Saturday, December 13, 2014

preterm agony


…nine am
eerie silence
between four dimensional glass walls
echoes
bounces back on stone partitions
whispers
easily sneaks through gaps of hinged doors
of neonatal ward
where preterm tiny sacks of flesh
breathe paid oxygen…


…five past nine
three generations
all female
walk in
the last one
maturing premature
coo coos
saying
not still
not still
at one and half kilogram…


…seven past nine
another infant gurgles in
dangling on aging man’s left arm
quite soon
hunger tickles his funny bone
and it gurgles louder
a middle aged woman
infants mother
plucks and cuddles him
to her left breast…


…nine past nine
gurgling fastens
as crossed eyes
meddle between hunger and feeder breast…


…ten past nine
“…this is when; my scalpel’s edge shivered whilst dissecting preterm agony…”
recalls maturing baby doctor
peeping through green OT mask
agonized
stands still
drops his pet knife
that clinking sound awakens third generation with a cry…


…fifty-nine past nine
lazy hour hand
quickly jumps a minute
to make it exact ten…

Friday, November 7, 2014

Winter's Drill

...just the beginning with duality
harshness far away
soils lose moss
a hollow chaos
of distant smoke
from burning corpse
mimics
winter's drilling fog...

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Living...

...early morning
open eyes to open skies
shut them dearly
take a deep breath
feel dewy earth
circling inside
listen to the gushing oceans within
and
leave alone
rusty tides of hatred
to be burned
by fiery
yet
golden rays of rising Sun...

Saturday, October 25, 2014

On Passing Moments....

...visited wall of walls
absorbed colorful colors
splashed by friends and friends of friends
that keep healing me
and
the glowing bliss on a child's face
from twirls and swirls
off a soon-to-end sparkler
that I saw last night
easily whispered into me
...living merrily
is an ability to pull-out happiness
from every passing moment...

Friday, October 10, 2014

unerased stubbles

...no no
plant no kiss
your stubbles hurt
its been days
you razed 'em...

...worry not
come closer
allow me erase 'em
for
I got a new eraser
that you bought last year
dad...

...and then
the little girl
dropped new one
and wiped droplets
rolling down
on old flesh...

Friday, October 3, 2014

Munching Words

...roll
chew
masticate
dump these words down your gut
you idiot
and ask for nothing more
they said
and I munched and munched those short and lengthy flicked at me
till I floated
thinking
friendship of the rich toward me
would never elope with dictionaries of the world
alas
they but did
and I died
while waiting for a friendly burp off their palms...

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Distant Breeze

...cool breeze from distant fields
that used to reach me easily
once
now battles with towering billboards
and
without resistance
flies away
toward unknown skies...

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

On Favoritism...

The artist collapsed in pain at the entrance of a large theater

with seizures all over,

where he was told to wait endlessly;

because, he replied

‘All Greats’ on being asked,

who was his favorite?

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Sketched Heart

...draw me your heart...

Whispered She

He
a child at heart
and
a man of love
sketched 
ventricles and valves

...you still are a child...

She mumbled and left
without knowing
every painted artery and vein
had her name
etched on them
and the artist on hand
about to whisper
life in it...

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Pageless Author

...absence of pages made him realize;
how poor he was, 

and he thought of being richest, 
while basking 
in glory of few words and verses...

Friday, August 29, 2014

Haiku

After a brief break; I, today squeezed time to allow me write a Haiku. Theme of this Haiku is on change of season. Seasons come and go, change our living, but existence of life does not stop.

showers float aloft –
southern breeze probe eastern sky
new wings pierce cocoon

Friday, August 15, 2014

Nudging Memories

...write not verses
on
trees
clouds and skies
birds and wings
eyes and cries
smiles and laughs
me
dad...

...of what use
will they be
when you won't be around
and
none of these would sing
but
nudge memories of you...

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

untitled pains...

...he kept on preaching
'time heals'
but his arrogance
hardly could hide
equated instalments
of
piercing tortures
he
bestowed on unwanted loved ones...

Stolen Kiss

...on a thick monsoon night
they both
hug
cuddle
do not kiss
listen favorite
humming in distant paddy
chew pinch of raw tobacco
have a spin
and
think of planting one on each other
just then
a thin shower steals her tender one...

Thursday, July 24, 2014

On rain and memories...



...rain walks in
with
a cool mix of metered showers
spells -
a magical lull
a warm effortless lug
into
lubricating memorable times...

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Sheer Loneliness...

...almost midnight
and a lonely owl
flying through cloudy skies
manages to swoop
on a low height street lamp
probes dark crevices on walls
lurks
hoots
finds nothing
hoots again
long
waits movement of preys
a curious mortal
watches leads
silences goosebumps
recalls companion nights
wipes lachrymal discharge
sitting under
a noisy wall-mounted fan
running on speed one...

Sunday, July 20, 2014

On moving times...

...they never change
even a bit
despite moving times
all year round
flutter
pick
sing
fly
at dawns and dusks
while
there's a constant change
in their two legged admirers
at all times
calling it evolution...

Saturday, July 19, 2014

On unequalled pleasure...

...he found
unequalled pleasure
in
polishing shoes of a child,
than buffing-up
his
pitted
and
buckled ones...

Promised Wings

..hello Sir Crow
what brings you here?

...let me have a look
at your little ones
o little Munia...

...no no
go away
pay a visit seasons later
I have a promise
to lend my wings
for a day or two
to the one
who asked for...

...till then
allow me sing lullabies
for new hungry
Munias...

Sunday, July 13, 2014

On cloth lines...

...on those
barely tight cloth lines
there hung
favorites
pegged doubly
few beyond likes
left to fade with wild winds
and
some timeless pieces
tattered though
get
smartly hid behind
newly acquired
monochromes...

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Wings wanted...

...lend me
your wings
for a day or two
little Munia

let me too
like you
fly across skies
sit atop
broken roofs
flowering trees
and
whistle away signals of love
echoing empty airs
around

I promise
I shall return 'em
on return
if I ever do...

Munia is a name, usually given to a Mynah.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

On roads to heaven...

..pathways to heaven
have remained
broad
beyond times known
it is up to us
narrow minds
not to clog it
with
crooked
riding instincts
of earth...

Friday, July 4, 2014

Of Monsoon Winds...

...from far away
travelling many miles
touching
those alive
living to live
and the dead
through muscles of time
southern winds
spread
fragrance of
wet
pregnant earth
somewhere
far away...

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Bloody Blame Game

...they first erode
natural greens
and then
hang
net of
curtains and coir-thread
green
while
there's a bloody
ongoing
going on
blame game
among
all girl schools
and co-eds
on
who's
messing
tender greens
under covers...

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Old Woman...

...behind her 
draped in pearly white
sagging bosom
there beats
something
even God
leaves his
Kingdom for...

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Racial Colors


they came at the door rushing
in tens
groped
held
tied me
tight

poured cold colors
yellow
violet
green
pink
sprinkled murky water
bottled from common tap

they
cheered
laughed and yelled

united colors of India

come evening
they gathered all
except me
for a meaty meal

i asked
why am i not on the list

you are an outsider of other caste here
in came the answer

i said

you said

united colors of India
this noon

aha
that was just for fun
and
you were a point of that

remember
in spite of colors
we still are divided
you jerk

they yelled in chorus
and i died 

a racial death


©AniruddhaSastikar2014.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

O Racism...

A child smiles –
looking at a friend’s face,
friend returns a bigger one.


Both eager to come close and play,
step toward one another;
just then,
in comes a shrill voice –
“Don’t play with that child?”
“Why?” asks the second one, sadly.
“That child is not our class and does not even speak our language, that’s why.”


With a gloom on faces and woe in hearts –
children return home, sob,
and wait for 'The Sun' of racism to set,
once for all.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Abuse Or Jealousy?



I have had been wanting to share this for quite a long time, but could not do so due to lack of time and attend priorities of life. Am glad, I finally found time to gather this thing and put it in front of you all. So, here it is. I have removed his name to hide his identity.

Has anyone of you gone through online abuse? Yes, I know it is the worst thing to happen. Especially, if you are working on your passion or just sharing your thoughts. I have had the worst experience of online abuse from none other but from my own cousin. It is more painful, when family members abuse you, instead of supporting. I think, if they can't support, they have no right to abuse. This incident happened almost three years ago. Although I have had pardoned him for his stupidity, the scars remain. 

There are few lines in our local language (Marathi), which I have translated into English for easy understanding.

Wonder, why do people have an abusive attitude. Can't they keep their mouth shut or divert their frustration elsewhere? Oh! That's too much of my rambling. 

Check out the conversation we had on Facebook. I am thankful to him; because this led me to create a simple picture and a quotation, which depicts true character of a matured man.

I have termed this entire episode as Abuse Or Jealousy?

The conversation starts from here...

My comment on facebook status update after posting ‘What If I Die Tomorrow?’

A question irrefutable,
Yet my mind,
my heart and I wonder –
What if? What if?
I fear...

I wake up
every morning to learn,
I am alive still;
to thank the Lord, I do.
It makes me humble...

Looking at myself,
my loved ones,
my heart renders;
streams to live,
forever, just me and them.
Ignorant I am...

With hopes and dreams
in heart; I live,
days, weeks, years,
thinking of survival,
till eternity.
My ignorant optimism...

Hopes die, dreams crash,
worried, scattered,
on the ideation of,
of death, What if I die today?
What if I die just now?
I see nothing...

Mind lurks,
heart thinks what after me?
What about my loved ones,
my family, my friends?
Will I be remembered, loved,
after I am dead?
I am all confused...

Death –
You are just an incident,
you aren’t that prudent too.
A reality just,
before you rush for me;
I will live for "LIFE",
my family, my friends,
my dreams, my hopes.
I will “Love” until Death...

Death –
You will, I know;
come to me, take me away –
with you, one day,
but I am not,
scared of you.
My Lord makes me fearless...

Dear Friends, I know you all are busy, unlike me. But, do pull out some time from your busy schedules to read this poem. I do not wish to brag about, me authoring it; but I guarantee, time spent by you would be worth it. Check it out. Thanks.

Him:
aho xxxxxxx, Death is certain. bachenge to aur bhee ladenge. i.e to say mission is important. (Fight till we are alive.)

Me:
अहो xxxxxx, पहिले हे सांगा, कविता पूर्ण पणे वाचली आहे का? नसेल वाचली, तर आधी वाचा, आणि मग बोला. "Death is certain" हे आम्हाला माहित नाही असं नव्हे.

(Tell me, if you have read the poem, if not, please read and then raise your voice. I am aware of death being certain.)

Him:
tried but cud not read beyond first few lines.. sorry, but in my view it is verbal diarrhea which most poems often are. i think it will be a mega commercial success as commons like me cud not read beyond first few lines. patience ran out. best of luck

Me:
@xxxxxx: It’s really, really sad you couldn’t hold your patience to read what your brother wrote and instead termed it verbal diarrhea.
By the way, I opine that the one who understands a poem really has a heart and a sharp mind and those who can’t read between words or understand them have lost patience in everything they do. Let me tell you upfront, I ain’t here to sell anything.
Thanks for your best luck. Thanks again, you encouraged me to write more.

Sorry for the harsh reply. Have a great week ahead.

Me:
@xxxxxx: Just to share with you, this same poem received 5 Stars and it’s been read across the world. If "You" didn't like it, it doesn't mean others won't like it. I would always try to learn and appreciate others instead of faking I know everything. Once again thanks a lot for your genuine comment, which really uplifted my spirits.

Him:
i told u. it will be a commercial success. infact i also liked it while wiping..... u know what. no marks for guessing.... and by the way you are faking not me. also all other poems of you can be good if printed on toilet paper. people can really enjoy and u will get 8 stars.

Me:
O My Gosh! Who am I conversing with? I thought, I probably was conversing with a doting father, a loyal husband, an obedient son, but I wasn't aware I was debating with an insensible, crass, rude, indifferent grown-up man; who thinks shit, talks shit and writes shit.

Awesome attitude, Brother! Keep it up. This surely will take you to a fetid potty, perhaps you are already there. Pick-up a pen if you have that guts and brains to write something creative which would make sense to yourself and co-relate at least to people who know you. I’d rather turn you off and look-up to people who make sense to me, my life, my family, and my friends. Don't you worry about how much stars I get, you'd rather worry about how many stars you get for such a nasty attitude.

Him:
I wanted to blow up the asylum which u were seeking. You are definitely not what u are trying to show others on the Facebook.

Me:
Wow! Awesome, Brother! I like your fighting attitude. Just for your information, people in here who know me are quite aware of me. And there’s no specific need for me to make a show-off. I propose ending this here.

Him:
in my view fb is the place wherein most of the people are trying to show what they are not. thus picked on you. pls read poem The road not taken by Robert frost. hopefully u will understand what i was trying to say.this poem has the fighting attitude , it lifts the spirits and not your poems on death and hair dye. also i Cud not understand your expectation of appreciation of your poem by everyone. what kind of expectation is this??

Me:
Just read the poem you mentioned. Truly inspiring. Thanks for sharing. If you are so much concerned about others showing off in here, why don't you log off permanently? Writing/doing something creative and unimagined is also a road less traveled, Which I did and will continue to do so. I will and would never express or expect unappreciative people like you to acknowledge my work. I have a loving family of friends who guide and appreciate me for whatever I write. I also make it a point to learn from them and their work, instead of arguing, debating, and bragging.
I think I had enough of this. I do not, unlike you, wish to waste my time on such discussions. Thanks once again.

Him:
if you are not showing off then why the hell r u so upset? the shitty, brainless poems of yours are nothing but a waste of time and u just refuse to acknowledge. Further expecting appreciation to such mediocre work is foolish. pls grow up. or alternatively join politics since u are suffering from moral hazard.

Me:
Thank You, Dear. You Won.


“Man with a strong character and moral values won’t ever argue in the first place, but if he’s dragged into it, he will always be the first one to accept a defeat to win naturally.”