Aritra Chakrabarti

Oh!You tired mind You sick and giddy timid mind… No more...Try to relax, try to sleep... It's past 2.30 now... Here I lie awake Trying to fight those images Of a dead man whom I knew, A man whose corpse I beheld- Lying prostrate on the floor, Ants inching closer While his family Makes the last lame attempt To protect this dead being one last time... Everyone cries, his old mother sighs... Moans of death and decay Fill the heavy air... The sun rises high, But the rays bring back memories Of deaths of my dear ones Some years ago... A fresh fear rises, A fresh agony of imminent pains- Who knows how much time later? More suffering to bear, More losses to live fear... The weight will only add on Till one's own exit... Life will bring blow after blow At intervals steady and unsteady. Sleepless nights will come and go. But the burden will steadily grow. Life is like a post-dated cheque To be encashed upon death By the ones left behind In cash or i

I now refuse To be of any use To the ones who hurt me. I’m looking for you- The one whom I had to lose While I served these wretched few. The world pays back. I say- yes it does pay you back But that never does no good to us. Those bastards up there Grab all the lion’s share And we losers bite the dust. They have broken my trust Now is my time to run fast To deliver justice to the ones who were lost. Oh God! Will I be doing The same crass thing? Will I be burning a sick little child In flames so vicious and wild? Will I burn men at stake? Other men’s faith to break By feeding the dead With a few plastic notes?

I play the blues But I'm out of use For years quite a few. I strum some chord And ask old Lord "Will the magic return?" Middle-aged man, An old beer can Signed for a fan That never reached her. She died in a crash After my show. She was my last fan As in a real keen one Who could jump with joy When I glanced at her In that good old bar. Now alone I sing A tring-ding-ding. And I play a li'l bit And all day I sit Brooding if I can Have just one more fan.

How do you understand? How can you when no one else does? You take time out Day after day, month after month Years… Don’t you feel sick? Or at least tired or hurt Or wronged or misled? How do you deal with your friends And mine and the folks Who form the terrible circle Of semi-intellectual, all-knowing kinsmen? Tough questions they ask- “How do you cope up with his whims?” Or even trickier ones- “How have you been with him for so long?” Even I don’t know… I know I’m strange… Bitter and rude with awkward ideas and aims… But it’s easier said than done To be with someone Who doesn’t do the little good things, The silly old things, The love poems and those songs, The dedications and the holding of hands… Someone who shows less care,  Disappoints and hurts you… How can you say that it’s him you adore? You were a fine young girl- Bright and beautiful, A reader of romantic tales, A believer in magic, An ardent fan of Hollywoo

Your indifference Or your interference, Your subservience Or your obtrusive assurance- I love it all. I lift up my head From my faithful old bed. Then lazily I crawl And make it to the hall. Your smile greets me in my mind. I hit the road With a spirit of unrest, With a thirst To be the best. Your thoughts go with me. I have no regret, Not a single complain. Let me tell you simple and plain- How much I love you I can never explain.

A straight-faced adoration Of the self that you have become… A haughty denial of the past Only to be haunted each night By the memories that it brings. The body can hide. But what about that mind? That wretched rodent Which lingers on in the dark, Waiting to find its favourite meal Every time you switch off the lights… It finds its way back into the past- That kitchen of its choice Where it feeds on mistakes And blunders and warm, salty rain… Freeze the mind… Let it be all body… Let it be a rolling tongue, A wet lower lip, Turned scarlet after A kiss with an able woman… Let it be a five-star full course, Or a Versace or a Rolex… Hide away the failure Hide away the past Hide away the mockery The insult, the damned existence Of a small man, a faceless man… But this mind is a clock That keeps ticking backward… Bringing down the glorious body The tight-lipped elegant giant The man who made it big, The man who played it sma

Glittering lights, wild amplifiers Crackers and loud voices, Drum beats and a crazy banjo… The brand new clothes, The happy faces… Plans of meeting friends And relatives and acquaintances… Decked up in the best new clothes And the gaudy new accessories… Durga Pujo is the occasion And Bengalis are lost in festivities… One old man sitting in his balcony Gazes down the street… A pandal close by… The idol is hidden from his sight… Too many people, a blinding halogen … He tries real hard…He can’t see the idol… He gets up, goes to his room Takes up his stick and walks out Into the street…Into the pandal… Mother Durga is yet to be found… The customary ritual Of bowing of a thousand heads That walk away in a hurry Towards a brighter gathering And a blazing speaker… A fiery glance at that pretty girl there Or that cute guy around the corner Or the discussions about a happy marriage Or a successful businessman Or a goon who’s made it

Late afternoon, My bed, two alien beings, The slithering continues. Those shadows on the wall, Those hushed up breaths, Those half-controlled passions Of love that is yet to bloom… Afternoon turns into evening, I, in a pre-conscious sleep, Try to distract my mind. Mind is a cunning little fool. It is the ugly old tool That builds up these thoughts. Keep them away. Try to cleanse that workspace- That old mind of yours. No…It doesn’t take orders… It has a world of its own… The noises carry on The breaths get faster… Even my mind keeps pace… The aliens seem so real, They seem like friends so near, There remains no tear nor fear… And the purgation is never to come.

You told me to write About your fight… I waited day and night To get hold of the vision Or at least a mere sight. The loop-holes were too many. The words didn’t find harmony Till the point of time When your picture told a rhyme. Your happy face, With its looming grace Seemed so out of place For a girl in so much pain. I kept on staring Dangerously daring My mind to look into your eyes. The sight slowly got clear Giving way to a vision so near To the heart of a frightened man. Impersonal is nothing. We all share the pangs of suffering The loading and unloading Of burdens of all kinds. Your smile seemed just fine… So much like mine So much like the smiles all around. You will surely come around Coz you have learnt the art That keeps all men going- The art of hiding a heavy heart Behind a perfect smile.

Sitting in a tower Dangling your hair And all the people call you A maiden most fair. Wake up from your sleep And look into the deep Shadows around your heart. You’ll jump up with a start. There is no prince charming. He died as he was farming In the forest of his mind With the others of his kind. What have you been thinking? Haven’t you been sinking? It’s time to make a move So get into the groove. You don’t need nobody To get you out of there. You are not a captive As long as you don’t fear.

“Why does it throb?” “What? The heart?” “No. It’s this strange head. The heart keeps me alive But the throbbing head And the horrible thoughts- They are killing me.” The fowl stench, The charred bodies Scattered in bits and pieces, The blood gone black- Parts of humanity Or humanity that used to be? Blasted down to oblivion. Another group of people Dead like so many before. Adding to the never-ending list Of names that cease to be names anymore. Numbers maybe. Another camouflaged figure Of some two hundred or so- Lost in a moment, forgotten in a day. What difference does it make? Some more dead, many more alive- Visiting new malls, dressing up like dolls, Clicking some cute pictures, Uploading videos of fun and frolic, Praising a friend’s pretty or hot look- In person or on Facebook. Horrid rituals of shallow mirth. Some hearts never shook While the news channels sold the bites. Death piled over death, Money piled o

The nuclear radiation spreads… The wretched earthly folk Are busy paying their debt To scientific cacophonies That ring through history And reach the generations That are yet to come. Some are born blind, Some deaf, some lame- All for a silly political game. The flesh and blood of man Is the cheapest commodity. The feelings and pain of man Form the opportunity cost That is subject to debates- Positive and negative readings Depending on which side Of the power you stand for. Some old man from the old days Left behind a catch phrase- “Life is a game”. Little did he know how far His comment will be stretched. History and geography, Economics and politics… Sum these up and you get A host of feelings that lead To nausea and headache. It is the same divisive game, A war of horror and shame, Nothing worthwhile to name. Every man is born lame, Guided by higher forces- Forces that have nothing to do With humanity or divinity

That what we know so well Yet we hardly know. That what we get drawn towards Or we just can’t stand. A pleasure out of some treasure Or some prickly pain That all our lives we feign But can never explain… This, my friend, is abstract. An eye hidden By the shadow of an old cataract No doctor, or proctor Can do any good… The mind sees what it wants to see The heart feels what it has to feel The cow will moo The crow will caw The whore will moan Your back she will claw… The city will speak A language unknown The poet will spit And his words will drone… Life will go on Yet it will end. Signals you will send Addressed to a friend… No one shall read But the friend will pretend That the language was known That the pain did drone In two hearts like some cry Of the wild beast who can’t fly… This, my friend, is absurd…  Excuse me, friend?? You are abstract and I am absurd… You are crazy and I am a retard… Live on for an

Mamma told you to be good. Papa told you to be a man. Mum and pop have popped off. Their days and ways are done. Look around my son. What have you got? Open your eyes and see. Old virtues have lost ground, Loyalty and sympathy are lost. This world is nothing but a whore. She will suck life out of your core. Deceive yourself no more. Go sniff at some dark alley See if it seems friendly Sniff some more and dilly dally. But not too long; Not until it gets you. Done with your job? Good...Lift up your hind leg... Repay your debt. Stick into her throat That trash of a pink note. That’ll do for now. Take to your heels. Show her how it feels To be left alone in the dark. From crevice to corner, From dusk to dawn, From twilight to grimy shadows You will reign supreme. Do not be a fool Who sits on an old stool Waiting for another fool To usher in the light. The light’s been cast away. Powerless, it’s lost its way.

Sitting beside the glass pane I silently watch the falling rain. But this beauteous sight Brings back the dormant pain. What is beauty if it is not shared With all those for whom you cared? The absence of even one of them Makes this beauty so painfully lame. How I long to have them back With me all over again! But the power to invert time I know I lack And from such fantastic wishes I must learn to refrain. What is bygone shall never return. But memories are the only exception. They bring back to you all that you have lost To bring on your face a smile or to make the tears run down. Memories are the only medium Between the present and the past, The only way to travel backward And to try to relive with those, who like others, don’t forever last. 

Oh Heavens, receive thy son. His earthly chores are done, undone, redone. Too many aspirations- some fulfilled and some not. Of all of them, now remains none. Running around in circles, He has spent his life and Now he is near its end. He has learnt that life is an empty race To keep up pace With all that is never to last. Life creates fools of people, Tyrants, and slaves, and heroes alike- Who believe more in the self Than the mighty Self of all. He has realized this simple fact But still remains a fool. Because his realization is not strong enough To make him quit the race with grace. Do him a favour, Lord. Deliver him from the agony. Teach him not any more worldly ideas. But make him one with thee. With thee he shall lie in peace And nevermore shall he run. As in thee will he find himself And all that he was running for. In thee he will see the Truth- That truth which is complete and pure. So content will he feel

The waves went wild, The birds began to screech, The beasts howled and scampered, While the men grew pale with fear. Up above in His lonesome land God saw men yet again. If not for fear or for greed They would hardly pray. The furious winds had seen it all. They tore down the cowardly doors. The dark, pensive clouds congregated To discuss the fate of men. The time has finally arrived, God thought to Himself His choicest race had enough chances. As He was about to descend on earth His eyes caught sight of a place. As the storm raged and the thunder roared Some little boys continued to play- Fearless, joyful, unaffected by the fateful day. They knew no sin, they knew no fear Nor did they bother to pray. After watching them, God smiled to himself. He knew not for how long He watched But the storm and clouds cleared away. And he began to wonder, maybe some other day.

I had a dream. And with toppings of cream I made it grow. Day and night I never lost sight Of what it had to show. And how proud was I! When I looked up at the sky Assured that it'll come true. But I was a child With ideas running wild And with no sense of  what's real. Tonight I stand At the edge of the sand Beholding the vast and dark  expanse Which tells a story of no choice and only chance. Where I am left to yield To the ghastly new shield Of the might Achilles  Who lies in the great old field.