The Unadorned

My literary blog to keep track of my creative mood swings with poems n short stories, book reviews n humorous prose, travelogues n photography, reflections n translations, both in English n Hindi.

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I'm a peace-loving married Indian male on the right side of '50 with college-going children, and presently employed under government. Educationally I've a master's degree in History, and another in Computer Application. Besides, I've a post graduate diploma in Management. My published works are:- (1)"In Harness", ISBN 81-8157-183-5, a poetry collections and (2) "The Remix of Orchid", ISBN 978-81-7525-729-0, a short story collections with a foreword by Mr. Ruskin Bond, (3) "Virasat", ISBN 978-81-7525-982-9, again a short story collection but in Hindi, (4) "Ek Saal Baad," ISBN 978-81-906496-8-1, my second Story Collection in Hindi.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

The Ghost-Killer


The Ghost-Killer

The sun is out and the dream will melt
Like a sand castle succumbing to raindrops
Like a tiny fluff of cotton getting blown away
An ice-cream dripping to finish before one’s eye
A cotton candy shrivelling out of shape
The sun is out and the dream will melt….

Is it possible to finish everything unfinished—
Oh yes, the task one leaves in the midst dream?

The dream: that’s my dream that ended just now
With a scream ecstatic welcoming the joy
Within my reach and so very tickling.
A feel of warmth still running down my spine
Look, still rigid are the goose bumps, all over my skin
And refusing to fade they are, never ever for a minute.

Is it, then, possible to finish the unfinished
Now that I’m out of the wonderland
Bright is the sky and crumpled is the sheet
With no dream advantage worth the name
Sans weapon and empty-handed?

Well, the answer could be ambivalent
Perhaps ‘nope’ and perhaps ‘yes’.
Perhaps sometimes, one cannot say.
Perhaps…it depends...but then and how come?
If ‘yes’, then how to restart?
And if ‘nope’, then how not to?

Here’s the ghost I’d killed while sleeping
Bodily present before me and taunting
And tormenting me a lot just for nothing
I’d have to chart it afresh,
The tortuous course of agony, the labyrinthine
And he is happy and alive, howling and dancing.

Just a minute ago in my dream
He’s so meek, you can’t believe
Aha! His nose touching my feet, so submissive
Loved to die for a change to dole me a victory
Only a drama then it was, his begging for his life
To make me enjoy the kick of killing!

Gave him I the choice, his due, a dying soul’s due
AC or DC, the current of his choice
To die awake or asleep, depending on his wish
To lacerate to death or gasp his way out
To drink hemlock, if I could arrange a gobletful
Nevertheless he went dead before me, and I’m sure.

The ghost deserved to die so very cruelly
After all, what hadn’t he done all his life?
With no compunction how he stole everything
Wresting my life’s possession from my grip
How could I stand the scene
Enjoying he with vengeance everything of mine?

True, he had the power to choose when to die
But who on earth did dare him for once?
Merrily ceding him what they possessed
Lived they by choice, on borrowed time
Everything needed his permission
To love and to breathe and to call a spade a spade
But none did care about raising his voice.

A pact with the devil?
Was there no way other than this?
For honour’s sake, he deserved to die
Did anybody think it even for a moment?

But dared I, I dared him in my dream
He had no go but to choose his nemesis
That was his end, and I can vouch for it
Just a minute ago, when silence had seized.

If not left to be finished some other time
Jobs are easy always in dream
Like stealing a glance or smelling a jasmine
But easy jobs rarely appear in my dream.
My dreams are only for killing
But they’re always half-finished.

A N Nanda



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