Hunger

They call me a hungry man,   
I'm not to blame   
all I knew was hunger   
and satiation sans shame.
   
I was taking shape   
in my mother's belly   
She ate so little,   
Oh, so poorly!   
I was way too little; 
when she begot me
   a malnurished child   
with veins running green and blue,   
on a body so pale in hue.   

Day in and day out   
I shrieked and I did shout   
for bread, drink, food and milk,   
when others of my age   
rolled in garbs of silk,   
I stood in rags and tatters   
-an ugly looking scarecrow.   
   
   
They call me a hungry man,   
when I'm not to blame   
right from the start,   
I knew nothing of shame   
and once my mother died   
I neither sulked nor cried   
I saw her getting buried   
under sheets of snow   
and I became an uglier scarecrow.   
   
   
I used to sit still,   
timid like a sheep   
in garbage cans i put my hands
elbow deep.   
I sniffed for the leftovers
I searched for dry crumbs   
when deep in my stomach   
my hunger beat wild drums,   
then nothing made sense   
nobody came in my way   
and like a savage animal   
I snatched a dog's bone away!   
   
   
She says I'm a hungry man,   
woe! to my lustful appetite,   
it's my insatiable hunger   
which I could never fight.   

Was I ever to blame?   
and it's all still the same,   
from one womb to another   
my hunger knows nothing   
but to smother   
and never did I bother,   
to resist or control   
until I'm satisfied,   
I want more and more.   
   
   

Of candy floss and trumpet toys.

In every real man, a child is hidden that wants to play. -Friedrich Nietzsche

During these two months at the Media Institute, I was relentlessly reminded of the growing responsibilities as well as the simple, carefree childhood days that are left behind forever.

I wouldn't shrink away from accepting the fact that I have a child hidden inside me. There are moments when my inner child would feel so trapped that it would try peeping out into the world that my mature self now inhabits. This time I shall talk about a certain day when my cluttering reality of newspapers, empty coffee cups and cigarette stubs was transported into the world of candy floss and trumpet toys.

The other day my friends and I decided to go to C.R Park to see the Durga Pujo Pandals. I have always loved the hustle- bustle that surrounds the city during the festive season. As soon as we started walking to the nearest Pandal, the child in me got excited. Just as a child feels incapable to grasp the entirety of the vastness around him, I was then amazed by the multitudinous crowd, the vast Pandals and the vibrant glimmering lights. I spotted a man who was selling balloons and toys; I stood in front of that vendor, marveling at the collection of tiny little goodies that he was carrying with him.

That day the child in me was sad, with eyes wide open and filled with ocean of despair it greedily looked at those colorful bundles of goodies. I finally decided to treat the little child, the child that would never step out of the cage that my twenty two year old being was. With apprehensiveness lurking deep inside and anxiety brimming my mind, I walked towards the toy vendor and asked how much the toy would cost me, “Twenty rupees”, he replied. I elbowed deep into my hand bag, took out my wallet and handed him a crisp twenty rupee note while he handed me my toy. I stood there for a while clutching the little toy in my hand, completely oblivious of my friends who were calling me from behind. I was reminded of those childhood days when I would ask my father to lift me up in his arms and carry me around, while I would munch on candies and blow wild my trumpet toy to ecstasy.  

Such were those days when candy floss, balloons and the cacophonic trumpet toys were among my all time favorites and the priceless, innocent rapture that was experienced was free of cost. Today, I had to sheepishly shell out twenty bucks to relive those moments again, what an irony! We all have a child hidden behind the garb of a mature human; we suppress it, often deny its existence completely.

Listen to the voice

deep inside

It’s the inner child

Let it run wild

Let it loose, let it stray

Let the fit of madness stay

To make some sense

of the world around

the world that goes

round and round! 

Untitled

At night we lay together 
feeling the warm whiff 
of each other's breath 
and a gap kept whirling between us. 
  
We kept on looking at each other 
exchanging pensive, 
placid, passionate glances. 
  
  
Your eyes demanded and 
mine were just inquisitive 
of the desire that swelled your chest. 
  
Your eyes explored, 
like a hungry traveller 
they measured my voluptuous contours, 
while you kept on braving 
the storm 
of passion 
that quickened 
your heart and 
like a ship that tosses 
amidst the turbulent waves 
  
I gave in and 
I wrecked in your arms