"IMAGINOR":Hour Of Magic....

The two kittens were fighting and scratching each other... Now they are in sleep..a square meal..and their mother is gone.. The vitality has already begun.. The time in between..I didn't realize... Smitten by a grotesque feeling.. Lost somewhere..stuck somewhere... The rescue route..untraveled..has never been tried in fact... I watched the man who forgot his meal-box in haste to catch the daily train... I have seen the wayfarer..scrounging through his map.. I have seen people strange.. Speeding high.. Voluptuous fly.. Basking in the sunset-canvas-sky... The deepest eyes..darkest shadows behind.. And the man who sees it with an intense try.. The time in between...I didn't realize...

They were anarchy in its truest form,the four junkies who in glorified,poisoned their mothers wombs. Made music ugly and ugly to music. They spitted straight up on the face of their Queen. Had no vision,had no respect. They were raised from filth. And wore filth even if they had a choice. They remained unsung,barred. I cannot remember the Nobel laureate old,white haired scientists. 'coz there are too many. They broke rules.Guess they didn't know any rules. Albeit they gave Punk. And Punk seems unachievable to you and me which is the funniest part. We don't dare in fact with our shackled hands. I can see Sex Pistols when I look into the mirror but its not me.

The little river is brimming...brought into life perhaps. Wild...wild and harsh after it was shrunken to death... But They are Caught in between... Dilapidated shelters..commensurate with their tragic,inglorious lives! "Boi,khata,kagoj....." City's scrap paper salesman is shouting his business cry..walking down the streets.. for a nickel and dime...But its been raining for a day or two!! City is slowing down...an abrupt but perfect holiday.. A day to listen to the tracks...forgotten... Makes no difference to Him.

Why does the Nature unleash Her fury and unveil the miseries? Who is the Omnipotent?Who makes us to cringe and we feel so defenseless at times? What the heck Science do?And the Satellites? What is there in literature while people remain illiterate mostly? Why some kids tiff over the candyfloss while some others ordeal is to fill their tummies? What is there in the late-night jives while the street children cannot sleep? And their cries remain unheard,neglected? Why the glittering sky-scrapers shine holding their heads high while the thousands of shelter are inundated? What is essential in the big-screen TV and MTV tantrums while the house-hold maid is being raped? Do the people elate when their leaders recriminate? Why romance is ephemeral?And the twilight? Why the guns are so immaculate? And the brave hearts fight till kingdom comes? Why my cigarette burns down so quickly? And the thoughts...they die? " There’s a big a big hard sun beating on the big people in the big hard world&

Yesterday was the day before the People's Day. They will have the power to rise against the atrocities,corruptions and crimes. And against the lunatic,impostor mandarins. They will have the power to choose the man for the people,by the people and to the people. Will the incumbent be toppled?Will it be a change of colour?Will it be a shift of paradigm? The people will decide. But yesterday was not like the other days. The streets were relatively less crowded & calm too. The Gunmen had taken over. Their stoic faces and automatic killer weapons raised doubts among the passers by. The lovers who walk the same street day to day were not feeling easy. They were talking in sotto voice.Something was causing a tremor inside them. It was raining and the cacophony of the thunder tranformed the ambiance gloomy. Was it a sense of premonition or was it symbolizing the strength of people and the change? The time will tell whether the people have been strangled or they have won.

The line that lingers...."It's better to burn out than to fade away..." The blacksmith is relentless at his work....day in and day out. The shrill periodic metallic noise subduing the clamour of the strangers.... The seamstress weaving a motley coat....the exuberance of colourful cotton threads..... A character is moulding into the character and its inner voice is in its highest pitch... The mirror is shattered ironically. Multiple facial images that appear....synonymous to the multiple character dwelling in one's self.... The pragmatist,altruist,beguiling and perhaps puerile.... And the ominous,ugly one who is coercing into the void like the rippling oceanic waves wiping the fragile sand castle from the shore. Call is now from the omnipotent self in quest of the El-dorado. Thriving on every success.Accepting the challenge of the inscrutable,prolixious road ahead and from the self-destructing self. The mind is educating and in the end revelry is awaiting.... The line

The pungent smell of mud in the air woke him up..... the old peasant...was dreaming of rain... and of golden corns.....how he nurtured.... He woke up from his slumber....It was no dream.... the rain outside was reality.... He took his son to the Piece of land...he owned.... He ploughed all across...till dawn... His fragile hands almost gave up...but the old farmer knew the values... He watched his fertile...harrowed land with his sleep-laced eyes...embracing his son... An old man was lying inert on the field.....the old peasant's.... Thick blood was spilled into the mud....was he shot? The woman was silent...shell shocked..... And the son was crying.... The man,unknown in a silk suit was giving solace to her....was rhetorical... He didn't know the rustic language.... The poor old framer wakes up from his sullen dream....

http://www.youtube.com/watch ?v=onj_ncbdKSs

A sheer joy when I opened the trapdoor in silence,in concealed footsteps. What I saw was a Sunset in a new dimension. A broader sky.A canvas painted by some anonymous. Marvellous. I could not peep through the concrete wall though. I was little. Words insinuated 'cause they forbade me. A 'juvenile delinquent' in their eyes. They scared me of Monsters.But they didn't appear before me. I believe they lied or the Monsters did let me go. I can climb up to the highest part of the roof now. I can feel the whisperings of the wind. Conjuration of the clouds.Nodding tree branches. They say this is a waste of time. But I feel myself cogent. If I was given to fly,I promise,I would get home at dusk with the quarrelling flock of Gulls. And walk on the roads as directed.

Run.Fire.Alarm. Save yourself. Look for the inmates. Save the paintings and the bunch of roses from the hungry flame. The memories captured in frames been charred. Tears has gone dry 'cause of the heat. The thick Holy book no longer exists. Ashes causing coughs. Hold your breath.Run. The bird,was locked in the cage has died. The baby is burnt.The black smoke is rolling up and clasping The House like a serpent. The garden is engulfed into the fire. The wooden cradle have lost its veneer.Still in swing. No sign of pulse.Only the violent breeze and flame. Sensing the damnation. The House is burning. Crumbling down slowly.So the Earth. We never made it,have we? Is it on fire because of Us?

The flying fortresses are hovering round the sky with an eye for a kill. The air is diffused and there is no Sun in the sky. No sign of the romantic moonlight too. The nocturnal rose couldnot hold her head high. Few demented people are screaming,running frantically on the streets.What they want? The police and theives like the cat and mice. The swansong is playing?And time for the change. Change means fight for the sake of communalism,killing of the new borns, killing the creed or so,the history pages are vivid. I washed my face,am I some bullshit! I tasted blood. Whose blood?The slained Muslim's or the raped,strangled Hindu Mother's? The change is being promised. The work-forces and their clandestine agenda will lead us into the void, we have the deadliest weapons to petrify an entire race. Philanthropist says,"Politician's got on his jogging shoes,he must be running for office, got no time to lose". The change is being promised. P.S. :-the title is taken from a

The weirdly embellished hair.A fag. The loudness of thousands of guitar. The alchoholic madness. Paying no heed. Dissident.Curses. Different facades. Time flies by. Eye lids don't fall. Day dreams. Facing the sun and the rain drops. No religion. One army.Swarming. No conventions. Unsophisticated.Wasted.Unsung. Just don't want to be another brick in the wall. We need education. The destination is known. The path is treacherous. Amen.