First Attempt

First Attempt

  ****

  By Hiranya Borah

  Copyright 2016 Hiranya Borah

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  Preface

  Attempting something new is always challenging. Writing a few books in last two years has given me the confidence to write something for the readers. Some of the books are liked by the readers more and some are liked less. That is quite natural. I did try to write few poems in my mother tongue when I was in school and college. Some of them were also published by local magazines. But somehow, I was never comfortable in writing poetry.

  A few days back, to kill boredom, I wrote a poem and posted on my facebook. To my surprise many people liked it and I got lot of encouraging comments. That is beginning of my attempt to write some poems.

  My attempts will be successful if you like these six poems.

  Author

  A Night to be Forgotten

  Dancing long curvy hair might be of my lover;

  The boy sat and said.

  I saw dew disturbed his eyes;

  Twilight of a story or dawn of a new chapter;

  I could not fathom.

  Dead cannot say;

  So the dancing hair could not say:

  How beautiful the possessor of the dancing hair!

  Hope this is not her;

  He could hope only.

  I never saw her;

  But possessor of the dancing hair might be awesome!

  I sighed.

  Dusk descended;

  Nobody noticed.

  Dancing hair was going to be invisible!

  Tide might be coming;

  In the eyes of the boy.

  Tide, please do not come;

  He told himself.

  I have a duty to wait;

  I wanted to see the possessor’s swollen face.

  The eyes of the boy wanted to see;

  Beyond the curvy dancing hair.

  Will she break her promise?

  He asked himself.

  She promised to show her face;

  Hiding under the veil on a specific day!

  Coming from a teary eye for rain;

  To a place fearful of pouring of water from sky;

  Far off from a society;

  Torn between class, caste and religion;

  Is he going to lose his heart?

  He thought and thought.

  I am told;

  Wait till dawn arrives.

  I could not see the eyes of the boy;

  Nor I could see the dancing hair any more.

  Darkness engulfed my mind and eyes.

  Conserve Water

  Water, water, water is everywhere;

  Not a single drop to drink.

  Stuck in the midst of a sea,

  The Great Emperor thundered;

  In disgust; two centuries ago.

  His distracters were happy;

  His followers shed tears.

  I was terrified to visualize;

  The thirsty faces of the lower ranked soldiers.

  They were ready to offer their blood and sweat;

  To quench the thirst of the masters!

  I saw the fears of death, a slow but sure death,

  In the eyes of low ranked soldiers.

  Middle level officers were on the next line;

  To prove their loyalty.

  Distracters claim, many were thrown;

  To the unending wavy salt water;

  Many were killed.

  His worshippers never believed;

  The claim made by his distracters.

  After two odd hundred years;

  A small nut like me;

  Cried for a glass of water to drink;

  In the ocean of muddy water;

  Black water, grey water and so on.

  None is ready to shed blood and sweat for me;

  To quench my thirst.

  I am looking at my son;

  I am looking at my daughter;

  They are carrying canister of black water;

  They have to quench their thirst with black water;

  By filtering them;

  That is the only way to survive.

  I am looking at few generations down the line,

  None is appeared to be alive;

  All are lying like lifeless animals;

  Not a single drop of water to drink.

  None is there to hear me;

  None is there to criticise me,

  None is there to disregard me,

  None is there to praise me.

  All are appeared to be dead;

  Not a single drop of water to drink.

  Muddy Water: I am the Ruler of my Destiny

  Water with mud is coming out;

  From each and every tap;

  All I could survey.

  All trees have been fallen;

  To the axe of the ruler.

  Ruler is not independent;

  He has an old father.

  He used to like flowers;

  One day he plucked all the flowers for his flower show.

  All his followers praised the ruler;

  For the beauty and fragrance of the flowers.

  For the assassinated flowers;

  The trees cried silently.

  The tears of the trees;

  Flowed from hills to the plains;

  Created havoc for the subjects living on the foothills.

  Years entered into the history books;

  None realized ‘history repeats itself’.

  King can do no mistake;

  The old proverb says.

  The young king imported;

  Sharper but sturdy axes;

  To cut the hapless trees;

  Of the Hills; of the plains.

  He ordered for obstructions;

  For the river; for the rivulets;

  To construct our houses and our hotels.

  Mud is running down;

  Breaking all our houses and hotels.

  Young Ruler blames cutting of trees;

  Obstructions of the rivers!

  Old ruler blames his father for cutting the trees!

  No one wants to take the blame,

  Each one blames others.

  Do you know, who is the ruler?

  I am the ruler,

  You are the ruler.

  We all are the rulers of our fateful destinies.

  We have destructed the forests;

  Obstructed the rivers and rivulets.

  Now everywhere, every corner,

  We see the streams of muddy water;

  Up to the knee heights.

  Water bottles were supplied to the marooned people;

  To strengthen the hands of the ruler;

  To order more destruction of the forests,

  To make more obstructions for the river and rivulets;

  By constructing buildings and resorts.

  Now you know the ruler;

  I am the ruler of my destiny.

  You are the ruler of your destiny.

  We all are rulers of our destinies.

  We may pray in unison at least for once,

  God save us;

  From the catastrophe we are sitting on;

  Oblivious of our own deeds of destructions!!!!!

  My Lover Whom I Could Not Make My Wife

  She is twenty-four.

  Her eyes are as beautiful as lotus-bud!

  Her hairs are curvy black like clouds of Monsoon!

  Her lips are as
red as seeds of pomegranate!

  Her face resemblances with the full moon!

  All are nonsense!

  These are the descriptions of a beauty;

  Described by a poet of few generations ago.

  Those beauties are the products of imagination of a poet;

  Who was relieving himself at a bank of a river;

  Looking at the sky.

  He never thought;

  Those beauties are also human being.

  They also have to attend for nature’s call;

  They also need privacy for that!

  They were made Goddess of love;

  None thought for their privacy.

  The society imposed a veil to cover her face;

  But the same society never thought;

  For relieving one has to expose everything;

  Because they are also human being!

  At the age of twenty-five,

  I fell in love with a girl of twenty-four;

  Having all the qualities;

  The old poet had described many times.

  I became mad for her;

  I promised to marry her one day.

  I always imagined her beauty;

  Beyond the artificial skin of cloths;

  Covering all her body!

  She also loved me;

  Ready to be my partner of life;

  She promised to bare everything to me;

  Only for me in private.

  I imagined her bare body;

  Which is not even seen by the sun;

  After she attained adulthood.

  She might be so pure;

  Her every part of the body must be so delicate;

  Sunshine can tan her smooth skin.

  I want to make her my life partner;

  Partner of happiness;

  Partner of togetherness.

  But alas God has a different idea;

  My visit to her home,

  Evaporated my love for her;

  Hatred for her body and mind;

  Engulfed my heart and soul.

  All her body had already been exposed;

  To the Sun, to the jungle, to the bushes.

  I imagined, how some youths of her village,

  Might have peeped through the bushes,

  To see her bare body;

  That she promised to bare before me;

  Only before me;

  Only after our marriage.

  I am not the poet,

  Who thought his lover is a Goddess;

  Free from human needs

  And free from attending call of nature.

  The Goddess of the poet does not need privacy,

  She is above the domain of lesser mortal.

  My lover was a human being,

  She needed privacy;

  Which was never provided by her parents.

  Let her stay with her unconcerned parent,

  I thought and left her forever!!!!!

  Beauty from Inside

  My poet friend told;

  Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder!

  My priest told me;

  God loves the clean;

  Clean from inside;

  Not from outside.

  I am confused;

  Who is beautiful and clean?

  I am yet to meet the God;

  Will He like to meet me;

  In dirty cloths;

  With a body not cleaned for months together?

  Will a damsel like to see me;

  In torn dirty cloths;

  Hands not washed for months together?

  For a poet,

  For a romantic man,

  In his imagination,

  The answer may be yes.

  He will argue,

  Love is blind, it can go beyond your outward look.

  In a romantic novel,

  I found a girl went on to marry a pauper;

  Kicking the proposal of a billionaire;

  For the sake of love.

  I found N number of girls;

  In my vicinity,

  Who are ready to kick their lovers;

  For marrying millionaire!!

  In a romantic classic;

  A frog became a prince;

  Getting a kiss from a beauty.

  I saw many girls screaming;

  At the very sight of a frog;

  Leaping towards them!!

  I read beauty and the beast;

  Their immortal love story;

  Saw nothing similar in my neighborhood.

  For the unreal world,

  Beauty from inside is worshipped.

  In the real world;

  One cannot peep into the inside of a person;

  Unless God is more than kind enough;

  To you and your vision.

  I am not blessed;

  I judge a person from his cleanliness from outside;

  I expect same from you;

  As an ordinary person.

  I maintain total hygiene;

  Do you????????

  Why I Am Killed

  My dead body is lying in the field,

  Body is still half naked.

  My family is looking for me;

  They will cry, they will weep;

  Discovering my half naked body.

  Who killed me;

  That is not important for me.

  Why I was killed;

  That is important;

  Not only for me;

  But for them also who are going to be killed;

  In the coming days.

  Whom to blame;

  For my untimely death?

  Law will take its own course;

  Killers may be caught;

  They may be tried;

  They may be hanged.

  Another young lady will be killed;

  Killers may be caught again;

  They may be tried again;

  They may be hanged again.

  Killing of young lady will continue;

  After a gang rape.

  Trial will continue…..

  None is interested to know;

  Why I am killed.

  Only I know why I am killed;

  I had to go for attending a nature’s call;

  At the midst of the night;

  Some roaming animals saw me in the darkness.

  They dragged me to the field;

  Gang raped and killed me.

  I would not have died;

  Had my parents constructed a loo;

  Inside our premises.

  Money was not the problem;

  Will to construct a loo was the problem;

  For my parent and for the parents;

  Whose daughters are lined up;

  For gang rape and to be killed;

  By the animals, disguised as human being!!!!!

  The author is a Government servant and a man of vivid experiences derived from his official postings across the country, travels across India and numerous visits outside India. He is presently placed at New Delhi.

  His earlier publications are:

  1. Random Thoughts through a Coloured Prism

  2. Dilemma of a Young Mind

  3. Funny Statistics and Serious Statisticians

  4. Melody of Fragrance

  5. Akhadya

  6. Few Cities through the Lens of Hiranya Borah

  7. Guilt: Gift of Winter Spring

  8. Beautiful Ghost

  9. Great Fighters: Grace of God

  10. All Blurred

  11. Putting kids to sleep

  12.How to become unpopular

  13. Soulmates

  14. My grumpy Face

  15. Love and Worries

  16. Discussion of own Birth: A Taboo

  17. Interview

  18. Indecent Love Affairs

  19. My Fair Lady

  20.Waiting time

  21. Two Stories

  22. My Mother: Dashami Borah

  23. Parineeta

  24. Manorama

>   25. Unwanted

  Connect with him

  Email: hbmb@rediffmail.com

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