Songs of Desires by Kapil Arambam

8/8/2019 Songs of Desires by Kapil Arambam

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KAPIL ARAMBAMS

Songs ofdesires


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songs of desires

Songs of Desires is licensed under a Creative Commons

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Based on works at http://kapilarambam.blogspot.com

2 0 1 1 C r e a t e d b y K a p i l A r a m b a m

A collection of poems written in 2010 *a couple of them were written earlier*


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singing the songs ofdesires an introduction

one the howlingexperience and others01 life in poetry at the end of the year 02 dreams and nightmares 03 the song of desires 04 somewhere alongthe road to nowhere in the middle of a night 05 on changing the faith 06 disturbed 07 on diwali eve 08 aeeting stream of consciousness 09 of pain, torture and agony 10 the light i see in the distance 11 news, news,news 12 after the spat 13 in the name of the dog 14 ve steps forward, one step back 15 abc programming

16 disillusioned 17 unconstipated kicks 18 against authority and almighty 19 eager soul, eager dreams 20 the

prisoners dilemma 21 a clarion call 22 a tourniquet for the land 23 to the rented alley 24 of the misanthrope25 an open letter to india 26 great expectations 27 serenity in disguise of an unknown entity 28 a trip down

memory lane 29 rage against the machine 30 primitive delight 31 to my fathers soul

two haiku haiyothe unintentionalsacrilege of an art form32 delhi depression 33 weathering blues 34 ying high 35 akoiba taibangpal 36 khunai-gi khollao 37 chahiniphu-taret yeikhaiba 38 master, master 39 the ag that fails 40 the confession of a nihilist 41 punsigi khongchatwari 42 Haiku taiyonnaraba

three anoubayawolmanipuri seireng43 eigi eegi leibak 44 tera kakcheng 45 numitki mangalta ngairiba lamlanba 46 feijom jagoi 47 huranbagi

heijrang

points of reference: some of the graphicsthat i had created for the poems

con t en t s


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s i n g i n g t h e s o n g s o f

d e s i r e s a n i n t r o d u c t i o n

Songs of desires is a collection of poems, mostly written in 2010, and which I have

posted on my blog. I have to document them lest I might delete all of them in a t.

Even if I throw some tantrum and burn the print-out, Im sure Ill have them on the net

now. But I know Ill not delete them from the blog

as well as burn them downIm not that impulsive.

I still regret shredding my journals in the past out

of sheer ignorance and annoyance before posting

online or putting the copies up somewhere.

When I write Im too political at times. Poetry,

though, is not my area of expertise. Im only moreadept in establishing nonconformitivethoughts

and nding ways to live normal with them. In a

way, Im just a normal guy in a normal life with a

normal day-time job. When I look around, longing

to see some sense why we are here, living on this planeteverything is so fucked up outside

my self, which really disturbs my inside. This egocentrism is perhaps killing the spirit of

conformity. However, nothing can kill my desire to express.

And so here it is: the Songs of Desires that I want to sing all along. Though our bondage

has broken the tempo, the bombs and bullets make the numbers out of tune, and the

absurdities been strumming a-failure all over them. [Should I just whistle freeedommm?]I would also add that these Songs are not all about politicsthat is, Im just too idealistic and

not a fanatic. You can nd some poems on several other themes, and as mentioned above,

Im just a rookie irting with different styles like haiku and prose poetry.

Kapil Arambam

January 4 2010

http://kapilarambam.blogspot.com/


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01 life in poetry at the end of the yearAnother year is in its nal stage, and Im waiting for my poetry to draw thecurtain on the years slow death. Our lives earmarked with a calendar, eachevent separated by a date. In the end, the days did not matter as muchas the people, events and some thoughts. Of people we met, of events wesaw, of what we thoughtand our life enriched from some purposes that weserve to humanity. Yet its the dead-end, nothing is beyond the cremationground, no rhyme, no reason; so merely its to ne-tune this illusion. Everythingis good in life as long as we accept and let them go. And nothing is just good

if we accept and let them go. That contradiction! Now the new year: thereare so many mountains beyond the picnic spot at Koubru Leikha. Many morepegs to follow the empty Old Monk bottles. And many more distance wehave to travel beyond our drive back home. And the pessimism is alreadylurking in the horizon. How many more years, and how many decades willwe have to taste the blood, smell the pungent bullet powders, hear thepiercing wail of the people? As if as if this was foreordained. And insidemy self, I saw the day, and outside I saw the night. I wish, I wish the new yearilluminates all around.

02 dreams and nightmaresIf only Utopia was possibleHow the air would be so blissfulIf only this unreal real was unrealAnd if only the dreams were realAnd I would not want to be the birdsAnd I would not search in the wordsAnd good it will be to paint the world with sables of truth

And no more will be the uncouthness of the youthAnd no more will there be rejectionAnd no more will there be dejectionBut now when I walk through the streetI see the only route of the offbeatFor the familiar roads, they are smeared with bloodThe people and equally, the things gruntedWe are forgotten, but nay forsaken

The armies and cops would remind us often.I saw my dreams and nightmaresAs I wish now, as my heart sharesLet these days be only in my sleepOut from the slumber, let peace and justice seep.

03 the song of desiresbring me the guitarlets while away this nightfall

of blood, hate and pain

we killed and murderedwe found blood and hate and painthe night will be long

seemingly painfulit is to the night itselfah! ingratitude!

o n e : t h e h o w l i n g e x p e r i e n c e a n d o t h e r s


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now you sing the singwhilst i play the melodiesas the night hollers

wait for the morningand we will begin afreshnew tunes, days and hopes.

04somewhere along the road to nowherein the middle of a nightA tribute to some unknown highway corners on Imphal-Jiri lambi

I have been longing for these midnight hours, when the world would be inthe arms of Morpheus while I lay awake, living a life my own.

In the morning, the afternoon and the evening, never had they stoppedturning me upside down;

On the glaring eyes of cameras and on the notepads of the newspapermen,I was stripped naked and again ruthlessly clothed,

And the world that wanted to console with me and show their empathy, andI bore only in my feelings the sensation of impuissant that I loathed.

I had lost the sense of beauty a long time ago and would shudder in thedarkness alone, which I have got used to, from those times they startedcampaigning, politicking

And ever I ignore the lifelikeness of life the humanity and civilization forall I long now is the triumph of Sensibility. So what if Im not a mortal, I do hearthe wailing.

When the bombs blasted, when your folks got killed, I heard the cacophony

of talking shops and miserable people:

We have had enoughWe need to have common senseBut ght for the land.

And, kill for moneyAnd go all out for freedomSo we can make peace.

Now the commotion scuppers, and in the middle of this night how I wish Icould draw my hands out, wangle an unearthly power and stop the watch,

But Day and Night, they are more precise than atomic clocks and are notjaundiced like rogue governments; that they cannot be scotched, theirpunctual approach.

In this desperation lies my life besides Winding Jiri Roads and Tall, DroopingTamenglong and Local Begrimed Earth

Alas! I could not even dream, and can suss the outside forces would playhavoc if I plead for serenity that I want for eternity and do things that areclose to my heart;

I would love to breath the bracing air of the neighbouring Mesa, but notthose miasma of Gunshots and Bomb explosion;

To wake up every morning to watch the cheerful Sun, and if Day permits, towander around the vigorous shrubs, while enjoying the unpretentious views

and natural exhibition.

The Conict of aspiration for entitlement and uninvited incidents in diurnallives usters noisily, making a hell of the Hillside Stillness.

So far it is good to be away from the groans and complaints and hue andcry about what and how I should be; for this silence is a well-made possessionand I appreciate its a few hours from daybreak and another awaited dailyspell of Human madness.


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Before the Sun comes to pass, I pray for the dead fabulists who promised themasses garbs in ne fettle for me and beseech not to worry to those whoare committed to persevere, keeping back the legacy of unconvincinglytailored pledges;

From the crack of dawn, Ill retreat to my former Self: a disgruntled, muteObject of curiosity, with the usual harlequin drapery that blankets lonely,serpentine passages.

For the moment, let me myself be a being.

05 on changing the faithObscured and sporadically loosened, I was when I chewed over my

ancestry,I belong not to a part, so I toll the knell and become a part of an entirety;You cannot label me from the character in this farce of life I playact,Its a sin, the old folks would holler, yet I have changed my faith, my sect.

I foresake now, with deep apologies to my death forebears, and choler forthe hoi-polloi,Even as I would not mind, if Im excommunicated or people call me a loi.Regrets for Ill call their favourite priests, who chant Sanskrit in Chinese, nomoreAnd anger for putting me off and keeping back prehistoric chatlam lutin andmores of yore.

Seeing as I have been a human being since man came unhurriedly out ofnowhere;But because we are a piece of the continent that the bard wrotesomewhere,As the Meiteis and Manipuris for millennia and centuries, we have beenwaxedAs the others for sixty-one fucking years and on our patience, India hastaxed.

I owe no one a grudge and am only in debt to my search for the ideal,To break free from these chains of tapering vision and the livings ordealAnd it struck: how thrilling our book of absurd existence would becomea brilliant opusIf we belong together, in lieu of allowing the religions and countries toown us.

06 disturbedThe crap in papers from your masterIts what you have given usPiled together in empty explosive boxes.

For too long that you might have forgotten

When you did hurl it acrossBut do you seeThe tears that ow across the Nambul,The blood that have turnedThe verdant, lush elds into dull crimson?

Tell me you dont knowThe legal framework thingThe crap of colonial constitutionalism.

Two hundred years of serving the sahebsAll the gas of those dry chappatis

Your one-billion-year-old civilizationAll of these you have barteredWith the dogshit in blood-smeared papersJust to suppressThe countless motherland lovers feelingsOr to chain us to the frontier?


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07 on diwali eveLight, light, everywhere,And all the buildings do shine,Light, light, everywhere,Yet I heard all over, people whine.Now the tale is too longNo mariner can even vieThe misery with his song.

Id chosen the placeOutside a ministers gateTo see the light showcaseYet, more I become so irate.

As I saw articial disco lightWith sweets we celebrate the dayWith crackers we start the cockghtWith lolly we go ashtray.And I realiseI didnt see the illuminationThe load shedding that deesOur life--its been auctioned.

Now the authority is futileNow the adopted religion has gone analNow Diwali is just another dry day

Now naysayers are predicting the doomsdayNow its time for another peg.

Light, light, everywhere,Not a thing I can see.

08 a fleeting stream of consciousness

What is there we have to lose in this emptiness,When nothing is left in the barren terrain,everything is spoiled with the paucity of ideas.The gun, the blood, the lust, the avarice, the drugs,the stinking resilience bind the consciousness.The supermen and jungle warriorsof fucking politics and lousy economics;The marching bandsof gun-toting spin doctors have razedthe reluctant sprouts in the jam,the matriel of messy legit mastersmerely miff the mob and trigger mayhem.Old men lie bleeding

with syringes and guns and debtswhilst antsy mothers cried for their lost kids.The lost kids burgeonin the labyrinthof pesky geography and nagging history,consume in the theatre of the absurd.Casting the vote for the t ricksters in each ghetto,paying off the elected trickstersto bring a smile on their wives puckered visage.And in a ashthey lie bleedingwith the syringes and the guns and the debts.

Fight for the freedomwhilst we sing the redemption song;Fight for the moneythey think its their legacywhilst the hoi polloi gallophell-bent for leather to make both ends meet;Fight for the landin the plains and the hillsand fall into the pit of jerkwater notions;


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Fight for the prestigeour great ancestors had renouncedfor the sake of race and religion and powerwhilst crooked regimes unwind in the catbird seat.This is the calamity of nothingness.This is the nadir of a society.This is the end of a history.I choose not to persistThe eeting stream of consciousnessI choose to believe in my free will.

09 of pain, torture, and agony

When you lost everything, you can lose any more.When the tears could be hidden no more,

And when life becomes but a fucking piece of shit,And when life could not bear the searing heat,That's when you want to fuck off away,To fuck off from this fucking illusion of dismay.For nothing is real, but the Real and the moment stillYet this fucking pain I still feel.

10 the light i see in the distanceGloomy, ever the things are unfortunately

Answers if we can nd now will be so timelyBut here we are in these nights of ghtingThese nights of avarice, these nights of killing.

This obscurity, all the same, is only too longThere will be a dawn after the night, no matter if it is prolongWanted: the guiding powers of consciousnessCome on, it can be anyones business.

No more the mind, however, will be in manacleAs more thoughts nd their orice from the dark debacleOf masters, confrontation, group, and blindness and what notTo free expression and valour, which now our lives denote.

As I get ready to make merry of the nights impending deathI see the bright light in the horizon.The joy that we had when we found the thabal chongfamOh! Those tube-light, you remember that were seen from afar.

Of these nights that keep tolling its dark hoursWe would howl, Celebrate, rejoice for one day these will be over,And those fresh imagination, those cheerful mornings of ours,Of new ideas and freedom and happiness will be delivered.

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news, news, newswhen the gunmen killed the old timerwhen the mercenaries loot the exchequerwhen the nationalists do the land a favourwhen protest becomes the occupation of the teacher and the doctor andthe engineer and the student and every commonerwhen passion is found only in blood and drugs and in the activities of theexecutioner and the trickster

these are not news, my f riend, these arebut the ordeal of the people of a forlorn landwhere the bullets y faster than gossips in the page 3 columns

where calamity and uprising are printed larger than the lead storythe news of the barons, they say -- second to none

come on, every tombacome on, every chaobathe news is businesstell me what the fuck do you have to tell a tale about?


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12 after the spatSilence between us and above,Confusion more bitter.Catching more pretty ies of loveWith honey than vinegarThat it was supposed to be,Yet the quietness and time augurThat it was not supposed to be.

Now the feelings so solemnDeprived of colours by disfavourAnd please dont say its venomWhen I come to you with the armourTo take you backTo the place where we belong

To mend what we lackTo sing our song.

13 in the name of the dogThe Jackson guy said its the only creatureSeeing the gods in its masterAnd I love it when it is humbler, it is calmerAnd bark away the worries of its possessor.But one day, I saw its night of desires

Beastly it became as much as it can beIn this land of thousand masters.Eating the shits breathlessly,It lives so bastardlyBorn in the streets, with no line of descentIn October nights when the autumn air is crispyOn the road it fornicates, without any lamentLike the commandos can kill the people

Like the prostitutes can sell their bodyLike the public servants can loot the public treasuryLike the ministers can lie without suffering ignominy.And growling at everyone, it frittersAnd lose its sweet worth sourly.

As I draft the epitaph of its early dead,For it was lifeless sans its loyalty, its blithenessFor I saw in its eyes, the image of insanity widespread,I notice the true colour of the authority, their impunityThat they are more wretched than the animal.Leastways the cockeyed creature knows not to kill,Nor its disrepute helps it make more brutalNor it forced us to pay its bill.

Now Mr Jacksons words need to be alteredThe one-time loveit seems it is forever lostFor in the lthy dogs image lies a pictureTelling us thousands of words about the thickos.

14 five steps forward, one step backWhen we know the destinationWhen we have the aspirationWe can march ahead

Our eyes on the goalOur heart on the agpoleNo looking back till our deadFor we are no eonianWe do have to catch our breathAnd we have our poetry and pena and plebeianAnd the idea of moving forward in itself our wealth.


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15 abc programmingA COMPLETE MORONS GUIDE TOADVANCED BASIC COMPUTER PROGRAMMING

Manipur \Bleeding..

Government \Unavailing

Underground \Flooding

People 1 \Suffering

People 2 \Looting

People 3 \Running.Fuckedup.

Mission Peace and Progress

Start. Dissent [in boldface].

{

Why/?

Gunfucks. Politicsfucks.

Ibobicompanysuck.:o

Disunityfuck.

Peoples Consent.?.

Election.?

Yurem.Rs 500.?.

Blood..

}

End. Why/?

{

Essential//

For the Great.Unwashed.

Blood..* Guns + Syringes + Eternal Ail

Crossout [{Frontier}Mainstream}]

Delete Corruption

Delete Fuckfaceleaders

Delete Imaginging.Histories.

Delete Laziness

Delete InferiorityComplex

Delete Easy:omoney

Empty the bin

Insert Hopes [typeface 2.x bigger]

Refresh Ideas [typeface 2.x bigger]

/These are essential functions/

Compromise?

No.No Means No.

Period.

Say Aloud.Stay Together.

}

End. Essential//

End. Dissent.

Start. Breaktime.[in italics]

{

If Song = Passion\m/

Enter /pena

Ctrl.Enter /original

Else Poetry./wareng

Then preserve.publish.protect.Lock IF>ELSE>THEN by default.

Unlock.whatisinside

Ctrl C

.beauty

.folks


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.literature

.+veQualities

Ctrl V

}

End.Breaktime

End Blood.. & Greed

Renew .Hopes

Explore .Resources

Restart .Hard Work

Continue Mission

If Mission = Continue

[sum = ok]

Else

Abort.Die.

16 disillusionedDarkness, I sawContradiction, isnt itSeeing the darkness?We called it the lawOf bondage, of a society

To bind usTo make us socialTo let us knowWe are fucking human beings.This gloominess,It stands for our time:When we sacrice for itWhen we earn from it,And we excrete our wildness

For we have to liveIn this cosmic ghettoWe called it the humanity.

Argue

For the sake of vyingFightFor the sake of killingWorkFor the sake of earningDie

For the sake of living.

What else we haveFor when we leaveWe will be only dust.

17 unconstipated kicksBefore I asked you why you always need to get the kick,I had already known the answer, written all over your unamusing face.All I want you is to make you realise again how low you can get by gettingthat high,even if telling you more than a thousand times had not workedI saw the kind of expression that would humiliate the fresh sunshine of themorning,and that would take all the colours out from the azure skies

You gaped as if the previous night kick was still working but your eyes told methe storyhow you were longing to get a xThats the only thing you wanted in those hours, thats your way of life,and thats what you do to get yourselves rid of this world.

But tell me, my friend, why you should always go to the place,where miserable men come to hawk their wives earringsand wanton women live to sell their body?


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If only for the piece of powder that you are taking chancesSerious illness, the narcotics police, societys gaze.There are more than meets the eye, for I also see its not only the urge forshots

compelling you to betray your parents and lie to us and cheat on othersAnd Im not saying like Im now on the other side of the fence.

Im still so close near you,though far away from Chingmeirong and Churachandpur.

I can see the Kafkaesque terror that engulfs our land,where you think you can hide beneath the cigarette packetsarmed with the syringesfuck, who are you gonna poke them with?And now if you feel Im telling you too much,you have to assure me how you are marching throughTo the tunes anew, to the beat of the humanity.But dont you justify the irregular tempo of our landmakes you dizzy and crave for the nal shot before you come cleanAnd your substances of choice might have made you more unreasonable,

Do you realise how we are plunging into the shithole of decadence?

Ok, take the fty bucks and get the shot before you lie againThough I dont mind it, at least you are not a member of the legislativeassholesYou owe me nothing but have to give me one good fucking reason,why you ever have to continue living the life of a junkiewhy you cannot ever see the impending doomwhy you simply have to let go of these plights of our existenceOr have I overlooked completely that you are much into the ow?That you are walking along the roads of our time, feeling alrightthat you can see the crimson skies that is azure no more, hear the screaming

souls,touch the nadir where the lowest of animals have dared to drudge . . .

Enjoying the oblation for living for livings sakeAs you nd new ways of permanent high, supplementing the heroinWith grass and amphetamines and methadones and buprenorphinesBut a chain is only as strong as its weakest linkHow on earth, or hell for that matter, are you gonna be in the nexusWith defective credibility and delirious consciousness?

It was already late when people graduated from pot to powderNow its better late than ever to give up your addictionMy dear friend, Im already high thoughGetting the kicks out of chewing over the books of our future.

18 against authority and almightyIm a soldierThe pens are my gunsThe words, my bullets;And ever I will revere them in a way,You have the gods and governments.You have created the armies of almightyDestroying others clergy and humanity,And the articial authorities have bought usAnd sold us off to the agents

Of unruly rulers.Tho I will not ruinAnd Ill do no business,For Im a soldier,For the ideals, I ght.

If the nibs get brokenIf my words, if their meanings lostI would not mind,If you throw my instrument box awayTo the commode;

Perform its last rite, avow its dead;Hide it inside your lthy safe;Throw the pen and words awayAnd in lieu, keep your plunderOr grenades and demand letter,Or stolen wealth.Tho I will march forwardFor Im a soldierFor liberty, I can stop writing.


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But be amiss notMy love for pen and wordsPasses the acclivityWhen the authority and almightyWrithe at the foot of the hill,Now would you please allow me

On the authority to defecate unsmellingly,With some scented cleaner to ush the almighty?Just once, I beg, when I feel the pressure to . . ?Eh! A hungry tigers face I can see on your faceBut psycho Im not, to shit on your godTho I believe in my inner voiceFor Im a soldierFor peace and justice, I beseech the humanity.

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eager soul, eager dreamsDeep inside my heart, I carry alongA load I wish to see in the openThe desires that one can ll lifelongOf living in peace,where truth and justice are writtenIn the mind and spirit,and in the air we breatheIn times we spend, in love we makeIn people we meet,in all-round views we enjoy

In the societies we live,on the road we walkAnd on the journeys of life we have taken.

Aah! If that be, I would live and I would dieCaring not a thing in our worldAnd no more I would vieFor ways to clear my conscienceThe shadows if they ever are the dreams itselfI would not mind dreaming on.

For I believewhen I got upI can rely uponThe fresh mornings of glorythat would be awaiting itselfAnd the efforts to make things right

I would not mind showing all my mightFor it is the essence,and these words I would ever recite.

20 the prisoners dilemmaThere was once a fellow inmate: a man of fortyBurdened with lifes absurdityHe made a plea to confess

For in his heart, he bore a guilty conscienceNot for bombing the state assembly building that he committedNot for corruption while holding ofce that he was incriminatedBut he wanted to admit the truth andGet rid of his guilty feelingsThat he was disgraced for he cannot metamorphose the world.In his sedated voice, he said:

Darkness ruins my lifewhile the sole thing in life I ever wanted wasthe lightness, the feeling of joy, the pride.A selsh love still binds me

to my native place, where I belong.Inside this jail,my life has grown worse but I will try,until death does me apart from this world,to break free from the shackle.I had read the storyof Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption,now it inspires me to plan my jailbreak.Inspirations there are many, however,there is only one more thing to accomplish


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and the desire to do it fuels my existence.I long for nada but the emancipation of the mind.

I do care for my unborn child,and my blood.

Leave the other bloods;I saw theirs owing profusely across the Nambul.

But they said it was an actof corruption to plunder wealth, that it was wrong.I had sighted my successors future bright,that illuminates with currency notesI can hide in some family members bank account.So when I was serving the peopleas a secretary

of the State Property and Defalcation Department,I used to indulge in money-making and merry-laundering

thats my sole considerationfor future generation.And I take myself even today,that Im clean,having used only scrupulous means to gain the assets.

The trends of corruption would compel you to snub my remarkbut Ill explain one instance.Perhaps this might clear your doubts and I dont blame you,I accept things are really deplorable now.Once in a blue moon,there used to be job vacancies

in the government agency where I used to work.People used to come to meFor they have nowhere else to gowith gold and chains and moneythat they gathered from their mortgaged housesmortgaged land, mortgaged eldsI liked them and their memorable gifts.But you see that I was not supposed to help

all these benefactors get a jobfor our society is too investigative.We have the respected civil organisations,and those gun-toting courageous peoplewho shoot at any thing, any time.

So I did help other non-donors too,by selecting them for the job.What a surprise it would for them:getting a job without everhaving to worry about mortgage and debts.And I could not stand for trialsIn their open courtrooms near the unknown hilly slopesfor selecting only my donors.

And not long ago, I was one of the common faces in the crowd.Leikai, leikai, in each leikai, I had gone for my campaigns.With the support, the trust I had invested

in the people bored its fruit when I won the election.And now Ithe fucking living example of democracyWrithe inside this jail, with darkness and nothing else.And the people, they are waiting for the next election.

But I got, as planned, the chance to attendthe assembly of self-seekers.Oh my, these guys were more self-interestedthan I had presumed and more than me!I was more concerned with the funds from New Delhiwhile they were obsessed with power too.Candidly, would they admit how power elevates you

to the level of a god in this blood-thirsty landand absolute power elevates you even higher than the gods.No, no, no, any kind of corruption is just an institutionbut there is no such thing as corruption of power.We have only shades of institutionof robbery and bullets and murders and dogs and copsand what not. What not.Now you see I had surrendered


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my power as a minister on that daythey passed the life sentence for me.

But I heard my inner voice before the B-day,Even before I learn how to beg for votes,even before I saw how the things work.

I had found how we can create a situationwhere we can live as human beings,As human as any mortal in the busy KhwairambandI learnt it from the chilly airsthat blow across the Koubruhow we should be free from any kinds of agency.And I noticed from the white ibises,gliding swiftly in March skies, how we could y acrossthe verdant elds throughout the seasons.

And so I put a mask on,more quickly than those gun-toting guys

that they had put on the veils of patriots.And so I decided I should disguise myselfAnd so I bombed the state assemblyAnd so I killed all the mongrels.What uses are of them?What fucking uses are of them?

Hadda get ridda the dogs with a bomb!Hadda get ridda the dogs with a bomb!Hadda get ridda the dogs with a bomb!Hadda get ridda the dogs with a bomb!

If I had felt any sympathy,I could have loaded all of them in a low-cost airlineand hired it to y them awayto the end of the worldto a place where they dont have to drink bloodto a place where they have to eat shit.But no, I desperately neededa lesson or two to teach their heirs that it is not a beggars jobto be engine operators. And how I disdain

this engine of society, which cuts sharp across its parts!Beggars in galore, judgment in haywire. Engine-Fuck!Government fucked! Authority fucked!And Im also fucked inside this rat-hole,by darkness and rejection and dejection.Everythings so fucked.

So I have been incarcerated herein this connement, they are making memaking my life, making my thought processesSchools and colleges teach you to be obedientIn the home you have to be acquiescentIn obeisance and obligation lie the mundane glories.

The elected assembly building bomber would have went unendingly,Taking my objectivity as sympathy or understanding, while I was highInside this jail you can get anything, but what do you need?Two shots of junk every day till death does me apart from this world.

So I stopped himAs I signaled him to drink the glass of waterAs I scribbled in my notebookof my understanding of his turbulence, and I told him:

Your days are only as long as the numbers of hours you are awakeIn this land where a life is more important only than a ball of cottonIn these days when killing is more dangerous only than what yesterday wasIn this lottery that you are only as safe as the unpicked numberYou are lucky that you are still aliveYou are a tiny drop of water that has been lost from the sea of humanity

And it does not matter how long you are going to breathe, but tell mehow your aspiration would change the worldwhen people want no indisposed ideals of happinessbut money to buy their family that plain felicityand places to go to watch to follow the soaring, wading birdsand time to divide it by hours, not by day and night.

And your barbarity in killing all the sixty fuckfaces


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will provoke the main masters to send in the armies,while they go to America and join the bands of democratic pioneers;while it will mean more intimidation for the peoplemore fear psychosis, more violence, more everything that ismore unwanted than the government that you once belong to.

So Id suggest that its better if we wither here togetherIn this rotten room, in this bondage with our immoral senseBelieve me, its less spoiled than what our world is outsidewhere a piece of dung is more expensive than lifewhere the air is lled with the smell of dead animalsAnd if you are still too disgruntledtake this piece of junk, and I have a gun for youhave a shot and go high, maybe you will feel alright.

21

a clarion callTHEN

As I was sitting, reading inside my room one nightI heard the people shriekingSeemingly unceasing were the sounds of frightAnd then followed the barkingOf dogs and the cops.

On the street the folks had had hooch in torchlightAway from their pitiful wives and unruly kidsOn the moonless and silent, load-shedding nightIt was a curfew toooh, the god-police forbids

Curfew and bandh and general strikes cause no affrightYet the night was not right that night.

More boots thudded against the concrete roadAnd more whipping, more shrilling cries, more barking followed

While I got up from the chair, and knelt downGritting my teeth and clenching my stI resolved this was just the struggle for existence,And ghtingthis violence fuels our essenceAll the happiness killed with the aborted child of the nightAnd how I wanted to piss on the nights face!

NOWHow long should we sleep with these nightmares?With our half-awaked consciousness, with our own errorsIts no more time we count our lives on prayers.And how long should we dole out the anti-rabies spares?For those military men in galore, their evil glares;For those ever-volatile ares.

When the soaring doves coo,Giving the clues of the eerie silence of the hillsAnd about the breathtaking view

We may perchance nd serene moorlandThose are aplenty, coming frequently in stillsUnfortunately, though in our own landWe are strangersThe road is not the place to revelBut we do have a Loktak-full of good things to marvelWe love the fair Lady Justicewith weighing scales, swordsand living gracious.And there, no more Delhis beggars,no more violence-branders.

We will have to dig deeper

Beneath the surface, even beneath the leisha,To bury the cinderOf injury and destruction and pseudo-juntaWhile we unearth the sweet things of life we aspire.


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22 a tourniquet for the landIts a good businessIf not for the extortion

If not for the intimidation

Its been longI have been working in this hospitalRight at the centre of ImphalFor my ilk, its the paradiseAnd the people, their slaying never sufceAnd some maimed, some derangedAnd some who looked they were hit by warheads!And more sick souls on sickbedsAnd the lthy liquid they shedAnd my only spirit of service.

Its a good businessIf not for the extortionIf not for the intimidationThey say we are only bleedingWhen we are only buildingTomorrow and beyond.Get a tourniquet if all of you would chimeBut I see only greed and lust that grime.

Its a good businessIf not for the extortion

If not for the intimidationSee, see it clearly hereThere, there, these are mere uidsOf hate and pain and avariceAnd if you would still say its real bloodTattoo my forehead:People are gods in a democracy.

23 to the rented alleyFlock together, yet separate we areIn these alien wires of different made

And us, belonging to different backgroundsOf lilac, yellow, maroon, green, pink, of different shades

In a familiar wire, I had taken shelterImagining freedomImagining the white ibisesImagining the meaningfulness

We plume ourselves of where we come fromForbidden it is, withal we long for our nestsEver y back to our roots where we longWhere we long to get back those azure skies that have turned crimson

But those colours of vehemenceThose colours of dissonanceThose colours of despairDrove us away in droves

And here, every day I saw the heaps of my stockLaughing and crying, some droves drift and pass me byI know some droves see me, see me giggling tooAnd we know, we know nothing of some droves too

In this strange place, we dream

We dream, we dream, we dream of essenceAnd y, y, y to feel the breeze of essenceAs if life, we are living a life of essence

Over again, a thousand lines I may yA thousand views I may enjoyA thousand extraneous worms I may eatBut our homes are truly where the hearts are.


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24 of the misanthropeAs I walked across the streetTowards the target area my legs wobbled

Yet I knew I have to shootClenched st inside the pocketSad memories on the mindAngry clouds across the neighbourhoodWhile the metal bruised my groinAnd penalty or impunity didnt countI took my weapon outLoaded with secret mystical powersAnd I red point blankAnd I red one thousand timesThrough the unfeeling heartsThrough the unthinking heads

Through the untouchable bodiesof pain of violence of injusticeof blood of bullets of bombsof dishonesty of greed of unholy desiresof a fucking society of fucked-up peopleof government of authorityof money launderers of land dealersof religion of tradition of conventionAnd I felt like the ibisesNear Langol I had seen themAs pure white as they can beAgainst the blue and green mountains

I felt like them I felt so happyFor the unwanted are no moreAnd I wrote an obituary for the scumsAnd the papers I shred them and set them ablaze

25 an open letter to indiaFor the wonderful things that have happened in our livesIm sending this letter of gratitude, thank you.

I have been in your galaxy of being the colonised and thedeveloping and then your emergence. Your russication then,and your americanisation now; I have evolvedalong with your t ransformationI adore the tall northern Himalayas that clothe you with greens and whitesThe rich fertile of your south, and your plateaus and desertsAnd I love your foods as exotic as the spices were to your former mastersSometimes I want to y across from Kashmir to Kanyakumarion the wings of didactic, my India, you have given me:Indus Valley and the Mauryas and the Mughals and Natya Shastra and TajMahal and Sardar Vallabhai Patel and Mahatma Gandhi and Bhagat Singhand the economic reforms and Ratan Tata and Narayan Moorthy and Azim

Premji and statistics of Sachin Tendulkar and Mallika Sherawat and Lok Sabhaand Rajya Sabha and ourselves that you havent (Would you call it imaginedhistory? Jaundiced...?) But Im shackled here by my prejudices of yourchicanery

Not long ago I saw you coming out of the shrines when countries weremade, when the Britishers went back to their cold storage, though not beforegiving me a language I can talk to you, your banned language I had notlearn from the part of the world I belong, my India, its your part I hope youknow it But I despise your political class, the classes of several things that youhave

We go to the election booth so that you can give us goats and monkeysAnd I marvel at your tigers and peacocks and lions; your nuclear power;your million-million strong workforce; and the ne fabrics of your economythat excites, that drapes the uninspiring landscapes where naked animals pryon the dusty roadssome defeating themselves with sweat-soaked suicidenotes, some killing themselves with guns made in ZedongThough rootless and identitiless that my natives have also become,that worry you not, we worry very truly you will not save us from the Chinese;


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and your poverty more sordid than the popular item songs that bother menot, please do bother half of your children are whining hungrily

And you do see there are praying people who howls for the United Nations;seemingly saying its your worldsome who wants more of your power thereto show that the pillars of Ashoka are as powerful as the Christ the Redeemer

and some who wants direct mandate from there for their grievances,who complains: better the devil you know than the devil you dont;for your south and north block, there the things are too licit to be true.And I laugh secretly, as if an organisation is more stronger than you, my India!

You are shining and you are incredibleI have seen your goddesses on a pedestal but the lordly peopleIt is better if things are left unsaid but my mortal heart can bear notWhen the folks suffer from high libido, low opportunity syndromeAttacking raping killing! And population is exploding though your guardiansare pulling down the cinemas with kissing scenes, no fucking scenes yetNo hard feelings but every movies are musicals, and reality shows shown

all of them were popular in America ten years agoWhile on your other side people are sleeping outside on the road in front ofthe mallsBut I still relish your history, your gardens of different culturesSociological multiculturalism where we are more akin to outsiders

And money makes the world go round and you have herded our landdealers in circles. And you say jobless people are fueling national feelings.And you still feed the politicos with promises as hard as glasses and moneyyou have borrowed from the World Bank. I worry for your debts butyou see me and my folks are wretched: bloods we perspire, the rattleof machine guns our lullaby and pity we are geography-challenged,we are placed near your opposition by unknown circumstancesbut I believe we are placed near one of the paradisesNow I will write an anti-Paki song for you as a token of appreciationBut are you really helping us with more jobless people from your heartlanddonning the uniform of military men to enter my neighbourhood?We already have so many of them donning the uniform of land dealersOr are we with you to make a powerful nation?Or you are with us to build diplomacy and make defence deals?

Im not sure anymore, my India, but I do write your name on my bankaccount on my driving license, on forms of this and that, and on my passport.

26

great expectationsThe sudden outburstof the winter skyThe surprising newsfrom a land afarThe sad breakingof a guitar stringSo expected isthis unexpectedSeeminglyhistory repeats itself.

One dayOut of the blueThe earth splits opento eject its essenceDeeply agitatedas the stormAnd slowly it sinks in,Leaving no tracesof its madnessThe rage,it had feigned.

Eternal questit has become now,Robbing itself ofits unexpected happiness.


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27serenity in disguise of an unknown entityIts hard to know the sanity of agony,This thought that thunderstruck threateningly.Of Man incautious of him to two-timing man;

He is rational is capaciously inane.It is when for an aurora of peace mortals clamoured,Though in an obscure quiddity, the ambience is shrouded.

Paucity of Humanity and Rationality,Repose has hid in a canopy of InsanityYet Hope transcends all our concern within reason,Unfailingly the allurement of Revolution.

28 a trip down memory laneThe images drift awayEach day, slowly and painfully and happilyThe clock ticks every secondEvery minute, every hour, every dayAnd the weeks and the months and the yearsSlowly and painfully and happilyOf those moments so dearSlipping back to my mindWhilst I fail to recapture.

Hold back...Yet how much could I...?Remember...Yet how much could I...?

I feel happyI feel sadI feel proudI feel embarrassed

I feel angryI feel loveI feel hate

Yet I feel so attached.

Of memories that hold me dearEver and always.And my possessivenessOf memories that I cherishKill meEver and always.

29 rage against the machineTonight I can see heaven, with nothing to hide the views, so amazinglyAfter all these moments when the sky was clouded with dull colours onlyThe distinct show, shows me the tedious life so distinctly.

I long for a life that is lled with starsTo stand out from the crowd, to have an identity and to excelFor these things accentuates the purpose of existenceAdd more meaning to this life, shackled by routine things.

I can see the views so clear, yet the road seems so farThe ways are under a magnication glass of a mechanised lifeIt pains me to spend the days in recluseFor Im alone in the crowd - no mundane thing can uplift me.

Yet I could hear the sound from inside my bodyIt is screaming - I feel the intensityIt is ironic how the cry of the distant place, seems so real.


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30 primitive delightAmong the bushes,

Lies the serpentOn its back we crawlLike a snake we slidThe earth descends upon the skyThe pinnacle among the cloudsThe bitter breeze keeps calling,Comforts of the mundane life,When the soul was lost in the distance.

Natures wealth abound in the hills;The narrow roads, twisting and turnsMounts unremembered splendours

Beside deep gorges scaling down,Taking the heart into the depth.

31 to my fathers soulWithin a mental thunder storm

Struck a moment I never thought I wouldFrom the distant unknown placeMy father bid us goodbyeThe invisible prespondent force of nature engulfs meAnd you left usAnd I cry everytime I think of you.

The thunder ceased but the thoughts recurOf old times sake and of hopes shattered.The air is dark and uncomfortableI can see as the clear blue skyOf days and moments that had gone by.

And the views change into blackWhich I know not how to escapeOf gloominess and heartbreak.

It is hard to imagineThe times are goneIt is even harder to forgetThe moments, which had consumed itself.May his soul delve into eternityThe lifeless body that I disdain so muchAll of us are gonna die some dayThis fucking lifeNo fucking rhymesNor fucking reasonGoodbye, my dear fatherWith tears, and nothing else.


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32delhi depressionhow do you ignore?the trafc is so heavy,wish i have a wing.

33

weathering bluesthe suns song so warmkeeps me away frm freezingyet winters so ne.

34 flying highgo high in ur lifewhat do you got to lose, guys?enjoy and have fun.

35akoiba taibangpalangaobani eipaide sensu, nongmeisupunsi nongdamba

36

khunai-gi khollaoeibu hatpinueibu kapthokpiganueidi michamni

37 chahi niphu-taret yeikhaibaenesi torro

chahina niphu-taretmasakna zorro.

t w o : h a i k u h a i y o t h e u n i n t e n t i o n a l s a c r i l e g e o f a n a r t f o r m


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38master, mastershow me the lightof peace, love and brotherhoodyou can take my life.

39.

the fl

ag that failscolours of my landlike the rainbow it delightsyet it never ies.

40 confession of a nihilistwhy do we exist?they say the gods and big bangi say its all lies.

41punsigi khongchat warichatli, soom chatliyoude eigi panthoongfampunsigi lambi

42

haiku taiyonnarabataiyonnarabataibangpal asida eikangaonare hey


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43eigi eegi leibakeigi eegi leibakhaana semba konna loiba

haana yeikhai thingaibakonna hatok sunaba

haana saagi lamchat chatpakonna hatok sunaba

haana choukri tanabakonna hatok sunaba

haana senja-thumja toubakonna hatok sunaba

haana yengthinabakonna hatok sunaba

haana utsinadabakonna hatok sunaba

haana miwa tabakonna hatok sunaba

haana thee-yoong haanjinabakonna hatok sunaba

eigi eegi leibakeigi eegi leibakeigi eegi leibak

haana eigi thamoibu thugaibibakonna eigi pukningbu otpiba

eigi eegi leibakhaana segaiba konna loisinba.

44 numitki mangalta ngairiba lamlanba

Famli eina chaoraba sorok asigi chidaisidaInglaba numidang gi nungsitsinasu na yeirari jol fajana thonbangamdraba hakchang asidaSandhyada takhhiba nongdunasu saruta ngairaba unsase purachothanbireInglaba hakchang seeda sagatnaba tasinduna famjabaniNokpiraganu eingonda amuk tolaba jibani haidunaNangna eingonda amuk utpiranu minungsiLeitare eingonda apamba amataEina ningjabadi numidang asina loikhraga thoklakpa anouba numitkimangalta fangjabani.

t h r e e : a n o u b a y a w o l m a n i p u r i s e i r e n g


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45 tera kakchengWe came from the land of Pakhangba

The dragon of the landOr was he the king of the dragon?No matter what he was the ruler.

Now we are our own mastersWe kill for the dreamlandFor anything we will block the newsstandSo what if we dont have a leader now?We can make those people-electRun for their moneyWe have gunsWe have bombs

And we are the authority.

Unfortunate it was that day,In the jungle where we have made our homeWhere we sing our songs of freedom,Our chief was killedNot by khurak-kee eeNot by the Indian bulletThat the Shingnaba poet wanted so earnestlyBut our rebel hero,His soul be ever pure as a new Rs 500-noteHe was killed, bitten by a tera kakcheng.

46feijom jagoiKoti kunthrahoomdoi,Baaton namba nupa adunaMamit mana yoong-khatlaga hangak-khiMapukning da maka lamliba adudi ukhi

Batonbu asuk yamna namnabra,

Eina amuk khummi,Koti ahoom amasu watliAdubu masak ka maming ga khangdabana touraroi.

Eina ejei:Nanaida pinabire maktraba thoujalEkaikhumnaraba oja mayamna lengbiraktunaNanaina katchariba jagoi asi mityeng tabiyuLafoi katchageYubi katchageTairen mana khikchageKatchage mapu gi mafamda jagoi amatangsu

Lengbirak-u, chaalaba nanai, ei.

Eina pelladuna, thoujal fangladunaMapu mabungo mabemma makhoidaMakhoigidamak sinjakhi jagoi thouram ama.Thourangkhi, hotnajakhi yamna kannaYaifaraba numit adugi damak.

Ngairammu haiba yadaba matamna lakkhiChaoraba lai lampak aduda tillakhiLai mayam: akanba lai, masak fajabi,Angouba, amubi, awangba, atheeba,Mamai seet nanba, mamai pandaba lai kaya kayaLapna yengbada khoi mahum goom mankhiAsomdana eina kanna loisilliKhamen chatpa feijom, Ley-son phuritNamthang khuthat ban chanba.

Sekmai gi machin do anirak ahoomlak yotliWangkhatlaga semba laibung aduda kakhatliHouna esei tharakkhi chaoraba maayek lisingmuk adudagi


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Eina thekpa houwee khut, khong amuk kaoweeAmuk thek-e, amuk kaoweeRas leela yenglubei, Sankirtan yenglubei khangladuna tanthasingAmuk thek-e, amuk kaowee

Pelladuna lai mayam aduna waa-waa laorak khiTaibangpal pumba lai-nin na ninkhi.

Sel mapei mapei tharak khiPelladuna eina louthukluiMollaba eigi phuritSabadi lepte jagoi, amuk thek-e amuk kaoweeKhanghoudana langsillak-khiAmangba gi laina amangba matum-matumSabadi lepte jagoi, amuk thek-e amuk kaowee

Vishnu Puran Bhagvat Puran Geeta Govinda

Thengnarure sengna mamut taana tambirakpaninaAdubu mapu makhoigi mafamdaEina apenba nungaiba henmankhidunaFeijom dusu louthukluiAdudagi eina niksillui, eina khapchilluiEina chongsillui, eina haijilluiAdudagi eina uba fangjakhiFeijom thokpagi laina akhak-araoga loinana laorakhiMahadevna mamit uisinduina raga loukhi,Sarasati na hang-goina yenglak-khiAdubu apenba-ngaobana henkhidunaFi thongdrabasu hakchangdunadi laiyam adubuPelhallage matagum niksilliNungaihallage matagum khapchilliHaraohallage matagum chongsilli

Mapung fakhi eigi jagoigi thouramAmukkasuPelladuna lai mayam aduna waa-waa laorak khiTaibangpal pumba lai-nin na ninkhi.

Flock together, yet separate we areIn these alien wires of different madeAnd us, belonging to different backgroundsOf lilac, yellow, maroon, green, pink, of different shades

47 huranbagi heijrangEi heijrangniHuranba amagi heijrang ni ei.

Eibu loukhat-pidunaYepsinbire huranba asinaMagi segaigadarouba yetki pikhao manung aduda

Eihakpu.Eidi soiinabaniKaknabani lennabaniTouwigumbasung ethou touningdareHoujikti.

Toururabadi ethouAloogi nupa asisu loiba tareMagi unsa faoba lenbiba tare soiibiba tareNungaite.

Eidi heijrangniHuranba asigi heijrang ni eidi.

UbidreChatli adubu eibu pubidunaLambi kaya kaya, mahakna chatli leppa leitanaEidi ude.


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TapthakhiThanglamba khongthangHangat-haanda chatkhi mahakna koirok koinaMafam amada.

Faklang manliFunn laona mahakna chongkhatkhiUpsinsduna machu hongba ngamba numitchoom goom sit-sittuna amukchatliKadaibu oiragaba?


SattokpikhiFutt laona eihakpuMamlaba kaa amagi manungda

Leiramkhi akhoi.

MarupsingEigi ee manaba khulai kharaMahakna louthorakkhi oiromgi pikhaodagiThabak houwi.

YengngiSuktoklaga amuk cheplaga amukTouruiba thabak asinadi laigi thabak nattabaninaMahakna yengngi.


KhottatliLenthatli mahakna uppu adubuThabak yangsilli yaosilli akhoisu ethou amagumMateng pangsilli.

LeirammiSel kaya sana lupa kaya rol kayaHui angaoba mankhi huranba adu ngeihaktangMakha chathei.

HuralliYamlaba sel sana lupa singduna hapchinkhiLenthatkhi segaikhi furit khangrao nung singdunaMachu machuni.

Eihakti heijrangniHuranba asigi heijrang ni eihak.

AdubuThabak loiraga ngeihak leiragaEi amasoong eigi marupsingbu langthok pirammiNungsi khangdana.

KhongbandudaYet-oi khangdakhei akhoi tahoukhiKang-khoi chaiduna leingak leitraba mapu pandabaKangleipakki kangdroomsing-gum.

Huranba!Huranba nangda siro!Huranba nangda khudi thiduna siro!Pellage akhoi.


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p o i n t s o f r e f e r e e n c e

s o m e o f t h e g r a p h i c s t h a t i h a d c r e a t e d f o r t h e p o e m s


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For the New year: an old year diaryA screenshot of one of the pages of my blog

http://kapilarambam.blogspot.com/

Documents

Songs of Desires by Kapil Arambam