I Love You Darling
I Love You Darling
****
By Hiranya Borah
Copyright 2017 Hiranya Borah
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Preface
This book contains only two poems with diametrically opposite themes. The first one is based on true love for a daughter and the second one based on our indifferent attitude towards a burning problem lurking over our society.
Thanks to my readers and friends and above all my family for their constant support to write something usual and unusual. I love them all.
Author
Lion of a Jungle
He prowls silently;
In the dead of the night;
Sometimes all alone;
Sometimes, in the midst of a group of hungry wives.
He can see all his preys;
None can see him,
Before he positions himself;
To choke the victim to death.
He defends his cubs,
Like his own heart;
He can lay his own life;
For the sake of his progenies.
He always wants to keep more and more wives;
Does not want to share any of them with anyone else.
He does not mind,
If his wives go hungry for a night or two,
Even though they are the real hunters;
But feed his cubs before he eats.
He never minds to go hungry;
For days and nights together;
After feeding his offspring;
Up to their neck.
He seldom takes part in hunting;
Only he appears in the scene;
When he feels
It is absolutely necessary;
To kill a Hyena or to kill an Elephant;
Or to kill a Giraffe or to kill a Buffalo.
He is known as the King of the jungle;
For his fearless approach,
To all he surveys;
No matter how big or how small they are in size.
But I am not interested about the King of the Jungle any more;
I am interested to know about a lion,
Who behaves like a jungle king;
In the midst of millions people.
This lion is different;
This lion is more ferocious than the lion in the jungle;
Who prowls at day and night
Not to kill a Hyena nor to kill an Elephant;
Nor to kill a Giraffe nor to kill a Buffalo.
This lion can kill anyone;
No matter how big his victim is.
He kills his victims,
Even when he is not hungry;
He can have sex with a lady;
Who is not his wife.
He treats any lady as his wife;
If he desires so.
He can have wives at his will;
Out of wedlock;
Though law does not permit for the same.
Law cannot catch him;
No, he is not a lion of Sabana;
Nor he is a lion of Gir;
He is a lion of a concrete jungle;
Where we live in.
He is a different lion;
But still he defends his cubs(sic),
Like his own heart;
He can also lay his own life;
For the sake of his progenies.
He always wants to keep more and more wives in his harem;
Does not want to share any of them with anyone else.
He does not mind,
If his wives go hungry without food,
Or hungry for earthly desires,
Even though they are ready to serve him
At anytime- anywhere even with an empty stomach.
But this lion also,
Feed his cubs (or children) before he eats.
He never minds to go hungry without food or sex;
For days and nights together;
After giving everything to his offspring.
Distractors call him a fox or a jackal,
Not a lion.
I think,
They are jealous about his prowess.
Everyone wants to be lion;
But only few can be a lion of a concrete jungle;
After killing the Alfa lion;
Who rules the concrete jungle for some time.
You may like him;
You may dislike him;
But you cannot ignore him.
You do not know;
When he prowls into your life,
Silently but with a clear intension;
Of killing you;
Physically or mentally;
Or both ways.
He prowls silently,
To take away your wife,
Or to take away your teen aged daughter.
We behave like the proverbial rabbit;
Who closed his eyes,
To save himself from the menacing lion.
We pray,
We also believe,
The lion will never prowl silently,
Inside our home,
To take away our wives and daughters;
To douse his sexual desire.
Last night he picked up my neighbour’s daughter;
She cried for help;
Her father was killed;
Mother was thrown to the wolves.
I heard the commotion;
I did not go out to help the hapless girl;
Or to help the dying man;
Or to drive away the wolves who pounced on the mother of the teen aged girl.
I thanked the God,
The ever hungry lion did not prowl into my home.
My teenaged daughter asked me,
What would you have done
Had the lion prowl into our home,
To pick me up and throw my Mom to the wolves????????
My Darling
She was my only darling;
Sometimes, I called her Sweetheart;
Sometimes, little Honey;
And so on.
Time has wings to fly;
I do not have.
I can walk through my memory lanes;
At speed of a snail.
For me,
She is still a little girl;
Who used to clutch my arms,
When she was awaken by a barking dog down the street.
Still I get the smell of her urine,
On my best dress as if the fragrance of the best perfume.
Still I can see the spots on the coat,
With yellow colour of the curry;
She used to throw on my coat;
As a protest not to eat the tasteless curry.
But time has wings,
I do not have.
I could not see time flying;
I could not gauge the speed of flying time.
Today evening my darling told me;
I got a life partner and Mom knows it.
My wife smiled with an approving nod.
I do not know,
Whether I should be happy
Or to be unhappy.
I smiled without knowing,
Whether I am crying,
Or smiling.
Like any other days,
She hugged me,
Smacked a kiss on my cheek.
She smiled and told,
I know, you would be happy.
I patted on her back and said,
I am always happy to see you happy,
> My little darling,
My little sweet heart.
My happiness starts with you and ends with you,
My little darling,
My little sweet heart.
Time flies with wings,
I could not cope up my speed;
With flying times.
Then I went to see my face,
On the hanging mirror on the wall.
For the first time I saw,
Few wrinkles on my face,
And few grey hair on my head.
I told to myself,
No matter how old you are,
Your daughter will be,
Your little darling,
Your little sweet heart for ever.
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
26. First Attempt
27. A father
28. The Portrait
29. Snapped Thread
30. Only He Knows
31. The Stupid Mother
32. The Same Old Story
33. The Old Scoundrel
34. Third Attempt
35. Some of my First Days and First Nights
36. Snubbed Twice
37. Have You Met the God
38. Frequent Flier
39. Messiah
40. Forgive and Forget
41. To Win or to lose
42. Call Girl
43. Beyond Blood Relation
44. Lady with a Black Car
45. My wife
46. Complete Woman
47. Diwali Gift
48. Romance with a Lady
49. Open Heart Surgery
50. My First Love
51. Replacement
52. Pebbles on My Way Home
53. My First Bengali Book
54. Murder Mystery
55. Niharika
56. Swapping
57. Make a Habit to Thank God
58. Killing of a Bird
59. The Hero
60. Fantasy versus Reality
61. The Party
62. Road Rage
63. Death of a Friend
64. Cannot Live with Memory Only
65. None Cares for Me
66. A Tribute to My Guru
67. Two Professionals
68. The Choice
69. The Elusive Spouse
70. First Encounter with A P
71. Plane Crash
72. Plane Crash Part-II
73. Plane Crash Part-III
74. Abducted
75. A Bag of Currency
76. Suitable Groom
77. Head Hunters
78. My Dear Sister
79. Selection While Waiting at the Airport
80. Oh Shit
81. Perverse
82. He Got Back His Wife
83. Beautiful Faces
84. Elder Sister
85. Good Morning
86. Prey
87. Pass on your Death to Someone Else
88. Colour of Holi
89. Why blame others
90. A Forbidden Issue
91. Hat-trick of Failures
92. Agony of Writers
93. Contrasts
94. Three Directors
95. An Unusual Love Affair
96. Birth Day
97. Do not Tell Anyone
98. Anupama
99. Late By Ten Years
100. Murder in a Foreign City
101. Strangelife
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Email: hbmb@rediffmail.com
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