A BUFF’S DREAM
If life was as simple as cricket in a gully;
Tossing the ball to a given end gleefully—
Freaks and foibles allowed gracefully thence:
Civility transcending cynical confines of a fence.
( ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.( C.) KUMAARA SUKEJA. NOV.2016 )
THE BRAVEHEART
“NO-” was the surviving membrane’s plaintive cry !
The Aggressor unnerved by the last-ditch try—
Never before encountered defiance in any form
Now,looked incapable of inflicting further harm !
The Brute, fancying any time or place to feast,
Reveled in his reputation as the insatiable beast.
Nary any resistance—even passive—in the past…
“The saga of the feudal lust just too good to last ?”
Courage, the little spark kindled by righteous anger—
No flight of fancy this from any imaginary hangar !—
Turned the muted cry into an unassailable verbal salvo:
AND, Truth, amidst dignified silence, murmured ” BRAVO ! ”
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED ( C.) SEPT, 2016. Kumaara Sukeja
THE PORTRAIT OF AN INTREPID STORY-TELLER
Had within him the spirit of the peregrine
Beneath a smile that did ever shine !
Believed in himself–as preached by Sri Shankara…
Equanimity to him was a virtue–nary a trait cantankerous–
Did relish the role of an underdog early–
Surviving the jostle of many a brother surly…
Possessing a maturity ahead of his age and times,
Expanded his literary horizon amidst harsh and hostile climes.
Imbibing heartily the philosophy of a Jack London,
Displayed penmanship as fiercely as a swordsman !
Never flinching from fighting class or even gender debasement
And inspired by gallant knights opting for self-effacement;
Preferring to blush privately–unfazed by idlers’ flattery–
Crusaded boldly against a dispensation’s quirky scatterin’
Of goodies to a coterie–leaving the rest unclad and hungry–
His writings galvanized to action young men justifiably angry.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ( C.) KUMAARA SUKEJA. APRIL.2016
My Beloved APPA, Late Ahobal Keshav,a freedom fighter and a renowned journalist of his times, whose birthday falls today– on the festival day of UGADI.
A PREACHER’S AVOWAL
Can’t reach as far as a conscience—
I confess: Hence,
Let me lie in peace—
Brokered for a price !
In a prickly world.
Ever psyched up :
The priceless pause—
More coveted than relief eternal !
Some soul always got left behind
in an adrenaline rush;
And
Dogs got eaten up at the post :
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ( c.) KUMAARA SUKEJA. MARCH .2016.
SPEED THRILLS !
When VICTORY was conceived in the womb,
There was a premonition !
While the irrepressible wags yearned to comb—
Many a Myth would be due for demolition !
That the scion would tread the chosen path
And allow anointing the ideal groom…
He chose different ways–ignoring the elders’ wrath–
Of reinventing the family heirloom.
Embraced speed to reach his goals
And rode over pit-stops in a natural hurry—
His quests eventually left gaping holes:
Presenting his spirited fan-club a huge cause to worry !
( C.). KUMAARA SUKEJA MARCH. 2016.
A NOBLE HEART
A lover can buy love peddled like a soda effervescent
And gift it glibly to a bubbly bunny with feelings nascent.
Deed done, departs rapidly with a freewheeling flourish…
At Dawn, the lassie, laconic,sees a Night’s dream vanish–
A wide-eyed doe, dourly, realizes how her will was bent !
Her vow to chastity forgotten, untempered emotions uncaged
At Noon,recalls how a slick love-drama comes to be staged:
Trap adroitly the weak flesh hosting a weakened resolve;
The rake beguiling her to be only too willing to serve
His fetishes till satiation-in a scheme enticingly laid.
Yet, in her ruminative state, she let her thoughts chastise
Her own actions for her noble heart was one without malice–
Enabling it to overcome unscathed an encounter fugacious
And forgive, generously, provocations, however, audacious–
Charmingly indulgent,even imbruing her life with some spice..
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.( C.). KUMAARA SUKEJA. OCTOBER. 2015.
Boost Post
Outpourrr..ings
Just now, my heart skipped a beat !
Heard you had passed away last night—
News over heard,in the passing, was crisp and neat—
“She’s gone”—words stern—on ‘Mami’, however, sat light !
‘Mami’, my taskmaster in her moorings, was “always and always right”…
Of the lot in the family, I was and remain in her presence, most terrified—
She, I have bitterly learnt,now and then,has my bashfulness verified.
It was my withdrawing nature, I regret, that made me lose you,
In spite of the urging of friends, near and far, old and new—
was more petrified of your loving taunts than their remarks snide !
Hard pressed to suppress my hormones hitting the ceiling;
Retaining the cussedness in not showing any amatory feeling;
And, ‘Mami’, mundanely, monitoring my abiding adherence to orthodoxy:
I was, demurely, caged—spooked even to profess my love, by proxy.
And, you besotted ,expected me to propose like a Knight, kneeling !
Our trysts near the temple were as in daze,routinely brief and taut–
Confined to my ” How are you”, and, Your ” do say something more “;
While I peeked furtively for talking pillars or anything might get me caught,
You dared me—“with your tormentor ‘Mami’, it’s time to settle the score ?”
Frankly, it was the against devil inside me, I confess, the grudge I bore—
It was the same devil that had me sneak close to you, then, deny
The reason for my coming with a Laurel of Hardy’s dead-pan—
You couldn’t take it any more, and, mocked me—“let your ‘bheja’ fry ! “—
More than my little brain, knew my manhood needed the scan…
” There is a limit to being pussillanimous—” chirped a bird in the sky.
That morning, I saw you smirk at me and escort a stranger inside
Your mansion, again glancing at me. For the first time, did not hide,
But, like one possessed, reached your bed-room window only to watch
Mutely, goings-on which suddenly sparked a burning in my crotch—
My racing heart missed a beat–“putting off things—L’affaire a-botch !”
My chewing ‘tulsi’ leaves told ‘Mami’ the story of my apparent guilty pangs—
She said, “On your last visit, you never saw a ‘pillar’ at the temple scoot?–
Thank Heavens, I am THE expert in tracking marauding vampire-gangs:
Confronted and rebuked your ‘love’—she did not protest nor refute !”—
I remain, ‘hurting’ for not getting ‘bitten’ even once,and, a bachelor, to boot !
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ( C.) . KUMAARA SUKEJA. AUG 2015.
THE INVASION OF “U”s AND “UR”s…
The discarded letter Y, upset
Self-righteously began to fret–
Mulling over various means and modes
To expose the apostate at cross-roads–
A newfangled “AVATAR” with a penchant
For vowels leaving the Pedagogue trenchant !
Orthography randomly altered sans any concomitant
Afflicting, in usage, each and every piqued consonant–
Petitioned jointly Goddess Saraswati and the Muse
To henceforth, not appease, inspire or even enthuse
Instead leave the Rebel in confusion– solely self-wrought
As to whether to say–appropriately–“Y'” or rather “Y not” ?
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.( C.) KUMAARA SUKEJA. JAN. 2016.
NON GRATA–
New words come to life
Bringing quizzical looks along
The old ones ignited lasting strife–
Peace couldn’t last through a song..
A lamb is but an apocryphal symbol
Trumpeted by a ‘ wolf in sheep’s clothing ‘.
A sage counselling is heard to fumble
Overwhelmed by the spate of loathing:
New phrases and idioms have had their fill
But none is seen merited to aptly fit the bill
” Not meaty enough to weather the storm “–
As even lore and fables have failed to reform…
Where words of wisdom are doomed to fail
Altruism retreats– letting cynicism prevail
Morality outmoded leaves the preacher truly aghast
And the messiah can only trust his epitaph to last !
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED . ( C. ). KUMAARA SUKEJA. JAN.2016.
THE COFFEE PLOY
Wistful thoughts: Coffee, Tea or :”ME ?”
Wishful thinking for an aloof Busy-Bee !
A careerist–fixated only on raking in the MOOLAH..
Matters of heart forgone–past memories as a schooler
So,to rev up latent spirits, serve aromatic,frothin’ coffee
And watch him crave for lot more–and no longer scoffin’..
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.( C,), KUMAARA SUKEJA. OCT.2015
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