Mt.Everest.

Tenzing, was one, who made it all

Now, so many Tenzing-s, are on his way. 
But i wonder who is next  Tenzing?
Me? surely i am not.

Methok

Her name brought spring in my journey

Methok, a flower

She knows the path

Where my heart wants to reach

That Night

That night, I have known this great paradise

I saw the darkness of the world in the absence of all light

Silence was a moon, near my eye.

Seeing my eyes got dropped in shame

Old, ancient-sky gazed through the poisonous air

And young Himalayan Mountains had a good laugh.

I heard a man's best friend is a great tree,

But at the need, I wonder where he be?

Inside this hollow world.

Angry Buddhist

 Fill with vows and convictions, 
spiritual Buddhist speaks

His words rare and sacred

Contains, soft with warm feeling

But as a black cloud

Suddenly, he gets sharply burst

Then as a demon, nothing scares him

 often unconsciously, burns his own angelic wing

But finding Candles brightens, so for it melts

Change took place in angry soul

And again fill with vows and convictions,
spiritual Buddhist speaks
his words rare and sacred.

Memory

Fear, trembles his knees

As cold, old memory mingles

He hides behind wooden wall

Cheap Chinese gun fights

He run towards morning sun

Believes beautiful essence in them

If glowing butter lamp.

Imported Indian sugars

Arouses water inside ; his mouth

But he gets salt tea, full of butter.

Magnificent Himalayas range

Into my window,

Enters the winds of Bengal

Bringing fragrance of sweet and sweat

Lamps lighten out in dark

If Guardian spirit has come

Long way, along this heavenly path

Nothing is strange,

When stranger shadows come together

To become one soul

'Magnificent Himalayas range'

Voice

Dark, deep inside a hollow road

Nothing delightful I do discover.

Quite of a poor man,

Ends within the groove

Snarling, growling of rich

Burns like heavenly fire

Reaches far and wide

As poisonous gas

Impermanence

Masculine man, who never bowed before

Bow to death

His portrait full of spider cobweb,

Under dust, no more his face is visible.

His sharp sword, beheaded thousands

Now rusted, died out of ignorance.

His featured fur hat, lost soul

And no more attracts

Love

‘Love is tragedy

To embrace love, embrace courage

Have to encounter disturbing character

With thought of two feeling; Love and doubt

Courage beings to wane

As reflection of moonlight in clear river

When minds become clear

Arousing paradise, hell is heaven

Can hear sweetest sound of world.

War

He yearns for peace,

But keeps his gun powder dry.

Invasion and annexation,

Horrors forgotten

Unknown of shattered dreams

Untold sorrow and misery.

Holding his guns high

Mice mightier than tiger

Destination Darjeeling

Destination Darjeeling

Sharp turns every now and then

Got bumps and jerks all the way

Traveling beside bank of Testa

Along the way, vehicles comes and goes

When heat waves lash in Plain

But men once get in

Gets suffers by its beauty

Rocks on side like eagle eyes,

Looks bird’s eye of running River

Trees of evergreen after separation

Stands if mother of a child longing for love

Sun hides within Mist

Naked sky covers its body

Dusk dance like living creature

But its presence can never be predict

Far fair Himalayan peaks do radiant

Visible above the vapor

Kanchenjunga tallest of all

Straight as sharp sword pointed on sky

Recently published on DarjellingTimes.com

Aunty

Her love never diminishes

Though for arguments

He beats her

Torture her

My aunt tells

Anger is of minutes, if not of hours

Love comes from memory of words

Unbroken promises. 

Trouble

“We are children of one mother

But some beautiful and some ugly.

So ugly that he can’t stand head high.

Along with those beautiful children of his own mother.”

In the play:    Prem Badhur Magar (worker) - Maoist people’s movement supporter

                        Krishna Magar as his brother - who is in not favor of movement.

                         And a Maoist leader

Background: inside the house, In front of fire, in cold winter night.

Prem Magar

Inevitable sounds of footsteps echoing

Of newly arouse engulfed fire.

To end the era of greedy pigs.

Who drinks western wines for pleasure.

Abandoning, thirsty lips of commons folks

As if illusion of their own suffering.

Krishna Magar

Krishna looks at the flame of the fire

I heard,

In night

They will come to knock your door

If open

Has trouble, they will loot your young son.

If not,

Has trouble

They will storm to burn your heaven.

Pray, fragrances of gunpowder don’t reach our doorstep.

 Krishna went kitchen to bring alcohol after emptying a jug, talking. 

Prem Magar

What if you are wrong?

Krishna entered living room carrying jug of homemade alcohol in right, a potato snacks on left.

Krishna Magar

I am not,

Haven’t you heard of incident occurred in neighbor village?

Poor mother, poor lady

What gone inside her heart, who knows?

When her only son taken

Eye banded

Handcuffed.

Prem Magar

Yes, I heard about that,

But don’t you think his mother will be proud of his son

When revolutionary  force he get  call.

Singing people’s song he march,

When each of his march heads for liberation.

Krishna Magar

I don’t get it,

Liberation? Liberation from whom?

From me, from you

Each of us is suffering being, who wants to get liberate.

But from whom is a question when we all are branches of same tree.

Children of one mother.

Prem held his glass in one hand and gazed alcohol.

Prem Magar

Yes, we are branches of same tree

But haven’t those two big eyes of yours’ encounter bloom flowers and death flowers on same branch.

Yes, I also agree we are children of one mother

But some beautiful and some ugly.

So ugly that he can’t stand head high.

Along with those beautiful children of his own mother.

Krishna Magar

Who is to be blame for this?

Prem Magar

Bourgeoisie, Bourgeoisie

They ripped our blood, exploited each of us,

Captured power of the State

And made us puppet to dance for them.

Sing for them.

Krishna Magar

Aren’t they too making us dance, to sing?

Since yesterday act in people court

I doubt, they too are reddish from same field.

He was beaten up, forced to kneel down

His legs got wounded, body dropped unconscious.

He died before dying.

I don’t consider that severe punishment for informer.

I wonder, can’t things resolve peacefully.

Prem poured the glass half full of alcohol, emptying entire jug.

Prem Magar

Oh! Brother, you only witnessed what happened

Not heard what Maoist leader said in speech.

“Informers are the dangerous elements to cripple people’s movement.”

The way you are expressing grievance,

I am suspicious you are one of them.

Krishna Magar

Who?

Prem Magar

Informer.

Krishna Magar

No, I am not

 I belong to no one,

But in same way I belong to everyone

Prem Magar

That I know, since I understand you

You are coward, don’t have courage to stand

And act like cunning crow

But be careful, brother

One day, some day you might get caught by foolish cow.

Krishna Magar

It’s better to escape and wait for that day,

He readjusted his leaning posture.  While, worriedly he moved his hand back and forth.

I am worried for tomorrow

When army arrives

Immediately start to inspect,

Asks question of involvement.

Interrogate and if force to confess of involvement.

My involvement.

Without any.

Prem Magar

Yes, if army detain you,

Force to open your mouth

 For means of getting information.

In process torture you, threaten you

Will you going to speak words?

See, trouble is in both.

Krishna Magar

I don’t know.

Knocking door enters the Maoist leader with five young arm groups, on black dress, red band around head.

Maoist leader:

Yesterday, I think both of you have witness.

How torturously he died.

Fear in his eyes.

Maoist leader fixed eyes towards Krishna.

I hope you don’t want such consequences occur to you.

LAL SALAM, LAL SALAM (Red salute, red salute)

 They exit, leaving both the brothers awe.

©2013

A girl

Six in the morning

she opens the window

in silence, in peace

ever free from fear.

Dearly and deeply

without any thoughts 

she hears the chirps of birds in silence

cherish the sound as rarely heard

I gaze her from the opposite window

endangering myself

with certain desire

that forbids by my religion conviction

From the depths of heart, i behold her

with so much felling of love

if as a man beholden, pond on vast desert.

who's eyes only runs to drink with selfishness.

From there without any hope

as motherly love

she smiles to passerby

while hundreds of sun-rays sparkles with it.

And upon defeat by her charm

passerby offers flower to her

endangered i, do witness those events

angrily, towards act of passerby.

Although I perform spiritual mediation
With strong dedication and utmost faith 
but i lost all obtain peace and knowledge

merely on act.

free from rush and enthusiasm

her eyes wander towards east

piteously- without any emotion

neither for any search.

New warm-sun light fall upon her face

and refection sparkles

if as when sun-rays fall upon blue river

to sparkle more brilliant

I watch her, from the window many a time

i thought not to

but great wanderer enters in a single movement

unlike to attain pure mind.

Without joy, without sorrow

seven in the morning, she closes the window

one more day, unknowingly infinite preciousness of her and her beauty

on another human soul. 

Song

In the eyes of young lover ( cheated )

with distress shadow by his side

time moves like an old man

Into the night

when up in the sky

changing colors of clouds dance.

He sing of love, he sings of his darling

to stir up his trouble

to stir up his sentiment.

From his guitar

plodding musical rhythm floats with hundreds of beats.

From his mouth

sentimental pop songs flies far towards his presence.

He sings of a day, they first met

day of azure

beside the shore of river

beneath the coconut tree

He sings of a day of a  lover sigh

when from wreathe of Darjeeling mist

gliding she appear 

if as a candlelight, lid inside a wide dark room

He sing of her eye

which blinks and brings bliss to his heart.

He sings of her vigorous face

with vivid vision on cheek.

He sings of her thick black hair

which he describe smooth as feathers of birds

 tightly tied.

He sings about her voice

sweet alike singing of his mother

 He sings of a day, they last met.

inside a void room

beneath a glimmering of bulb light

'with false scandal she put forwarded to him by his sight

And sobbing he sings, about her poor judgement 

and how she vanish by his sight.

Into the night

when up in the sky

changing colors of clouds dance

He sing of love, he sings of his darling

to stir up his trouble

to stir up his sentiment.

From his guitar

plodding musical rhythm floats with hundreds of beats.

From his mouth

sentimental pop songs flies far towards his presence.

River unnamed (Childhood days in Oodlabari)

He looks to horizon, he sees blue of horizon

he gaze beneath, he sees blue of layer making small waves.

'He hears the sound of waves

again and again

it comes to his ear ineffective as barks of mad dog to madman.

But on curves

river uprise

if he awake from night

to voice is free and fearless existence.

Meanwhile on shore, river voice get reduce

likely stop and push.

Shore takes out rich soil, sand and gravel from river unnamed.

like colonial empire takes treasure from colonize nation.

Thinlay and I used to walks upon the beach

after playing cricket all day

to swim on side of river for relief.

Thinlay, seeing  me

used to stand erect on rock, curve his upperparts

then bends his body to touch his feet.

Again up his upperparts

on approx ninety degree

he looks to horizon, he sees blue of horizon

he gaze beneath, he sees blue of layers making small waves

and within seconds, he dives inside blue of layer

thinking of divine path.

Discovery of Nepal

Context

Exhausted circle 

Change chants

chosen chance

corrupt crown

coward crowd

Cunning crows curbs cow

countryman can't counter

counterproductive can cost

context continues

While, cough countryman can certainly lament.  

POP Singer

Amid all odd

her appearance appeared

"Fair oval face, 

Black long hair and eyes small as of central Asian

while, her body brought aroma around

which arouse aura among audience.

And amid all odd

"she sang of her beloved

brashly with roaring of flames

rolling role he played and left.

But she sang, 

fairly without  emotion

and listener fairly listening her emotion verbal

heaped their body, while their throat roared.

Fear

she succeed to take complete circle

but behind fear flight over organs

which wiping happening happiness.

'after all

within her 

was woman

living legend

but beside

within winning woman

was woman

unclean using 

legally ban substances

Light and Dark

Night

'Night falls

and brings fear of dark terror

but again on next morning

light glitters from eastern horizon

like sound waves of holy prayer pitch from holy mountain

to banish that fear

Morning

On morning 

birds chants awakening melody

from bloomed branches of trees

whose green leaves fills with rain dew

ready to fall on floor- anytime

while, at this time cool breeze would blow

saying children 'run to school

to attain enlightenment

whereas, for fathers 'run to earn 

so to  keep on run

Mathematics

With strange smell in voice like of acidic smell of onion

Guruji, would scold me

On one edge of rectangular classroom

For equation i wrongly solved

'With furious face, his lips open to quote 

"Blinds are a man, who know no mathematics"

And if like waves, it comes sound grinding.
 After collision of Guruji's saliva onto my solid face

But before Gurji's voice goes silent 

He would ask me to solve another equation 
From complex number

 Hopelessly

Complexity of number - puzzle me

And for reason i become blinded

Like you

Like you

I am a seeker, and often find myself restless

Which gets me into trouble.

Like you,

I have lots of enthusiasm

But I don’t stick with one thing for very long

So it fades rather quickly.

Like you,

Occasionally, I do get  selfish

And persuade people to do things

Only in I am interested.

Like you,

I am huge rebel

And can’t accept your perspective

And can’t get along.

And like you

I am original person

With amazing ideas.

SECRET Room

For  love,

You have to allow someone into your secret room.

And to take the fragrance of your hidden things,

Your fear of exposure.

And

For your understanding

He unzips his heart

To show the sweet innocence trapped in his own room.

Like you do so.

Paint's Theme

On a canvas,

An artist was painting
"Dispiritedly with oily colours

Naked sketch of her

Drawn ashamed with shamefaced

Next to her, a man was drawn

Befitted by white beard

Religious ropes with impure hidden.

‘I thought what’s on her mind?

Why she is questioning sanctity of a saint?

While she picks black on the brush

   And starts to color ‘beside the subject

Alas! 'in my surprise

Stroke after stroke

Some mystery -  Unknown, untamed

Keeps on folding
On a canvas

So,  I thought again of her theme

Sin hidden within the silk

oh! modern art, ah! modern saint 'a weak voice arise in my throat.

Trying to write some "Proverbs"

Hunter always glorifies his number of successful hunts but he fails to count the number of bullets he missed in the process. 

Humans are puppet of emotion, not of logic

In the world of  blocs, Inherent in itself is a threat.

Today “History” is not simply a study of the past. It’s more than that, it’s a tool - ‘a political tool for elites to glorify their present referring their glorious past. And for a Suppressed group to rectify their present by referring their humiliated past.’

Often, political blame between two leaders in democracy sounds just like an argument between two footballer ‘one claiming you could have passed well while another keep on opposing you could have run to control the ball and would have scored.

Don’t feel pity on a competitor who lose against you this time. if you do so, then remember either you are underestimating his/her capacity for next time or either you are having an ego.

When sentiment comes,  the man in you speaks about what he felt in the heart rather than why he felt. And that fictitious narration destroy the truth.

“You have to know that

sometime war is for peace”

 When your eyes encounter disabilities of a person at very first sight, then your eyes would never going to encounter his abilities any time, if so not anytime soon.

We are like strings of a guitar

Each with own sound and each with own importance.

It was the place, you was the guy and everything was meant before. Whether you do believe in such things or not but every face you encounter today is a memory for tomorrow. 

For every natural happening, you have two option to determine why it occurred.

Myth or reason?

We search for answer only when we have question.