Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Posted by
Shashank Jha
In:
Experience,
personal
I Met India
Madras or Chennai, call it as you like, is the place that extracted
writer from my dreams. Every time I say that I have achieved something, I fall
and I dream. I dream not flowers or beautiful beaches of Chennai, but I nightmare
my past. I see it as it is following me; I see it when I see a small boy on any
store working for a living; I see it when I see aged people walking in pain and
shame. I see it everywhere.
I was probably 8 or 9 years old, I wasn’t young, as my work
demanded seriousness and understanding that comes with age. I was studying in 4th
standard. I still remember when a fine day I went to a store, located right in
front of my first School David Matriculation
 |
| Beach-The Beauty of Poverty |
The next day I went to the same store with the hope that I
will not be seeing any coconut sweet kept on his counter. But, I wasn’t lucky.
I asked the shopkeeper whether he wanted more coconut sweet to sell or not. I
tried to convince him at first, but after trying for the next 15 minutes, I
started losing hope. But the boy within me was young and stubborn, he finally stopped
convincing and said “Anna, keep this. Not sold by tomorrow, I will take back.
You don’t need to pay now. Pay only for what is sold”. I left my 8 small
plastic pouch containing roughly 5 coconut sweets each. These small pouches where
stapled on a long paper strip.
I left the shop and went to another and did the same. By the
time I reached home I was left with some 2 strips. I gave it to my mother who
was making coconut sweets to be packed for the next slot. I remember how she
used to cry when after cooking for many continuous hours her hands swelled to
almost double its normal size. I may be exaggerating a bit, but excuse me for I
remember things that my small and punished eyes saw.
Those few months helped me see the real face of world that
is money driven and so…
Struggling With HEL
Baffled by daffodils the harp still sings
Struggling on mound the grass still breaths
Beholden by sight, I hold a dream wings
But fear its feather don’t miss with Whigs.
Will torment my thoughts, as annoys my brain,
I fear his presence will seize my dream.
I shall wake upset and move to my desk,
Which century was it, that he was replaced?
Was it the Tory or the Helen of Troy?
Who makes me calm to feel my breath?
Who is the writer and who is the novelist?
Who is coroneted and who are novelties?
Questions are many but life is one,
Days are many but the day of death is one,
Birthday is one and so examination day is one,
But who will kindle my thoughts and unite them to one?
Come Mephistopheles tear me to pieces,
As you did to Dr. Faustus
But do it now, before I see morrow’s sun
And burst my brain with the load of HEL.
Struggling on mound the grass still breaths
Beholden by sight, I hold a dream wings
But fear its feather don’t miss with Whigs.
Will torment my thoughts, as annoys my brain,
I fear his presence will seize my dream.
I shall wake upset and move to my desk,
Which century was it, that he was replaced?
Was it the Tory or the Helen of Troy?
Who makes me calm to feel my breath?
Who is the writer and who is the novelist?
Who is coroneted and who are novelties?
Questions are many but life is one,
 | |
| Shashank Jha |
Birthday is one and so examination day is one,
But who will kindle my thoughts and unite them to one?
Come Mephistopheles tear me to pieces,
As you did to Dr. Faustus
But do it now, before I see morrow’s sun
And burst my brain with the load of HEL.
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