Who really wants peace
Without the usual posturing and pretence
For the beasts of prey stalking our streets
It is all a talk of sheer impotence

For conflict spawns opportunities
Where peace will surely fail
Rapes, kidnappings, lynchings
Beckon the vultures on a hot trail

Laden with fresh stockpiles
Of weapons of mass murder
They approach both the sides
Eager to collect their order

Eyeing with ever growing greed
The potential for increasing skirmishes
For the fragrance of pillage and death
Adds flavour to their blood stained riches

Difficult to recognise
These vultures in civilian garb
For they look like you and me
Supposedly innocent at heart

Sometimes they take the shape
Of a powerful and influential country
Preaching civility and virtue
To all the world’s gentry

Subir Chakraborty / 2nd April 2018

The search for truth
And the power of pain
Transports these minstrels
Much beyond the mundane

The outstretched hands
The swirling bodies
A song on their lips
With rustic melodies

Basking in sublime aura
Busking on dusty streets
The singing Bauls of Bengal
Their ektara* strumming a beat

The music of love
And universal brotherhood
Transcending all religions
Eclipsing all statehood

Letting their minds soar
Sailing the winds like a kite
Buoyed by their hearts’ renderings
Singing an ethereal slice of life

Subir Chakraborty / 10th June 2018

*ektara : one-string instrument used in traditional music in the Indian sub-continent

When your desires no longer
Traverse the path of placidity
When designs invade your mind
Dissolving the mask of gentility

When the animal in you
Is on a predatory prowl
When your lecherous face
Wears a disgusting scowl

When the innocent victim
Is well within your reach
When with a little more effort
You can cause the breach

When your tongue is dripping
With the saliva of lust
When all thoughts of virtue
Have turned to dust

Pause a moment in time
And look at yourself in the mirror
For what you see
Does it make you shudder

For if it doesn’t
Then the #Metoo may get you
Even if not immediately
Then in the future for you to rue

The #Metoo today
Is not just another fancy label
It symbolises the collective strength
Of millions of abused women

Who today are more than willing
To peel off all the pretence
Of the demons who have abused
And destroyed their innocence

Subir Chakraborty / 14th Oct 2018

Despite all the pollution and denudation
Green shoots begin to grow abreast
Despite all the hatred and violence
Love finds a way into the nest

Despite all the despair and despondency
Hope wedges in to the heart
Despite a stormy and a cold night
The next morn is always a fresh start

Despite all the female infanticide
The defiant voice can be heard
From women who excel in various spheres
And choose to differentiate from the herd

Despite all the malpractice and corruption
A lone figure stands erect
Willing to take on the mightiest
With the strength of conviction at her behest

Despite all the despites
The indomitable spirit stands tall
The fuel driving the human genome
Through its earthly call

Subir Chakraborty / 13th Sept 2018

In this maze called cyberspace
We have learnt to live in the cloud
Wave through the trusted Messenger
Whenever we need to seek out

Where our feelings are expressed
Through icons, all standardised
Happy, angry, upset or just cool
Every nuance commodified

The craze for likes against each post
An intoxicant for the cyber age
Paucity of the same for any reason
Results in depression and umbrage

There’s virtually no difference
In the way we express our love
Sending as strings of bits and bytes
A bunch of roses and hearts

Marriages are already happening
With the bride or groom in absentia
Hapless parents as witness on Skype
Rooted in age old inertia

Soon a time might come
When copulation may not be necessary
When sperms and eggs can mate in the cloud
And deliver a baby virtually

Real touch, real contact, the real world
Will soon be part of history
Future generations may conduct research
Of reality shrouded in mystery

Subir Chakraborty / 8th Oct 2018

When the dust has settled
Ironing out the last crease
When the cyclone of this life
Has subsided to a breeze

Who would you like to see
In the mirror on the wall
That would best describe
The person today on call

A good child, a good parent
Or just a caring partner
Or is it a bundle of all these
That would make you happier

Perhaps you need to think once more
The very purpose of your birth
Were you born just to play these roles
In this roller coaster of life on earth

Have you forgotten something
In this journey of hits and misses
When you’ve thought of nothing other
Than yourself and your wishes

Perhaps it is not too late
To go down the unseen bend
Perhaps not too late
To make a few amends

With arms wide open
And without any further wait
Can you share with the less fortunate
Without a tinge of regret

May not always be money
Could only be your time
For the hapless need your empathy
Not your pity to chime

This may add a slight halo
To your reflection in the mirror
A picture you may like to treasure
In this life and perhaps forever

Subir Chakraborty / 19th Aug 2018

When all the multiplication and division is done
Something remains behind
A small leftover
A remainder

It is as if destiny
Did all those calculations on my behalf
And after making my parents disappear
Left me with this tiny integer

Which has nothing to do with my parents
Or the town of my birth
Or what language they spoke
Or my relatives or any other member

With the passing of years
I realised
That the numeral was my identification in the orphanage
My destiny’s tragic reminder

I have grown up now and carry a name
Given to me by the warden
And after that the family name appears unashamedly
That mere number

Oh! How I detest, how I hate
That single digit, that sign of bondage
Which stands between me
And my real father, my sweet mother

What were they really like
Were they nice, were they kind
Did they love me ever
Did they even for once ponder

I stay rooted on the ground
While my eyes scan the skies
Looking for clues to my genesis
And my mind in bitter disorder

Subir Chakraborty / 8th July 2018

The world is quite varied
In its geography, its races
Its peoples, its history
And of course its paces

And yet it is so much the same
The same concerns, the politics
The yearning for freedom
And the desire for peace

Rarely have I seen hatred
And the spewing of venom
Oozing from the mouths of men
Living in unfriendly nations

They all want harmony
And to get on with their lives
In the only way they know
The only way they’ve survived

They’ve all wished me well
In every way they could
Wanting to know more
About what I really stood

Have never experienced anything
Other than love in great measure
As I have travelled the world
For business or for leisure

Then why is it
That nations become foes
And seek to bring
This bonhomie to a close

When will the political masters
Pay heed to this voice
When will the will of nations
Reflect the peoples’ choice

Subir Chakraborty / 19th Aug 2018

I wear your garb
Speak your tongue
Eat your food
Live in your nation

Which wants my labour
But not my identity
Desires my sweat
But not my pain

Where should I go
For I have no country
Not in the real sense
Not even in the past tense

The nation of my birth
Where I am a foreigner
And the one I have adopted
Where I am an intruder

Where my customs
Are not your customs
My looks, not your looks
My god, not your god

Where I am looked upon merely
As an instrument of gain
Merely a tool of economics
Captive and well trained

A strange dichotomy
Where you want me, yet you don’t
Where my labour is desirable
And the rest all abhorrable

Perhaps my children will belong here
Treated as one amongst equals
Perhaps one morn not too distant
My people shall stand proud and tall

Subir Chakraborty / 18th July 2018

The heart reaches out
And penetrates your being
Touching a cabalistic level
Hitherto unseen

When you begin to hear
Not the deafening chimes
But the droplets of nectar
Inundating your mind

One at a time, drop by drop
It seeps into your being
Creating a supreme melody
With a touch of the pristine

Slowly driving away
The extraneous thoughts
Clinging to your mind
Like a hive of maggots

There is an internal struggle
As your mind tries to reorient
To the surrealistic reality
The emerging quotient

Finally synchronising fully
To the music invading its core
Resonating ecstatically
As never before

Subir Chakraborty / 13th May 2018