Poem: Return of the Darkness

Swaying, chugging, whistling,

tunneling through darkness,

Within and beyond.

Naipaul on the berth, Nokia in the palms,

Kenny Rogers in the air.

 

Rhythm of rail in my bones,

familiar journey, yet unfamiliar senses.

Rattling fans, clunky iron wheels

Bending my legs, I longed for

familiarities of home, when

 

ordure and urine smell found my nose.

And eyes looked towards its source.

Saw a face glow, with the lonely light,

erupting from the loo, against the ivory face.

Hairs unmoved, scarf caught in the wind.

The face entered, the darkness returned.

Comments

  1. Seena KarimbumkaraJuly 15, 2012 at 5:07 PM

    Lovely.. gives the feel of a train journey.. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownJuly 16, 2012 at 6:32 PM

    Great flow of words Raj da.I too feel like m on a train with the same thoughts rolling through my mind

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Modern Assam-Still in the making?

Image
In review:  Empire’s Garden: Assam And The Making Of India •by Jayeeta Sharma • Permanent Black • Rs 695 Renaissance, Enlightenment and Industrial Revolution ushered in the modern era in Europe and ultimately to the entire globe, notably through the institutions of capitalism and colonialism. Colonial and capitalist induced transformations as well as the resistances offered against such changes initiated complex processes whereby many modern nations and nationalities were formed. India is but the result of such processes. Although there is a considerable volume of scholarship on the origin of the idea of India, the respective histories of its numerous divergent constituent nations are often washed out and obliterated in the process of creating a grand assimilative history. Also missed out are the subaltern perspectives of nationhood from lesser known ethnic societies. For Assam and the northeast in general, who have been purportedly over-marginalized in the popular and academic
Read more

Twilight Existences

Image
Can you uproot the uprooted? Strong limbs, s ubmissive lives,  Bruised palms, egos , souls  untroubled  Abstracted friends,  love  forlorn,  Ghost families Burnt faces,  tireless  dreams. Undeserved,  even of punctuations? In the ditties of growth Where did paan,  bidi,  or gutkha pitch-in to   make-over,  build, develop? Unacknowledged martyrs, uncelebrated piety Killed, burnt, maimed Uprooting the uprooted fulfilling convenient whims, Of unbeknownst nations,  obtuse destinies. Wiped from imaginations Subtracted from reality. Quietly born and raised To mop, pull, push, drag civilizations'  humdrum burdens  Underneath the ordinary  where , high heaven Is the dusty earth. yet why the head  droops down and down?
Read more

Did I love you?

Image
On the long treeless walks, The unyielding Sun shone hot and hard. You had an umbrella. Did I love you? Or did I just wish some shade? Classes were boring hostel moribund. You pure entrancing charm. Did I love you? Or did I just want myself to lose unto you? My songs sucked. And you had the Bee Gees the Carpenters and Dan Seals Did I love you? Or did I just wish Music? Life not interesting, death not arresting, yet enough. You seemed both, yet more. Did I love you? Or did I just wish to inhabit A third world? Thoughts were insipid And you were my La belle mélange Did I love you? Or did I just aspire to indite, poetise, criticise? Mind was complicated And you had a neck, two breasts. Did I love you? Or did I just long to indulge in your innocent simplicities? I was lost And you were paths. Promising me a home, a light. Did I love you? Or did I just seek religion?
Read more