one

Tears can never tell full story

In the night that’s growing darker

Somewhere far a fragile ego

Invites suicidal tendencies

My hope lies in sunrise

Shatrughna: In The Shadows of His Brothers

Even after his father’s death,

Rama didn’t return to Ayodhya

Bharata, who loved Rama

More than his mother, put

Rama’s sandals on the throne

And waited for fourteen years

On the outskirts of Ayodhya

Leaving the protection of kingdom

To Sandals 

And Shatrughna!

But it’s not the story of Shatrughna

Who in violent rage assaulted Manthra,

The evil plotter of Rama’s exile,

Before she was saved by Bharata

Did he loved Rama

Like Bharata and Lakshmana

We're never told

He watched over the kingdom ruled by Sandals

What demons he fought for all those fourteen years

We’re never told 

Even at the end of epic

He seemed to have begged his brothers 

To destroy Lavanasura, the demon king

Who was the real king of Ayodhya 

for all those fourteen years

We're never told

Ramayana of Mahabharata Times

How their life could is so calm and perfect?

Killing few terrorists was uninteresting to her

Humiliating a girl hitting on his husband was cruel

But at least, he and his brother,

Did something unique in this exile

Did she make mistake following her husband?

But, it’s too late to think about that,

It’s almost time to go home

Life was gathering up in a storm

How could she know?

She was probably missing her jewelry

That she called her husband, sitting far away

Uninterested in the bringing the jewelry

Of the girl they humiliated

Impatience force her to send her husband’s brother

To help her husband in locating the jewelry

He came in disguise

Like a psychopath, within seconds

He changed her mind

Forcing her to come out of her home

And thus breaking the social norms

As per jungle rule

She was anyone’s property

She was dragged into his helicopter

Someone tried to help her but wings

Helicopter shred the helper in pieces

In a different country and at a indistinct location

It was time for a culture shock

She had to learn the language to survive

Eatable and poisonous mushrooms looked alike

She missed the calm and perfect times

His captor asked her

“Give yourself to me else I will kill you.”

This was no way to ask women,

Even to an abducted one

Maybe he never learned to talk to women

There will be a fight

But she never knew this will get so ugly

As usual it so happened in past

One won and other lost

Twelve months of captivity made her realize

how much she loved her husband

As she jumped in the joy and went to hug him

He said, “Go, please take a bath. You are stinking!”

Pain Poetry

Adrenaline surge is tough to control

But you never liked uncomplicated things

Where is the fun in life?

Doing things that you did in the past

For momentary satisfaction and joy

Followed by loneliness and guilt

Running after the past will only get you 

To present at the most, never near to the future

You scoffed at books, sculptures, and hymns

Pain is poetry you keep reading

In search for lessons on de-addiction 

Your life rich with unique experiences

Pity for you, Pity for me

I feel for her

The girl who stands at the hostel gate

Fully dressed up and wait

One can read happiness on her face

In her short breaths

And in her probing eyes

He should come out at any time

Anytime stretch to evening

I return to hostel after work

Should I tell her

He will not come

He is not even here

Pity for others

Is actually pity for one self

Heidegger said some decades ago

Everyone's Battlefield

My friend tells me not to make those mistakes

Yet he loves me despite those mistakes

The sound of your bowstring sends

Chill down their spine

Yet you drop your bow and flop on the chariot

Indecisive

Is mental crisis necessary to become a great warrior?

Ask Arjuna

It’s never the fight between him and others

It is the question of fighting with self

Can you ever win it

If you do, how will you face my your self?

Ask Yudhisthara

Sometime we don’t even know

what we are fighting for

Don’t we follow the orders

Instead of taking control of our life

Is it our love, devotion or procrastination?

Ask Nakul and Sahadeva

My friend knows and explains it calmly

I stubbornly deny forcing my thoughts on to him

Only later I realize just saying something aloud

Doesn’t mean that I am right

Are you unsure about your words and deeds?

Ask Suyodhana

He tells me that you always have a choice

Either you do it or not

Taking a side sometime is a necessity

Can you go on pilgrimage when the world is burning with hate?

Ask Balarama

You know you are entangled in this

You must find a way out

There is nothing that can keep you stuck here

Should one believe in stories of bravery or destiny?

Ask Abhimanyu

Don’t promise too much

Else you end up living that promise

Sometime you no longer believe in that promise

Or the promise turns into nasty arrows of your beloved

Is the pain of awaiting death is more cruel than death itself?

Ask Bhisma

Killing and crushing is a mandatory requirement

Else they will crop again and again in your mind

Hear their cries, listen to their meek apologies

Do you have blood drinking capacity of vampires?

Ask Bhima

Sometime you know everything from inside out

Yet you keep playing with death and life

Life is nothing but a game of dharma

You use people like things and things like people

Are you figment of materialistic imagination or

Do you carry God’s attributes?

Ask Krishna

Blood of Twin Lives

For first couple of years

My ghost would enquire nothing

About the promise

He would just stand at a distant corner

Or lurch behind that wall

Or hung upside down from trees like

Betal of Vikram-Betal stories

Few more years went by

now, he is stalking me like

an obsessive lover

or bank loan officials

Life kept blocking my way

I couldn’t make any progress on

What I had promised to him

A part of me is trying to stay human

And other part of me is stalking me like a ghost

Life for now has become a fight between

A boon and a curse

And I bleed all the time

The Sponge God (As Advertised)

If someone or something hurts you

(Read: if you are dumped, cheated, mistreated or mishandled)

Don’t call a cleaner

Don’t trust someone

No one can help you

'Run and get that sponge'

An advertisement says

It will not fail you

It comes from a reputed company

Situated at a distant location far off

Invisible to human eyes

The sponge is so light that

It’s no burden at all

Apply the sponge to your

Sweat, tears, and blood

It can mope and

Soak your pain

Sponge will get heavier

It’s nothing but your guilt

Let it consume you

It’s better to carry that weight

Than be with someone or something

That will hurt you again

Recycled Love Letters

Angry words reeked of his love

And his love reeked of anger

She was confused

Her understanding of love

Blurred by societal norms

And her girlfriends’ experiences

Some say it was a suicide note

Others say it was a love letter

He could not write in his lifetime

Your paper bag is made from

Such recycled papers

Cost of Flying

I went over the difference between 

Flightless and flying birds once again

Reminding them in order to fly

They need to lose what is dragging them

Like weight of extra ovary and oviduts

Urinary bladder is an unnecessary luxury

Or they must develop enough firepowers

In the form of breast muscles

And air sacs to give them buoyancy

Also in flying

Compact frame is an advantage

And so are interlocked feathers

Yet when I gave them exam

Not everyone could write ten differences

Between Ratitae and Carnitae 

Humiliation Paradox

Is there any problem with my apology

Do my words still filter through ego

Don’t my eyes evoke old love

Enough for forgiveness

Every step of you walking away

Powders my self-esteem

It’s not the pity I am asking for

I wipe my eyes fast

In case you look back

I often wonder

Why did I give you so much space

In my heart and brain

Demon

When the light was there

You were there with me

Night came

And I thought about you

Should I call you vampire or bedbug

Will you stop sucking my blood

Night is growing longer and darker

And even though there is hope for sunrise

Is it worth the wait

Most Irritating Man on the Earth

He has been told repeatedly

He who has pustules

All over his faces, neck,

Arms and legs

Some oozing watery thing

While others covered with crust

Coughing and sneezing

And rubbing his sneezed hand

On the walls and railings pipes

Of stairs as he climbs up to get

Food and water from hostel mess

Knowing that he will get food

And water in his room

But he wasn’t accustomed to loneliness

Chicken pox usually brings

As if he's saying

Why should I suffer alone

Astika, a Savior

Snake king, Takshaka, told Pandavas

I’ll never forgive you for burning my house

This raises the question

Did Maya came to surrender

Or to destroy Pandavas

By crafting the palace of illusions

Which lured Suyodhana in for humiliation

Disgraced Suyodhana imposed

A war on his cousins for revenge

The piece of land, Khandavprastha,

Pandavas had burned and 

Forcefully grabbed

Never become theirs

Just like Hastinapura became a

Breeding ground of widows

And didn’t even spare Bhanumanti,

Suyodhana’s wife

Snake king didn’t even forget dead Pandavas

Focused his ire on their ancestor, Parikshit

Takshaka bit him from a fruit basket

In return Janamejaya, Parikshit’s son,

Carried out snake sacrifice

The revenge game would have gone like this

Hadn’t Astika put an end to all this

Astika, where are you?

When two neighboring countries

Are fighting for a piece of land

A Novel Ritual Human Sacrifice

You go to temple to pray

A competitive game in the temple took

A U-turn just like the firecrackers

Which flew in the direction of store room

A big blast and concrete rockets has

Plenty of human targets in proximity

People or their appendages flew in the air

Burn victims flooded hospitals

It was legally okay in earlier days

But now humans must find a 

Unique way to kill fellow humans

Goddess will be pleased from thier

Novel way of ritual human sacrifice

A Business of Pain Management

I kept going back to her

I have this problem of 

Looking out for pain doctors

Knowing very well that 

There is no cure for my chronic pain

I guess it’s because of people like me

Pain management is such a successful venture

Money can never treat my problem but

Offers me novel pain management practices

I went to a clinician trained in USA

She proposed me an injection of pain relieving drugs

Which I humbly denied

Research papers says there’s no conclusive evidence

Of its pain reducing effect

It’s actually a unique steroid

Which though will cure inflammation

But overall fools you in thinking that everything is fine

All this or

Is it a big propaganda for my denial

Maybe just I look out for hope

I also I look out for pessimism

Seeing my stubbornness

She advised me some exercises to strengthen my core

As if laughing at me or testing how long can I endure pain

She probably doesn’t understand such a pain can be transferable 

Dropadi: A 2 Pin Multi Plug

She came out of fire as an adult

With her brother, Dhristadyumna

Unasked

Draupada, her father, tried to send her off

By arranging a swayamvar

Never knew more than his son

She would be instrumental for his revenge

Swayamvar kick-started her life

She humiliated the prince of blind king

Her laughter was credited for the bloody war

Because of her husband’s addiction for game of dice

As a slave, she was dragged and stripped off

Her simmering anger even scared Dhritarashtra

Who returned the kingdom to Pandavas

But the game was played again to gift them

Thirteen years of exile and

18 days of bloody war

Bheema, as promised, brought blood for her

Arjuna won her but never loved her

Lost her children in the aftermath of war

Heroine of the epic has been reduced

To an electrical 2 Pin Multi Plug 

With five inputs 

By a local vendor

Possibly because of marrying five princes

An act of Cruelty

People were injected with healthcare products

A NGO believed in the well-being of tribal people

How can they know what is HPV and what’s cancer

NGO claimed have proof of their understanding

Thumbprints on a white paper

Money bought them weight loss, fatigues,

Menstrual problems and death

Money has such side-effects

NGO has been helping people in many developing countries

Bigwigs in the developing countries are so happy

That NGO came to their country to help their people

Court has forgotten to make rules against NGO

For how can a developing country points a finger

At a developed country’s NGO

List of Misfortunes of Pritha/Kunti

Her real father gave her away

As a charity

Her adopted father made her

Sleep with a sage

Her impotent husband wanted

Babies from her

Sex with three unknown strangers

And three unique babies were born

Which along with two of

Her husband’s second wife

She mothered and

Were called famous five

For a war they fought

For land and humiliation

What she was supposed to do

With her first born

Abandonment came natural for her

She gave her first born to the river

A wound on her chest

Kept oozing the pus

A Canker of her soul

Nothing cured her wound

Until she held the severed head

Of her first born to her bosom

Killed by her other son

Pain of Karna and his ilks

Kinship with you had only given us

Pain, humiliation, and jealousy

You would be always be kings

We would be your dignified servants

Everything that you would have

Could have been ours

If we had mothers of royal blood line

Who made sure that we would get throne

But our mothers were only worried about

Keeping thorns out of our way

For our fate

Should we blame our mothers

Or our father

Or let’s say your father for sleeping

With our mothers

We know that you could not rule

Without our help

To sustain the kingdom of yours

We would pay with our life

Despite our credentials

We would be cursed to prove

Ourselves at every step of life

We are Vidura, Karna, or Yuyutsu

Or sutta of this cruel world

Bhisma of Turbulent Times

You have been stuck all your life

Because of promises you made to others

Promises you shouldn’t have to make

Promises made to boost your fragile ego

Promises sucking up your time

Leaving nothing for your promises

Your dream cry when they see

Others’ dreams running ahead of them

Others' promises colored your hair silver

And when you see yourself in mirror

You hardly recognize yourself

Your dreams turn into teardrops

As if telling you 

How could you, O fearsome one,

Forget the promises you made to yourself

Asshole Manifesto

I am seeing the change

Happening in myself

In real time

This older person comes to stay 

In my PG again

And I don’t want him to live

In my room again

I don’t want to be waken up

By coughs

By strange sounds

By constant message beeps

By morning phone calls

By his loud response to those calls

I don't know how I endured 

All this last time

When I see in him my grandfather

Or my father or worse myself

I don’t like the change

Happening in myself

Yet I decide to be an asshole

Than to suffer daily 

Some lesson I don’t want to re-learn

Phases of Love

God took a portion of my clay planted

In your heart

How could I breathe without you?

When verbal exchanges seemed like

Lies of a politician

How could I trust you?

Addiction of living alone fostered

by our distance

How could I be sure to live with you?

Melodious Vampire

Lost in her melodies

I forgot myself and pain

Red dots on my white tail

Could be nothing 

But mosquito bites

Few days later

I lay in the pool

My own blood

In trance of her songs

She gashed at my tail

With her curved beak

To expose the blood vessels

To drink me dry

Pain of Harishchandra

Stripped off from his kingdom

Noble king Harishchandra

Sold his wife Taramati to

An elderly man

Himself became a slave 

And worked in cemetery

To pay for Vishwamitra’ yagna

Few weeks later

When his wife came carrying

Their dead son in her arms

He demanded cremation fee

From his wife

But a slave has no money

After testing the king on every step

Of his life 

Sage Vishwamitra finally said to him

“You will get a place in heaven.”

If something like this happened today

Harishchandra must have said

"Who gives a fuck about heaven, old man?

You made my life living hell."

Keepers of Old Customs

Bullied into submission by relatives

Parents find it tough to articulate that

Why their son/daughter will not listen to them

Sacrificing someone’s identity

For their gain isn’t anything new for relatives

They are the proud keepers of old customs

Ask the Parents

Respect and patience are dictionary words

Shout and yell are verbs used

Tears are noun in their eyes

Listening to sentences of their children

They will learn grammar of modern relationship

In old age home

Grapes of A Far Land

Grapes of a far land are way more delicious

Than our grapes, they claim

Just by looking at the picture of them

They fight with you despite the fact

That you have savored those grapes

Countless times directly from

The grape vine in the far land

And found their grapes are 

No more unique in taste

Than grapes at your home land

Yet they refute your claims by comparing

Jams made from both types of grapes

Break-up of An Obligate Anaerobe*

She knew that very well

That he will produce toxins

It was his nature

But this was her only way out

Of this strange relationship

Where she felt suffocated

In the absence of oxygen

She left him telling that

You are such a pessimist

And no good will ever

Come out of you

She knew he can’t

Follow her out

Scant oxygen will poison him

A shock it was to listen to her

In stress he produced 

Toxin in abundance 

Which older people

Inject to look younger

And to cure their medical problems

* bacteria that lives in the absence of oxygen