Castro Cafe Blues

The place smells of Black Coffee
The loud speakers play a music, they call it Sufi.
Somewhere in the corner
A lady in veil is sitting.
The professor she whispers
and says that lady in black, smokes.
They smoked together so often
that she doesn't see here veil now
And she sees her as a Symbol
of a rebel behind the veil.

And there lies the book
“We the Sinful Women”
on the table of the Lady Writer

The boys they talk
of the Gunned down youths
They murmur it was fake
as they light up another fag
They believe it was a fake encounter
and now they are no longer dreamers
Now they cry to talk truth
Now they bleed too
to show their blood is red
but on them nobody has faith
The media, they tell another tale
The boys, they cry they are trapped

And somewhere at the end of the Cafe
A young boy playing a Blues note
in his Guitar
and singing
“This is the Castro Cafe Blues
Which happens so close to me
So close to me”
And he goes on ....

PS:Castro Cafe is a cafe in Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi. It is dedicated to the great Cuban Leader Comandante Fidel Castro.

The Blast in Imphal

This October
Is for the terror mongers
And I will remember only them
When Autumn breaks and fades in Pain
They cut people's salary
They fill the cemetery
With the corpses
Sometime too they blew buses
Where have all their dreams gone
Now their dreams are the ghosts
Who hides behind the torch
If there is a song I have to sing
I will sing
About feeding them
their Guns and Bombs
If there are mothers who don't cry
For their dead son
Than you know how many sons
Have been killed
Where is your fight
that will lead us to the light?
Are they any guns of yours
Which don't point at me?
In China the Chairman said
they have the spirit
to fight the enemy
to the last drop of their blood.
But here you are fighting
with people's blood.
And I hardly know now
Who is your enemy.
Are we your enemy
For saving our integrity,
For seeing Her fasting till today,
For not practising
what you have shown to us?
Are we your foes
for not singing Irabot's songs?
Who are you to kill us
Just like you want?
Come out and play fair
We will lay the stair
for you to come out of your dirty way.

Ode to Loktak

you are beautiful
yet your surrounding is ugly
and I am silly too
to wonder about you
when to die drowning
into your crystal clear water
I love you
and I want to feel you
I know no swimming
I know no sailing
and that's all you need
to be yours
I could read the newspapers
I could dance like them
Now I am in love with you
and don't want to waste my time
don't want to hear them chime
don't want to write another song
for my mother
for my hungry stomach
Neither I now worry
nor am I sad
I just want to be with you
I want to reach the soil
Underneath you
I hate to see
the edge above you
drawn by the smokes
of guns and bomb
I hate to hear
the crying voices
across your beautiful surface.
I hate too the fighters
who fights for you to shine
They spit at you
They eat your breeds
why don't you ever listen
to my far away cries
I'm missing you
and dont you long for me
like the farmers for rain
like I longed for my daddy
in those chilled winter nights
I am enough to be yours
and walk upon you
to recite your beauty
I will filter those ugly stuff
when I tell your tale
Oh my love
embrace me tight
before the sky falls on my head
Your mountains
have become lifeless too
since the soldiers
have walked upon you...
and the man
who had loved you
has been killed
I am sure
that must have made you cry
in silent...
But now I am all yours
ready to leave everything behind
I will see you soon
keep the grasses clean
dont worry about the humming birds
you can sing them your lullaby
you can let them fly
the sky too is not that scary
it doesn't have its vivid look
it can never swallow you again.
altogether we can start a life
fishing and singing


I am just a Kafir
Who drinks Whiskey
Every weekend..
Neither I believe in Communism
Nor in Orwell's criticism
Neither I admired Howard Roark
Nor I find him stubborn
I am just a Kafir
Who plays guitar
Sitting on the stairway
To my terrace..
I don't believe in night
As I remain awake
Wondering of Caligula
And sometimes of something else
which I cant tell you
'Cos i will be rated as 'A'
And I am a Kafir ...
I listen to Cohen's preaching
or Dylan's words
But I count not them
I look up to my girl friend
When i am broke
And feel like prostituting myself
Not only in terms of Money
She is also the best cook
(Please cook me Pork with Bamboo shoots)

I am just a Kafir
who admires Naked body
I suggest the world
to walk naked
to sleep naked
to eat naked
to cry naked
to fuck naked
to die naked
and we will be a better world
I cant give you reason
but I can name new season
according to my poems...
April is for Eliot and Idiots
who dreams of Spring
November is for Pork lover
October is for Russian
December is for Christ
and the whole season is for me
Cos I am just a Kafir

Allen Ginsberg's letter to Kangleipak

I know you are not deaf
you are not blind
you do not shine
or cry any more
You are silent,
so much of violence
even after you have tolerated.
Why did you burn your library
are you that sick of your own past stories?
why did you let Chitaranjan burn himself to death?
Yes i have seen and heard of such thing
only in a movie called "Nostalgia"
Made by Tarkovsky..
But real things happen upon your lap.
Why do you let Sharmila fasts?
Are you hoping something on New Delhi?
No! No! you are wrong if you do so
Delhi has been blasted
Cant you hear
The encounters
and the fake encounters?
When Delhi itself is burning
Cops busy framing young Muslims
Again the Bajrang Dal has started something in Orissa
Please look at last week's Tehelka Magazine
Jesus was chopped down
Yes may be for all those perfumes he wears
inside the church..
They have forced the Christian out of their homes
killing people
even raped a nun, you know?
So dont expect anything from New Delhi
It is burning with Red flames..
So you better look at yourself
or cry or laugh for everything
that happens

Why dont you let your stoned Sons
see the Marijuana growing wild and out of control
on the banks of Kongba River?
Why do they still take the pills and Heroine?
Why dont you let the lovers have sex on parks
in Restaurants or river banks?
Why dont you want them making love?
and why do you want them making wars?
why do you want them so high?
do you want to impose your impotency
to the Children of Kangleipak?
Are you jealous of young tits and dicks?
Why did you burn the Assembly Hall
if you are still allowing the politicians
to corrupt?
Every second man in your lap
wants tax for every second man's breathe.
Why do you seem to hate the immigrants?
they are doing good for your lazy sons around
nothing lesser than bastards
do you like the bombs that kills you
do you find them as surprise gifts?
I know you are not receiving anything
from anywhere...
But don't you think there is a better way
to be silent?

Look at your Great Hills
the children are burning books
they believe the history went all wrong
they want to look towards Kohima
No to the valleys
where People sings carol in Christmas
where the folks go to Govindajee Temple
thinking the best race is hidden in their blood
Yes your Great hills are burning
But no one knows how to cease the fire
except how it all started...

And thousands of stories for the Highway #39
hundreds of rape incidents,
one millions of curse for the Highway land slide.
Oh Kangleipak
you have everything parked
the history, the poetry


You know what is FBI
so here it is CBI
they remove the F for FUCK
and Substitute it by C for CUNT
Yes here they fuck only CUNT
not any asshole
it is considered unnatural
and against INDIAN LAW
And CUNTBI convince people
that it is a JUSTICE
whatever their result is....