Saturday, October 2, 2021

The Story They Chose


The star that smiles at me

Do you happen to know her?

Birds fly into the horizon

Did they carry my secret?

 

That I know you breathe the same air

Though a million miles afar

The dewdrop is back on the leaf

We shall unite beyond the grief.

 

Time and space unaware of the desire

To blend in the midnight sapphire

You hum the song echoing through valley

Let’s piece our stories, shall we?

 

A familiar fragrance tells me again

This is my heaven this is my redemption

Parched, the ocean in my eyes prays

Your being is the only truth that stays.

 

I walk towards the familiar deity

To find myself surrender to the affinity

The smile is the sky above

I reside in the limits of your love.

 

Between the Moon and Sun

You are the debt I yearn

Each moment alive with your light

I live a lifetime for that lone sight.

 

I was darkness’ beloved

My loneliness they disapproved

Faith heals those buried in blame

The sand tells me you wrote my name.

 

Inching towards the other

No promise to be together

Gods descend to bless the heart

Fulfilled is the love with unfinished start.


- Sutapa Kar

Saturday, September 11, 2021

Unsung Tale of Love

 

When the noise ebbed, we met

There is a piece of my heart I left

Rain drops decorated the window

Smiled back at us, the hill and meadow.

 

The dusty terrain was yet to unfold

Eternity lingers in the moment they behold

Unspoken promises they know will unravel

Journey not to end and yet they travel.

 

No poet discovers words for their pain

The corner table awaits the lovers in vain

Lamps cast jaded replicas on wet street

Lone shadows keep the end discrete.

 

Letter after letter we immersed in our longing

Bullets and books and the telephone ringing

How we met is the crowd’s favourite

Why tell them about the separation so exquisite?

 

Like the clouds roll over the grey sky

Choices long defeated memories of that July

Rain-soaked nights dare them to dream

Once again, her aroma bathes him.

Friday, July 9, 2021

Week Sneak Peek

 


Let us be happy, let us jump with joy

You met your weight goals with decaf latte and soy.

 

The weekend is here and so is the virus

You ought to be funny if your name is Cyrus.

 

A couple of months from the hospital to hotel

Friday night awakens the infidel.

 

Paper boats are ready, so are the fritters

A drop of rain in my cup to wash away Monday jitters.

 

The heady reading on Alpha, beta, Omega and Sigma

Still no answers to why I may be an enigma.

 

The shoes have holes from the 10k steps of sweat

She looks within to plan a day of no regret.

 

Music resonates across the story of our lives

Resigned to judgement is the man with two wives.

 

Enough with the writer’s attempt at poetry

Saturday is a tale of dusting and laundry.


Monday, July 5, 2021

Unanswered Possibilities

 

Will you wake me up in my dream?

Will I know the song to sing along?

Can you do the twirl for me?

I know not as the echo loses its voice.

 

Will my eyes guess the secret on my lips?

Will the clock time us out before eternity?

Who looks from the green window?

The mid-day Sun casts no shadow of her.

 

Will the Moon remember the dead star?

Will blood lose to sweat?

Should the curious birth a new unknown?

The camera seeks imperfections.

 

Will passion answer your quest?

Will the years shorten my wait?

Does he befriend the fallen leaves?

The village temple pays homage to faith.

 

Will the curry turn a blind eye?

Will hunger find no takers?

Why did I drink away the questions?

Slurred memories have devoured the rain.

 

***

Saturday, July 3, 2021

We, The Ones Born in 80s

If you are a 1980's child, you may know what I mean when I say that the 80’s kid is the rope in an eternal Tug of War.

Born in the decade that witnessed some socio-economic and cultural shifts of epic proportions, be it rise of capitalism, fall of the Berlin Wall, advent of cable TV and MTV, blazers with shoulder pads, baggy sweaters, neon makeup, Madonna (the pop music icon), 80’s set the pace at which world would change in the next 30 years. History has given us ample instances of how a revolution or friction impacts those born in such times.

 

So here we are, the generation that welcomed cable television in our homes, watched movies on the VCR or VCP (more popular in India), styled our hair in big curls, reserved afternoons for biking through dusty trails or baking our skin in the sun and grime with our friends, picking adult gasps and horror every time a world leader/icon would be assassinated in some part of the planet. Those were tumultuous times too and now that I see the stats, those years had lots of human blood strewn all over. But enough with the dark blasts from the past.

 

One in the 80s had the best seat to watch the world and the human race make its way through some Byzantine transformations. That would partially answer the constant state of confusion and self-exploration that our generation consistently experienced. We grew up with the belief that we are here to herald a new dawn of human civilisation. All the restless energy, the evergreen thirst for material acquisitions you witness today took baby steps in the Eighties. We were bedazzled by the Big C. For the pervs, I meant Capitalism. And yes, ‘bedazzling’ everything was trending.

 

The young and hungry then, the likes of Steve Jobs, took one giant technology leap after the other and raised the bar for all those who followed in the next decades. Oh yes, the ‘Yuppies’ were far cooler than any of the young millennials. Well, wait, you do not use the word ‘cool’ anymore? Too bad. It was cool slang anyway.

 

From portable music in the form of Walkman to wireless telephones, the 80s created the blueprint for what is to come. And boy! Didn’t it all feel surreal? As one in awe of the television, in India, it translated into being glued to all the mythology shows on weekends and if lucky, catch glimpses of Hindi film song shows. The seedy TV screen was like a magic box and promised me a life full of possibilities. If we could shove the world inside a box, wonder what we could achieve stepping out of the box. Arnold to mullet craze to the onslaught of AIDS, variety was the essence of life, the good, the bad or the ugly.

 

In our 30’s now, we, the 80-borns, find ourselves in a peculiar juxtaposition yet again. Yes, we were always in the eye of the storm and that’s why we are responsible for a myriad of innovations and out of the box wonders. Yet, the mature adult now wants to take it easy. We ushered civilisation into a world of seamless connectivity via the world wide web, yes, but we also celebrated collective human efforts. We attended protests and rock concerts; we knew the value of bonding in person, rubbing shoulders or hugging out differences. I am disconcerted by the growing acceptance of everything virtual. A ‘like’ and a click to express our participation? Do they even qualify? Who knows it better than the neon-loving, 80’s beauty? The disquiet, caused by the disruption (another millennial slang) puts us again in the churn and grind routine.

 

Can the Walkman generation, walk alongside the Instagram and Twitter influencers without being consumed by an existential angst and continue to be relevant?