relics of 70's

smokes from the cigarette was not given the time to dance in front of eyes......it was taken aback to the past by the roaring wind.....i could see the sights of present fading away to memories of past....the rails seems so blurred in distance...
sitting in the stairs of howra express ...i am virtually sitting in the boundary of freedom and constriction...in front of me i have the vastness of nature unfolding and oblivious with pace...and behind me the lives from all parts of the country with subjected smell of toiled sweat and the stinking odour of toilet....
i took out the small piece of paper from my pocket.....a letter rather.....it wavered in the moving wind....holding it tightly i read the scribbled words again...for me it was the most beautiful hand writing..... "i was praying for this date of your release....i am safe...please don't come in search of me....i wrote this letter only to make sure that i am alive.....forget everything ....start a new life...and i plead don't follow this letter -shakti" did i smelt sourness of her tears?
how could she write this to me.....how could she skip the thoughts of us being together arguing over rebellious thoughts...the poems that bleed revolt and love.....the speechs which ignited the armed struggle of 70's....my comrade turned lover.....after i was jailed...this is the first letter i got from her...that too before my release....after long 8years....everything changed....there is no trace of the movement which inspired us....every one now is confined to their own world....carrying the burden of ignorance.....
now i am following the address in the letter......with train's pace lowering as it neared kolkota...the breeding ground of radicals....the pace of heart beat raised....now i am in wanga soil...walking under the scorching sun .....i wandered through the famously narrow slums of kolkata searching for the address....but everyone i asked gave me disgusting looks.....even though drenched in sweat i sat down at a tea stall....drinking a hot black tea and cigarette....my favourite combo..i enquired the chaiwalla about the address....he pointed to a shabby house opposite...a molten core of emotions gaining weight.. i walked towards my destiny...with each step in... it got darker....it was more filthier inside than outside.....a fat women interrupted me...."what you want?" i whispered "shakti"....."rs 500" she replied in a rude tone....heart couldn't orchestrate with reality....i knew what was happening ....but i just want to be inert to reality for that moment....the wooden door open up before i saw my divine soul in the most wrecked state.....eyes spoke ....there was drought in her eyes....if there was an another second i would have rushed up to her and hugged her...instead she closed the door firmly....i stood numb for some moment...and walked back without a reason to return....
now back in howra station with a burning cigarette in my lips waiting for the return train.....i pity myself....and 70's.......

the last laugh

he was not like the raging sea....he was not like the ghastly wind.....but he donned the ferocity of both....he seldom talks.....his eyes was clear and his dead stare was the last word in 'sandokhan'...in the corners of sandokhan the fellow bandits refers to him as 'cold death'...because no one has ever seen him having any shades of smile.....that out marked him from the rest of brutal pirate world

....he was known through the weary pages of past.... ...the suicidal warrior of 'sandokan'...no one knows his past..no one dare to ask......from the time of his blood stained fame in the dark seas he was the devil of sandokan.....he is un moved in front of outrageous sea....loot after loot...bloody victories followed...sandokhan and cold death was undisputed in the catastrophic blues....but he never smiled over the marauding victories.....but silently sails sandokhan to further destinies....

but here he was caught alive by the king's men.....there was vane looks on the royal men on getting the 'king of sandokhan'.....with his hands tied behind and made him to sit on his knees...his stare still created a chill among the wise men....
"so you are the cold death,the ravaging captain of sandokan' asked one of the king's men who is assigned to kill sandokhan king
more acute stare
'do you know your reign in these dark seas is coming to an end tonight in my hands'
a slightest of smile
'you whore born....feel the edge of my sword before i want to sea your dead eyes in fear of death'
a roaring laugh followed.....for the first time the fellow pirates saw there captain smile...that too at his dieing moments....it dint last long...blood splattered out from his Adam's apple....but his last face had that smile in him.....the last laugh of 'cold death'
was he a good or bad..i don't know....but the last laugh was even more confusing than his whole enigmatic life.

is there a reason to live in the paradise lost??

from here i look above..to that world you say about
i wanted to go high up and kiss the twinking cosmos
the glimpse that i got of peach of beauty....
which cannot be contained in your cells of imagination....or dreams beyond reality checks
here bawl is not the signal of life from the womb of creation
wisdom by birth leaves the lives without any opportunity to get stained
in this magnum opus of perfection conflict for power is an ellusion,
forms of betrayel,revenge,cause an effect wont be a reason to bleed
the hierarchy starting from the enslaved almighty to its vandalizing patrons to free blemishes of anarchists cant be seen anywhere....
my call of instincts wont haunt here when there is no trace of hunger or desire of flesh...
militon's seven sins is the armeggedon which never happens in his paradise.....
i am dropping down....with no grip to hold....
is there a reason to live in thy world???
where spirits are ultimate by birth.....
where there is no thoughts to disturb...no ideologies to fray...
where dogmas wont intrude the existence.....
is there a reason when the the strugle i am captivated with has no meaning ??
is there a reason where there is no feces to get rid of or any bread to stuff in??

ഈയാംപാറ്റ

അവള്‍ പറഞ്ഞത് വീണ്ടും എന്റെ മനസ്സില്‍ കൂടി കടന്നു പോയി .
"എവടെ വേണമെങ്കിലും ഞാന്‍ ഇറങ്ങി വരം"
എന്റെ ഏകാന്ത ജീവിതത്തിലെ ആദ്യ വിജയമാന്നു അവള്‍ .കുറച് അപ്പുറത്തുള്ള റെയില്‍വേ ട്രാക്കിലൂടെ അതി വേഗത്തില്‍ ട്രെയിന്‍ കടന്നു പോയത് അന്ന് ആദ്യമായി ഞാന്‍ ശ്രദ്ധിച്ചു ,അതിന്റെ ശബ്ദം എന്നെ അസ്വസ്ഥമാക്കി .ഇന്നു ആദ്യമായാണ് എന്റെ ഈ മുറി എത്ര ചെരുതാനെന്ന്നു എനിക്ക് ബോധ്യമാകുന്നത്‌ .നഗരത്തിന്റെ കോലാഹലങ്ങളുടെ അടുക്കളപുരത് എന്റെ മുറി .മാസ വാടക മുന്നൂറി അന്ബത് രൂപ ,മുറിയിലുള്ള ഏക വെളിച്ചം അന്പത് വാട്റ്റ്‌ ബള്‍ബ്‌.മുറിയുടെ മൂലയില്‍ ഉള്ള തടി കട്ടിലില്‍ കീറിപറഞ്ഞ മെത്ത.മൂട്ടയും പാറ്റയും സുഖമായി എന്റെ കൂടെ ഇവടെ വിരഹിക്കുന്നു .അപ്പുര്രമുള്ള ഓടയില്‍ നിന്നുള്ള ഗന്ധം വര്‍ഷങ്ങള്‍ക്കു ശേഷം വീണ്ടും ഇന്നു എന്നെ ഒക്കാനപെടുത്തി.
ജീവിതത്തില്‍ ആദ്യമായാണ് ഞാന്‍ എന്റെ പരിമിധികള്‍ മനസിലാക്കുന്നത് .സത്യത്തില്‍ എനിക്ക് പരിമിധികളെ ഒള്ളു ....ഒരു ഉണക്ക വക്കീല്‍ തെണ്ടിയുടെ പരിമിധികള്‍ ..മനസില്ലാക്കാന്‍ വളരെ വൈകി .
ഒരു പാറ്റ പറന്നു വന്നു ചുമലില്‍ ഇരുന്നു ...അവള്‍ക്കു പാറ്റയെ പേടിയായിരുന്നു .നെഞ്ചില്‍ വല്ലാത്ത ഭാരം ..കണ്ണുകളില്‍ നനവ്‌ പടരുന്നു ...ബള്‍ബിന്റെ വെളിച്ചത്തില്‍ ഈയാംപാറ്റകല്‍ പാറി പറക്കുന്നു ...ചിലത് ചിറകു കൊഴിഞ്ഞു താഴെ വീഴുന്നു. അവള്‍ എനിക്കൊരു ഭാരമാണ് .ഞാന്‍ പോലും എനിക്കൊരു ഭാരമാവുകയാണ് . ട്രക്കിലൂടെയുള്ള അടുത്ത ട്രെയിന്‍ പതിനൊന്നു മണിക്കാണ് .
അടുത്ത ദിവസത്തിലെ പത്രത്തിലെ ചെറിയ കോളം വായിച്ചു :അഞ്ജാത ജഡം കണ്ടുകിട്ടി

a broken dream (thought evolved after seeing inception)

we all dream while sleeping.dreams are unreal for us,sometimes it disturbs you,sometimes it comforts you.some dreams are incomplete,before the next picture we will wake and we stray behind that uncompleted phantom.we long for that dream to get completed ...but that never happens....the climax of that deception is lost in unreal world...we cant regain it.
now imagine we are dreaming,our life is a dream....everything around is a mere projection.relations,structures,emotions,disaster,achievement....evrything....that was all dream....we were all sleeping and is still sleeping.....we are not living....we are dreaming....we are living in dream......and we are trying to complete our dream..in our own way...but thats not possible........dreams are unreal...our world is unreal....
and it is death that wake us up...to reality...suddenlt when your heart beats drop to death...you get up as you where in a dream..just like we wake up from our dreams while we sleep at night....death wakes us up from the dream called life....then you understand....the life you thought you have conquered or lost was just a passing fantacy....death calls us to life...calls us to shed our dream....evry dream has to come to an end ...so as the dream like this unreal life....death is where the real life starts......

amrita-peace is here

amrita......its not a college its a heaven.love is every where in this place situated in a peaceful outskirt which was once an elephant corridor....becuase of massive defoerestration for increasin facilities for students,villagers thank amrita that no animals disturb them nowadays.
amma is the soul and spirit of this college where they dont just educate but educate values.values which the new uncultured genration shuold hold on. freedom is valuable here,in amrita you are not just humans...but boy and girl...two different species..and make them understand 'our culture'....should not be forgotten.amma's favourate lord krishna may be a flirt and may had ten thousand wives...but amma forgive him....and making the new generation walk on the right path.god has the right to giva and take life,so no respect should be given to any death cases inside campus.
the MBA girl who jumpd to death due to unknown reasons have no right for any last respect.blood in the floor was swept to drainage by the cleaner.thats how it should be.how can she take the power of god??that too inside amrira ,temple of amma??
indian culture is held high in amrita....jeans and t shirt are taboo....but full sleeve shirt and formal pants are to b used....no its not being slave of colonialism...ts 'our culture'.
perfection is amrita.....so why should one question anything in amrita?pramod...the aposthal of indian culture not even allowed the song 'maule mere maule'....how can a watch dog of 'our culture' allow such a terrorism song in the peaceful atmosphere of amrita??
the criminals are to be dismissed....the criminals who write,raise voice or even question the spiritual i stress spiritual but non religous scheme of amrita should be expeled.indeed they should be hang to death....how can you rebel against the purifying ambience of amrita.
students sorry disciples live here without any complaints...becuase they ae given everyhing they needed ...
in amrita no one cries,except criminals.they deserve to cry.

My shooting star

Her grey invaded hair and thick framed glasses that covered

the feminine form of Guevara eyes  ,

The eyes I admired most and the gaze which radiated freedom

Her empathy for the warriors of forest made me her acquaintance

Words from her which had no holds to bar draw me into her

The fury in her that tremble the mighty made me fearless

The rebel but serene self of her lit hope among lives in dark,

The liberated soul had the whole of sky to fly free,

But I am still here struggling to break out of my cage.