Epilogue of What success means to me-Rajababu

Epilogue to the topic of Success: Success sounds good. It tastes good and feels good. As the cliche goes, behind every successful man, there is a woman (and as Whats App geeks would testify, if the Man is not successful, then the woman will not be behind him!!!). Success has the same meaning in any country, any race, any tribe, and any state of India. Success is a sweet feeling, and I have yet to

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Fresh assessment

Fresh assessment, written by Rajababu on 28th Mar 03   While I was devouring your torrid looks, You were blissfully unaware of my ugliness, How well I knew that you ignored me so!!! Yet, I kept savouring the thoughts of Tender, future, togetherness, alas, never to be!!!   The insomnia of love, keeps me sleepless, How I wish you could lull me into sleep, Little did I then realize that the diurnal, Realities, were the

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Wandering soul

Wandering soul-a poem by Rajababu   I wonder where this love came from, I never fed it the logwoods of imagination; For a fire to burn so brightly, The sparks must’ve been smouldering, In the dark, unattended recesses of my heart,   Buried under the pile of the Leaves of academia, and The tokenistic ritualism of religion;   For, when the confraglation started, My heart burned with the desire for her, A glowing fire, needing

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Tramplings under the feet

The place is amok with passers by. It is a dynamic picture of mobility of lives; People cross over with careless urgency They hardly have the time or the will To look at the pavements; who’d do it? But if they were to look, they might notice Dried up crests of blood, kissing the sides Of the Dirty wall and regretfully extending Upto the corner of a helpless pavement.   Two days ago, a man

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A painless life

A PAINLESS LIFE-a poem by Rajababu   I saw the old lady waiting for her turn, While I was waiting for mine; The Doctor saw her too, she cam shuffling on one leg, The other one was bandaged, and shrouded in pain. Or so I thought, or was I mistaken?   She cam with a syringe and a vial of fluid; She was pushing sixty, abetted by her daughter, They were a grim picture of

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Deepening mist

Deepening mist-A poem by Rajababu           I take a walk on the lonely road,      All around me, the mist is swirling itself sadly.      Unlike me, it seems to know what it wants,      If I knew the ugliness of the mist,      I might have never stepped out on the road,      But now it’s there, preparing to emacipate me,      I know not where to run, what to do,      I

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Someone’s flying out

SOMEONE’S FLYING OUT-A poem by Rajababu Someone’s flying out tonight, To a land of greater dreams, Where excellence is better rewarded, And intelligence is respected.   Out here, a few melancholy souls, Aspire to do the same, Only, they may never come around, To make it happen.   By design, or by default, Some do not have the right pulls, Others do not have the right money,   Ambition is not enough to take you,

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Frozen flame

Frozen flame: The candle burnt itself out steadily, She was destined for this frozen vacuity, Tirelessly, she kept sacrificing herself, The frozen flame burnt for the benefit of the family, Non one noticed how she burnt at both ends, Appearing at the crack of dawn every morn, Everyone sought comfort in the heat, Yet no one asked her for a refill, So it was no wonder that once she emptied herself on the candle stand,

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Inside the Rubicon

INSIDE THE RUBICON-A poem by Rajababu   The didactic Orissa refugee-distended, In the tatters of his rural confines; Lusts at my safe ensconsement. A fact made possible by my worthy ancestors; Working over their trade on dusty Bombay afternoons, Beating away the somnolescent vestiges of ravaging time. Suckling away on the paradox,   Ashamed of self in private-like a rejected whore; I suck away at my melting Softy. I look around for a straw to

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Cyber-friends

    CYBER-FRIENDS-A poem by Rajababu Reaching away from the caring hands of those around me, I get lost in the virtual realityof the Web. It gives me a sense of esoteric security, unrivalled, By any flesh and blood companionshipof life.   I can chat for hours to someone miles away, Who is known  to me only as happy@cyber.org, Does the urban soul now seek refuge in isolation? Am I shirking away from the horrendous

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I travel home amidst the hustle bustle

I travel home amidst the hustle bustle     I travel home amidst the hustle bustle Of the squid like, sinewy metropolis, I look around at the hurried faces of humans around me; Each a robot, an aimless entityescheing to achieve Their limited objectives….. a fight, a rendezvous, a voyage,   Are thes humans, or robots in disguise? And then, it stuck me, that I was not a sinner, To seek refuge in the arms

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Watery groves

    WATERY GROVES-by Rajababu   Evian comes to life, The shelves are full of drops, People queue up, the elitisms aplenty, Thirst… or fashion.   In the dusty ravines up North, A woman hurls down a roped bucket, It hits rock bottom of the parched well; And pulled back with indifferent effort.   Scavenged, drought-ridden faces, Stare at the lens eyes’ Pictures to be beamed by Satellite; The characteristic tut-tuts from middle class homes.

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Brothers in grief

BROTHERS IN GRIEF   A cyclone ravages a city, terror grips the air, Strong passionate gusts of wind swirl the countryside, Unwiling people die stark, hungry deaths; Is it a spectacle for the elite to watch? Is it considered an in-thing to discuss it In the dangerous confines of cosy, urban flats? People mix semantics with jargon, and pontificate On the breakdown of the State Machinery. The callousness of the officials, the stinginess, The entire

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Confession Box

CONFESSION BOX   The sadists are at work, cutting up the crosses, The flesh and blood follow suit, what is happening? Bits and pieces of His suffering are ingrained In every convent going seed of the Indian psyche, Can these pieces now be offered back, Can the Hindu psyche replace the Convent upbringing? Is it not an excellent case for Res Judicata? Both the sons carried out the missions of their fathers, One accepted banishment

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5.16 Fast

5.16 FAST   The lift is crammed with sweaty people, People from all the offices, Some with perfume, some without, They nervously look at the lift number, Hoping and praying that the liftman wont stop for the other floors. They curse when the lift jams on the 10th floor, Overload. Another 2 minutes later, they are streaming out of the building. Most of them lunge for the Share a taxi, others Run towards the 138

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Self indulgence

SELF INDULGENCE The coldness of the silent night awakens me from slumber, Adding insult to injury are the nocturnal insects of pain. I get up and huddle inside my blanket, groping around, My hands find the night lamp switch, I put it on. The fan starts whirring slowly to ward off the incumbent mosquitoes. I put it off, atleast I’ll feel less cold, or so I think; The Gurkha doing his night beat taps his

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A poem by Rajababu

CYBER-FRIENDS-by Rajababu Reaching away from the caring hands of those around me, I get lost in the virtual realityof the Web. It gives me a sense of esoteric security, unrivalled, By any flesh and blood companionshipof life. I can chat for hours to someone miles away, Who is known to me only as happy@cyber.org, Does the urban soul now seek refuge in isolation? Am I shirking away from the horrendous realities Of the space around

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A poem on My Father-By Rajababu

Happy Father’s day-A collection of thoughts by Rajababu (Narayan Iyer) Wow! A single day for fathers!! What a tribute! This much we have to do for those unseen, unheard, in a mode so mute! The spotlight is almost always on mothers, and whole rightly so, Its time for fathers to be also highlighted on the go. Nature abounds with examples of deserter fathers: Lions, elephants and deer, The Human tendency is just the opposite-so kindly

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