Ballad of the Soldier (Into Hell)

We deny death,
It's rightful win;
My brothers and I,
That is our sin.

We pay for that,
With our blood and soul;
Till we finish the time,
That from death we stole.

And so over the hills,
We walk as one;
With a sword over the shoulder,
On which we sat our sons.

All bathed in blood,
More of others than our own;
We march ahead,
Without a cry or a moan.

Into hell we walked,
My brothers and I;
Until we win,
Or till we die.

Into hell we marched,
Convinced we will rise;
With courage and valor,
Hard to surmise.

Into hell we walk,
For people like you;
Just asking for prayers,
Not much, just a few.

Into hell we march,
My brothers and I,
Until we win,
Or till we die.

Kharagpur Local : Good Samaritans

'My undergraduate life at the Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur would surely be one of my most cherished periods in life. Along with all the routine academic stuff, Kharagpur taught me a lot about life. One of the most effective modes of such a discourse was surely the rail journey from Kharagpur to Kolkata. In the two to three hours spent on the train, my favorite hobby was to observe the people traveling with me. And in the four years spent commuting I dare say I have built up a pile of stories and nuggets which might interest the reader. I plan to share these in a short story format. So sit back and enjoy... and to all my critics.. please bear with me !'

GOOD SAMARITANS

It was a hot and humid day as I made my way towards the railway station. The weather and my procrastinations had delayed my departure, and by the time I reached the station it was already well into the evening. One thing I hated about traveling then was the sheer overcrowding of the train. Evening meant office goers in Kolkata returning back to their homes, unfortunately peppered all along my route back to Kharagpur. Nonetheless I had only myself to blame. So mumbling and frowning I took a ticket for the Kharagpur Local and made my way towards the platform. Needless to say, the place was teeming with people. Although I am not averse to crowds, the weather made it undesirable.

The trick with traveling in such crowded places is to have proper seating. My personal favorite was the window seat; it gave me a perfect view and the superfluous winds made my journey quite pleasant. However today the fight for the perfect seat was going to be tough. Thankfully I was traveling light and I quickly searched for a place where I had a good chance to get the seat of my choice. The train arrived shortly and a melee broke out between the people boarding and the ones getting off. I maneuvered my way through the crowd and got my prize, a vacant window seat.

As I made myself comfortable the rest of the compartment was occupied by office goers heading back home. All the remaining seats were quickly taken up but for one. And this one seat is going to be the protagonist of the remaining story.

As the crowd settled down, it emerged that this lone seat had two contenders vying for its affection. Two men carrying bags and files came and stood on either sides of the seat. Sweating profusely and breathing hard, both men wanted to grab the seat but were restrained as if bound by some Lucknavi Tehzeeb (courteous behavior accredited to Lucknow residents). After a few seconds of pondering, one of them broke the silence.

"Aare Moshai, Aapni Boshun" (Mister, please have a seat)

"Are Na Na, Aapni Aage Eshechen Aapni Boshun" (No, no, you came first, you should have the seat)

"Aapni Seat Ta Aage Dekhechilen, Aapnar Bosha Uchit" (You saw the seat first, you should sit down)

"Ki Bolchen Moshai, Aapnar Shaate Eto Jinish, Bosha To Aapnar Uchit" (You have so much luggage with you, it is only proper that you sit)

"Kudi Bochor Dhore Ei Jinish Pottor Uthiye Cholchi Moshai, Ei Shorir Ekdom Tip Top" (I have been traveling with as many things for the past twenty years, my body is still in perfect shape)

"Ei Je To, Aapni Senior Maanush Uchit Aapnar E Bosha" (There you see, you are so senior, it only makes sense for you to sit down)

"Aare Senior Maane, Aapni Ki Bolte Chaan Ki Aami Budho Hoye Gechi?" (Are you implying that I am old?)

"Budho Naa Moshai, Aami Bollum Aapni Senior Maanush, Aapnar Bosha Dorkar" (Not old, I just meant you are my senior, you should sit down)

"Senior Wenior Chaarun To Moshai, Tokhon Theke Je Bolchi Boshe Porun, Aamar Kothar Je Dekhi Kono Daam E Nei" (Leave all the senior crap, I have telling you for such a long time, just sit down. You are simply ignoring me)

"Boshte To Aamio Bolchi Aapnake, Eto Jinish Othate Koshto Nischui Hochche, Boshe Porun" (I have telling you the same thing too. You must be feeling tired carring so many things, do sit down)

"Aapnar Cheye Beshi Koshto Hochche Naa" (Not feeling as tired as you)

"Aami To Ekhono Mojbut Aachi, Aapnar Boyeshe Aapnar Boshe Pora E Uchit" (I am totally fine, but at your age I must insist that you sit down)

"Ei Je Aabar Ulto Palta Shob Kotha, Bolchi Je Boshe Porun. Aapnar Cheye Beshi Dom Ei Shorire" (Do stop with all the nonsense, just sit down. This body still has more stamina than yours)

"Are Rege Keno Jaachen, Bhablum Aajke Ektu Charity Kori, Kintu Aapni To Otherwise Nichchen" (Why are you getting angry? I just thought I would be more charitable today, but you are taking it otherwise)

"Bodo Eshechen Charity Korte, Ekta Good Samaritan Bonun Aage, Ekta Seat Chere Je Ki Bishal Kaaj Korche Ke Jaane! Beshi Kotha Badhaben Naa To Moshai, Bolchi Boshe Jete..Boshe Podun" (First be a good Samaritan and then think about charity. I do not know how great you feel having sacrificed just a seat. Do not speak uselessly..Just sit down)

"Ei Je Insult Korben Naa, Boshte Ki Bole Diyechi Gorom Dekhache Ekhon" (Do not insult me, I just told you to sit and now you are acting so haughty)

And the discussion intensified. What started of as a show of extreme civility had now turned into something more heinous. But none of us came forward to issue a truce. It is not always that you get such great entertainment on the train. As their interchanges became more acrid, our smiles turned more angelic. The train went on, they continued their debate, the seat remained vacant and we kept smiling. It was literally a comedy of errors, a comedy life is just too good at.

The train stopped at an intermediate station and an old lady boarded the coach. Seeing the vacant seat, she rushed and grabbed it. The whole compartment broke into a muffled laugh. The two weary contenders now realized the futility of their debate, both of them turned away from each other, and the comic intercourse stopped as abruptly as it began.

The train marched on. The whole compartment bore a smile on their faces, expect for the two debaters and a confused old lady. I turned my face towards the window and the hot and humid weather felt a little better.

Don't Leave Me Tonight

So finally inspiration returns to me... Not a post for more than a year.. I must admit my life has changed a lot this past year.. Finished college, joined another, found love, lost love, gained weight and lost some.. [:)]..But finally inspiration has returned to my life..and so this poem follows..Inspired by the song "Ab Na Ja" ("Don't leave now") by the rocking Indian Band "EUPHORIA"

When I close my eyes
I dream of you;
Your ever loving smile
Fresh as morning dew;
And I hear myself whisper
I love you;
When I close my eyes
I dream of you.

And then the morning comes
And you are gone;
And I wake up
Sad and forlorn;
It was a dream, I know
I have it every night;
But to me it is real
As real as my sight;
To me it is real
As insane as it seems;
I can be with you
Only in my dreams.

Only in my dreams
Can I hold you tight;
Make me a promise
Don't leave me tonight;
Let me be with you
Just another night;
Make me a promise
Don't leave me tonight.

You and I
May not be destined to be;
But I love you so
If only you would see;
But matter not
To you I belong;
My every thought
My every song;
But worry not
The stars, yellow and pale;
Listen to them tonight
They will tell you my tale;
If only, to tell you
I had the might;
Make me a promise
Don't leave me tonight.

And so I will wait
Till the stars make you mine;
When my love, from my dreams
Will become our sunshine;
And before you leave
To bring in the morning light;
Make me a promise
Don't leave me tonight.

THE LITTLE THIEF

Thief! Thief! There! Here!
These mindless rants filled up the air,
A little thief ran out of sight
Followed by feet; a dozen pair.

Up the street he ran
Down the street he went,
To catch him the crowd
Was nearly hell bent.

Finally a pebble got the better of our fiend
And tossing and tumbling he did fall down,
The crowd finally had caught up with him
But his face was clear; not even a frown.

“Let’s call the police!” a meek logic
Went as soon as it had come,
The crowd began with their judgment
They beat the boy till he fell numb.

The boy didn’t give them a fight
Nor did the crowd give him a shot,
They beat him here and beat him there
They were angry; Red Hot!

The boy had gone sore and pale
The little blood belied his pain,
He had not eaten for several days
He didn’t have much blood left to drain.

“He has had enough” said a Samaritan
When he had had his fill,
“He has had enough, let him go
We are not here to make a kill”.

So they left their victim, and reluctantly
Did leave the ‘pack’ of men,
Into the society whence they came,
Into their most natural den.

“What had he stolen?” no one asked
And I am afraid the answer will never be got,
For the boy had not the strength to speak
And the strength to live? He had not.

So the boy went, Oh! The poor soul
Hopefully to a place for civilized than this,
Where fathers kill a little boy
For a piece of bread they’ll never miss.

THE NEVER ENDING RACE

Why do I run?
What do I chase?
When will it end?
This never ending race.

This never ending race,
To become the best;
This never ending race,
To be ahead of the rest.

This never ending race,
To reach goals unknown;
To persist on a path,
Glimpses of which are only shown.

I know not why I started on this race,
On this endless quest I know not when;
When tomorrow comes at the price of today,
You cannot live in the past, now can you then?

But now I want to stop,
This race has been too much for me;
Have lost lots of people I loved,
And lots of friends to be.

“But you just can’t quit..”
Thundered a voice from above;
“Please let me go..”, I cried,
“For the sake of all you love.”

“But to quit you have to die,
That is the price one pays;
For having started on this race,
That is what our rule book says.”

“I agree to die just let me go”,
I cried as I slowed down my pace;
Trying in vain to conjure reasons,
Why I had but started on this race.

All I know is one has to die,
To end this endless race called Life;
To end its endless pains,
To end its endless strife.

How can one break ones' heart ?

How can one break ones’ heart?
How does one make one cry?
Once I tried to get your love
Now my eyes are sad and dry.

I loved you then, I love you now
But did you ever love me?
I dreamt of you, I still dream of you
But did you ever dream of me?

A thousand times I wished you were mine
Did you wish such a single time?
I never had the courage to tell you
Did you not see my love a single time?

When I told you of the love I have
You simply told me no;
I have stayed back since waiting for you
But where did you go?

Much time has passed and you are gone
And I sit here sad and forlorn;
Remembering the times together we spent
Trying to catch hold of moments already went.

If you ever do remember me
Please spare a tear for all my cry;
Once I tried to get your love
Now my eyes are sad and dry.

The Birth of a Poem

A poem not yet written
But which has me smitten;
A poem still in my mind
Parts of which I still cannot find;
The start and the end
Are still open for amend;
But the poem as a whole
Still unclear is its role;
Its role in this world
Has still not been unfurled;
In this world ruled by prose
Why a poem did I choose?
For a poem to toil and labor
What fruit will I savor?
As I keep thinking
In my mind the poem is twinkling;
Ready to just come out
A seed ready to sprout;
But what is this...does it sound like a poem?
A ceremonious birth or a sad quite requiem;
It is me. Your child
Said the poem at last;
The one you nurtured
And in your mind had cast;
I have finally bloomed and flowered
Thanks to the love and care you have showered;
But why do you hesitate
About my inevitable fate?
I am after all you
A reflection anew;
Of your mind and your thought
Of the demons you have fought;
Of the things you hold dear
And to loose what you most fear;
So why bind me in yourself
Let me be free;
Why just a seedling
Let me be a tree;
A tree of a poem
In a land of prose;
A tree of your thought
Of what you chose;
It was then I felt
A burning desire;
To have the poem rise
Over mundane fire;
Like a phoenix it rose
Over the ashes of my thought;
And it is now the poem
Which to you I have brought.