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Six poems by Anadi Sufi


Six poems by Anadi Sufi

Girls are sitting cross-legged


This is the best time!

They call it a dream era !!

Roads are wide everywhere but they go nowhere

Buildings are tall but empty and hollow

Night fears the light here

Though billboards are bright vulgarly

The sky looks gloomy perpetually


Libraries are full of books by wise men

Theatre houses are staging drama every day

Parks are graced with civilised joggers

But why old age homes are well-decorated everywhere?

Why do women look at everything with black eyes?

Who is feeding cluster figs to the squirrels?*

Why are girls still sitting cross-legged?


Sun still shines

Ocean too evaporates

Clouds gather jovially

But the moon is sitting tongue-tied

Wind’s hands are cuffed totally

Trees are becoming bonsais happily

The rain is saline painfully


Why are cats weeping?

Why are birds happy in cages?

Why is the soil decaying and the sand spreading?

Who is mixing dung and yellow soil in the curd ?**

Stop whining now my consciousness

Sleep dear sweet dreams

Land is safe in the hands of shepherd scorpions !


*It is also used as an aphrodisiac.

**If you mix dung and yellow soil in curd, a scorpion will be born – Charaka’s philosophy of life about the soul, which is nothing else but a consciousness, born by mingling act of jal, Vayu, Prithvi and tej (it may be in sense of fire). There is no belief in the fifth element, aakash and ‘aatma’.



The River


Sitting on the bank of a river

If you look into the midstream water

The river seems to be a pregnant woman

And the sun, setting on the horizon,

looks like an orange-red vermilion on her forehead!

What will she create?

What will be born from her womb?

I say all the logic all the book,

Every temple every tomb!!

Paddy wheat and gram,

Factory theatre and tram,

Democracy justice equality,

Humanity tolerance and tranquility;

Patience endurance brotherhood,

All come from nothing but motherhood!!

O mother river!

Bless us with your boon

Give us every time

A full monsoon !!

It gives us dream,

And we come out from our cocooned den

It gives us hope,

And we become humane again!!

O mother river I know

You are going through pain;

Not for glory not for agenda hidden

But only to feed your loving children!!

I salute you!

I bow to you!!

O mother river!

O mother river!!



Horror


Contrary to the often-told stories

This time

Rats are not jumping into the river

Rather they are coming out from the water

They are heading towards not the city but the hinterland now

They are bigger

Their teeth are sharper and stronger than before

They are neighing, indistinctly chanting something like 'sarve bhawantu sukhinah' in chorus,

And whose shadow is this

Who is leading them forward

And playing the tune of death captivatingly?

He is not our bagpiper

He is a multifaceted fowler

With an experienced flock of snake charmers!


We are growing on our lies

They are feeding on our greed and silence

Nobody is doing injustice to us

We ourselves are the horror of this age!



Another Footnote


In the time of twilight

The sun is setting in the river

Boatmen are singing psalms quietly

The smell of blooming flowers

Music of running water

And the spirit of vagabond air

All desire to hold my heart for eternity


A shadow is becoming larger and darker every minute behind me

Ahead of me however

A line of lamp posts is shining bright

A child is playing there with red balloons in his hands

A lover is pleading to his beloved behind a rock


An illuminating star is rising high in the sky

Another one is falling from and getting buried in the dark of night

I witness every day this rise and fall of dawn and dusk

Every day I witness the puppeteer’s many a mesmerizing play,

Nevertheless,

Statues made of clay are what other than the clay?


Trees will unite with seeds

Rays to the sun

Fraction to the absolute

I too have to surrender his alms to him only

I must look into the mirror now solemnly


O reluctant ascetic of unknown horizons

Let it pass, let it come

As it is the noblest wisdom

It’s futile now to tie the knot on a bale of hay

The chariot is ready, do not look away

O, the stubborn pigeon of my fake pride

Follow the waggle dance of bees

And cross the burning bridge with dignity, please!


*The waggle dance of bees indicates a possible new source of nectar.



The Elixir


Life is bizarre and erratic

Nothing is permanent but in flux

Where we all linger in an infinite void

And total doldrums

Still, we claim to love each other forever

Isn't this hypocrisy?

No, it's not

It's called hope and buoyancy.


Life is the most definite prerogative of death

However, we live in fear of the final exodus

Nevertheless, we have flowers and rivers and the warmth of sunshine to enjoy the journey

Beautiful men and women to shoulder each other's burden

Still, we pretend to hate each other forever

Isn't this a lie and fabrication?

Yes, it is

It's called folly and imprudence.


Life has meaningless implications as well as meaningful connotations

Joy flies us up on the mountain of bragging and insolence

Sorrow pulls us down into the ditch of despair

wise Men say 'Is, Was, Will be' all are

faults of the sufferers

Whether you suffer at the top of the pinnacle

Or in the depths of the abyss

Isn't this a simplification?

Isn't this illumination?

Embrace it whatever you call it

In weal and woe subsume this revelation!


This is the only Silver Bullet to fight the vampires in one's life

This is the only alchemy to convert anything into gold

Indeed

This acceptance is the only Elixir of life !!



Why do I dare


Sea is enormous

Waves are monstrous

Whirlpool is treacherous

Still, I put the boat in the water

I have no choice

I am in search of a river!


The forest is dense

Path dangerous

Darkness will devour the most

Still, I do dare

Will cross the swamp

I am in love with a river!


Mountain is tall

Peaks look invincible

Ridges seem deceitful

But I will rub my shoulders against it

I will push it away

I am in the yearning for a river!


The sea may seem infinite

Forest immeasurable

Mountain imposing

But I am resolute, unimpressed

I am primitive, I am untamed

I will rip it through

I want to keep alive the stories of hope

I have to find the river!


Yes, I have to find the river!!


 

Anadi Sufi is a new-generation poet and writer, actively working as an actor and screenwriter in the Hindi film industry. He is also moving toward film direction.

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