"Beauty is truth,
truth beauty,
that is all Ye know on Earth,
that is all Ye need to know..." - John Keats


Thursday 27 May 2010

Apathy for Dirt...

It is true then,
Yes,my friend!,
it seems that you were right...
It is true that colour matters...
You see my friend,it was false...
I know he said he is my brother,
I heard it too...

But there are these corpses,
yes,carcasses to his eyes,
of an infestation which had to be weeded out,
there are these corpses,
which slow me down,
on this road...
These corpses of my brothers
tell me a different story...
He,who is lying down near that broken wheel,
that dead voice,
tells me a different story...

A story he says I must not ignore...
He tells me his colour mattered...
He says,my friend,that for your boss his dirt
is not worth a single vote...

He says my friend,
that it is the apathy for dirt,
that leaves him dead...
He asks me if the blood,
that had been his,
wouldn't have been allowed to be spilled,
had his colour been different?

Now this little girl lies,
her arms stretched wide...
It seems,your Lady from Red Cross,
benevolent sister,
heard her last cries...
The Lady says,the girl begged
her to save her life...
The Lady says,girl thought
she is being punished
because she had chosen
a wrong lot to be born amongst...

Now tell me my friend,
what choice had that girl,
in choosing her birth?...
What insanity drives this land,my friend?
Why is it us being hated?

Tell me not,the reason,
that this is our fate,
to be doomed to suffer hate...
Tell me not,with that
apathy for dirt,that we are a burden...

Tell me,my friend,there will
come a date,
when truth meets reason,
and this insanity shall fade...

For what does this matter,
what name we bear?
Is it of any consequence,
whom we have faith in?
Is it to any gain,
that this apathy for dirt should exist?
Is it really colour,that which decides our fate?

For,I wonder,did you care to look,my friend?
Did you care to look beyond,
such reasons,
which found such hate?

Did you,my friend,
who shares the colour of my blood,
look for that day,
when you brothers shall forgo
this draconian trait?

Now tell me,my friend,
when will their hunger sate?...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Wednesday 19 May 2010

Journey...

I walk down that lane,
I look back...
There is wind which blows,
dust that sprawls across the whole narrow lane...
The trees ghostly white,
the buildings speak of a ghastly past...
I walk down that lane,
my scarf is torn,
my shoes are worn out...
I see that skies fill again with the clouds,
which cry down their tears,
I yearn to look back,
see the way I came from..
Probably walk a few steps back...
But no,
alas! it won't be so,
ah woe betide,
things have changed...
A change I saw not,
a whisper I heard not,
a pain I felt not...

Now after that anguish,
after that pain,
all that is left is these silent ways,
lonely,
dusty with the dirt rising from those unburied coffins...

Now all that is left is a torn scarf,
a battered bonnet and a tearless mask...
The blood is dried, red and black as the rust from that shell,
the lidless eyes ever awake,
the tired arms carrying the baggage,
the bruised legs walking on,
the ache numbed by the morphine and pain...

There lies darkness ahead,
there was darkness behind...
Or is it just me,who is blind?

Now I wonder,through these chasms restrained,
now I wonder as I walk on that lane,
I wonder with doubt,
whether man was just meant to keep walking,
and forget,all else which was beyond his stride...

This moment,I still walk on,
on the land that is dead,
and amidst the trees that have been slain...

This moment,I wonder in this dying mind that was once sane,
whether all that was worth
was just the journey I made...

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju

Saturday 8 May 2010

On hope...

Its a part of life that one tends to ignore the difficult concept of acceptance of inevitability...
The frail human soul tries its best to ignore due to sad unacceptability,the inevitable truths.It yearns to believe in that prospect,that utopian euphoria that only hope can dare to explain...
Sometimes,not so rarely,have I witnessed situations,circumstances where the weak human is faced with that deep feeling inside,which keeps nagging at the back of our head telling us the impossibility of what we hope,but still we,the dreamers keep ignoring that warning till it hits us across our face. And when it hits us,we say nothing,there is just a single tear across our pallor,which but says one thing,"see? I told you."
Yes,that tear is the language of the truest and most sensible being that resides in the deepest realms of our heart,that tear is the hand of that being,which writes on the walls of our hearts,the warning,the message,the instruction,the inevitable truth,which we choose to ignore till the last.
It may not be logical,as someone rightly suggests,to ignore the writing on the wall,but yes, still we do it...
People say its our weakness,which makes us do it,people say it is the reason for our doom,the reason for all that went wrong in case of humanity.
But I just feel happy,feel innately calm,peaceful,when I see that whatever happened,had a just reason.
If it were not for our weakness,I perceive,where would we have found our strengths,where would we have learnt about our mistakes,where would that lesson have come in our textbooks. If it were not for our weaknesses,where would education exist;for what is education,but an analysis of our mistakes...
It is best visible in our study of our fathers,which we call as History... I see the ultimate aim of history in its relevance to us,to you,to me,to your brothers,to your sisters,to every human... History is but a study of past glories,and the mistakes and lessons that lay embedded in that past glories of our fathers...
What knowledge would one have of the pain of war,the worth of faith,the worth of sacrifice,the beauty inherent in love,what knowledge of joy,what knowledge of happiness would one possess,if he had never known the past...
How could one understand the romantic beauty of happiness,joy,calm serenity,had he not known pain...
Somewhere we try to avoid the pain,somewhere we like to run away from it...I see no harm in doing so,after all,it hurts...
But it is also true that ultimately you have to face it,and it is also self-implied that it is for your own good...
The hope that keeps us alive,the hope that keeps us moving on in our sycophantic life,the hope that guides us to do mistakes,the hope that guides us to accept them,and it is again hope that makes us learn from those mistakes and keep moving,I must say,as long as we have faith in that hope,it is again the hope itself that will give us strength to endure and experience,whatever life has to offer to us,beautiful or else,beautiful... Yes,the other aspect is also beautiful,for I perceive that pain has a beauty so inherent in its worth,that even everything happy may not possess,and a true student of humanity must see beauty so vibrantly emanating from even pain,as he/she sees in joy and happiness,and only then,can one learn the true worth of life...
It is impossible indeed to imagine life without hope,for what meaning would life hold in the absence of hope,and the faith that hope generates to keep us rolling,while the wheels on the buzz go round and round...:)

© Karthik Adithya Singaraju