Dussehra

The sky was pale pink,with the reds clustering towards the setting sun.It was drizzling.I woke up from my siesta,startled by the intimidating roar. Soldiers reported that the source of the roar was an astounding beauty with eighteen hands..mounted over a lion..Nothing has shook my heart so far..No,it is not fear..

“Prime Minister,Go with a portion of our army on my behalf.Show her who Mahishasur is.Don’t harm her.Tell her she could be my Queen.”

Will she come?I haven’t seen her.But it seems like I know her more than I know myself.What would be her eyes like?Will the moon coyly hide behind her eyes?Or will the sun set into her eyes?

“Maharaj,She refused your proposal.She said she is both the creator and the creation.She said she wants to meet you in a battle.”The Prime minister said.

Did she stride into my empire or..?My heart..it aches.

“A woman’s pride lies in her desirability. Tamra,My trusted General,Go and humble her pride.Do not harm her.Trap her in your illusions.”

Tamra will bring her.She will be the Queen..Her face will be my day and her feet my night…and she,my life..

Night..

Tamra’s efforts have gone in vain.She is challenging me.What kind of a woman is she?It seems it is time for words to retire and actions to stir the dust..

“Durmukha!Bhashkala!let our army be ready.Let the horns blow.Let the flags flutter in the wind.Let the war begin!”

The horses vanished out of my sight.A lonely wind hummed a melancholy and swept into the balcony,caressing my untidy hair.I was surprised to realise that I had been praying for her..She is the Queen and she is ruling me..Will the boon save me this time?

A sleepless night and a despondent day gave birth to an evening with blood stained stories.A lost heart perched upon the tree of losses,yet chirping and singing the tale of spring..The leaves are falling..

My armour..it seems like I am wearing it for the first time.Ah!there is a strand of grey hair.Pluck it..or no let it be there.This is war..

This is my first war.So far I had been playing around.Nothing was as challenging as this.I always wanted to win.Today,the war is within me.I want to win and I want to lose too..

Ah! My men!Durmukha and Bhashkala are burning down with the dusk..Oh my dear Tamra.. And there lies Asiloma and Ah,this is Bidala’s head and where is my Sikshura?….Where is She?

Moments were clowns..and she was waiting for me.In the light of her eyes, I could see mine.And for the first time I had contempt for myself. My eyes were stagnant with lust that the mosquitoes of promiscuity bred night in them.

I asked her one more time..She seeks war..

She was stronger than I thought,an apt counter for an invincible.Her arrows were less severe than her eyes.The serpent shaped weapons were nothing in front of the curly hair..Man is not strong enough to attack her..I wasn’t born a king,but I was born to be a King.

Nine days and nine nights passed.In the course of war,I changed my forms many a times..or rather she unravelled my inner powers..She has defeated my flamboyance,my pride,my lust..The lion,the elephant and the snake went back to the jungle on that the moonlit night..

  She is undoubtedly more powerful than me.She could  have slayed me in a moment..Why is she not doing that then?

Dussehra

The tenth day..Red was radiating out of her cloth to garnish the last leaves of autumn.Her army has almost wiped out mine.Its the final wave.Today I am what I really am..devoid of masks and shadows..away from the stage,I am no longer an actor.I am the bull headed Mahishasur.I leapt upon her lion.She pressed the trident into my chest.I fell back.I knew I had no heart.Still,it was bleeding.The wound that I had been yearning for all this life..An unknown cocktail flowed out of my wound..No,it wasn’t blood..

I am still a warrior.I rose and kicked her..I could hear my mother’s voice,filled with joy “He is kicking..”I could hear my Father’s happiness..And now I could see her..She was fierce and tender..like the lotus in the scorching heat..I saw the lustre of her discuss..It was nothing in front of her lustre…

 

A final note..

I thank her for making my death so beautiful.She chose fall for my end.Trees draped their leaves in red..Sun’s rays kissed the sand passionately..Day and night and rain and sun came together..that dusk..to bid me farewell..On those last moments,when life and death held each other,I forgot to count my breath..Then I realised why she waited for the tenth day..Red was in the air..flowers and vermilion,her saree and the sky..blood and love..

Every year every body celebrate my loss with truimph..Every day I thank her for helping me win for the first time..Every year I celebrate her victory..

(The above write up is just an adaptation of the original version. There is no intention to mislead or cause confusion.)

 

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The night before that dawn

 

The slanting rays of the afternoon peeped in through the curtains.Leaves of the banyan,who were married to the branches were eloping with the wind…to an unknown destiny.There were many more leaves..there were many strokes of grey and white in the sky..But the day was nearing its end… He feared death for the first time.He looked inside.Behind the curtains she was looking at him with love.He smiled faintly.She went up to him and gently touched his face. He felt like a kid.He lay on her laps and wept,counting his sins..She was gently passing her fingers through his hair.He looked out of the window of the train of life.Somebody lighted a cigar on the western horizon.Grey crept over the walls of the sky.The day held the dusk tightly.He felt a rare pain.The dusk threw colors.The dusk smeared red powder on its cheeks. The dusk was intoxicated by bhang.The dusk stooped and stumbled in the dark.Lust blossomed as stars just to fall as a shooting star and the dusk was lost..forgotten..His stream of thoughts sublimed into a short nap.

He woke up to a distant clinging of bells and aartis.It was still dusk.She was busy lighting the lamps in front of the huge painting of the Goddess.He suddenly,strangely felt like preparing a lemonade for her..and only for her.He went to the kitchen and took a lemon.While cutting it he accidentally cut his finger.When she came back she found him with a bleeding finger.The blood was not white as pearls..It was dripping from his finger like rubies..She dressed his wound.She was delighted to see the change in him.She drank the lemonade and smiled at him.He drank the rest.She lighted the Dhunuchi.The fragrance and the fragile smoke filled the air.The smoke lashed at his face.A thousand mosquitoes flew out of his mind.A Polash tree blossomed in his mind.And the twigs of the Polash were burning in the sacred fire accompanied by the rhythm of mantras. He could feel his sins burning in it like an age old Chola empire.His heart was no longer cold.It was brooding like a pigeon..warm and cozy.

He took the squeezed lemons and pressed in the middle to form small lemon diyas.He placed them on a plate and took it to the room.

She was in deep meditation. He lit the lemon diyas and prayed to the Goddess.It rained and his mind was smeared by ash from an age old fire..like an Aghori..The smoke from the Dhunuchi was still dissolving in the fragrance of the air…The night withdrew..And the dawn was blushing red…

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Micturition

“Shhhh..brulllll..”the sound of urine falling on the water inside the closet resonated inside his bathroom.He felt that there is a music in urine.It took long because he had lots of urine.It was white in color,or colorless..it was like the sky after the rain,so pale.Even last week, it was like Appy fizz.So golden and it created bubbles and foam in the closet water.He got out of the toilet,put on his zip and got out.It is time for college.

The bus was a bit crowded.He stood in the front region,listening to the journey song.There was a tourist bus in front of his bus.Some fluid was dripping from it,as if it was urinating.

The sky was clouded.There were oil stains in the roads,painted by rainbows.His bladder was full again.He has to walk a lot to reach the college.He can urinate on that side of the footpath.Thought streams interrupted him.”Hey that will pollute our city”.”But this is India and lots of people do that here and there is nothing wrong in case of an EMERGENCY”. But he just decided not to do so.He has to be different and moreover this is swachh bharat.

Somehow he reached the college.He rushed to the boys toilet.He noticed the conversion of a smile to a surprise in acquainted faces.But there was no time to address them at that moment,because it was an emergency.

The boys toilet was smelly,stinky and dirty.No Chemistry lab or Junkyard could match it.Since it was a public toilet and since it was clogged,there was a cocktail of urine and some wriggling creatures and larvae in the closet.He could not urinate,maybe his urine was too proud,just like him.

As usual he had lots of free hours that day.He couldn’t go out because of attendance issues,yet another wasted day.He felt terribly angry with the whole world.There was a time when he had spent extra hours at school and those times were worth everything.He was worried with the college.He felt like taking revenge.But how?He could commit suicide by jumping into the college well,and before dying he would urinate in the well,so that the whole college will drink his urine.Ha ha ha.”Oh God!How crazy and devilish I am!”He thought.

After college,he was walking home with his mind occupied by several anxieties.He never expected college to be like this.His friends say that this is the best 3 years of his life.But he is way too anxious about his future.He feels insecure..always.He sipped the hot tea,slowly.The samovar was growling.And his stomach was also growling.He was hungry.

He got the side seat in the bus.The breeze ran its fingers through his hair.The cold air hugged him close.The rain sang a lullaby.He felt like sleeping.With his droopy,sleepy eyes he saw the flex of Attukal bhagavathy and he felt that she was smiling at him.He felt a rare sense of tranquility.He smiled.

He came in,kept his bag aside and went inside the toilet in his room.There was peaceful silence which dissolved in the sound of the belt and the unzipping jeans and to the musical “shhh..brulll.”He felt so light and relaxed.He came out of the toilet humming a forgotten tune of tranquility..

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Fever, Siesta, Contemplation…

It is wonderful to fall ill, once in a while. When my mind refuses to pause in a hectic life, my body echoes Neruda. It reminded me the power of a timely pause.It showed me the sublime sensuosness of silence, by keeping quiet. My body stood naked before my mind and temperature soared up. I noticed how dilated my pupil became and how red my lips turned. I trembled at my shivering heart, while the clock counted to 12. My senses became more sharp. I could see the flame in the eyes of my reflection in the mirror, flickering like a terrible fish. My nostrils widened to pick up my wild scent. Dew of perspiration garnered my moustache, with the lips below, so red like the blazing sun of the evening sky. My limbs were weak, every joint demanded rest. I could feel the muscles. My dorsal muscles are infidels-they were into an illegitimate relation with the softness of my bed whilst their solid marriage to my bones. When chill creeps through my nerves, warmth crawls through the hair in my chest and clasp the hair at the back of my head. I’d shiver, tremble and grunt like a wounded beast in the warm and soft bosom of my immunity. Lukewarm porridge and the naughty lemon pickle spiced up passion.The warmth crept over me like a Cow girl. Light and shadow lay intertwined on my body.Outside my window was a Sun who was lost in kissing the suprasternal notch of a scorching summer and climaxing into the wet monsoon. Cold air blew through the window and warm air rushed in and out rhythmically from my lungs.

Drops..

sweat..

tears..

rain..

I am a farmer, sowing seeds and hope, with a body promised to the Earth and a heart bound to the soil. My fever, like the Earth is round and plump..and a heart beats within her, like a fuming core.
I admire her lust for the delirium of death and the zest for the luring life..

#Celebrating fever!

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Kapalika

October..the air was filled with the scent of incense, the sound of clinging bells and Durga chalisa

 

He wriggled through the entrance,gave some coins to the old lady in front of the hut and moved inside.He locked the door.The wild jasmines that lay shattered on the bed were pressed and a faint fragrance came out…

He stood near the window.He could hear the beats of drums .The people were heading to Hoogli with huge statues of Kalima and Durgama.The skull like moon was vomiting moonlight into that barren land.At once he felt that he was the moon and she was the moon light.He took the earthen pot to quench his thirst.Suddenly the pot fell down and broke.She woke up.The water ran through the cemented floor.She stared at him.He felt guilty like a kid.She came near him.sat down and took the broken pieces.Only a part of the pot was broken. She lit a small diya inside the broken pot.The yellow light from the cracked pot sublimed into the faint moonlight and gave birth to a beautiful smile on her lips.He too smiled.She brought another pot and poured milk into his cupped hands.He drank it and smiled at her.

The next morning two new born babies came out of Sonagachi.He asked”What’s your name?”.”Kapalika”she replied.silence intensified between them.He looked at her expectantly. She smiled and hugged him and silently whispered”you are my Kalidasa..”.The morning sun kissed the jasmine flowers on the vine that crept upon the mango tree.The mango tree flowered for the first time…

 

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I want to be like Salman Khan

He was always angry.Being a 10th grader he is always asked by his parents to focus on studies.He had tuition for Maths &science. Maths sir was strict.but he could easily cut the science tuition and go for a movie.He loved Salman Khan.He wanted to be like Salman,in all aspects.Thus he ended up going to the Temple nearby,just to go shirtless.But he was too thin.So he started hitting the gym after tuition.

He was now obsessed with his body,especially his guns,the biceps.at the class,at the gym,at the busstop and almost everywhere he started flexing his guns and enjoying all by himself.He even went to the tailor to tighten the arms of his school uniform,so that when he flexes his shirt might tear.

Finally he need a girlfriend like Kareena kapoor.Nobody in his class looks like kareena.But still he didn’t gave up.He started chatting with a girl who had kareena’s face as her profile pic.

Days passed by. he started getting more angry.Salman had lots of action,drama,dance.but he is having no such things.He has not even got the body of Salman & he has got a fake kareena.he was so sad.That evening On his wayto the gym,he saw many “being human” T shirts in a shop.He longed for one,because it was his hero’s brand.He kept staring at it for a while.He saw a  homeless kid staring at him and the shop in amusement. The next day he took all the money he got for Onam.He secretly bought the t shirt.when he got out the child stared at him.He walked swiftly to the gym.That day he didn’t do anything.on his way back,he saw the kid begging around the streets.He stopped him and handed over the t shirt.The yellow light from the streetlight merged with the white glow of the kid’s smile.He ran with joy .He felt an ache in his heart which ripened into an elevated sweetness of happiness.There was no moon in the sky.But a moon has already risen in his heart,a moon sowing a moonlight with a tint of yellow street light.At once he realised that finally he was able to be a human being like Sal’MAN’.

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