Standing Still

There's a life 
Without rush.
I want to be in it.
To stand still
And look at the 
World passing by.
I want to stare at the clock.
Count the minutes.
Lie down.
Watch the clouds.
Taste water 
On my tongue.
Close my eyes.
Count my breath.
Feel the breeze
On my arms.
The goosebumps.
The heightened sense,
That makes me alive.
I want to be,
In that life.
Uncluttered,
Unfettered,
Uncensored.
I want to be
In that life 
Without rush.
~ Shoma 

Artwork: Shoma Chakraborty

The Lost Song of the Soul

The soul, knotted, frozen,

A leviathan waiting for winter to end.
Wakes up with a start.
Lost and disoriented.
It opens its eyes.
I shudder.
It cries.
The noise shatters my eardrums,
Chokes my breath.
I stop breathing,
Fearing the intrusion.
It thrashes, threatening to break free.
I shudder and clutch my heart.
My hands get drenched in blood.
Warm and gushing.
But, wetness of its tears weights it down.
Turns it cold.
Its transparency drowned in salt and water,
Senses nothing.
Just the numbness of a cryogenic winter.
I push it further down,
My fists covers its face.
Making it unfamiliar.
My limbs climb on its back.
Choking it into submission.
Tired, it slumps into a dark hole.
Cold, hungry, sad.
Its fight muted into submission.
I take a small breath.
Unclench my fists, crack my knuckles.
Hearing familiar sounds.
I lie to myself.
Life moves on.
One baby step at a time.
But, my heart still bleeds.
It knows,
That its only a matter of time.
~ Shoma

Time to Write Herstory

Love me not for I cannot be what you want me to be.
I cannot let you do it anymore.
I will not be the woman you want me to be,
Docile, subservient, voiceless, sacrificial.

It is time for me to unfurl the flag and shout out.
I am bleeding because of your cruelty.
I am suffering because of your indifference.
I am dying because of the gag you put on me.

I have to do this, reclaim my own.
For myself and for those who are at the tip of your gun.
Hanging from the broken ceilings they weep blood.
Their lifeless feet swinging in the fog shout for justice.

I will fight for them.
I want to see them live, to thrive.
They are all mine - women, farmers, tribal - my tribe.
I want to do whatever is taboo because you say so.

I will stand in the front of the line,
Face the bullets of those like you who fear me.
I will bathe in my own blood and fall lifeless on the asphalt,
With cracking sound of broken bones.

I will be dead but, unvanquished.
I will win because, you will finally see, 
the blood on your hands.
I will fall from the pedestal, lay crushed on ground. 

I will not let you live without a conscience.
History will judge you.
Generations will spit on your face.
It's time you knew what's coming.

Innocents will take what's their own.
They will take the bricks from the home you paid for.
The fire from the kitchen you ate from.
The love that you took for granted.

I will start the fire that will burn your fear.
The fear that makes you so vulnerable.
The fear that makes you forget that you are not alone. 
Fear that makes you put me up on a pedestal.

I want to be in control.
I want to decide destiny.
Away from your shaking hands holding a gun.
I will write my story on my own.

I am not afraid of those you doubt my ability.
I will rewrite history.
It will no longer be yours.
It will be Herstory or mine.

~ Shoma

The Morning After...

Rainy Mornings

It should rain every night, And eyes feast on green and brown. They call the perfume petrichor. It must not be bottled up and poured, at will. I could not afford to buy if it was, Available in a fancy shop. It smells of womb, My mother's love. It covers me in lightness. My heart and soul, Languishing in the daily rot, Of existence, In mythical cities and towns, Open their third eye, To Tandava of love. Let me indulge, in lucid dreams. Of villages and mango trees. Of empty, faraway groves, That exist only in my head. The music of the rain, Tupur, tapur as the baby says, Makes me want to unfurl my wings. The notes perfect, The sound same, From the time I remember, Sleeping under a sheet of tin. I wish it rained every night. And, I don't have to, Water my plants, Or wash the car clean. ~ Shoma

Love

If I knew all the names of love
They would be all your names.
I know.
If I could smell love
It would be your musk.
I know.
If love could be tasted
It would taste sweet
Like the words falling off your lips.
I know.
Don't ask me how
But, I know.

I am Dead

I am dead.
My mother will miss me.
I am dead.
I was alive yesterday. 
I am dead.
They said their babies died.
I am dead.
I did not know it was not a toy.
I am dead.
I did not cry. There was no time.
I am dead.
Bathed in blood, I fell.
I am dead.
The Earth is cold, coffin small.
I am dead
Dead in the name of God.
I am dead.
I was a schoolboy in class.
I am dead.
When I meet God. I'll ask, 'why?'
I am dead.

(Mourning the death of 135-odd Pakistani school kids yesterday)

On Eternal Love

If you love me not;
Nothing will change.
The Earth will still sing,
To the skies.
The nights still,
Pine for the Sun.
Storms will wander around,
Like a beautiful woman,
Her hair left lose like waves on an ocean.
Whirling like dervishes,
Raising dust to the skies,
Coloring them blue,
After the heavens.
And rain will drench me,
In love, that is unchangeable,
Solid, for centuries to come.
Even when, you and I will be ashes,
As dust, rushing up to the skies,
Getting blue like the heavens,
And falling in torrents to a singing Earth.
I know and I laugh, when you say,
"I love you no more..."

Tremours

It starts with the toes,
They curl hearing footsteps,
Fingertips quiver and a zing runs down the arms.
The lips, they tremble and eyelids close.
The shock at the back of the head,
Runs down the spine.
I tremble.
The stomach ties-up in knots.
Legs feel the pricking of a thousand pins.
I tremble.
The tremors are real,
Sweat pools into my navel.
The Earth spins,
Out of control,
Thoughts wiped out.
The world shatters and explodes.
Breathing lost.
Mind out if control.
Do I tremble even then?

For Love

What do you want me to do?
Loving is losing.
I do not want to lose.
What do you want me to see?
Truth is ugly.
Lies scare me.
What do you want me to be?
If I love you, they call me fallen.
If I don't, it hurts, I die.
I need to live, to love, to laugh.
I want to be you.
Omniscient, omnipresent, ambiguous;
I want to be lost,
I want to be found;
Rescued by you,
I want, I want, I want...
Is it possible? Can I meld into you.
Like in osmosis.
I melt and mix with your essence.
Lost in you, I want to stay hidden.
Can I?
~ Shoma

Love

Do not ask, who I am;
For I cannot answer you.
I am no one, I am nothing.
I seek my love to save me;
I seek Him to tell me my name.

Imagine

Sometimes it is easy to imagine.
You and I in a warm blanket,
On a cold evening.
Together. Listening to the rain.
Sipping soup from a shared China cup.
Laughing at a private joke,
Without really telling it.
Reading a shared newspaper, 
Aloud and noisy, sad at the events of death,
Laughing on the dry sarcasm of the comic strips.
Sometimes it is easy to believe,
That you and I belong together.
But mostly, it is easier to imagine and smile.

River

Like a river I flow,
From source to the sea.
Meandering my course,
Looking for you.
And when l think it is you,
I break the dams, flood the world,
Wash the shores.
Ebbing and flowing, destroying.
Till l know, you are not there.
That it was a mistake.
Do you not hear my tears?
I cry through the nights.
Carrying corpses, ashes, dead flowers.
I cry. My tears mixing with the water.
Rise up to the banks.
Cleaning, healing, washing.
While l move, swim, fly. In my search.

The Infidel

When I was searching for you,
They called me a gypsy.
When I found you in my heart,
They called me an infidel.

Rang tera mere man mein eisaa chaaya; 
Rang li main toh tere rang mein, Jag ne jogan paya. 

Salaam Khushwant

Aaj khushi rooth baithi hai Dilli se;
Phir kaali hui siyahi surkhiyon ki.
Kaun kahega ab husn-e-yaar ke kisse?
Ke Dilli aaj hui phir se berang aur shehron si.
Salam Khushwant!

A Painting Speaks

Bleed.
I bleed.
Red,
Yellow,
Indigo.
Dark,
Bold,
Sticky.
to create,
to be.
I bleed.
Congealed,
Stroked,
Brushed,
I become
Another me.
I become you.

More Random Poems!

The Eyes
The city, dressed in lights and colors whizzed past the one with dry eyes and a permanent smile;
The twinkling lights forced life into the sightless sockets and flooded the face with myriad hues;
But, each color reflected in those eyes told a story of its own - pain, loss, hurt and humiliation,
The emotions danced on the knitted brows and pursed lips. But, the smile stayed unfazed, unchanged by any blow.
When the world hurried past without stopping to ask, "why do you smile so much?"
It did not matter. Because, those eyes did not see the world with its fake lights and color;
Those eyes, they did not see the world at all. It just did not matter at all. 

                                                                    ***

And when, the lights are turned off and the stage is bare,
You stand in a corner and think, "did it all happen here?"

                                                                    ***

The path of no return beacons.
It is time for a cross-over,
To burn the bridges and move on.
Is forgetting and forgiving that easy when you are no more?

                                                                   ***

The Upstairs Neighbors - Part II
They are at it once more;
Hammer and tongs.
To tell the truth,
Love is better than war!

                                                                 ***

The Upstairs Neighbors
When they make love. they are inseparable, audible.
The creaking bed and heaving sighs soaring through the night;
When they fight, the whole world knows.
My problem? They do it right above my head and I have to hear and bear with both.

                                                               ***

Colors of Love
Love is the color red. All passion and heat.
No, love is green, soft, innocent and just born.
Oh no! Love is blue, light at dusk and tinged sparkly orange.
Aqua in the afternoon and dark and dangerous at night.
I strongly disagree!
Love is all the colors in the box or crayons,
that we bought that day at the fair.
And I used all of them to paint this place for us.
Just for you and me to smile, hold hands and love.

                                                               ***

The Break-up
Don't read signs where none exist, he warned;
The words tasted bitter and bit his tongue with their sharpness.
I cannot look you in the eyes and see the truth, she whimpered;
Tears, salty and watery traveled down her cheeks, across her nose to her mouth;
Lights flashed across the sky and the earth trembled in shock and fear;
The earth-shattering numbness of loss settled down like an unwanted guest.
The hearts ceased to beat, the pulse refused to flicker and the body turned cold like marble on a tomb.
It really was over for there she lay, embalmed and enshrined in a casket of gold.
                                                                  ***

Love

Last night, each time I closed my eyes,
I saw you smiling at me.
Last night, each time I opened my eyes,
I saw nothing but darkness.
After hours of opening and shutting my eyes,
I realized, you and I are one,
Your smile is mine and my fears are yours.
That is when I finally lost myself to sleep or was it love?


                                                                  ***

Together

You and I like kites in the sky,
Like Hippies in a commune;
Always together but, never with each other.

                                                                 ***    

An Ode to the Sea 

There was a time when I just had you,
I spent hours walking beside you,
Felling your ebb and flow.
Telling you stories I dared not tell others I knew.
Sharing tears, hugs and love.
Sometimes with words and at others, not speaking at all.
Today, when you and I are no longer together.
I still remember, those days,
That I spent, just waiting to come home to you.

                                                                   ***

Mother's Dream
The sky sleeps dreaming of the Moon,
The Moon dreams of the Sun,
The Sun, dreams of the Earth,
The Earth dreams the collective dreams of the millions it nurtures.

                                                                    ***


'Scratch, scratch' goes the old crone at my throat.
I curse winter and she cackles. The witch.

The Lovelorn Fool!

Today I was followed all the way back home,Every time I stared out of the window,There he was, winking, slyly smiling, sometimes hiding obviously.Even as I wove through congested roads through bad traffic,He stayed around,Far off but near enough.I glared, I sighed, I gave up looking out the window,But, he came till I reached home and blew a kiss when I shut the door!They call him the Moon but, I call him lovelorn and a fool. 

The Road that Leads to Mountains

There are a million ways to say nothing;
But, tears they tell a story of their own.
And, smiles that break midway,
And eyes that refuse to meet.
Roads that go nowhere are often forgotten;
The roads that lead to pain are avoided.
What about the road that leads to the mountains?
That road, it leads to a place that never moves.
Constant, rigid and remorseless,
It tests on whims and declares winner, the one who scales the heights.

Random Poems

• Why would I be afraid of you?
  For not even you can kill my soul;
  Not even you.
  The more you try,
  The more I live.
  The more you die,
  because you try - too hard.

                                                                               ***

• Ashes to Ashes

• It wasn't love.
  Love would have lasted.
  It was like the flower,
  that bloomed in spring.
  Smelled like heaven;
  and fell dead on earth.

• Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

                                                        ***

Lost Love 

The smile. It was for you;
Now, the eyes don't laugh.
The nose misses the smell
that the tongue had tasted.
Ears long to hear,
My name on your lips.
Fingers, throat, the corner of the eye...
each lies frozen waiting to be woken up.

                                                      ***

Sleep says, 'kiss me';
Eyes flutter shut.
Dreams are you & me,
Fingers ache to touch;
Nose smells of cinnamon & cloves.
and love.

                                                      ***

"You can't read the eyes..."
"You don't let me say what I want to tell you..."
Yes, I know...


                                                       ***

• The shy smile, the eyes... They tell a story all yours; Yours and mine. Is it ours?

                                                     ***

Trust has an issue;

Do we or don't we?

Head says, "Don't"

Heart wonders. "Why?" 

                                                                               ***

Tears for my fears, falling to my heart;

The light enters through the crack in the wall;

Tears that turn to ice and scald my cheeks;

I don't cry.

                                                                            ***

The shards, they pierce my heart;
My blood. cold and congealed,
refuses to gush out and yet, I bleed.
Blood. Red and dark, like wine in a warm jar;
I can touch it.
It's icy. It knows. It feels. It hurts.
But, I don't cry.

                                                                         ***

Love says, come to me;
I see eyes full of pain.
I retreat.
Don't call me a coward.
I tried.

                                                                        ***

Love says, feel me;
Life says, live me;
Eyes hurt and arms ache;
I live in a prison that I want to break.

                                                                        ***

Love or Lust? 
Perhaps a bit of both.
It's like fire in the vein.
Unstoppable and scary as hell.
The choice - Hobson's!
None without the other.

                                                                      ***

Khwab mein gar sachchai hoti toh rooh kissi aarzoo ki mohtaj na hoti;

Gar kwaishye sab poori hotein, toh khwabon ki koyi zaroorat nah hoti...

~ Shoma 

When Music and Lyrics Found me Once More

In the house of lovers, the music never stops, the walls are made of songs and the floor dances.
~ Rumi

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour!
~ Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

All the poets, mystics and bards cannot be wrong. Music relaxes, soothes and rejuvenates. Right? Yesssss... but only if it is healing and not hurting you. I have been now trying for months to write this piece but, did not know what to say. I know now that I was staring at it from the wrong end. So, I'll write here about not only how I was lost to music and lyrics for years together but also the joy and gratitude when I was found.

There were these close to ten years of my life when I hated music - something I had loved from the time I was a kid - but it did happen - all because it seemed to be a thing my tormentor (seemed to) love and enjoy. It was a reflex that I failed to either understand or acknowledge. I acted delusional, thinking I had outgrown music and poetry. I know. Foolish woman! Right? I agree. But, you have to understand that I was trying too hard.

And then, freedom happened. It took them (music and lyrics) no time at all to return to their rightful places - in my ears, heart and mind.

Those few years when music of any kind gave me headaches and made me want to shout out aloud were strange. I label them weird because it was not music's fault but mine for trying too hard to fit like a square peg in a round hole. It was also the fault of other people in my life for mocking and laughing at my sensibilities and shocking me with their attitude not to mention their 'affected and bad taste' in music or let me be sweet and say 'different,' that was thrust on my face day in and day out. Hammering at my senses, eroding my taste till I thought  all music was noise and poetry was stupid too. Blasphemy? Agreed. But, the raw truth.

Music and lyrics, my dear friend for ages, my companions through adolescence and early adulthood, had not deserted me then even though I had closed my ears and eyes to them and packed them off on an unknown journey. I heard snatches in my mind while travelling or working and more than snatches when cooking and even when reading a good book. But, for years I turned off music and lyrics only listening by mistake an odd Bollywood release quickly turning it off before it got too loud for my senses to bear. Not even Sufi music would sooth me. I sometimes heard music just to blend in. Not really listening but, nursing a headache behind a polite smile. It was a strange phase. It will remain in my mind the phase when I tried to conform. 

Music, I have realized, goes with freedom. If you are free to be happy, free to be sad, free to think your own thoughts, it will become your constant companion but, if someone was laughing at your choices, mocking your valor and I call it valor because it takes guts to try, anything and everything, music flees from the region around your ears. It also flees when trying too hard to be someone else just to make people around happy. They also become alien when you know you cannot love nor are being loved. When life becomes a pyramid of making the 'right choices' to survive - music and lyrics stop making any sense in that world.

But, I don't want to dwell on the time when music had fled my world. No. I want to celebrate the fact that now, we are back together once more and it's been a good two years! Time to clink crystal and say, "Cheers!" to two years of freedom.

Just one word of caution to whoever is reading this: Please take it as a very serious sign when you turn your back to music and start thinking it is noise because it is perhaps the first alarm set off together by your head and heart that things are wrong. Very wrong. Just run from the situation and back to music and lyrics because therein lies your salvation.

Be happy always and dance when you are cooking or walking on a lonely road because you are never alone with music and lyrics playing in your head. 

With my heartfelt thanks to Tagore who put me to sleep with his wonderful music every night throughout my crazy and difficult adolescent years.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6srT3VWSzRk