Reminiscence of life

The trumpeter in his full voice
Demanding for a change.
“This city should grow-up.”
According to the sources
No more my city is a city now
It is a metro!

Sleek women- dressed half
Walk to flash lights
“Bring them on front page,” cries
The editor. “They sell you the
Main paper,” he adds.
On the same day a women is raped
Another lady was awarded the best...
“Crush them in central pages,” he said.
But off course those women were dressed full
And were not so ugly! There is no space for
The ragged sari village girl. Where would he
Sell her picture.

It is just a column, for the philosophy
And one whole supplement for sex in
The city!

Bapu Gandhi had said
Make my countries village into
Delhi. But in our ‘times’ we brought
Bombay’s fashion week to
Village’s galli.
No matter you have good food or
Not, they advertise brands to wear.
Leave out Cities now
They want Towns to be “New York,
Singapore and Tokyo!”
And the core of a village
Playground of toxic industry.

Art is now only for Artist’s sake!
Our state’s greatest singer is not a
Legend, but a drug addict
Is a GOD of Music! “No one know about
The nightingale fisher woman;
Go and ask pub goers,
He knows the ‘black boy’ who
Turned white!”

Supplement after supplements were
Dedicated on his name and her ash
Was silently thrown into
Three rivers. (Except her death
Report nothing was Observed.)

There was breaking news
Last Friday. One of the lead lady
Broke her leg and was on stretcher.
“Such a pity thing for her. But still
She came to a party. How committed she is,”
Said a page three reporter.
The political reporter who had less
Voice murmured, “Isn’t the same case
With our country- handicapped
By every part.”

My city is not yet matured.
It is still in adolescent age.
It is still learning to change its own
Before it becomes Metro
It has to learn how
To live with brothers’
And know that blood out of any
Wound would pain and take time to
It has to know How to behave
With guests.
What to hear and what not.
And above all not to complain
About the changes.

Pavan Kumar H.

History is proof that
No dam had ever held the
Advent of river.
Flood is my desire!
Hold hand, cut my fingers
But you can not stop me
From doing what I wish.
I am born just to win and
Have understood this after loosing.

The molten desire is so lava
That it will find a way out.
How the hell will you stop?

From Clouds to the making of Ice
Was my patience… now I don’t let
The Vapor to reach clouds. Frustration
And suffocation has become order of the
Day for me.

I ask you
Who are you to decide for me?
What I have to be and
What I need to do?

I wish to fight! With the weapon
Mightier than Sword
So don’t handcuff me.
Once, give a chance to be ‘ME’
And see, what colors of glories I
Stamp. I know life is not a game;
To have a substitute—I wish to be a
Legend and I have to turn every page by myself.

Pavan Kumar H.

What not I wish to do with my first salary! But the world is not for sale; else I would have purchased it. I know, I cannot, but there are something’s that ‘My salary can buy’ and for everything else, my dad has given me his ATM card.

Serious things apart, let me come to the most funniest part. My first salary is, Indian Rupee 12,500 and after all the deduction I get Rs. 11,590 in hand. (Quite a lot!)

Staying in Bangalore is cheap provided you are ready to stay on railway platform, bus stand and footpath. If you are not ready for that, then nearly half of your salary will drown in paying house rent. I stay as paying guest in BTM layout, which is considered to be the Heaven for PG’s. I don’t the reason, but I know that there are many PG’s in this area and especially (You guessed it right) --working women’s.

Food is another thing that sucks. You don’t get a healthy food most of time and who needs that when unhygienic are so tasty to eat. Removing all those expenditures I thought of saving at-least Rs. 2000 per month. (Time will tell how much I will borrow from my father!)

This being my first salary I thought of doing something ‘BIG’. With the pay-slip in hand, I wished to run to my place, and place that at my parents feet, thought of taking blessings! Dropped that idea, saying its old fashion. Next in thought was to present them costly dresses, I know it does not work well (as it would be one among the hundreds that my father has presented to us). I want to do something special… a memorable one!

Fifteen days have passed in thinking what to be done with my first salary? But could not come up with anything! Can you please help me in deciding? What to be done with my first salary? What did you do with your First salary?

*please note: Before finalizing something, think about my salary too; I need to survive after that!

Like the tree, which
Unsounded and contentedly
Drown in the intimate hug of
A parasite creeper.

Like a crow, which
Undiscriminating and Caringly
Aliment a Cuckoo’s child
Unknowingly that it’s not hers.

Like the beach, which
Waits and moist its
Eyes, for the waves, even after
Water retrieved to the sea.

Like the thread, which
Burns and illuminates others
Along with the wax
In the utter darkness

Was how I loved ‘Some one’

For me,
To die a painless death like the
Tree is a privilege. To care
Some one like a crow does,
Was a bestowed feeling. To recollect
The past, like the millions of sand on shore
Was an honor for lifetime. And the
Acknowledgement, that I gave some one light and
Warmth is beyond any explanation.

But love for her was

She was lit-candle and I the
Light-attracted insect.
Every time my wings caught fire
And I still crawled to watch her glowing.

Her skin was decorated
Like the insectivorous flower’s
Sepals, and I like a bug
Tried to rest in her arms.

Love may never lead to
Death, but a lover can!

--Pavan Kumar H

Feelings… feelings
The parameter of heart’s health,
And a catalyst to crater the mind.

What a soothing feel is it to
Hold beloved’s soft hand and mop it.
Tasting the flavor of her lips with
The tongue.
Holding her waist and strolling
In the sun setting lane.
The way she makes you feel
That you are her ultimate support
By placing her head on your shoulder,
On chest, on lap.

What a strong feel it is to know
That for all those jokes that no one had
Last laughed, but still put her heart out
Only for the sake that “you said that”.

All these, create a life supporting system
During the last breath out.

And there are other feelings, which make
To breathe last, before you have inhaled
The first in love.
A Simple truth, from the same girl
“I have no feeling for you.”

Pavan Kumar H.

Victory… triumph
I have …I have won
Over my enemy.
Who either was kept cold
In three feat six feat below soil or
Burnt like a camphor; but
For residue, to solute in river.

What ever may it be. I have
And I have won over him.
We both had tussled in the
Tug of business. What if he
Had won then. But now… I have
I have.

A tear flows out now
When I hear his name , as had
Not he been there; I would not know
The flavor of victory. Agony has
Filled my heart now.

Its not that I will not have enemies
Any more. I will still fight with this
Soul. But I have lost a chance of ‘one’ win over him.
Now tell me have I won or…

Pavan kumar.H
02 may 07

Separation… ya the word separation, Hundreds and hundreds of types with hundreds of people, with less intensity or more feelings, separation is separation. I am a victim and a culprit. Why? Let me explain.
Looking at me now you will hardly believe that, I too had life to laugh, to leap with joy forgetting the peg of venom in heart. I had bunch of hearts, which symphonized with my beats. The melody of that reminiscence, give the fullest joy.
Only few people can reach my heart. Not cause there is dearth of front row seats, but with the fear that I may not be able to take care of so many properly.
Ujire is miniature heaven for me. The nature, the cluster of life lead, the college, the climate and the friends made it no less to heaven.
Leaving out every thing that is admirable, I shall state about the ‘creatures’ that I loved there. My roommates are an irreplaceable part of the story. They are my biography. Mahesh, Rajeev (Raj), Karthik (Kavi), Rahul (hybrid elephant). We summed up an entire lifetime in those there years of larva stage. Right from teasing Mr. Shankri to sharing the top secrets of our love stories.
All started at the Kanumane… Shankari’s resident. Mahesh, Rahul and I were roommates for a large part of our first year life. Karthik shifted out from our room and, Rajeev was in a different room in same mess. From the day one of “ Being together”, we synced in one color. We shared the same passion and thought for the hostel life.
Mahesh is the soft-spoken guy, but his close up smile would fetch him only one thing from us: Seal your lips and tongue!! Karthik is a well-read man and has some serious chemical imbalance in his head. His work justifies it all. Uncountable matured poems followed by a non-talkative film and documentary.
Ankura was the common thread in which we all were interwoven. Ankura (our first child) was the practice journal that we brought out regularly on an irregular basis. The fight, the struggle and the idea that was put into it are a matter of pride and nostalgia. Raj’s commitment for the journal is indeed commendable. Seven members were involved in its genesis but only one remained till the end and still he never lost hope. You all might know the story of the poem enterprise… the same happened to us too.
Outside the room, the first person that became close was Charithra (Chari). A strange kind of friendship blossomed between us. For all the ‘things’ I wanted from a friend, she was there and for what ever she wanted from a friend, I was not there. Hopefully she has realized that I am not the prefect friend. A small misunderstanding has resulted in we turning into cats and dogs. She wished to be a friend again but I am not worth it… I neglected her approach.
Mata alias Mahesh (not the same one in my room), was another black precious pearl in my ornament of friendship. A tough guy who with his determination did what most of us just kept dreaming about. Now he is a master-ate student (English) of some Bombay college. One more person who stood with me in all those ‘happy days’ was Sandesh. I can never forget the day both of us were about to get a cane on the hips from the Police, the midnight walks and Chicken Bhiriyani will be the trademark for his remembrance.
Next in line and the most and most important creature in my life so far has been ‘my teacher’. She is not the literal meaning of teacher; she is my best friend and taught me English literature in college. A cute village girl, who is yet to see the world and its odds and evens. Now to explain this Angle… I may really need one encyclopedia and nothing less than that. So it is ideal not to make you read all that now, hence wont divulge into details.
There was another important person; they may not feel good about this. Still, this is a tribute to what they were to me. I have named them as Inspiration, for the simple reason that they were the inspiration to most of my poems. (Writing any thing else would reveal their identity so a full-stop to this Para.)
Last but the not at all least by any means- Supiritha, A live wire of action… a devilishly innocent sister. There was hardly any day when we both had not fought. Such was my life at Ujire.
But why did I say all these to you… because
I miss all of them so much… The cold weather in Bangalore has made the tears into ice and my heart aces to get back to that heaven… the paradise…yes all means the same and that is MY UJIRE.

Like me

The new moon pretended

To smile even after losing

Its better half.

Like me

The Grape pretends to

Please others,

Even after fermenting itself.

Like me

The tall ‘oak’ tree

Stood bold even after

Its beloved creeper died of age.

Like them, what else

Could I do, than to suffer and


I Muted my Heart,

Which shouted in deep agony.

Her reminiscence slaps

My thoughts, like the over-excited

Waves racing to the beach.

And the scar carved by that diamond

Will remain forever on this

Stoned heart.


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Bangalore, Karnataka, India
Has not excavated fully. There are half baked feelings, desires and ambitions. But a heart to complete and compel.

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