The reason for poems is a lack of imagination and grammar to write full sentences. Boredom from typing. Few words suffice. It is the reader’s imagination that makes the poems interesting; their critique at a conscious level and meta-analysis at a subconscious level. The authors tend to wash their hands away by the time the book is released. It is not theirs anymore. It belongs to the people. The vile and subhumans that attacked Salman Rushdie and issued fatwas in his name belong to the same category as the believers. Interpretation of the holy books is where creativity ends. You are not supposed to think anymore. You are just supposed to believe. Like a herd of sheep that have lost the reason to question. That is where any debate or discussion of religion ends for me. It cannot happen. It is not supposed to happen if I cannot rip it to shreds and question your beliefs as it hurts your unreasonable sentiments. If only we felt that strongly for the earth as a whole. Now that is a religion I can understand. To save and conserve resources, to fund activities that improve the water levels, to enforce penalties on industries that increase carbon levels and use the money to research on better alternatives that will eventually improve or eliminate their factories. Wait, there is a “religion” like that that already exists: Science! The final and most improved form of all -vedas, and -ophies; improving them with -pathies and -ologies. A one world reality with sharing of resources and free movement is an eventual reality. It is bound to happen as the next evolution of the human race. The biggest and most challenging experiment in social civilization was and is India. The most pathetic example of discrimination and authoritarianism on the bureaucratic front is the country visas. All these deterrents will fade away like vestigial aberrations and our world will be one. Unity in diversity. Tolerance for differences. Acceptance. Peace. Sharing. Socialism and capitalism will merge as a hybrid model which they already exist as in each and every country without enforcing biases and countering the other. Currency disparity will cease. Less will be adequate. The need for more to fulfill self inadequacies will end. You do not need a black thar for your childhood family issues that you want to get away from one puff of marijuana at a time , you need a psychiatrist. The need of the hour is someone to speak. Speak even if it costs you your job or life. Speak for that will stay with the next generation that will be better than the former or current. Speak. For the time is now.
The drapes acting is veil on the sunlight through the window rest heavy. They are the silencers of the truth trying to peek in; to enlighten the room to reality and to kill the darkness and facade. The drapes are the media, politicians and businesspersons creating echo chambers of propaganda and lies. Hear! Hear! The dying of justice and truth. See for yourself how they butcher and feed on the carcass! The warmth of the room is artificial from the Air Conditioner and the carbon footprints it generates are another lie we are creating for future generations when we tell them we were on the right side of history. The light in the room is artificial from consumption of power to illuminate rooms that require water that we are running out of. If only the drapes were removed; if only someone had realized that all they needed to do was walk to the window and open the veil wide and forever! I limit the discussion as I know it brings no joy to ears. I confess my helplessness to the satire that is the world’s conscience. The ink I use to write bleeds in pain. I realize. I confess. I know. I have a chip on the shoulder and the weight of the legacy rests heavy but be rest assured the legs lift 170 KG of deadlift. This fire burns. Understand the movement. The revolution is a pipe bomb ready to go off and turn to flaming embers all the corrupt and rotten parts of the system. Do you see it now? The you-reap-what-you-sow idiom? The throat puncher is here. The pages are ready to ignite souls and stomp on heads. It is a bad acid trip for a straight edge. Fangs.
Encrypted in the zone I am on is a sermon of a song that I lose to recall but was not; an equation of a powerful station may I see you through the loop passing through the layers; popping eclairs on a bench of a second standard class and the bell goes off; it is the grim reaper killing childhoods and expecting applause. What? Were not expecting this anymore? It is a generational thing. Each generation is hell bent on killing the childhood of the next. Vicariously. The family tree and oh that is my pedigree. Even though I was never subjugated to it and was blessed to not have toxicity, a possibility that the monopoly of another family that was leading to there not being gifts under my christmas tree started bothering me; subconsciously. And rage I did. Held grudges though my parents never wanted it to get to me. Have empathy. Can’t. Understand the circumstances. Shan’t. Try and get your mind off it. Couldn’t. See. The internalization and insight was so crystal clear like it was a cocktail of cocaine and morphine. Again. The straight edge decides to contradict. Paradox. The individual pursuit of peace, power and reason. Love? Probably. The only thing done selflessly. The only thing he can be proud of unabashedly. Times are strange but they said that even in the 70s. The same issues persisted for all generations that are now ancient. Is this the only way to be? Gibbering yapping jabbering but still understood. The future “they-don’t-make-them-like-him-anymore”. The current “everyone-knows-but-have-to-feign”. Shot of vodka in veins. Shrouded glass on wounds was the answer. Kryptonite; walking right. Check the altitude. Platitude? Has everything interesting that could have been said already done? Are the dreamers gonna continue sleeping and never recover from their slumber? Undone; all the past chapters and playing on loop the same tunes like looney toons. Weltschmerz! We have barely scratched the surface. There are layers upon layers of existential crises and answers that die unanswered. Stories never told; words never written. Segue unheard. Grapes.
Steroid pandemic. Everyone is shooting it up their glutes; social media has created a bigger need to chase and achieve that unachievable standard that is unattainable without PEDs or anabolic steroids. The physical perception has created mental torture. Gym rats, body builders, athletes, wrestlers, football players, cricketers, tennis sportspersons, you name it: the fix is in. There is a reason your movie star will not admit to it openly, but everyone knows he is doing it. It has crossed class, gender and countries: a true uniter. It is an illegal market reality. Basic demand and supply. The steroids are guaranteed to not be pure. There are no checks and balances. Leading to varied physical and mental illnesses that there is no going back to. Is steroids life or life steroid? Pee in the cup to find out.
Himanshu Chakravarty Sharma / मंच 