Bhadauria Manish Singh Jasmines of Desire
Jasmines of Desire A project developed by Nazar Look Attitude and Culture Journal of Crimean Tatars in Romania www.nazar-look.com
Jasmines of Desire by bhadauria manish singh compiled by taner murat
© Copyright 2014 Bhadauria Manish Singh All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author. ISBN-13: 978-1500143015 ISBN-10: 1500143014 BISAC: Literary Collections / General Cover: © Nurlan Kilibaev https://www.facebook.com/nurlan.kilibaev Design: Elif Abdul
Editor: Taner Murat
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Copyright © 2014 Toate drepturile asupra acestei ediţii sunt rezervate autorului
Bhadauria Manish Singh Gujarat, India
Dedicated to Jayanta Mahapatra
Jasmines of Desire Summer of 94
Summer of 94
T
hat backside window; of my grandmother’s room, was in wait for the whole year.
Dust of last year’s sand storm, was still in there; in its stubborn hinges. Curiosity pushed it hard I saw a Brahmin urinating in Madhav’s abandoned house. Madhav my secret cobbler friend. Then arrived Tara; the sweeper, with her basket of dirt to steal, fresh dung of Sarpanch’s1 cow. A band broke my vision and childhood took me to the party. But it was futile like all those gunshots fired in air to celebrate homecoming of warriors Who nearly killed Heera; Madhav’s elder brother for riding horse on wedding day
1
Head of the Village
9
Bhadauria Manish Singh To those Eyes‌
To those Eyes‌
A
walk over yawning streets, of an anesthetic Sunday dawn; fetched an acquaintance to ascetic eyes, of a young Jain Sadhvi2 Measuring something in me so urgent. A bag of dead dreams lie in knot, hanging over her teenage breasts That strap over her mouth; must have digested her story. A Moment bonded those eyes; with mine. Peeping into that dried well, I found a tender mimosa, lying in so deep; somewhere within the cracks of her heart But before the comprehension, that paragraph was erased. As her matured companion sensed; her timid branches which remained undrape by touch of my eyes.
2
A female Ascetic
10
Jasmines of Desire History
(The clashes between the Hindu and Muslim communities in Muzaffarnagar district, Uttar Pradesh, India in August - September 2013, resulted in at least 62 deaths including both Muslims and Hindus and injured 93 and left more than 50,000 displaced)
History
H
istory has yet again repeated itself. An Asoka started preaching peace, after killing my brothers.
Once again the Satya3 has become; the child of prostitute; searching; a father in ‘Z’ security zones of Delhi. Those curfew; accustomed streets of Muzzafarnagar perhaps know the elicit father or may be that young girl, who tried to commit suicide; to prove her being raped. Again the ambition of disciple; has cheated the Guru4, And sat at the cross road. wearing a mask so common in here for raping again; once raped girl.
3 4
Truth Teacher
11
Bhadauria Manish Singh History
Once again we heard Hey Ram, pieces of Gandhi’s body are put in the humid air with salt to prepare, a political pickle for the feast of election.
12
Jasmines of Desire Durga Pooja
Durga Pooja5 ome patriots quarreled over gang rapes;
S
and kept me hooked till 2:00 a.m.
A knock robbed my sleep at 8;
group of some known Brahmins was collecting funds for Navratri.6 Few warning broke in my room with mother; “No More Eggs and Fish for ten days” Mansha’s loose hair narrated; a bigger denial; My bed was separated in to two. At cross roads; Statues of Durga stood empty hand and nude As weapons and clothes are accessory now; needed to be brought from another place. A leper woman was begging beside few rejected pieces; piled at the back side of shop wrapped in plastic; nudity was still visible. 5
Worshipping A festival of nine nights to worship Durga- a goddess; a symbol of women power 6
13
Bhadauria Manish Singh Durga Pooja
At eve; whole street came to house on my mother’s call; to see glory of Durga. but her house was too small for Tara; the sweeper of our street.
14
Jasmines of Desire Early-Summer of 2014
Early-Summer of 2014
I
n summer, lemons are hard to find
As an expert’s has twitted “it can erase ink
marks.” An old accused, who ran five years ago, with my trust; was standing at the cross roads. No Diwali; No Idd but sweetness filled the street. Elections are knocking; door less temporary houses. This time too Salim has called; his dozen relatives from Bangladesh, to be Indian and buy Indian. Few school boys have returned home, with a mask of a leader. Police at last found five trucks, Carrying alcohol and gunny bags; carrying currency notes My father remains busy,
15
Bhadauria Manish Singh Early-Summer of 2014
watching television his spectacles slide down, the slope of his nose. My mother leaves her Ramayana aside and turned up; with a question “To whom I should Vote this time�
16
Jasmines of Desire A Subdued Sunday
A Subdued Sunday unday leisure yawned wide in balcony;
S
pages of its edition lie in my lap, playing with summer wind.
Heat was making up for its late entry this year. Tara robbed of its silence with her normal abuses; A holy cow got its head stuck in her dustbin. to search her staleness of its hunger Mrs. Sharma seemed happy, like that red swastika on the face of the brand new car, which had arrived yesterday, with the new bride.
17
Bhadauria Manish Singh Morning Rites
Morning Rites
A
teenage boy brings my day, on the back of his rusted cycle. The cylindrical world rolls in the balcony, till fingers undo that tender knot.
Yet again its bloody face, has new stories of despair. A story of fourteen year girl, she lost one of her breasts. for saying no to prostitution. Another girl lost her face, in the shower of acid, bestowed on her by her psycho lover. A senior policeman got transferred and one got dismissed as, As a minister’s buffaloes went missing. The day has yet, another twist. my one of the social worker friends broke in the evening, to discuss lesbian relationship and one heroine’s silicon breasts.
18
Jasmines of Desire Fourth Phase of Waning Moon
Fourth Phase of Waning Moon carlet face stares the celestial lagoon,
S
with scars given to her last noon moaning and pain proceed up to the moon,
yes; it is the fourth phase of waning moon. Hunger, thirst and painful strides, it’s all for his longer life Hopes, desires, logic and rights, all crushed under a word called wife. Her swollen face inside the sari, chants hymns through adhesive throat. All waiting eyes glued on a cloud, as moon is engulfed in dark shroud. Then it shines with waned face. bearing same scars on its face. All lifts their thin wired filters, to see both the gods in alter. All the rest got blessings of feet. Alas! She still waits for her god’s feet. Her god is busy in political twit.
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Bhadauria Manish Singh Fourth Phase of Waning Moon
and have no time except physical needs. At last hasty god comes with water, and asks her to come early in slaughter.
20
Jasmines of Desire Broken Bangles
Broken Bangles
B
roken bangles make bare feet bleed. pain peeps through wrinkles on bed sheet, trampled flowers are very eager to die
in that closed chamber of first night. Suffocated desire sits in a dark corner, dragging legs close to her wounded breasts. And searches her fate lines in her ‘mehandi’ filled palms. Love of first night devoured all hopes, through a desperate; starved mouth Darkness crept in through exhausted thighs and yelling got lost in wedding band Day rises with swollen face and fetches her to another cellar where she needs to cut, chop, roast and fry to quench another mode of Hunger
21
Bhadauria Manish Singh Malala
(This poem is dedicated to Malala Yousafzai and to her indomitable spirit. She lives in my neighborhood but there is a high wall between us. I hope someday we can bring it down)
Malala
V
ultures invaded my little valley and sky. Fencing territories of my flight, Growing wings were put under scissors.
And parasites are allowed to march in to my roots Snatching golden seed of knowledge, They burnt peace to grow weeds of terror. They closed all windows and fresh air, And blurred the horizons of my existence A ray of hope diluted the darkness, And brought a strong gust of wind, that opened every sealed window. And uprooted growing weeds in my fields Vultures came down to claw And to assassin the first ray But when they tried to quench the light They got blinded by Malala rays.
22
Jasmines of Desire Valley
Valley7
P
eace fluctuates, behind threats of nuclear clouds. blasts echo on borders,
and damage; ears of guardians A young widow, waits for the head of her husband. And many old parents, have become orphans this week. Hatred freezes wheel, and closes all mutual windows, suffocating the air; saturated with pus of old wounds. Whiteness of ice, drifts back in memories, of blood smeared stone on its breast And vultures feast on human organs. Wooden house boats, vibrate in tremors of war which has crushed food plates, with imposed curfews in this heaven. 7
Here the word Valley- is a metaphor for Kashmir
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Bhadauria Manish Singh Valley
Gods go in captivation, and prayers disappear in chambers. Damp air runs wild, searching words of Azhaan8. Saffron goes blood red, under the loads of mine, miscarriaged apples, rot on grounds.
8
Islamic call for Worship or to offer Namaz
24
Jasmines of Desire Isomeric Dawn
Isomeric Dawn
D
awn twits silently, outside wire gauzes of windows. morning echoes in;
early hour chores of wife. Sometimes it swirls around, in yawing mouth of school master, and stretches in the muscles of, that athlete oiling his body It hardens and grows when a rich man peeps inside, the nakedness of huts; standing on his tall terrace. It turns violent and abusive, as two families drop blood, for securing position, in a long queue for water It turns sleepy, in an attic of young prostitute, As her last lover has run, leaving her breathless on currency.
25
Bhadauria Manish Singh Isomeric Dawn
It ceases virgin nights. and pampering of a stranger, washed of hastily, like blood marks on white bed sheets. It mingles in temple bells, and searches reason for, sandal painted head of priest, busy in tempting morning gods. It turns very busy on river bed. few offer flowers, few wash their arse on its banks And few get rid of died animals. It brings hope, after another restless night for me, to complete stanza‌ which kept me awake till late night
26
Jasmines of Desire Temporary Life
Temporary Life
M
orality is momentary warmth, realized in the coldness of prostitute, when attack of heat passes though thighs, with zero impulse in her inert eyes. Nothingness of life buzzes in ears, through dying moisture of pyre woods. And temporary salvation, germinates and dies at cemetery gates. Creepers of shame embraces like a leech, when lonely mirrors stare hard. But salt of pretentions and lies, decomposes those creepers in day light And determination breaks, like an old ascetic’s control, when senses paralyze his Yog9, And eyes waiting for God get contaminated. Guilt is a nail that pinches, While walking bare feet on past stones, cobbled within few dark corridors, hidden inside heart.
9
Remembrance of God through mind
27
Bhadauria Manish Singh Serpent
(India is one of the most colorful nations having all possible diversities in its lap. But unfortunately India has also remained the land of communal riots and violence. New century has arrived with fresh hopes; youth of the nation wants to move ahead to development leaving behind bigotry feelings and religious fanaticism)
Serpent erpent of hate crawls
S
towards branches of life, bearing few fertilized hopes,
dreaming for hatching warmth Helpless birds seek shelters, on restless roofs of temples and mosques. where silent gods go deaf, in reverberations of pouring prayers and namaz. Two brothers fight. and womb of a mother bleeds on road Vampire tar opens its wide mouth, to quench thirst of blood. Darkness shines on nude sword. and silence echoes in screams, coming from the burning nests‌ A child sobs and sinks, in mother’s raped body. 28
Jasmines of Desire Serpent
And a teenager searches, his father in the heap of deaths. Curfew clutches, the flow of life. And city gets wrapped, in clouds of rumors. Serpent slowly goes underground, leaving behind new widows and orphans few old faces with new scars and new borders within the city.
29
Bhadauria Manish Singh Phases
Phases
A
five year old mimosa, droops its leaves to wonder, ‘Why grandmother’s love, lap and kisses get reserved?’
Mango orchards chuckles at, fresh assaults of children. And a girl of ten watches it all from a window, with load of new brother’s body. A teenage wife, struggles with stern chulha10, puffing her every bit of breath, to put off scores of fire. A nose clipped woman, stares expectant clouds, and feels her raised belly, hoping for XY incarnation. Two withered hands, serve and feed agents of Gods, her cataract eyes dream for, an assured gift from their Gods.
10
Traditional fire place, where food is cooked using wood and cow dung cakes
30
Jasmines of Desire Lampoons of God
Lampoons of God
A
seedless plant; gets uprooted in grounds of desire. to produce a lampoon of god
in a faulty codes of hormones Her existence hangs on the doors of society, like threaded piece of lemon, fighting evil out of house. Her infertile ground, lies equally divided between, a goddess and a prostitute, in this belief bound society. Her doomed palms clap hard, to sell her insurance of blessings She charges high returns, threatening to display her incompleteness, lifting her shameless nudity She talks aloud to hide her own desires and thoughts, under the heap of powder, lying on her shaved cheeks.
31
Bhadauria Manish Singh Lampoons of God
She changes her armor, in transforming nights, she swings her silicon breast, and waxed thighs in private show. She absorbs ugliness of life, and mocks at; normalcy, through her castrated presence, in imposed corners of society.
32
Jasmines of Desire The Show
The Show
Y
et again, drums go in remand of beaters, and scream through
their lifeless, burdened skin. Teenage hands sweep the sun stricken face of tar, to form a nucleus; in concentrated streets of city Aspiration walks on rope, holding bamboos of desire and future swings in occupied space; between toes and fingers. Few fingers go between teeth, and palms oscillate to clap. But her skin burns in usual, adhesive stares; of old eyes, scanning her breathing hunger; peeping out through her tattered poverty The magnetic performance ends, with a hope of metallic down pour,
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Bhadauria Manish Singh The Show
but clouds of indifference, pass with scanty drizzles.
34
Jasmines of Desire Early Hours
Early Hours
T
emple bells echo in, streets of slumber, and busy birds twits outside; morning windows.
A mosquito has died; it must have waited whole night, to suck hot blood, running inside nets, around bed Splash of water rubs away, dreams of last night, Newspaper carrying loads of deaths and dust, has been put halfway under the door of my lonely house. Curious hands bend back, to lift it from grounds. Gust of wind draws me, to a window; where a milk man is knocking, sleepy doors of neighboring house Doors unlock slowly through, wrinkles of a familiar faces, tired and absorbed by the, love of last night. An unfamiliar breed of dog,
35
Bhadauria Manish Singh Early Hours
stretches a fat man down the street, where his hungry eyes get, busy in counting jerks of raw breasts, running over road in leisure fashion A group of giggling girls, pass street with loads of knowledge. Few crows playing with dead body, of a rat lying in front of temple steps, hurdle the way of half nude Brahmin world.
36
Jasmines of Desire On a Bridge over Sabarmati
On a Bridge over Sabarmati weating air of summer noon,
S
gushes out of sulphuric streets, and reaches to the bridge,
over Sabarmati; A polarize covalent bond between; ionic worlds, It stares shallow desires of algae, growing over its concrete fed banks Under the shade of this, corroded bridge, somewhere sleeps that young girl, who jumped from the top; into unknown reasons, during the last visit of crying clouds. There lie statues of deserted Gods, decaying and discolored, embedded half into the sand of time. Half grown boys fight battle of cricket on dry patches, and forgotten spectacled eyes, watch them through the, Non-violent windows of that,
37
Bhadauria Manish Singh On a Bridge over Sabarmati
ashram wrapped in a knot of KHADI. Half grown boys search puddles, of their partially quenched hunger, with inspecting crows and vultures. An old woman wandering there, may be in the memory of her illegal hut, which was sacrificed last year, to catalyze development of this city.
38
Jasmines of Desire Another Morning
Another Morning
M
orning came in sweating and tired, sleepless streets of city yawn wildly, with blood smeared face of tar. Few hopes of a family got trampled, here last night. Day totters towards, a hypothetical noon and reporters, swarm over the scene , to craft new script of recent history, interrogating sobbing eyes of mother Crushed flash marked; few yellow pages, of police diary, and few white outlines to mark, shadows of death. A rich man throws few gold coins and tries to rape the bandaged lady Evening draws in with few, vacillating scholars musing on screen crowd gathers over insane, streets holding short lived bars of light, which dies in just a perimeter of week.
39
Bhadauria Manish Singh Winter Warmth
Winter Warmth
P
overty has survived, yet another biting night of winter, inhaling melting plastic desires;
in her shameless shelter on road side. Her skimmed lips and skin, wait among fissures of temple steps; for the gods of richness who may arrive some day in car, to donate blankets of warmth. Poverty is forbidden like Sudama11 to reach the shrine of god, placed inside the granite walls, under the scheme of priests Poverty vanishes temporarily, like moss on the walls of time with arrival of heat of festivals in the city; when charity desires grow in may hearts. Ordinary evening, 11
A Character in Hindu Mythology- Sudama was childhood friend of Lord Krishna
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Jasmines of Desire Winter Warmth
roar wildly inside half filled bellies; wandering in some dark streets, to sell their love and blood. Hunger grows double, in duplicate hours over plastic sheets when a hunger quenches another hunger to earn winter warmth.
41
Bhadauria Manish Singh Fading Colors
Fading Colors
C
olors of my nation; breathe hard, between black and white paradoxes of myth
A widow walks in the noon of her Ashubh12 existence searching secretly chameleon of wishes, which is surviving some where among black walls of fort around her A new Gandhari13 clad in bloody red of attire, Stares flowers; ready to be crushed like her virgin wishes. Behind dark folds of that white strip lies a black sun, searching its face in salty water. A teenage love sits in dark corner, holding dormant seeds of desires. Can it grow over the sand dunes of pride where particles of society fly all around hurting eyes and choking voices.
12
Maleficent or Ill-fated A women in Indian mythology who bandaged her eyes for ever as her husband was blind by birth 13
42
Jasmines of Desire Bund
( Rajkot: Gujarat, India, a couple put themselves on fire in front of Municipal office as a protest against demolition drive)
Bund un slowly walks over demolished streets,
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unaware of bund; declared last night.
Air of Rajkot still holds the weight,
of those kerosene cans; lying like orphans, on the city road; in front of that blind government building. Those burnt bodies wait in the darkness of mortuary; unaware of today’s headlines; containing their story. their screams still echo in recurrent nightmares, piled under the sleep of those innocent witness eyes Day moves sluggishly among political propagandas. students enjoyed an extra break in exams, and rickshaw driver take double fares and risks. In an area of this city; a faceless mob punished vegetable vendors, and looted the day. A government road roller stare that old woman; praying hard inside; for her death
43
Bhadauria Manish Singh Bund
in her house which wore a thin shield called; death for a time being. Air is playing in a corner with currency notes which were handed over as compensation of lives
44
Jasmines of Desire Heaven
Heaven
T
he sun comes in street staggering with loads of expectations, piled up to the height of sky;
and trying to knock a close door. In a long queue outside the great temple, waits humanity for its turn. A heap of dusty shoes and chappals, pray restlessly for the souls who reached; heaven yesterday with trampled breathes and crushed faces. A young whore waits in her familiar darkness, somewhere behind that rusted bus-stop for a new urge to come and fondle her dead senses, to seek a momentary heaven in those loose ends of her life Family priest reads codes of his aged book, to announce, my dead grandmother is wondering after death. She wants a cow to hold its tail, and cross, the river of dead to reach across.
45
Bhadauria Manish Singh Hope
Hope
A
small boat of hope floats somewhere
in the heart of fisherwoman, Hearing hostile cries of familiar siren;
under the black canopy of clouds Hope flutters like wings of restless bird, watching till very end; the fire approaching inch by inch, towards wicker work of small world Sometimes it gets stuck in a corner of exam hall, where sleepy eyes dodge over papers to solve some unfamiliar seen but unseen melodies It leans over stone benches of city garden, where feet ruffle wet heads of grass, to pass on their nervousness before getting affirmation from another side It gets mingle in temple bells and in funny rituals, when a woman ask priest; “why her husband beats her every night?�
46
Jasmines of Desire Hope
“why he drinks and gambles?� Sometimes it breathes inside, corresponding ultrasound, till old eyes of prejudices; suffocates it for forever. And once it marched out with burning candles after a rape and a dowry fire, to seek justice oscillating in front of those bandaged stony eyes.
47
Bhadauria Manish Singh Folded Wings of Desire
Folded Wings of Desire
E
ach sun brings new hope; wrapped in the shroud of clouds and puts it silently under my pillow
It sends feathered musicians, to twit outside window till I wake up to discover new wonders. Sometimes I find it, over the heads of grass, trapping delicate rays of sun in their bellies of secrets. Sometimes it is found in January skies flying beside beaten but liberated kites willing to live life of own; on its conditions without threads Sometimes it echoes in continuous knocks, over that closed doors where breaths few convoluted dreams like a butterfly breaking cocoon to open up its folded wings.
48
Jasmines of Desire Meena: A Daughter of a Prostitute
Meena: A Daughter of a Prostitute
A
n alone floats in the puddle of dirt, behind that insomniac street of the city. Meena has turned fourteen this year;
in the room where she lives watching her mother jumping every now and then with strangers behind thin bisector of the room. Her illiteracy, failed to kill her wisdom she knows condoms prevent HIV and how to count currency notes Musk of her growing juices, over burdens her small breasts but she knows her mother’s power when Shiva’s servant touches her feet and fondles her anklets.
49
Bhadauria Manish Singh Hours at Ganga
Hours at Ganga
H
alf nude bodies took dips into mysticism to wash off their Karmic loads
Brahmins sitting on ghats held few secrets in their round domes Again; Ganga has gathered burnt bones in its bosom of myths which opens in the world of dead somewhere on this bank, lies the place; where a Chandal14; compelled by gods, sold his family Burning pyre whispers something in air like that bald headed man calling crows, to bring peace. His father died thirteen days ago. Fisherman’s eye turned stony like those scriptures on walls. an alone fish fluttering in his net like hostile flag of Vishwanath15 temple 14 Chandal is a general derogatory slur used to refer to a filthy or low person specially working in Hindu Cemeteries
50
Jasmines of Desire Hours at Ganga
Alpha male sat on the roof at last with his large harem and tired sun collected back his spell painting evening in another texture
15
One of the name of Hindu God Shiva
51
Bhadauria Manish Singh The Myth
The Myth
T
he myth, the illusion‌. the loose sand which grabbed in palm vaporized through closed fist leaving behind particles of salty memories
Still, the rock left naked breathes through invisible pores. stiff face stares nude and cloudless sky when heat opens its million thirsty mouths Crowd of adhesive memories, hold yellowness of dead leaves. The load of past lies heavy on old stems but a stubborn bird still watching the egg which was left behind Enzyme of few passing shower drench to decompose all the desires and life staggers in fermented sips heading towards few forbidden streets Bargaining few moments of paid love, love dissolves between alcoholic thighs, and another star travels earth in dark night to make few hands to pray for mythical lights.
52
Jasmines of Desire Corridors of Heart
Corridors of Heart
S
olitary hour leads to secured corridors of heart and hands pull away; secured wall curtains, revealing the face, crafted by the dust of time, eye again gets addicted; to that suppressed wish. Holding my fingers, memories guide me to an open window, A place where I see myself, with that beautiful wish in my arm. Suddenly a strong gust of reality attacks the window closing it hard; crushing all the wishes within its hinges When I close my eyes to hope and dream I found myself knee deep in the blood of desires. The corridor gets flooded with dead bodies and shoulders go weaker by the loads of their carcass Smoke of pyres fills the corridors walls get narrower and dark redness gets surrendered to infinite blackness and I found myself standing alone in darkness
53
Bhadauria Manish Singh Cocoons
Cocoons
A
strong breeze came from the forest of
memories, and brought few cocoons out of its deep
dark bosom. Silken threads are forced to open by creepers of alienation they opened like Lord’s mouth displaying my whole galaxy Here dreams are falling like shooting stars, leaving celestial bleeding through bright scars. Face that has gone away stares me through full moon and eyes read those moments through marks of eraser A nameless pain penetrates piercing my namesake, happiness flies away like baby bird from the nest weakness floats inside my able body tears came in tide but gets lost in ebbs of organic smiles
54
Jasmines of Desire Locked Cellar
Locked Cellar
F
ew letters grab rapid fingers, sorting few piles of old files. Words move like brush to sketch the face,
and gives me the key of locked cellar The Cellar echoes with my silent memories, and pinches my heart and hurt my ears. Smoke of past burn my dry eyes, and head sinks in inside darkness. Chained emotions escape through corners of eyes, but few, entangled; in the net of wet eyelids, land on the folded arms; bearing the loads of thoughts Shelter seeking these fugitive feelings, becomes refuges among sheets of pages I get them engrave in few crafted lines to make them eternal in the river of time
55
Bhadauria Manish Singh The Temple Street
The Temple Street
H
umanity buys some comfort in Your feet. Greed dances here naked on Your temple street.
Business imports divinity signing a contract of cheat while shopkeepers hawk to sell Your favorite sweets. I wonder here searching my lost Hindu identity, which is hidden somewhere is piles of formality, fasts, Yagnas, Havanas and holy threads of fidelity chanted mantras and mass in sheepish intensity. I wait outside carrying loads of sin, joining a general queue that takes in. But few fly in directly buying wings of wealth, while few can be carried on shoulder; due to over health
Pooajaris16 clad in your name’s wonderful attires, projects You for his own luxurious desires Blowing air, he drenches flowers in water, and leads customer of faith in his slaughter.
16
Hindi word for Brahmin
56
Jasmines of Desire The Temple Street
He invites newly married man with his mate, to, read their future through palm lines of fate. Their future now hangs in Spider’s net, but savior is ready now with heaven’s gate. You watch everything with smile on face, and endure oil, milk, leaves and flowers all day.
57
Bhadauria Manish Singh Whirlpool of Past
Whirlpool of Past
S
trong gust of moments, arise from the hearth of memories, melting the solid present, in whirlpool of hot air on my back.
Virtual images of past, question my real and inverted world, where rays of my loneliness, intersect to form diminished chambers. All bodily windows open, to form few bright shadows in darkness, to hurt tired and fluttering eyes, My own fugitive past, calls me out like that crippled beggar, who opens his fingerless palms. But indifference quickens my legs. Reaching a familiar corner, I turn back and wonder… “I could have earned million blessings, with a single throw of hot coin in my palm.” But reasoning overlaps, “A rupee might have made him adhesive.”
58
Jasmines of Desire Restless Night
Restless Night
R
estlessness stretches again, in dim yellow lights of my room. I open shutters of windows,
in the darkness of new day, to bring some fresh air, on my operating table, where a heap of naked sheets, lie open for germination. Again I chase dark outlines, swarming on off white walls. Somewhere an another rat is consuming, my whole history and culture. Eyes stare the static fan, yawning over the cold roof of my face, and a spider doing meditation; in a secured corner. A small stubborn star, still wants to perform few scenes. But it fades in strong beams of light thrown on stage.
59
Bhadauria Manish Singh Mangroves
Mangroves
M
angroves of an old desire, peep through new cracks. And eyes of that lonely portrait, questions the vacuum of my walls.
Solitude grabs me like infection, immune present gets withered, like that piece of leather, under the whiteness of mucor Plains of past fetches a segment, where lies a point of intersection, which mark the end of parallel lines; in the cruel triangle of time. Stones of past stare hard, opening their mouth. Moss of time got consumed in the heat of past. Lizard of inaction eyes me, through roof of my rooms, which lies heavy on my back, suffocating breath in my lungs.
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Jasmines of Desire Fossils
Fossils
R
elations hang loose like sun stricken wires, lying between poles of egos And silence grow like algae,
over the walls; making it slippery. Desire to be loved, becomes solitude of the wall lizard, echoing in dark hours, somewhere in the bushes; carrying few shouting crickets. Life becomes a captured amphibian, among fluttering pages of calendar hanging by a corroded nail of the past. Reasons decomposes in stale water, feeding few lichens of memory, growing over the banks of time. Love becomes a fossil hidden somewhere in deep, beneath layers of ashes, around graves of the history.
61
Bhadauria Manish Singh Echoes of Solitude
Echoes of Solitude
E
ach jerk of clock echoes in solitude, and brings new impulse of uneasiness. Nails of past scratches my back
and familiar rain pours salt on it. Each surrounding happiness laughs at, paralyzed hopes; hanging somewhere, among yellow leaves of the trees, invaded by parasitic creepers sleep keeps awake whole night, to uncoil the knot of those three words stuck in my throats like dead bone of consumed fish. Steps move forward towards her but revert back like returning waves with some broken shells of memories.
62
Jasmines of Desire Still a Desire‌
Still a Desire‌
N
ight keeps awake with shifting clouds, hanging over the moon, in some foolish expectations.
A creeper of pain crawls inside, carrying infinite algebraic expressions. Still an old desire grows, like grass in some forgotten wet lands, somewhere over the swamp of time; vomiting old memories out of its belly. I stand somewhere, in modern art galleries, where a new arts hanging on the wall, find clusters of meaning; each different than the last one. A reflection captured in the mirror, fades somewhere in the cracks of existence, still that desire grows like, heads of new grass, rupturing in loo17 of may. It fluctuates in face of star, 17
Heat wave
63
Bhadauria Manish Singh Still a Desire‌
and transcends as scorching heat, burning the wounded womb of the earth Holding withered hopes of farmers.
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Jasmines of Desire Monsoon Play
Monsoon Play
M
onsoon played whole night on my roof. I was buried between ends of pillows. It kept on blinking through dark clouds,
and even gave me few shouts. I was lying there with my defeated desires, darts of betrayal had numbed my senses and had booked me for silent withdrawal, in some uncharted darkness, of my insomniac eyes. But‌ the damp air has brought in few trespassers, through that open window of my room, those tiny drops irrigated dormant seeds, and catalyzed inert emotions. I opened my eyes in crowded alienation stared dark canopy of my sky; closed within single denial
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Bhadauria Manish Singh Night
Night tar studded blanket of night
S
open those valleys of thought, where someone waits,
under the canopy of that old banyan; standing on the silent banks of the pond. It has water trapped; like old memories A small fish of faith still floats there somewhere under the layers of algae, growing over the dead waters of past. Holding the arc of moon I reach there every dark night, with new loads of stones in my pockets, I throw them in to the dead water, in attempts to make it breath‌ but those currents die at my feet. What remains there is REALITY hanging like twisted roots of banyan, ready to grow and pierce the ground to hold the load of lives which breathes over its shoulders.
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Jasmines of Desire Memory
Memory
A
n old fragment of time, fetches few debris of past, and set them on the walls of my room;
waiting for a new coat of white wash. Wind is playing the usual game with curtains of that open window; It brings the smell of that young fruit killed by hostile wind of last night. A pair of dragon flies hovering over, that newly painted opposite balcony; where a new bride; secretly, drying the bed sheet; carrying scars, of memories; of her first night encounter Memories are faint crackling of bone, echoing aloud in solitude; A feeling of dampness; salt particles a layer of moisture over dry cheeks
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Bhadauria Manish Singh Acknowledgements
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Jasmines of Desire Acknowledgements
Acknowledgements
I am heartily grateful to the editors of the following Periodicals, Magazines and Literary Journals in which some of the poems of this collection first appeared:
Indian Ruminations, (The Fourth Phase of the Waning Moon), Muse India, (Winter Warmth), Efiction India Magazine, (Lampoons of Gods, Restless Night), Five Poetry Magazine (Hope, Heaven, Isomeric Dawn), Criterion Literary Journal (Myth). Special thanks to Taner Murat editor of Nazar Look - the Cultural and Literary Magazine of Tatars in Romania for being a constant support to a neophyte like me and to add my following poems in to international poetry anthology entitled Metric Conversion (Another Morning,
Anchor, Temporary Life) and (Fragile Promises, Cocoon, Taboo) to various issues of Nazar Look Magazine. I also want to thank my father Kishansingh and mother Mithlesh for making me believe in my abilities. I bow down my head to pay my gratitude to Sir, Jayanta Mahapatra for guiding me through his letters. I have found myself exploring his poems.
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Bhadauria Manish Singh
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Jasmines of Desire Table of Contents
Table of Contents Summer of 94 ....................................................................... 9 To those Eyes‌ ................................................................... 10 History ............................................................................... 11 Durga Pooja ........................................................................ 13 Early-Summer of 2014 .......................................................... 15 A Subdued Sunday ............................................................... 17 Morning Rites ...................................................................... 18 Fourth Phase of Waning Moon ............................................... 19 Broken Bangles.................................................................... 21 Malala ................................................................................ 22 Valley................................................................................. 23 Isomeric Dawn .................................................................... 25 Temporary Life .................................................................... 27 Serpent .............................................................................. 28 Phases ............................................................................... 30 Lampoons of God................................................................. 31 The Show ........................................................................... 33 Early Hours ......................................................................... 35 On a Bridge over Sabarmati................................................... 37 Another Morning .................................................................. 39 Winter Warmth.................................................................... 40 Fading Colors ...................................................................... 42 Bund .................................................................................. 43
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Bhadauria Manish Singh Table of Contents
Heaven .............................................................................. 45 Hope.................................................................................. 46 Folded Wings of Desire ......................................................... 48 Meena: A Daughter of a Prostitute.......................................... 49 Hours at Ganga ................................................................... 50 The Myth............................................................................ 52 Corridors of Heart ................................................................ 53 Cocoons ............................................................................. 54 Locked Cellar ...................................................................... 55 The Temple Street ............................................................... 56 Whirlpool of Past ................................................................. 58 Restless Night ..................................................................... 59 Mangroves.......................................................................... 60 Fossils................................................................................ 61 Echoes of Solitude ............................................................... 62 Still a Desire‌ ..................................................................... 63 Monsoon Play...................................................................... 65 Night ................................................................................. 66 Memory.............................................................................. 67 Acknowledgements .............................................................. 69
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