Meghe Dhaka Tara (Cloud Capped Star)

I am no film reviewer; neither on this case I will try to review the movie. After all a diamond remains a diamond even if an untrained eyes dismisses it as just another stone.

The name “Meghe Dhaka Tara” or the “Cloud Capped Star” appears first time in the movie in a letter written to the protagonist, in which she is described as an cloud capped star by her lover. This movie is directed by great Ritwik Ghatak, who along with Satyajit Roy and Mrinal Sen, can be considered as doyen of Bengali Cinema. It is the same Ritwik Ghatak, who wrote the script of Dilip Kumar starrer “Madhumati”. More about him can be read in the incorporated links.

“Meghe Dhaka Tara” along with “Komal Gandhar” and “Subarnarekha” completes a Calcutta trilogy, depicting the plight of victims of partition and subsequent atrocities in East Pakistan. Though I have not watched the last two, but the first one has left a deep impact on my consciousness.

This is a story of selfishness and of being parasitical. Neeta, the protagonist of the movie, works her way to her death, only to see her family happy. His, older brother, Shankar, a budding musician, only one to understand her plight, but cannot do anything as he has to do his riyaaz, apart from listening the tantrums of being unemployed and eating on the salary of his younger sister. Her brother, Monty, and sister, Geeta, are two other characters who are at their best are interested in her salary for getting themselves some shoes or saree. Her mother always keeps whining and her father, a school teacher, is more interested in Wordsworth and Keats. Finally, her lover, Sanat, a former student of her father, unable to getting a scholarship for research, ends up in a job and marries her sister.

The movie begins rather slowly, and as it progresses, it gathers a speed with sense of irony and injustice. A family which is almost completely dependent on the income of its eldest daughter, and its member whose fancies is also met by her, irrespective of her own genuine needs. He the battle to see her family happy and contented, Neeta sacrifices her own future, her own beau and her own life.

When the question of marriage arose in the house, Neeta’s mother directs her father to marry of Geeta to Sanat, the reason was if Neeta, even if she is eldest is married, on whom they are going to survive. Geeta, even after her knowledge of Sanat’s relationship with Neeta, seduces Sanat and later taunts her sister “Not everyone have patience to wait”. Sanat, who thought of becoming a researcher, cannot hold on to his own principles. Monty, given the first chance of living the house leaves it. Shankar, after surrendering to taunts and watching her sister Neeta, leaves for Bombay, only to return later.

When Monty gets hospitalized, Neeta, despite of her falling health, gives her best to restore her brother’s health. During this time, Neeta realizes that she should have protested the injustice done to her, she should have thought about her, but then it was too late and she has some work in her hand. When Monty comes back, entire family is contened because he is reinstated and his salary has increased apart from getting some compensation, but no one asks about Neeta who makes it possible. Neeta now stays in lonely room, doing her chores on her own.

When Shankar returns after gaining fame and fortune in Bombay, his family puts a long list of demands before him, mother asks from a two storey house, his sister Geeta (who is was pregnant) asks for a necklace for her new born, only Neeta fails to meet him. And when he meets Neeta and finds that she was suffering from Tuberculosis and is at terminal stage, he is devastated. He breaks this news to his family, who at their best only can offer their sympathies. His father, a senile old man, on listening this cries “I accuse” to which he replies “to whom” signifying all are guilty in this manslaughter. He leaves the home for booking a sanatorium for her diseased sister.

In between, taking the view of the upcoming new born, the mother persuades the father for asking Neeta to leave. Father, with tears in his eyes, packs her belonging, and gently tells her to go as her breath is venomous, she is free now, and they can only give her their sympathy. On her way back, she encounters Shankar, who takes her to the sanatorium, in the hills, where she always wanted to be. In the climax of the movie, she clings on her brother and cries “Dada ami bachte chai” meaning “brother I wanted to live”, with all her emotions, all her truthfulness all her honesty, her plea echoing through the hills of Shillong.

The movie itself is melodramatic and it is given a surrealistic effect by providing sounds of lashes at the scenes where Neeta is undergoing emotional churning. Though, nowhere in the movie it is the mentioned that her family is refugee, but it can be presumed, given their appearances that have crossed the border. The characters portrayed in the movie, I would plainly say, have a direct or indirect resemblances to real life. An average Bengali can easily find within his family or within his knowledge a person gung ho about ‘English’, a male member committed to ‘football’ or a female member in love with herself. But for me story resembles like a quote from the Victor Hugo’s master piece ‘Les Miserable’ “They belonged to that bastard class formed of low people who has risen, and intelligent people who have fallen, which lies between the classes called middle and lower, and which unites some of the faults of the latter with nearly all the vices of the former, without possessing the generous impulses of the workman, or the respectability of the bourgeois.”

The characters here where once intelligent people who became the victim of their circumstances. Now, they would feed on anyone who is different of them. Any one who earns is food for them and once he or she is finished, they throw it out, just like any garbage is thrown out. Many of the watchers will find the traits of feminism in this movie. However, in my point of view, it applies to anyone whether male or female.

At the beginning of the movie, Neeta’s slipper breaks as she was heading home, she hides it and kept walking, Shankar sees this and ironically at the end another girl’s slipper breaks down, and she does the same, Shankar was there watching it, thinking of seeing a deja vous of Neeta.

For the last scene click on the this Youtube link

© Tarun Mitra

February 17, 2011

Just My Thoughts…..

Just My Thoughts…..

January 24^th, 2011 will always remain as a memorable day in my life. Though I passed my CS Final on August 2010, got my MSOP done on January 14^th, 2011 and was finally admitted member of this esteemed institute, the Institute of Company Secretaries of India, on January 20^th, 2011. But it was on January 24^th, 2011 on which I was allotted my membership number, culminating a long and arduous battle. As I said, it has ended a battle, just a phase, not the war.

For the last few months, I have not shared anything in my blogs, whether it is this one or Target Aim Shoot, either I had refrained myself or I was too lazy to share anything. It is a feeling that has become a common fixture in my character in 2010. The world has also meanwhile turned into quite a smutty place, with each one of us from every strata of society dying to gets its pie.

Whether is corruption in the government, or in the roads, or in the media or even stupid reality shows. We have metamorphosed into an eternally corrupt society which accepts the basic tenet that if something is above for free then it must be welcome. We can see murder and pretend nothing happened, we may even enjoy it, cherish it and relish its memories later. Of course, you can argue that I’ve being cynical, but just honestly, take a minute out and look into the mirror; you will definitely find the answer. Alas! The word ‘honesty’ no longer figures in the dictionary anymore.

But still there is some sanity, or some faint resemblance of it. We all want to move and we do move, but at which direction, we do not know. We are rather unclear about the destination and unsure of the path we have taken. We go on complaining but we seldom try to find the problem in the first place itself.

Sorry for diversion but just cannot help it, you just can’t blame god and government for everything. Coming back to me, I have joined twitter few months back, and I’d found it rather too fast for my palette. It just like a quickie or a blind date where it happens and ends within few minutes and only one realizes is the sensation of something that had happened. It is too fast for my sub-conscious and sometimes elicits response you just don’t want to give. But I’ll be there slowly in my own way, although I find it too overwhelming.

Meanwhile, I will be doing more off technical writing here than just sharing of my memories, poetry and stories. But I finding it would be more fruitful to share what I have learned. It is indeed difficult to maintain two different blogs or third one would be even tougher. However, I will be writing some literature (or gibberish as you may rate).

‘

Is all is well in the world? No it isn’t. As I said, the war had begun now and many of my MSOP mates can concur with what I said. MSOP has been a great platform to make new friends and those 15 days were very special for me, I was just like passing out parade were each participant jelled like a family. Now, we many be in different parts of the country, but we will never ever forget that once we all got together out of compulsion of statue but have to leave with a heavy heart.

© Tarun Mitra

February 4, 2011

The Microfinance Muddle

The saying goes ‘the whole is more than sum of parts’ and when it is applied to the Microfinance institutions, it couldn’t be more appropriate. After all, it is the small foundation of microloans upon which their empires of millions are being built.

It is not the criticism of the business; in a capitalistic economy everyone has the right to do ethical business within the framework of law. Such endeavor is entitled for its benefits, that is, profits. However, a business whose foundation is usually based upon service of the downtrodden without any expectation of profits and this very fundamental character of being not-for-profit gets altered with growth of business surely raises eyebrows. It is the business of Microfinance, where such thing has happened and is happening. It not evil though, provision of credit to the poor, banking to the unbanked. But it is the way and manner of conducting of business which puts this sector into spotlight.

The model of microfinance is not unique to India; it first gained prominence when it was introduced in Bangladesh by Nobel Laureate Prof. Muhammad Yunus. As success has got many relatives, from there it spread across the world from Mumbai to Mexico City touching as many rural and urban poor who are in need of credit.

Microfinance can be defined as provision of broad range of financial services like loans, deposits, payment services, money transfer, insurance products etc to the poor or low income households, for their microenterprises and small businesses, to enable them to raise their income levels and improve their living standards. But what differentiates it from normal banking is its willingness to provide credit without any collateral and for taking such risks it charges rate of interests, which are normally twice or thrice the bank rate. The Microfinance Institutions or MFIs usually bets on the reputation of its customers, because irrespective of any hardship the poor will payback. It is a business of informality, personal touch, relations and contacts, therefore not surprisingly given the scale; millionaires can be made out this very basis of small loans.

In an editorial in The Economic Times, Delhi Edition, Mr. Arvind Panagariya, Professor at Columbia University and Non-Resident Senior Fellow at the Brookings Institute, expounded that there are three players in the microcredit market; the Self Help Groups or SHGs which are principally promoted by the government, the Microfinance Institutions of MFIs which are either NBFCs or Body Corporate or NGO or a not-for-profit enterprise and the local money lender. These three constitute the entire spectrum of microcredit to the needing masses.

SHGs works on the principle of applying collective wisdom of the group and peer pressure by which it tries that credit is productively used and loan is repaid. MFIs can be in form of NGO, not-for-profit enterprise or an NBFC, it accepts almost no collateral and since it seldom gets any help from the government it charges interests which can be twice or thrice of bank rate. Local money lender can be any person who may not be registered with any authority and provides credit at a high rate of interest with or without collateral.

From an analysis of the characters of these players it can be deduced, as Dr. Y.V. Reddy former Governor of Reserve Bank of India puts, that MFI is essentially a leveraged money lender, whereas the local money lender normally lends out of his own funds, MFIs are actually borrowing monies from depositors, bankers or from shareholders, private equity funds etc and lending the same. SHGs on the other hand depend primarily on government, and given the political compulsions that ruins a democracy, the government usually shows an eagerness to waive loans. This very tendency creates a moral hazard which leads to non-payment and when a financially strapped member of SHG approaches another SHG for loan it makes the entire structure of SHGs weaker and steroidal. This in turn also gives an impression that for profit MFIs are sound, hiding their weaknesses and coercive practices.

Having come this far, it would be prudent to focus on the type of customers on which MFIs usually cater. Usually at the fringes of the society, they are primarily unbanked and do not have any recourse to credit. Even if they have any, it is usually the money lender who can charge high interest and is coercive in recovery of his loans. These people rank really low on creditworthiness and solvency. On these people MFIs with their borrowed money bank upon.

I am not suggesting that poor do not have any right to grow or they do not have any right to do business, but easy credit is a tempting hazard and that is why more and more people are finding themselves drowned in perpetual debt trap. There can be two reason for this, firstly there is a stiffer competition amongst various MFIs to gain new members, irrespective of their solvency or credit history, and secondly the sources of funds of these MFIs. Since sources of funds of MFIs are banks who lend at commercial or market rate and investors who ask for good return, MFIs have to charge an interest rate which is usually charged on credit cards. Further, there are many MFIs in the market with similar sources of funds all wishing for good return on investment. These very pressures usually lead to cost control amongst the MFIs which can only be done through outsourcing and coercive collection practices.

MFIs cater a market which banks do not touch, that is, people with low solvency. Ultimately, as Mr. Reddy points out, it is some sort of sub-prime lending. This is type of lending where the credit is forwarded to person who have low ability or have no ability to pay back. As a MFI grows in size and institutionalizes, it’s very basis of informality and intimacy between the borrowers and lender ceases. In addition, when a MFI hits the stock market, it is then entrusted with newer responsibilities to governance, return, compliance and performance.

This very sector of microcredit is unregulated, that is, there are no standards of maximum interest to be charged or to whom loan is to be provided. Often it has been found that people, who have obtained loan from one MFI, take loan from another MFI for repaying their first loan and fall in debt trap. This practice plagues the MFIs with the same disease with plagues the SHGs. This story is same across the world wherever MFIs operate and have resulted in converting a boon into bane.

An effective regulation of the sector, in letter as well as in spirit, is the necessity of the moment. Already it is been speculated that many MFIs would shut shop as their sources of finance, that is the bank loans, have dried up and government diktat of controlling the interest rates would lead to loss. It is imperative that the sector is needed to be regulated but such regulation should be only from one authority, which will give some predictability and clarity to this sector. Multiple regulators can only act as nails to the coffins of this ‘sunrise’ sector.

It is a season of scams and scandals, and in this we are lost in the maze of Niira Radia, 2G and CWG. Why not? Once exposed they give us a good punching bag to trade punches without being hit back, and if there is any sense of ‘justice’ left we might even get a scapegoat. But just take out few minutes of time to think about this, whatever may call it, I’d prefer to say muddle, which directly affects our banks, economy and the very person who brings our milk, washes our dishes or even produces our food. This muddle affects them directly, and if you don’t think about it now, few months we might again be arguing. What is government is doing about poverty?

© Tarun Mitra

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microfinance

2. http://www.businessweek.com/magazine/content/07_52/b4064038915009.htm

3. http://microfinance-in-india.blogspot.com/

4.http://www.bsp.gov.ph/downloads/regulations/attachments/2001/circ272.pdf

5.http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/opinion/comments--analysis/Getting-it-right-on-microfinance/articleshow/6979476.cms

6.http://economictimes.indiatimes.com/opinion/interviews/For-profit-MFIs-worse-than-money-lenders/articleshow/6973551.cms

7. http://www.livemint.com/2010/11/22232535/Hollowness-in-banking-a-major.html

Reach up and touch the sky

I am not writing regularly these days, not even in my diary. So here goes an old poem not shared earlier. Hopefully by next month I will be able to write some article or short stories.But for now I am sharing a poetry written on 2006, 5th March to be precise. Hope that you will like this.

Reach up and touch the sky

They’ll try to pull you down,

They’ll try to push you in,

Regardless of challenges you face,

Reach up and touch the sky.

They’ll say there’s no ground beneath your feet,

They’ll say you’re flying too high,

Regardless of what they say,

Reach up and touch the sky.

They’ll say a lot of things,

Which may impinge your thought process,

Regardless of this insinuation,

You should always move in your way.

They’ll try to cow you down,

In every, nook and corners of life,

Better be ready to face the challenge,

And lead your way upright.

In the end of the life, you’ll find,

If you’ve followed your path,

If you’ve faced your challenges,

If you’re unbowed,

You’ve surely, reached up and touched the sky.

© Tarun Mitra

March 5. 2006

Home

A little girl asked

“Auntie, how do we make a home?”

Auntie answered

“Using clay, bricks and stone”

And she went to her chores

But I wondered.

Is it the clay, brick or stone

Which makes a home?

Or something more than stones

A man,

A woman,

Some children,

And some family,

Bound together

in the bonding of love.

It may not be of clay.

Leave alone gold and stray.

Leave away the iron mikes.

But must compose of love,

For love, which bonds together.

For love, powerful than iron mikes.

For love, which makes a straw,

worthier than glittering gold.

Makes a home sweet home.

© Tarun Mitra

January 31, 2006

Back Again

Writing after really long time, it has being more than two months. But why it is still hard for me to write. Why there is no inspiration in spite of full of seasons. I don’t know but in this one I will share few things that have held me for last few days.

It has been really long, for the first time since I have started regular blogging that a month has gone without a post. The story is same for my both blogs. So what is it that held me, lethargy, laziness, work or anxiety, or probably mixture of all?

Before I began, I give my sincerest apologies to those fellow bloggers whom I have not read during this period. I am sorry, but I cannot help and those I have read, thank you for reminding me that I have to post.

What is blogging? Well, when this concept was invented this was supposed to be some sort of online diary, before it evolved into some powerful medium. Blog was primarily meant to be a diary, so it first comes to diary.

Diary keeping, a habit to keep records of daily happenings of our lives, so that one day we could read them and try to evaluate and relive those days. I started maintaining diary possibly after my 12^th, though not regular, but still they are able to provide me the insights of my mind during that period. Many of my poems that you have read here were the pieces from those papers. But I must again admit that I was never regular.

I have started blogging out of curiosity of sharing. I was exposed to this tool from the newspapers and faint articles of the revolutions that it was brining. It was supposedly a cyclone at Orissa which bought this technology to my consciousness. It was an enduring picture of a person with Ham radio and another person with laptop trying to trace relatives of the victims that has being etched in my mind. If this tool was such powerful, then what good that it can do to me? I thought and started my first blog.

My first blog was a disaster, it never got any reader. The reason may be because I never knew the tricks of getting readers or increasing hits. I kept posting, without even having a reader for it. Eventually, my old e-mail account to which the blog was linked got hacked in July 2008 thus ending my first tete-a-tete with blogging. Although, I made myself available a new e-mail account within few days, but it wasn’t till 2^nd October 2008 that I started this blog and rest is history.

But today, as I write down this, after more than two months, it’s not the history that has prompted me, but the retrospective vision of my past in concurrence with my present. Life, it is said that evolves continuously and during one such transition I caught myself during last few days making me difficult for me to pen down something, and there were other reasons directly connected to my situation present.

Today, as I post this draft, am a qualified Company Secretary, and it has being a journey of almost seven years and innumerable examinations, long hours of arduous study and patience. It’s been almost a month since my results were declared but alas as I said, my present also has a dubious role to play for not updating you on this.

Now, it would not be coincidence that I started keeping diary when I passed out my higher secondary examination, a same period when I joined this course. Going through the course of my life, I have found numerous instances where I have been alone, dejected, lonely and defeated but I survived. There has being instances where I have seen (and still seeing) my peers leaving me behind and I trudging along on the same broken path, but I have survived. I have seen time when everyone I knew was having a cool time, partying and I was peering over books. I have seen times when people who studied with me in the same course passed out and qualified, and I failed to make a mark. Gosh! I have seen a lot, and still I survived and today when I have passed I can at least safely say I have failed, but I was never a failure.

Now, please don’t ask about what Company Secretaryship is all about, kindly google it. It is professional degree at par with Chartered Accountancy and Cost Accountancy and is managed by an Act of Parliament. It is the actual Corporate Governance course available. However, very few people may know that. But for me it has been a journey of sorts with more than its fair shares of ups and downs. And on retrospective I might say c’est vie.

After reading these lines, you all might be angry, and may ask “Why the hell now, after a month?” For this I would simply say, and as I have said, my present. Its push, pulls and pressures has its own role to play for stopping me from not writing. But now as I have written, I will try to be more regular.

After my result last month (it was 25^th Day of August) I wanted to write a post, about my journey till now. But not anymore, goal should always be at front of you and not backwards.

Now before I conclude this long write-up, which started from my brief history of diary keeping and blogging and to my present qualification. I must say, they both were intertwined. They both started at a period when I was at the edge, they both helped when I was falling down from the edge. They both challenged me and kept me going. It has being a long journey, I retrospectively sometimes I feel I should have finished it long ago, but alas! Now as I have, I am going for another one. Goal should always in front.

© Tarun Mitra

Death in Installments

This one has its inspiration from a news item I was forced to watch on India TV. Hopefully I have done justice to the emotions

Death in Installments

A boy jumps into a river

“Wait for the moment” the presenter says

The river was raging

10 seconds – will he live

15 seconds – will her survive

20 seconds – will he die

25 seconds – looks at his friends

They’re petrified

30 seconds – he is struggling

Or is he tired?

Or the river got better of him?

32 seconds – he disappeared

35 seconds – he reappears

Is this a miracle?

40 seconds – no one in sight

1 minute – whether he is dead or alive?

Where the current have taken him?

What can we do anyway?

It was death

Presented to you

In installments

© Tarun Mitra

Written on June 28^th, 2010

Beast of Burden

Beast of Burden

I carry

On my desiccated back

The loads

Of people-over the mountains

Over the hills

Through the valleys

For a living

I am not tired

I am not retired

I am not old

Age cannot bar me

How can it?

If load ensures

My kin’s daily meal

How can it?

If load ensures

My mere survival

How can it?

If load became

An inseparable part of my life

Remove it

And my breaths collapse

Remove it

And my bones crack

Remove it

And my blood drain

I am a Beast of Burden

For ages I am there

For ages I will be

I am a beast, not a human

I am not a beggar

I’ll never be.

© Tarun Mitra

This is my first posting for the month of June 2010 and one after a long long time. Indeed there was some slackness on my part but also it would be pertinent to mention that I was busy with my life. I was following only few blogs (apologies to others), but Delhi heat and power situation can be unforgiving.

The picture was taken by me on my trip to Mussoorie. It was taken on 11th June, 2010 and now it seems a long time ago.

Award for me

Well I must confess it is my third/ fourth award. But honestly I don't remember when I was awarded the earlier one. Secondly I was blissfully unaware of rules therefore I just said thanks to the person who awarded me. My awards were given by Megha and Nalini, both wonderful bloggers.

My this award is given by Karan, who happened to drop in my lonely blog and regularly shared his view. Thanks a lot buddy.

Now as rule of accepting the award I must forward it to my other fellow bloggers, I would like to give this "Cool Award" to

Megha for great stories and great photos

Nalini for great poetry and great photos

Tavish great blog mate and too regular

Gyanban needs no introduction

Anulal for heart rendering poetry

Mridula for encouraging me into blogging

Thanks again Karan, because it is for you now that I am posted again.

Death of Emotion

For the last few days its being easier for me to write poetry (though sporadically) than articles. Lets see whats next in store.

Death of Emotion

His heart clenched

When he saw her on board

A wishful prayer

Of God bought forth

She walked inside

Took a seat facing his back

He kept turning

To figure her outta pack

It’s being few months since

He’d last had a glimpse

The place was same

But the time different

But this time

T’was a long haul

He kept turning

As history strolled

They’d talked once

He’d always remember

Days of adolescence

Were full of adventure

They’d walked together

Talking ‘bout world

As one’s fancies flew

One’s was unruffled

He confided his love

As his nature was so

He paid a price

She forget him soon

They met twice again

But she didn’t ‘cognize

As his heart clenched

Her beat fine

Today when she board

His emotions soared

And gave a shriek

Of an animal getting caught

It’s being long time

He consoled himself

The death of emotion

is consolation.

© Tarun Mitra

April 16^th, 2010

Web of Life

Web of Life

Those who spin the web of life

May have never thought about strife

That exists between man and man

When every man gives the best he can

Little knots of this web

Loosened by the lessee itself

Who has never pondered himself

The shelter service the web provides

And yet he is hell bent

On destroying the creation

Of owner of heaven

Those who spin the web of life

© Tarun Mitra

May 6, 2005

For the one last time

It have being callous not to write about it. But what to write about, Dantewada represented all what is wrong with India's security apparatus. The 'MASSACRE' of 76 Jawans is the grim reminder of fact that the nation is still not united and there is still a fire in the belly. But I am more or less appalled with the general reaction of blogging community, who failed to mention it. When bomb exploded at the Bangalore stadium, we sprang into action writing pieces, when Pune happened we where shattered, but why on earth our reaction is so different when it comes to massacre in Dantewada, Silda or Orissa. Why are we such callous about maoist violence. Just because it doesn't affects us directly or it is just not glamorous. In this incident of Dantewada I have seen many news pieces but not a good reaction of city slickers. We are too busy with IPL tamasha.

Now, after this short but true lecture, I present the poem I wrote about the slain Jawans, not the only ones who died at Dantewada, but the one at Silda, Orissa, J&K and any other part of the country fighting the insurgents. It is the least I can do.

For the one last time

For the one last time

Her cell-phone rang

“Take care of kids” he said

And the line went dead.

For the one last time

He unlocked his gun

Aiming for the target

Bullets have him overrun

For the one last time

He prayed to god

He thought of his loved one’s

Till a bullet stuck his jaw

For the one last time

He took a deep breath

Taking cover under a tree

Landmine tore his leg

For the one last time

He took an aim

Killing a few

Then he was slain

For the one last time

He hurled the grenade

The usual thud

Then he found six coming

For the one last time

He took her picture out

Holding it to his heart

Falling! His hand held it tight

For the one last time

He feared for his life

Firing at all direction

One got is balls out

For the one last time

His life went through his eyes

Childhood, youth, manhood

Laid there, in blood

For the one last time

He wished to live

Amongst the dead

He gathered his ‘tines

For the one last time

He gathered his dreams

He wanted to be an artist

Battlefield became his sheet

For the one last time

He wept to live

The battlefield’s sympathy

Bullet through his brain

For the one last time

He waited for death

Miles away from home

His brothers made him bled

For the one last time

He saw his blood

Nothing was different

Between their flag and his blood

For the one last time

He blew the whistle

The final attack

Bayonets on barrel

For the one last time

They called for help

And nobody came

Laying their bodies to rest

For the one last time

The class war claim

The lives of poor

Whom the class represents

For the one last time

They came back home

Draped in flag, packed in coffin

The dead were somber

For the one last time

Their widows cried

The future was bleak

The promises hollow

For the one last time

They were criticized

For their tactics and strategy

Their sacrifice unnoticed

For the one last time

The Nation outrage

The dust settled

On wilderness came IPL

For the one last time

They turned in grave

Asking for the vengeance

Crying on decadence.

© Tarun Mitra

Legal Tangle

While waiting at a government office for getting the work done I wrote these few lines just for passing my time. The work was not done and the lines are before you.

Legal Tangle

It is something called legal tangle

Size more confusing than woman’s bangle

If the problem is countered at wrong angle

It becomes difficult to untangle the tangle

It’s much easier to break the bangle

© Tarun Mitra