My mother

My mother

O! The moving air, O! The moving air,

When you move around, did you hear of my mom?

I feel, she is somewhere there beneath the blue sky, she hides.

She is timid, she is shy, look for her, and you might get her.

Do tell her, we miss her, Do tell her, we still believe her.

Our world has not changed; our memory isn’t so bad,

Unplugged we do live to her; do tell her, we love her.

O! The moving air, Help me send my message, Help me on my words.

Memory keeps on coming, Eye dries up every morning,

But the moment is still alive, alive to my heart, alive to my breath.

I keep on saying, there shall come a day, someday,

We shall meet again, Where I shall again touch her, feel her.

If you happen to meet my mom,

Promise her to visit us, to the same place,

To the same heart, where she left for forever.

O! The moving air.

Sukhim, Sikkim and me!!!

Sukhim, Sikkim and me!!!

Shital Pradhan

Singtam, Sikkim

It was an awesome dream,

A dream that had million trims.

I saw a battle being fought,

A battle that had no army men,

No weapons and no horses,

And still it was a war,

A great tussle of words.

A shinny man in old torn cloths,

Touching his withered forehead,

Caught on with the debate,

I tried my best to recognize him,

But the wrinkled face fooled me.

Upon I look to the other side,

A debonair, dashing,

Determined face he had,

I took a chance,

And went close to him,

I easily found his freshness,

Phoney it did not looked.

But I felt, I should,

Ask both of them,

Their existence,

And the word for their fight.

The beard man looked right towards me,

He saw my sleeping suit and looked his upon,

He rubbed his eye and moved his lip,

Slowly he told, he was “Sukhim”.

From the past he had come,

For the truth he had came,

But surprised, his days have ended.

His dreams of serene beauty is gone,

His fight for the existence is gone,

All lost to the hollow space of time,

Alas he cried, alas I am dead now

I was aghast

Sure, I knew nothing at all,

I thought of myself,

Is he the one I used to search?

Or, the other side of my hard pain really,

I looked at that old fellow

And smiled……

The others man’s face,

Pierced through my eyes,

I too was aware now...

I whispered, are you “Sikkim”?

He looked in my eyes,

Nodded his head,

And in a sarcastic way,

Asked me, who are you?

Me, I told…well who am i?

Neither a part of Sukhim,

Had I recognized me,

But I am afraid.

Nor Sikkim recalls me,

Really what am i? Who am i?

I closed my eyes…

I see the great land of Demajong,

People living in serene valley,

With happiness and shelter around,

And from somewhere I hear a moan,

I search to the cry, I try, and I tried,

A baby I found, lying in pain,

Dust, pebbles, thorny arms reaching her,

I went to the baby and lifted her,

She smiled and made me surprise,

I looked below the ground,

And all the things were gone,

I was taken aback,

The baby girl touched my eye,

And I could feel it,

I rubbed my eye and ah!

I was back from my dream.

I could not understand

The tale of the baby and still,

I gave a thought,

…i found my way back,

I went near Sukhim and Sikkim,

They awaited my lips reading,

My thought, my degree of existence!

Well I said,

“I am the future of Sikkim,

And the past of Sikkim”,

They looked at each other

And went through the air.

Never could I find the way out,

The debate of the two thoughts,

And the sudden vanish.

Well, I kiss my night,

And speak to myself.

There shall be another day,

Where I shall again see,

Sukhim, Sikkim and me!!

19-25 dec, 2003

Wr

NB: Sukhim is the earlier name of Sikkim

A moment with an old man

A moment with an old man

Wrinkled face and a puffed lip,
Mended trouser and a mucky shirt,
On a black overcoat in a parapet,
He sat…!
Scorching sun he never cared,
Beedi along his fingers,
Puff after puff, he went on.
Closely beside,
I was looking at him.

The air seem silent, same the road,
Every now and then,
His eye is at the bus stop end.
He was at his gentleman best,
I surely found myself barite funny.

Ttat-ttat, the horn he heard,
His curious eye, his sagging body,
Stood from his seat,
Collected his belongings,
Other end he watched with glee.

Exhausted look, and an over crowd,
Poor old man was left behind,
He saw, it came and it went,
Hope and a wait, only it remained.
He grinned at his fate,
Yet he smiled at me.
Well that was a wonderful moment,
A moment with a old man.

YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL NIGHT

YOUNG & BEAUTIFUL NIGHT

Sometimes, I watch over the night,
I find the sky too frail,
Bushes of stars peeping, each other house,
I follow the path, to its next,
My determined thoughts twinkle, in the small mind.
I realise, I am not alone.
Darkness around, makes me fear,
Atop the heart I ride,
Breezy wind touch my face,
I could feel the way it has gone,
And still i scale at the beautiful night.
Behind every night there is a new morning, people say.
But I find this an entire lie,
After the morning there is a night,
Is this the old night or a new one?
I am yet to discover.
And still I enjoy the night,
Young and beautiful night.


27TH MARCH-1ST APRIL, 2004
WEEKEND REVIEW

Childhood memories……

Childhood memories……

Those were the days,
Those lovely outfields,
Still in the memories afresh,
I see the dream being baked,
With a voice of tom-tom.

Those days of brilliant holiday,
Alive in a mind till today,
The happy cherry day, we enjoyed.
I wish those days returns back.

Nay is the flavour so sweet,
Nay the moment so bright,
I miss the childhood brims,
Softer as the rubber, I scale.

Everything ends,
And every story finishes up,
My days are no more,
My hue is never up,
But always I smile,
In the brush strike.

A blue horizon attracts me,
Distant calls reflect me.
I wonder where the show is.
Ponder the thought I go,
I still regale the moment, oh my days, where are you,
Oh!
Childhood memories…….

17-22 Jan, 2004
wr

Sikkim, my serene Sikkim

Sometime I wonder, around the belt I sleep,
The wonderful thoughts and off course the beauty,
I believe, I am fortunate ever,
Fortunate ever to be born,
Born in this serene part of land,
Sikkim, my serene Sikkim.

The best part of it,
Simplicity lies in every heart,
Eagerness and handwork the synonym,
Every child stores a dream,
Dream to make big, shoves off.
Among the crowd there is me,
Mine heart that beats for my Sikkim.

Monastery, green fields and mountains,
That is my Sikkim.
My identification and my reality,
Better off and still on realm,
My Sikkim, my serene Sikkim.

Land of beautiful flowers,
The ocean of fauna,
Here I find, heaven’s pleasure,
All the way I sing, I plight for myself.
I love my Sikkim...
Sikkim, my serene Sikkim.