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Poems by Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
By Amitabh Vikram Dwivedi
Since she refused to her daily suppression,
That burqa couldn't witness her assassination.
She only demanded little light and books.
No sinful act actually she undertook.
They singled her out as there was no forgiveness.
And soon they bot back to their sinking business.
They used theri guns and shot her in daylight.
But things only happen what God decides.
She passed her exam against that death;
And proudly became a voice of other oppressed.
Like a shining star for every wandering bark.
She became a light for woman in the dark.
No veil can now hide her face divine.
Nor any burqa will ever shadow her shine.
The most terrible death is:
A death of a desire in a living body,
Where being desirous is-
The only sign of living.
When consumption stops, consumption of the body starts.
Without desire, human is not human.
He is dead or divine, perhaps.
But for sure, he is not living.
These apparels are mere adoration on our bodies.
Pure and naked, we bathe in each other’s pond.
Like true lovers, we are just born in one another’s lap.
There is no sign of dying and decay.
We do not know our religions even.
We shake, and clench our fists,
With our eyes half open, and half closed in ecstasy.
We cry for light, and
Idle tears fall as we release, they do not know-
That we want to dissolve into each other’s love.
She works too.
A mother of two,
And a woman of someone.
She shares her body to everyone.
She works for her body,
Or, her body works for her.
She does not know.
She knows that there are bills to be paid.
And she has to fill the belly those who depend.
She also pays for being permitted,
For work, to an agent-cum-husband,
Who needs regular spirits and mutton.
And his bodily share too,
People pay price, and she sells each day.
And gets a prize of being a woman.
He is a soldier, but he doesn’t want to fight.
He wants to sell his weapons to buy her anklets instead.
He wants to melt his adrenaline for her adornment.
When fierce rage of winter bites his heart,
He desires for her soft bosoms for warmth.
He too wants to be a spectator of her beauty.
When his hands shake in an exchange of gunfire;
He remembers- how politicians laid their hands on her;
And how her beauty ravaged by powerful corporations.
He also remembers how greedy eyes turned her into half-dressed attires,
And now in some beauty contest she parades herself naked.
His blood flow reduces to nothing; and his cold soul torments.
He tacitly agrees to gun fire, and surrenders to death.
He forgets about the deafening sounds of guns.
He does not want to live anymore; he simply wants to die.
(1) The life of a leaf
It burst (out) from the stem
Like a red spot on girls’ skin.
A flat, thin body lay bare in light;
And changed its attire-
Brown, crimson and green-
And got maturity in its teen.
In monsoon, it bathed in rain.
In winter, dew drops gave it crystal tan.
In summer, it sweated heavily.
In autumn, it shed prematurely,
Only to pay homage to the tree.
Finally, a dried skeleton crushed by thousands
Put this little leaf’s existence to an end.
Sun will also rise,
When there are clouds,
Cool shower and stiff breeze,
And when there is cold and shadow.
I will also rise,
And shine my soul then,
I will write poems
Till you read them,
And my sun will also rise.
Butterflies, in my garden-yellow, pink and grey,
Fluttered around in a wintry sunny day.
A ray of hope touched their colorful hues.
They used to spread joy and brightness new
I had seen a new zest and my soul had taken rest
In a divided humanity, in the heaven’s nest.
Now, on their sides, they fight for black and white.
For a piece of land for that only death will chide.
And they slaughter brother, and they cry
Until this madness evaporates and their bloods turn dry.
Now, Heaven became hell’s gate, and deaths now play.
Flies flutter around today- yellow, pink and grey.
(4) A fairy land
Early morning a miracle happened
Near to the door
A tree in the garden sparkled
Into thousand splendid suns
Like a fairy tale
Dark clouds formed
The parents’ room went up in smoke
Many things disappeared in this magic
The children were in awe
Or perhaps they were numb
They saw shiny fruits dripping from a distant tree
They waited for a fairy to come
But a carrion crow flew in a far away land
#UnReal #Poems #Poetry #India #Soul #Meditation #Death #Burqua #Work #Women #Bodies #Mirror #Identity #War #Love
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