Saturday, 16 March 2013

The Reverse Closet



A homeless man lives on a pavement opposite a bar. He notices two men walk out of the bar. They seem to be talking loudly and animatedly, but not a word is issuing out of their mouths. They turn into an isolated alley next to the bar. He knows the alley. There’s no other exit. People who walk inside it never walk out. He’s been here for ages and yet never seen a soul walk out of the alley. Yet he sees the same people in the outside world. Time and again they walk into the alley and disappear. When he sees them in the outside world, he sees them in various emotional states. Sometimes he sees them happy. Sad, depressed, ecstatic, lost, way faring, he’s seen the entire roller-coaster of their lives sitting on this pavement.

He sees people go in everyday and never walk out. His curiosity finally gets the better of him and he goes behind these two guys. He only enters the alley to find it deserted, but hears the snap of a door closing. Baffled he looks around, and sees that there is a cupboard stationed at the end of the alley. It is a small closet, barely large enough to hide one person, forget two! But there’s no other possibility, there’s no escape. With mild confusion, he walks towards the cupboard and as he moves a jittery hand to open the cupboard, a man barks from behind, warning him not to do it. He warns him that it is a dangerous cupboard, that it is the work of Satan, that anybody who opens gets sucked inside, anybody who ever opened never came back out of it. He said that only weird people opened it. And though they never came out of it from this door, they could be seen frolicking around in the world and getting weirder! And others, whom he called normal people, others, he had heard, who opened it, were pulled inside by gnawing and clawing hands and were never seen it. This last part scared him, but those two who went ahead of him seemed perfectly normal, he thought. Were they sucked inside as the man with the barking voice mentioned? In that case, shouldn’t he help them? That man had already disappeared after issuing his warning.

With a steely resolve, he moved towards the closet once again. There is a dead silence in the alley, as if he’s walked too far from civilization. Cars can be seen passing through the road where he just came from, but no sound reaches here. As if there’s an invisible membrane. His hands shake as he opens the door of the closet. The door has an air of antiquity; it looks rickety yet as good as new. It doesn’t open with a creaking noise as he had expected, but with a dignified silence, but as it slowly opens, there rises in his ear a hum, which gradually increases. He’s scared, but the hum doesn’t seem to go past that invisible membrane. Only he can hear it. As the sound settles in his ear, he realizes that it is the sound of an infinite people talking, chatting, singing, dancing and going about their daily business. But it is pitch dark inside. He finds courage to enter the closet, and the moment he does, he can see. Maybe a light has switched on, he thought, but soon he realizes that only his eyes have slowly got accustomed. Inside it is the same world that is outside. The same people. The same cars, the same roads. He is standing in the same alley. It has the same things, and now that the initial air of familiarity has subsided, he notices that the clouds in the sky are different. They are darker, gloomier. There’s an air of melancholy, as if an elegy is being played. He spots the two people he had come chasing. They still seem deep in an animated conversation. But this time, he can hear them. He again sees the man who warned him and goes to tell him that his warning was unnecessary. But the other man sees through him and turns a deaf ear to his words.

The two men notice him finally. They see him making an effort to talk to a man who is ignoring him. They come and tell him that he would not see him nor listen to him. It’s his choice. He has chosen to do so. He tells him that he has entered a closet inhabited by those who are different from the others. They tell him that they are homosexuals. But they are not the only people who are different. Everyone who has entered this closet is different from those on the other side of the door. They tell him that you could see yourself as normal, but by choosing to enter this space, you have differentiated yourself from them as they don’t recognize us. They choose to ignore us, our rights, our very existence. And it’s worse when they do recognize us. Then they pelt us with stones. We see them but they don’t see us. It is them who have a limited field of view. It is them who have to come out of the closet. The homeless man looks back at the closet. It opened the other way.


By Shikhar Singh


Tuesday, 26 February 2013

This Taj of mine



It shines sometimes,
Sometimes in yellow and
Sometimes in white;
Stands in darkness
Which it knows would
Move by.

It stands and stares
Or even smiles,
Over the journey gurgling by
A journey quite long
Here, calmly drifting away.

Reflections here
And reflections there
Shadows dark
And shadows light
O! This heart of mine leaves its
Reflections on the life moving by                 
O! This Taj of mine casts its
Shadows; be it day
Or be it night.

Wednesday, 13 February 2013

hues for a happy song




Look up
Up into the blues
Deep as they spread
Flashing their strokes of white
Blank at times
Or even wines.
Colours of wine and orange in it
Reds, or blank at times.
Blank and vast, silent
Look up
Colours that inspire
Inspire a happy song
A happy note

Gaze out
Out into those greens
Dense as they grow
Blooming their own shades
Dark, light or bright
Flashy or dull, or blank
Blank with none hanging
Or maybe yellows
That would fall
Their murmurs
Just a matter of gazing out
Hues that cheer up
Cheer for a happy song
Song, o! What a tune

Its just a matter of peeping down
Down into another blue
May be green added to it
Or dark, Or changing colour
With every new member of it
From light to dark,
Blue to green
Dark or white
With a silver sheen
Bouncing, gurgling
Frothing or lazing away
Just a matter of peeping down
Ripples that fade away
Fade glum for a happy song
Yes, such rhythm.

O! just a matter of searching out
Or even within
With hues plenty
And yes, their tints
Dark they remain
Eyes what they see or
Ears what they hear.
Its within, dark I
Perceive or hum
Little cheer
Colours plenty to
Paint a happy song
Just so many words
Just a matter of searching out
Out or even within,
Hues for a happy song


Friday, 18 January 2013

Autumn Leaves




Autumn leaves
In the autumn sun
Have left me dry,
Bare, my bone and skull.
Red, orange
And mostly yellow
They fall,
Sometimes one or in a pair
Listlessly drifting
Floating,
And carefully perching on the ground.
Sometimes many of them
As rain would pat;
Rain though many dodge
Often under my arms;
This rain they seem to enjoy
My fall.
Smile so many, shout out
Its sheer beauty,
My fallen is a yellow mat
And crisp, crunch
They rustle,
My fall.
They leave me
Bare, my bone and skull
All gone red, orange
And mostly yellow.
They pick one
Collect and keep.
Call it beauty
Even that I shed
Ere I don the new,
My green they look in awe
And also ogle eyes
Such love
Ogle eyes at my dry
Bare bone and skull
My fall.


Wednesday, 31 October 2012

That river


That river
That keeps flowing down
One moment here
And the other moment gone
A decision today and
A broken will again
A broken will and
A precarious fall now
Let the waters go
Let the sands sit
Let the sands be yours
Let the waters go
Swishing, gurgling
Gurgling and swishing
Lub-dub lub-dub
That river
That keeps flowing down

Saturday, 13 October 2012

the high cliff!



It returned to me
My high tide
And I darted ahead
With my waters far and wide
He stood tall as always
And as always
I crashed at his feet
Again breaking in a cry
A terrible try
My tides mellow soon
My calmer waters complain
And cry of the playing moon
I’d gain my high again
Volatile with energy
I’ll jump high in vain
Yet
What else would a sea do
But to try that one embrace
That a tight one
That at the high cliff?

Monday, 24 September 2012

Reflections

its all about a reflection
reflection that you leave
reflection that you perceive
your reflection with ripples plenty
and plenty are the seas
its all a reflection
may be all but a reflection

Sunday, 23 September 2012

A giggle here and a smile there :)


O! What does it take
To stretch a smile?
Those teeth in a lovely file
For the deepest black
You’ve ever known
Peep inside,
O peep everywhere
It’s all about a giggle here
And a smile there

Sunday, 12 August 2012

the bare feet



The smell tickles me again
The parched soil so wet,
A bank of memories pulled in
Of many smiles and cries.
Bare feet I remember;
Bare feet in memories.
It hasn’t stopped since last night
Redding the walls again
Trees smile with their eyes bright
The glistening green leaves;
Leaves draw in memories,
Memories all green and nothing.
It hasn’t stopped since last night
And I see my bare feet.
I stretch my hand out,
And they wet it well.
Pools and puddles beckon,
Slippery floors giggle.
It smells of something nice
Smells nostalgic at times
Shivers me the cool breeze,
Sigh and I also smile.
The wet wet ground
The faint touch of them all
It hasn’t stopped since last night,
The rain-
It asks my bare feet to walk.

Wednesday, 7 March 2012

Problems with Paradigms




On one of my train journeys, I arrested a cop’s attention by not bribing a TT. Okay, call him a constable, Prakash Yadav. Our conversation took a turn after I acknowledged I was unmarried. It isn’t his fault that he thinks men have a right to philander and women don’t. Further, our decibels rose and he argued why a woman cannot love more than one man.
“Two? In succession,” I asked.
“Oh! She would be labelled a whore”
“What if she loved one but that doesn’t materialize and later settled in a beautiful relationship with another?”
It's a bogus question to even ask, most people who read this here would think. Sadly we form a miniscule percent of an ocean of thoughts.
“A boy and girl can never be friends” he slapped a cliché.
“Oh why not? I am friends with many girls. Girls whom I know are in a relationship”
“Not possible. You haven’t felt anything for them? Plus they’re cheating on their boys.”
“No.” I frowned.
“A girl should not befriend boys anyway”
My forehead lines deepened as I wondered to which era he belonged.
”You’ll allow your sister to befriend boys?”
And he mocked at my prompt yes as he got down at Mathura.

I collected myself; perhaps I was the only one in the entire compartment who was comfortable with the notion of a girl in boys’ companies and women in multiple relationships. A little off the paradigm.

How is it when you get stared at instead of being soothed, stigmatized when you should be sympathized? Well that’s how a victim of sexual assault sustains. Where a woman chief minister says a rape victim has concocted a story, while the police divulge the name of another woman for her to face further harassment. The regular argument would be rhetoric. Yes blame the woman’s liberation for the man’s uncontrolled libido.

But that’s the problematic play of paradigm. The question is, do you feel embarrassed when you’re robbed off? Or when you’re diagnosed of cancer? Or even when one passes away? It’s all tragic. Then why humiliate a rape victim, embarrassing her for her tragic accident?

How would it be had we all accepted women as men, and realized their right to love?
How would it be had we all grown up condoling a rape victim, helping her forgo the trauma and point our stares and stigmas on the culprit? 

Have you ever wondered why we pray to the Gods?
The discussions and arguments would be incessant. Theists, atheists and to top them all, people like me, agnostics. Contemplate the idea of God without man. From where has He come? Religion – a set of righteous rules, gone horribly wrong, being the sole reason for much enmity and bloodshed across the planet? So follow any all or none. God or divine presence is the ultimate solace for many, someone or some belief that someone is forever there by their side, guiding them.
If the man means no harm and upholds morals, what good is religion to him if he’s happy like that? Ah! With such paradigmatic disgust we question him.

How would it be had we all acknowledged that not all follow our faith and have a right to think different, be different without being scorned at or forced?
How would it be had we all been comfortable with the ones in faith and with their beliefs, greeting their Gods if they wished at times, without a mock?
How would it be?

Our societies have been fixed in thought. And it takes more than many lifetimes to move the paradigm. Why should an introvert be pushed into talking more and socializing more, when he/she is equally or even more capable, efficient or good? Even as the ‘Satan in the child’ lore having been discarded centuries ago, mothers force their left handed kids into right handedness, a paradigm shift into accepting homosexuality is a far fetched reality. A trait observed in many species apart from humans, being perfectly natural for it occurs naturally in some as part of nature’s diversity would wait with its stuck up believes for some considerable time.

How would it be had we all been open to think the other way?
How would it be had we all never fallen into paradigm in the first place?