Other Poems by:

Nilanshu Agarwal

Rural India

Rural India a great paradox.
Girls are prohibited
To study at the colleges.
Boys are there, Boys are there.
You should avoid boys.
The moment they are married
They do nothing but cohabitation.
What a great paradox!
Till puberty complete avoidance
After puberty complete indulgence.
A Brahmin family epitome of purity.
They are from Lord Prajapati's mouth.
The woman of the holy caste
Using the same dirty rag
To wash the  liquid
Numberless time.
What a great paradox!
An upper caste Hindu avoids a Shudra. 
Defiled he is by the shadow of the untouchable.
The same higher caste person
Grazing greedily...
Where? Where? Where?
The bathing fairsex of the lower caste.
The soap on her frail skin.
Slight piece of clothing on her bewitching youth.
He is not polluted by her touch.
What a great paradox!

Note: According to Indian tradition, Lord Prajapati is the creator 
of this universe. Out of His mouth, there was the birth of Brahmin. 
Kshatriya, Vaishaya and  Shudra, the other three conventional castes, 
came out of His chest, thighs and feet respectively. Indian society is   
divided into a stratified caste system. In this ladder of caste system, 
the Brahmins (the holy caste) were at the top of hierarchy, whereas the 
Shudras were made untouchables and they were prohibited from all social contacts

Who is Columbus?

Who is Columbus?
Discoverer  of America.
Who is Vasco da gama?
He discovered the sea route to India via the cape of good hope.
Who is Newton?
He invented the law of Gravitation.
Who is Graham Bell?
Inventor of Telephone.
No, said I.
You, imbecile.
These Columbus, Vasco  da  Gama, Newton and Graham Bell
Just the reflections of an Indian's suppressed mentality.
Columbus' elation on the discovery of America
No better than an Indian's discovery of the opposite sex.
Eyes glitter, heart beats faster
After discovering the undiscovered
After knowing the unknown. 
Traditional long wait has come to an end.
Vasco da Gama's pride futile
Before the pride of the groom
In pinching and twisting the bride's unblossomed beauty .
Why this pride...
Why this pride...
Why this pride...
Perhaps our traditional outlook.
It is a taboo.
You are pervert, if you discuss the forbidden desire. 
Taboo inhibiting, repressing primary instinct.
Society is too much with us.
Today, desire is repressed.
Tomorrow might be hunger and thirst.
Basic instinct dominated by pseudo religion.
So, we are Columbus, Vasco da gama,
Newton and Graham Bell
After kissing the eyes, nose, cheeks and lips.
Our repression making us mad with joy
On the discovery.
Earlier the drainage problem
Now overflow.
An Indian defeating
All the inventors of the world
By his amazing pleasure.
When the nightdress falls on the floor
And creamy  thighs are open for massaging,
An Indian is Columbus,Vasco da Gama,Newton and Graham Bell all in one.

Frenzy of Flesh

Exhaustive frenzy of flesh
 Scorching fire of senses
 Digital obscenity of laptop
 Reminding the dull poet
 Of the dance of Corpses 
 With the reptiles.

Boom Times

Boom times
 Right times
 For free enquiry
 About P.A.
 About her menstrual cycle
 About the brand name of her sanitary napkin.
 Domestic rituals
 Venue for multilateral talks
 On paucity of bleeding.
 "Her stomach is inflated!"
 "She has eloped with her paramour."
 "My sister will mensurate tomorrow."
 "My daughter has not attained puberty."
 "Which sanitary napkin do you use?"
 The holy conversation
 Going on in Miltonic style,
 Though the priest sometimes creates din,
 Sometimes forms pandemonium
By profane discourse
 On Shama,Dama,Tapa and Shubha Titiksha.

To Beloved

Shall I compare thy face to pure milk?
 Thou art more charming and white.
 Often is it blended with waste.
 But thy cheeks without any sign of dust.
 Mine desire is to find your inner being 
 Too fair like naked sky.
 Thy external charms remind cloudless heaven.
 This love sick man in earnest need
 Of the strength of your internal beauty.
 Thy youth making me insomnia patient.
 I pass sleepless nights in thy meditation.
 Give me traqualiser of your soft skin.
 This mosquito better than the poet
 Touching your red cheeks,
 Ravishing thy hands
 Ravishes it my heart
 Showing me hapless
 Before social inhibitions.

Cry of Draupadi*

Venomous vipers haunt me.
Stormy scorpions pervade me.
Lethal lizard lying before me.
Utter gloom, sheer horror.
Dark phobia, nasty despair in the atmosphere.
Like Draupadi cry I.
But no assistance from Gopala.
Only Dushashans and Duryodhans exist.
I am being disrobed.
I am being seduced.
My thighs violently pinched.
All are Dhritrashtras here.
No Bhim to consume Dushashan's blood.
Only Duryodhan, Dushashan, Shakuni 
And Dhritrashtra surround me.
Alas! I am being defiled.
Kauravas laugh.
Dhritrashta's blindness has a method in it.
"She is very passionate.
She is a hungry whore.
She can satisfy all", says Dushashan.
Of course, she has satisfied all.
Scamsters, gangsters, brokers
Politicians, technicians and physicians.
All have touched her,
Slapped the fleshy organs,
Kissed the frail skin.
But, she is in tears.
Kohinoor is lost.
Past pristine glory can not be retrieved.
No national pride here.
No Gold in Olympic Games.
And no claim for the land occupied by the neighbour.

*According to classical epic Mahabharata, Pandavas and Kauravas were 
cousins. Draupadi was the wife of the Pandavas. The Pandavas lost Draupadi 
to the Kauravas in the gamble. The chief of the Kauravas were Duryodhana 
and Dushashan. They were supported by their maternal uncle Shakuni and blind 
father Dhritrashtra. When Draupadi was lost in the game of dice, Dushashan 
tried to disrobe her. At that time Lord Krishna, the Gopala protected her by 
providing her with an unending Sari (an Indian dress). Later on, one of the 
Pandavas drank the blood of Dushashan to avenge the humiliation of Draupadi. 
In this poem, mother India is represented as Draupadi; while corrupt scamsters, 
gangsters, brokers, politicians, technicians and physicians are just like the Kauravas.

Omnipresent Deodorized Dog-shit

O deodorized dog-shit!
You are all-pervasive.
O omnipotent, omniscient and omnipresent power!
I eulogize your high tower.
Present in every aspect of human life.
Breath and finer spirit of all knowledge.
O, what a pantheism!
You are the supreme self.
Neti Neti!* 
Thus spake the Acharya.**
The disciple confused, perplexed and bewildered!
Anxiety engulfs him.
Curiosity continues.
He enquired and the Shruti*** tradition continued.
My limbs become languid
And my mouth becomes completely dry.****
Remove the dark mists of avidya.*****
Spread the light of Vidya.******
Quench my inquisitive thirst, please !
How is dog –shit transcendental reality?
Touching Guru’s .*******feet, the curious student asked-
For years I have crammed and crammed and crammed-
Supreme Reality is one.
Sang panegyrics in its deification.
So celestial was the temperament.
You have shattered His domain in one stoke. 
What is it, Sir?
I don’t understand your polemics.
The Guru surprised.
The Guru wonderstruck.
The Guru said mildly,
“I like the perfect compound of doubt and faith I you”.
Of course deodorized dog-shit is all-pervasive.
It is present everywhere.
Where, where?
In the deodorants sprinkled in the dirty armpits.
In the  lipsticks pasted on wrinkled lips.
In the dyed hair, polished nails, branded tops and tight trousers.
Something more,
Something more, Sir!
Everywhere is it present.
The smiling faces of the stony hearts.
The grave  expressions of the casual.
The world is so dusty.
Vice paramount principle.
Primal sex dominant passion.
But, we like curtains.
Stinking dog-shit is deodorized.
We can not bear too much reality.
We are in illusion.
So Birthday wishes,
So marriage feasts,
So, funeral lamentations,
Though the heart as poisonous as the viper.
Hey!  Come on, be ready!
Make the dog-shit as odorous as possible.
Let it be filthy and stinking.
Remove all curtains.
Break all masks.
Come out of your artificial self.
Eradicate all hypocrisy of civilization.
Let there be spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions.
Disrobe yourself
And feel the pulse of life emotionally,
As there is more enterprise in walking naked.

* Neti Neti :A maxim of the Upanishads(holy texts of India), signifying the fact 
that the Supreme Reality is omniscient, omnipresent and omnipotent.

** Acharya :Teacher

*** Shruti :As per ancient  Indian system of  teaching, knowledge should be transferred 
from the teacher to the taught through oral tradition. This is Shruti.Vedas were also 
called by this name.

**** My limbs become languid
And my mouth becomes completely dry. 
These two lines refer to Swami Gambhirananda’s translation of  Bhagwadgita (1.28).

***** avidya :Ignorance

******Vidya: Knowledge
*******Guru: Teacher

Memory is being blurred

Memory is being blurred.
Images are getting dim.
I shall forget everything one day.
Everything, everything, everything.
I don't want to.
But, I'll.
New life has so many challenges.
Daily new adventures.
Daily new behavioural patterns.
The present putting the glorious past behind.
Bad coin drives the good coin out of use.
New patterns, new associates.
Responsibility destroying emotion.
I am weeping.
I want to come back.
But how?
I can't .I can't. I can't.

I am being drowned

I am being drowned.
Flood waters are moving fast.
I don't know swimming.
I am lost on the railway tracks.
Locomotives are coming towards me.
I don't know which way to move.
I am being plundered.
Numberless weapons are towards me.
I am unable to cry.
I need assistance.
I cry for help.
No voice comes out of my mouth.
I use all my powers to create an oral sound.
No use.
So, I lament.
No voice even in lamenting.
Utter desperation.
Utmost fear.
Ugly phobia.
I jump from the upper storey
And find my head beneath the pillow.
Oh ! my God ! It was a dream,
But a terrible one.

Shakespeare in Tears

Shakespeare is in his grave
Away from the mad rush of life.
Enjoying eternal slumber.
No, he can't; he can't.
Shakespeare is in tears.
Shakespeare is moaning.
Shakespeare is market-friendly.
Write a thesis on the myriad-minded genius
And ensure a job.
Literary research merely a professional act.
No new aspect is explored.
Mere repetition and repetition.
A dissertation on the bard of Avon
Nothing better than a whore
Having contacts with many.
A true researcher an eunuch
Unable to share the vamp.
Mocked he is.
Mocked he is.
And Shakespeare is in tears.

Adult Franchise

Voting age lowered
From 21 to 18.
Victory of youth.
Victory of democracy.
No, No, No.
This is not so.
It is the conquest of the politicians.
We are merely contraceptives.
More brands in the hands of politicians.
They use us for their gains 
And throw us in vacant dustbin 
After the use.


Dr.Nilanshu Kumar Agarwal is Senior Lecturer in English at Feroze Gandhi College, 
Rae Bareli, (U.P.), India. He has his doctorate on T.S. Eliot from Allahabad University. 
      Dr. Agarwal is interested mostly in Indian Aesthetics, Diaspora and Contemporary 
Critical Theory. His interviews with a number of contemporary literary figures, as well 
as his research papers, book reviews, articles and poems have appeared in publications, 
including The Vedic Path, Quest, The Confluence, Kafla Intercontinental, Pegasus, IJOWLAC, 
The Journal, Promise, The Raven Chronicles, Yellow Bat Review, Poetcrit, Carved in Sand, 
Turning the Tide, Blue Collar Review, Bridge-in-Making, Katha kshetre, Hyphen and South 
Asian Review. Several anthologies have selected his poems and articles. His poem 
“To Lord Krishna” is in the celebrated anthology, The Pagan’s Muse, Citadel Press.  
Several of his literary pieces have been included in The People’s Poet: Summer Community 
Magazine of 2004 and are posted on websites.   He has also edited a critical book on 
Stephen Gill, which is to be published shortly.

**Copyright 2008-09 Dr.Nilanshu Kumar Agarwal, all rights reserved Send us your comments on this article
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