Papa

Papa
(one of my oldest poems, written for my late father.)



Papa,
your slippers
were always too big for me.
They still don’t fit me
though now I wear your shirts
and your responsibilities.


I remember
my tiny hands
groping for yours
in the confusion
of a street crossing.
My hands have grown
and your have faded to the skies above.


The difficult Maths problems
you helped me with every night
are so easy now.
But life is heavier
than my school bag to school
and more noisome
than the dangling water tumbler.


I try to shave
and dab the aftershave
every morning
like you did.
But I’ll never be you.

Your slippers are too big.





chirag bangdel
(photograph, my father and me)

Self Portrait

Self Portrait


Drunk with my dreams
I stand high
and touch the sky.
The breeze brings me
a ripe red leaf
and I treasure it for you.

So it’s me above
and the world below.
Every thing is poetry.


See?
I am writing a poem!



chirag bangdel
(earlier published in my collection “Fermenting Flowers”)

Immunity

Immunity


Ten thousand people
on the street, protesting.
Angry words
and slogans,
soon – gunshots,
some run,
some fight on.
Fifty get wounded
and a man of twenty-two dies.
A curfew follows,
lasts five hours.

The next morning
people rush to work
and vendors sell their wares.
Even the blood stains on the road
fade away –
too many cars on the streets.



chirag bangdel
Photograph, my performance “Portrait of a Patriot”, International Sutra Workshop 2006.)

After the Rain

After the Rain


Blue skies
and roofs of Malla temples,
caterpillar eaten leaves for boats,
and at night
a thousand moons
scattered all over the streets,
the puddles.




chirag bangdel

Before Tomorrow

Before Tomorrow
(12- October-2009, a little after midnight.)


Are there clouds up there?
Are the leaves moving
to the breeze?
Have the trees in my backyard disappeared?
Perhaps the dew drops for the morning are half made.

I am a captive in my own room.
It’s midnight.




chirag bangdel

At the Pond

At the Pond

Rings,
rings
and more rings.
Perfect rings
till they reach the shore.
So much done.
And so fast.
I feel guilty.

My careless pebble !



chirag bangdel

Solitude

Solitude


A flickering diyo light
is all that remains.
A dark night
and a lonely temple.
No pilgrims,
no priests,
no devotees.


The deity finally rests
among fermenting flowers



chirag bangdel

Poem

Poem


A chunk of square blue
stretched over
my open window.
Spotless,
not even clouds to intrude.

My private sky.





chirag bangdel

Poem

Poem


White,
perfect white.
Like silence of the night,
expectant
and nervous.
Cold
as if frozen.
Virgin and flawless.
The white sheet of paper.

Is my poetry really good enough for this?





chirag bangdel
(earlier published in my collection “Fermenting Flowers”)

Contemplation

Contemplation

One question that baffles me all the time is “what is the purpose of life?” We the Hindus and the Buddhists believe in life after death and karma. But still this does not explain the purpose of life. What is salvation? What is moksh?
Hindus believe that everything in this world is superficial. A world of maya. But then don’t you sometimes wonder why God sent us down to this world of maya? Since we are supposed to be His children. Scriptures from different religions have different approaches. Some religions don’t believe in life after death. The evidence that there is life after death is somewhat proved in Buddhism when Rimpoche’s are reborn.
There is another question that tags along with my first one. “Why is there so much suffering?” Well, an explanation to that would be that, with suffering , you realize the value of joy. The bad elements are found in this earth to balance the good. Suffering is there to make us realize the importance of happiness. But then I come back to my question- “ If we are God’s children, why does he make us suffer?” This is the question, whose answer Prince Siddartha sought and finally became the Buddha. But he could never give us the answer. He could just show us the ways he found the answer. All God realized souls admit that it is a difficult path. They say it’s a “pathless path”.
I believe in the energy that we have as God. The fact that I am able to write this is God. The names we have given to trees, fruits, the sky, water, earth, plant…..everything are the names given by us. What do they really stand for? I think this is what the Hindus call “Tatt”…..I am Tatt, you are Tatt, the plant is Tatt….we are all the same.
I also believe that our individual soul or the Aatma is but a tiny chunk of the biggest and the purest of all souls or Paramatma. My soul is like a bulb lighted in the current that lights a billion bulbs. Maybe this is why when we breathe we say “So- Hum” or “I am That”.
They say I will have realized God when I will have realized who I really am. For a human or a man are terms invented by us.

I am Tatt.

Happy New Year

I wonder if there is anyone else in this world writing on a blog apart from me today. It’s the first day of 2010. We need to get used to this new numerical form of 2010. Somehow this reminds me of all those sci-fi movies where robots ruled the world and had huge wars with aliens from outer space. But things haven’t changed drastically after all. Homo-sapiens are still ruling the world. And despite all our funky laptops and mobile phones that do a million things, we are yet to invent a time machine when Arnold Sc$%#@&* (fogive me but I could never spell his surname) could come back to earth with his sleek black glasses from the future and tell us over and over again, “I’ll be back.” He hasn’t, I am afraid…..and that was the eighties (nineties?).
I remember all of us dancing to Jennifer “the Gorgeous” Lopez’s song “ Waiting for Tonight” in the advent of the new millennium. And here we are ten years down the line. A lot older. A lot fatter. And all happy that we are into a new year. And if this is an excuse to celebrate life, well….. “Happy New Year!!!!!”
J Krishnamurthy, in his journal, writes that it is not time that is moving but it is us. It is our lives. Its our cycle that is constantly changing. The time is a constant. He makes a lot of sense, doesn’t he? It’s the humans that invented time. It was never there. So we have seconds and minutes and days and months and years….and of course a happy new year to celebrate. But then we also have deadlines! Imagine life without time? Pretty confusing, isn’t it? But J Krishnamurthy also says in his quotes in his journal that, “the observer is the observed and the observed is the observer.” So its upto to us have our perspective to time. It’s upto to you whether you want deadlines and work hard and accomplish things. Or take it easy with life. And you will be right both ways because it’s your happiness that really matters in the end.
But the great thing about time is that it’s the same everywhere….whether it’s all those expensive Swiss watches or those cheap ones sold on top of our flyovers of the roads, plunged in those plastic mugs to show off their resistance to water. One pm is the same every where. Though the meaning for one pm could be a meeting or a siesta.
Well whether we want it or not, the only thing constant in this world is change….whether it be as unwelcome as the change of numbers on the fare meter of a taxi or welcome as the first word of a baby. Things are changing. And 2009 has changed to 2010….so lets get used to the new change in the year, everytime we write the date.
But beyond parties and all the singing and drinking, this new year brings us hope. Its something new and crisp. And I wish you all of these….let this freshness give you courage and hope and the zeal to make great and beautiful changes. Changes that make you realize how beautiful life is….and the need to celebrate it each day! Happy New Year!!!!!!!!!!!!