Vippasana: There is Nothing To Be Ashamed of

You do vippashana.
There is nothing to be ashamed of, in it.
This was bound to happen!

Due to movement of Babasaheb
You got the degree, and hooked a descent job.
Getting grossly overpaid salaries,
You collected fat on your body.

You could not sit among higher ups,
Still you mix with lowers?
Mornings and evenings, you led a luscious life,
Never bothering about your brothers
Toiling in anguish and distress.

You bought a car, just for enjoyment,
But the thief lurking in your brain
Was nibbling your mind
And you talked to ignoble audience
Pretending backache, all in vain.

Your brothers in penury took out rallies of protests
And you saw those and felt guilty.
You had authority to do a lot for them
But you did nothing for their cause.

(See are there any unemployed among 'them'?
See how they protect their own.)
But all the land under your feet
Was slipping away, for you!

Children are well off, the elder engineer
Brought in a 'Kokanastha' bride in home,
And our poor girl kept on chewing crumbs.
Younger one left for foreign
To learn Software engineering.
Cought a doctor for the daughter
All is wholesome well and pretty.

You got your belly protruding, recently
Sometimes there is high blood pressure
Diabetes was there since beginning
In the mean time had pain in chest

And you collapsed with the fear of Heart attack
Like the twin towers of World trade centre.
You are doing well, and
Your brothers are still same.

When people see you organized well and tidy
They feel the whole of society progressed.
And is well fed.
Your model is ideal.
For your brothers in villages and in slums
Even an electric lamp is a luxury to be dreamt of.

The thief in your mind
Very very crafty and clever
Does not spare you.
Constaly it is digging like a rodent
That is why, you have no alternative,
Except Vippashana!
There is nothing to be ashamed of.

You retired from service
And your world has finished.
That was good! At least,
The expections of oppressed brethren ended.

The wretched people were hoping
From the compassion of Buddha
From your position of power
And you proved real bogus.

Baba gave us dreams
Whole society started to dream
You rode the vehicle of dreams
And disappeared.
That is what time is.

Everything of you went on smoothly
Now with the flesh on your body
And the fat on your tummy,
You and your wife
Do Vippashyana!
That is good.
There is nothing to be ashamed of.

The vultures all arround,
Watching the so called progressed society
Of Babasaheb,
Are waiting on the top of dried up pipal tree
To bite and gnaw.

Globalization, Privatization
Ending of Reservations,
The dice are already thrown,
In the garb of caliber, deceptive and bogus
They are dragging away the life lines of oxygen.
The helpless society is in
Last dying turmoil!

All was well for you
You had no time even then,
And even now,
No time to look back.
Carry on your Vippashana well and regular
Like a cat drinking milk with closed eyes.
Do not be ashamed at all,
There is nothing to be ashamed of!

Carry on your Vippashyana without any regrets
When the death comes near
The inactive person, in any case,
Always becomes religious.

During the days of dreaming
You were not with the society
Now is the time
For the dreams to get blasted.

Carry on Vippahyana!
There is nothing to be ashamed of!

Leprosy

The fingers of hand

Got putrid and

Dropped off.

Then I realized

A lot many letters,

The important ones,

Remained unwritten.

The gods of stones,

And the temples of the stones,

All inside the town,

You and I,

All flesh and blood,

Both outside the town,

How?

Nobody knows where these paths lead,

That way,

We have no permission to enter

Any town.

Towns were never ours, anyway.

Only the streets are our friends,

Could take a nap anywhere.

How late I realized,

The movements in mind

Are not to be disclosed,

To anyone.

Coming to the edge of town,

Have to talk to the blowing wind,

It carries our movements to the town,

Definitely,

Some day or the other,

And the screams would explode,

No harm in waiting

For that day.

Some friends remained behind,

We, along with the street,

Marching ahead,

How?

Let me tell you the truth,

Some amorous letters to my beloved,

Remained still to be written.

Assadulla Khan Alias Mirza Ghalib

Listen to this,Ghalib

Since I started the study of your Ghazals

Beautiful damsels from the city

Turned around and around

To look at me.

***

Coming back from my beloved

Or from bar

Your verses linger on my lips

Ghalib,

What the matter is?

***

After a stomachful,

I am still in senses

Today’s drinks,Ghalib,

Have no effect on me

In your goblet, Ghalib,

Is there a  drop for me?

What a funny thing

Since I explained your ghazal to her

My beloved keeps on

Gazing at my beard

***

How is this love of you ghazals,Ghalib,

My beloved is in no mood

To listen to my poems

***

My beloved, these days,keeps on

Asking about your life

As if I am nobody.

***

The other day,

On visiting Taj Mahal

I remembered you again and again

Formerly, there

Was there an inn or a pub or a bar?

***

Did Shahjahan make a mistake?

You tell me Ghalib

One is always in pensive and dejected

In vicinity of the Taj

***in memory of our beloved

We also

Did build many palaces

Palaces unequaled,Ghalib

Never became the Wonders of the World

Don’t you feel that strange?

***

The hands those built the Taj

Are bleeding

I see them in my dreams

Crying

Ghalib, is there a ghazal of yours

Composed by you on the subject of

social inequality?

***

Who was that lucky guy

Who asked Your own address

To you alone,

I wish to salute him once.

***

While one walks

Even on the princely streets here

Thoughts of discontent

Thoughts of inequality

Are haunting my brain,Ghalib.

You traded the paths on foot here

Humming your ghazals

With a unshaken mind.

Will you show me , please

Those paths?

***

Your words, you know

Tortured and tortured us,

 Tortured us mentally, Ghalib

And now

The

You are presenting yourself

Even through

The bleeding voice of Begum Akhtar.

Ghalib,

Do you or don’t you wish us

To live

Note:

Ghalib was one of the greatest Urdu poets of medieval India. All Muslim countries love his touching poetry.

Begum Akhtar was a singer who used to sing his ghazals with great devotion

Something about us

Mother nature   gifted  has come out

As willed-

Ever since our birth-

Neither region, nor castes nor genealogy.

We’re unhappy… any trifle vexes us of late.

Take every care as to using

Balanced , well formulated language

When you communicate with us.

It’s hard to predict

When these hands will rise in striking posture.

Silt-walled houses have come down on us

As our legacy.

Our children live in houses roofed by playing cards

(and in these days,they’re inclined to have their terraces

Constructed in cement)

Of late, we’ve given up hurling abuses at others

And started laying blame on us day in and day out

And also abandoned speaking in frank

In outspoken terms….

9so that your regional feelings aren’t hurt.)

Now we move all alone by ourselves,

Flourishing thin, sharp..dong swords.

Poem of Bhimrao Meshram

Bhimrao Meshram liked Sandhya Deshpande

Very fond of her he is

So he said

While going to Kashi, for an interview,

He met her,and he says

She pressed my hand affectionately

***

Then he wandered on the banks

Of holy Ganges

Through the convention of

Vishwa Hindu Parishad

And together we were in a choultry

After stroll through the temples of Kashi

Sandhya used to talk, very confidently

In very clear language

In no uncertain terms

About Hindu Gods and their stories

Stupid and misciveous

And in the late hours of night

When the darkness prevailed

She used to slide and come closer to me

Her hot lips, delicate and sexy

Were on my neck

And a peculiar pungent odour of

Her body

Odour of pure ghee

***

And Bhima Meshram went on telling us

Very confidently:

Even now I go to her house

When her father and brother

Go out wearing loose khakhi trunks

And when Sandhya starts worship of the Linga

Or pindi of Lord Shankara

***

She smiles on seeing me

A smile that of Shobha Joshi

After we chat a little

She kisses me on my lips

A kiss, long and sloppy

Those very lips which have shouted

Slogans of renaming

Marathawada University

After Dr.Babasaheb Ambedkar

***

When I get ready to depart

Sandhya is always moving her tounge

On her lips

The enigma of that glass tumbler

Kept for washing

And of that tounge of hers

Moving on her lips

Still remains unsolved for me

***

But let it be as it may

While on my way back home from her

There is always a hammering on my brain

A continuous persistent ringing

A warning sound of Dr.Babasaheb Ambedkar

Nafisa

Nafisa,

Heard you are leaving this city,

The city of temple

How happy I am to learn this

Because

You would have been more harassed

In this city

The city of temple

How I wish, I should accompany you

But I can’t

How do I tell you my agony?

It is the same old story all over again

Story of a Minister robbing his king

Nafisa ,

Do not get confused in that new city

Listen carefully to what I have to say

You may forget your way in that city

If you do, do not be disturbed

Because , all over there

All small lanes lead to main street

Do not believe in any

Philosophy of life, there

That men, there, may tell you.

Their philosophy is only meant

For talk.

Each and every man, there,

Makes his own philosophy

Of convenience

And leads his own life

Accordingly

They ,

The people,there,Nafisa

The monopolists of religion, there

Will l

Bow and salute to

Your curvaceous body

Your dark black

Your lips

But

Be cautious, Nafisa, there too,

as  of here,

people have two sets of teeth

one to display and other to eat

on the bounds of that city

you wait and listen

and proceed further only if you hear

from the tall minarets

voices of mullahs, loud and clear

but do not mix with the people, there

or else

you will suffer the same fate as here.

And tired, if you are

Do not hesitate to rest

Under the bodhi  tree.

Nafisa,

I’m, for time being, trying to

Sculpture the living images

With flesh and blood and bones

In this land of rocks and stones.