CORRIDORS OF INSANITY

The Innocent Crime…(Choreography 2008)

2008-02-20T10:47:00.000-08:00

prologue

"He rises, they arise with him,
The captains of his sight,
From amidst the stygian flames, the Dark,
As the lotus blooms, the White."

A child is born. A child that is like any other child that sees the light of day. And as with all other newborns, two semblances of his soul are born with him- the Good and the Dark, the White and the Black. As he toddles his way into the streets of society, Society Herself determines which shade of his soul prevails over the other ...

We talk of Western influences poisoning the minds of our youth, and sowing the seeds of violence in them. But are we, as representatives of our society, totally free from blame?

Today we intend to explore this harsh truth through the tale of a child, as he describes it himself ...

THE TALE

“I, too, was born an innocent child. Oblivious of the darker hues of life. With me were born the two faces of my conscience – in one half of my mind the Leader of the White Forces emerged from the lotus of Heaven, while in the other, the Leader of the Black Brigade rose from amidst the flames of Hell. The Dark Leader, at the onset, tried to poison my mind, but it seemed that doves from Heaven encircled me and denied him admission. Thus my pure spirit was protected.

From the Leader of the White, I learnt the bright virtues of life, as I danced and played with him. As I frolicked on the playground, my eyes fell on a bunch of kids playing the majestic game. Yes, cricket it was! Wonderstruck, I approached them to teach me the lovely game, but they sent me from one player to the other, and then, all of a sudden, one of them, his face still fresh in my mind, pushed me aside, and I fell ..

I felt the Black Brigade rising inside me, and a fierce duel between the White and the Dark ensued. As the feud waged on, the Dark Leader proceeded to verse me in the evil ways. I was petrified to see the Dark Leader ruthlessly slay some of the Whites.

I returned home from school one day to find a drunken father who, on being asked for some assistance, pushed me aside and, in a violent rage, kicked the table, and went inside. A moment later, I could hear the helpless screams of my mother as my father mercilessly tortured her. The White Leader tried to console me …

And then the Blacks rose again. Another bloody duel between the two forces waged on in my mind. The Whites fought bravely, but in the end, they lost their lives to the Black Brigade, who piled up their carcasses for show…

And then, one day, in the classroom, the teacher cursed me about my homework, and the students mocked and laughed at me. One of them kicked me. It was the boy from the playground …

I envisaged the Dark Leader sitting on the throne of Hell, as the White Leader emerged to avenge the death of his fellowmen. Alas! He was brutally tortured by the Blacks, and tried in vain to wage a grueling battle against the Dark Chariot. As he fell down unconscious, I saw the Black Brigade taking the shape of a mighty scorpion.

The poison had been injected. I felt my limbs go numb and, like a puppet, sway to the orders of the Dark Lord. He taught me the art of murder, and as the Blacks proceeded to assassinate the White angel, I saw the boy from the playground in front of me. I felt a maddening rage creep up my spine, and in my hand, I felt the coldness of a steel dagger. Amidst his shrieks, I felt the blood spurt out from his body as I stabbed him to death …

I woke up to find myself in a prison cell, bound and helpless. No matter how hard I tried, I could not break free of the bars. I felt dizzy, and my spirit bled to its death, slowly but surely …”

Epilogue

(Man on radio: BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS! Yet another student kills his peer and ends up in juvenile custody…)

Child: “You look at me. You all do. With dismay. With contempt. "Western influence, you know!" "Why, all the garbage in their minds comes from there!" “The Hollywood thrillers, the computer games, the American criminal fiction!” "Violence! That's all they teach!"

As if I, a beast of your society, am not your creation. As if I had nothing to learn out of my encounters on the playground and in the classroom. As if I had no lesson in violence from the fires of domestic abuse that burn in every household around me. As if .. As if ..”

Tug-Of-War

2008-02-18T04:41:00.001-08:00

Flummoxed ...

2008-02-09T22:32:00.000-08:00

The ring of the telephone heralds the news.
News of your fame
And my ..... oblivion.

My mind wanders. It's been a year
Since Estrangement achieved Her pinnacle
And I was relieved from the traffic
Of one-way lanes of emotions.
Ever since have I felt free ...

Y-e-s, I a-m free

I feel F-R-E-E ...

But ...

It's dark.
I feel the twiners creeping up my legs again.
I feel the old shackles renewing their grip on me.
And I feel the rusted bolt tightening somewhere in my mind,
Slowly but s-u-r-e-l-y ...

Such is the power of feelings,
That they can never be erased and eradicated?

Or ..

Is it the prowess of Fame?

2007-06-28T09:49:00.001-07:00

Aboard the Kolkata Express.....

2007-04-09T10:59:00.001-07:00

I am no Communist. Right wing, neither. You may berate me by calling me anti-political.. I don't mind. All I want is progress of my motherland. And I hate it when you take it up as a political issue, to please your 'anima' as well as feed your baying hounds from time to time..

Written in the context of the effect of the Singur political duel as observed in the City of Joy, the poem seeks to explore the feelings of a city strangulated by demonstrations, strikes, and counter-demonstrations.....

The world speeds by on either side
As motionless I lie,
On a berth with half the woodwork gone,
Lights defunct as I.

Darkness's been my 'better half'
For sixty long years now
Stable as I try to remain,
Clinging on and how.

The sparks of light I seldom see
Are but Western pomp and show-
Tunnels that lead to "DEAD END" signs;
The din succeeds the glow.

The family split in opinion last night
And nearly wrote my death:
They blocked my veins and slashed my wrist
- Caused significant unrest.

The train was nearing a station t last,
When the sister raised alarm
That the elders had conspired so
Had steered to a haunted farm.

The train proceeded to move adrift
As the quarrel continued
Sandwiched in between I lay,
Tormented in the feud.

Oh! How long will stations still fly past?
This turbulent status quo?
All take care of self-prestige;
My family turns my foe.

How I wish to hit the road
Far from the metal tracks,
Miles from the dark and stagnant air
In the advancing breeze relax.

But will my very own kith and kin
Ever realize my dream?
Inaction never pays on track
Tho' "kickass" it may seem.

Baseless strikes and whimsical fasts
I've faced enough of them;
It's time to drill into your brains
The good rules of the game.

Arguing for lack of point
In the end will never pay;
Never neglect the family cause
Merely to have your say.....

© 2007 Someshwar Roy

Aboard the Kolkata Express.....

2007-04-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

la Paralysie....

2007-04-09T06:22:00.000-07:00

Well.. better believe it!!

Even laymen like me suffer from writers' block. And I have been through this for quite some time now. Having realized the fact that giving matters a rest won't necessarily make me recuperate, I have finally taken to the task of diligently filling up paper (erm.... NotePad for me) till I get the antidote.

I do not know whether this new form of poetry that I discovered today will help me in the process, but it has at least got me going. If you are alien to the art of haiku, you'd rather get a hang of the thing first and foremost.

My first attempt at the art of haiku... speaks about the feelings on the morning after THAT drunken night...

The morn seems haggard.
A hand tries to reach, in vain.
The alarm screams on.

And for the enthusiast, there a site where I do publish all these articles of mine. You can have a look if you want to.

SWADESH

2007-03-14T20:19:00.000-07:00

Well, I am back after a long hibernation period... but I still do not have the power to script my poetry on paper. My mind has weakened for some reason, and I am unable to think the poet's way. Anyways, I do have something to post... I call it the judges' script for our production at the recently concluded Inter Hall Choreography competition. Titled 'SWADESH', the production speaks of the reality that bites Indians who, allured by Western pomp and show, leave their motherland in search of riches, recognition and solace in an alien nation. They do become affluent, but recognition and solace remain far away.

For more........... just read on.....

"All that glitters is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold…."

William Shakespeare
The Merchant of Venice (Act 2,Scene VII)

An ever growing trend in today's India: an intelligent Indian brain becomes a doctor at the expense of the nation, and then goes abroad. But the story doesn't end in a "Happily Ever After" situation. If you read the newspaper carefully, you will find, in inconspicuous niches, the struggle of Indian doctors fighting for their right to live in UK. In spite of the riches and success, by and large they lead a life of excommunication and ostracism. The Pandora's Box has burst open even in reality tell-tales like CELEBRITY BIG BROTHER.

Today, we embark on the journey of life along with such a representative of the medical fraternity. Mukesh is a simple village boy with a brilliant mind and a fiery desire to make things happen. But does Fate roll the dice against him as well? Let's not jump to conclusions..

While the other village boys frivol their time away, Mukesh works hard for the Medical Entrance Test and eventually tops the examination. His entire village is elated at his success and his father is overjoyed. The laurels keep coming as he graduates and lands up with an offer from a top-notch UK Medical firm.

But then comes the tough choice- the choice between the alluring temptations of a foreign land and that of his ailing father trapped in rustic India. His mind is at war with itself, as Light and Darkness play Tandava. Unfortunately the dark forces emerge victorious, and ignoring his sick father, he embraces the alien nation.

Successes keep coming and riches raining as he comes up with a patent for an Anti-Cancer drug. However, recognition stays aloof. The British refuse to take him into their fold and he is kicked out of elite gatherings in downtown London.

Now the realization dawns that on the other side, the grass is more grim than green. As he dreams, it seems that the whole world is closing in on him and Mukesh feels choked and lonely. In this dark hour he senses the pangs of his conscience; he fears that his Father might be slipping away within the vicious tentacles of Cancer, fears that he has failed as a Son to his Father and a Son to his Nation.

However, Hope remains--- hope that the Parable of the Prodigal son will be proven true once more ….

AND IT IS. The son finally returns to his soil and relieves his father of his ailment. His pursuit of happiness and solace at last comes to a merry conclusion as he is reunited with his father, his family, his village and his motherland. He realizes that the lines are never truer said: "Saare jahaan se achchha. Hindustan hamaara…"

Mukesh does break free of his fetters eventually, but there are several others who still wait patiently for deliverance.

"Des paraaya chhor ke aaja….panchhi pinjra tod ke aaja…"

It has been our honest effort, through this production, to portray the reality of the situation. If we have managed to get our point across to even a small section of the spectators present, we will consider ourselves fortunate…

JAI HIND !!!

NO MAN'S LAND -- A stage adaptation

2007-01-15T06:24:00.000-08:00

Yes, this is the same movie which beat Lagaan to the Oscars in 2001......

Yesterday, we did a stage adaptation for the same for the Inter Hall English Dramatics Event, Indian Institute of Technology, Kharagpur.. Incidentally, Yours Truly played the part of Nino in the play.... I also wrote the prologue and the epilogue for the play. The same are published below:

PROLOGUE:

Circa 1992.

The UNPROFOR, already operational in Croatia, deploys some of its troops in a land torn by internal strife- Bosnia-Herzegovina, a nation newly seceded from erstwhile Yugoslavia . Their job?? As of June, to ensure the security and functioning of the airport at Sarajevo, and the delivery of humanitarian assistance to that city and its environs. In September 1992, UNPROFOR's mandate is further enlarged to enable it to support efforts by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees to deliver humanitarian relief throughout Bosnia and Herzegovina, and to protect convoys of released civilian detainees if the Red Cross so requests. The UN troops are specifically ordered NOT to intervene in the war...

Our story unfolds in this status quo of the Bosnian-Serb conflict, a war fueled by ethnic differences and ill statecraft...One of those multifarious instances where diplomacy overrides the real humanitarian cause-- Ladies and gentlemen, today we present before you a chronicle of three men trapped in No Man's Land.....

EPILOGUE:

.. And so they left. All of them. The mortals on their feet, while Tchiki and Nino.....

But they all had one thing in common. They did leave the trench. Cera remained- motionless, helpless. Alive, but lifeless.

It's not that Cera died that day. Perhaps it would have been better if the mine had blown off on the scene itself. But Providence wouldn't have it.

So, Cera lies on the mine till today-- waiting, and .. praying. He has still not lost hope. He still believes that one day, Sgt. Marchand will return to the trench, and free him from the shackles of diplomacy and conflict.

That Sgt. Marchand could be you, yes, you. So why wait and watch? Remember...Neutrality doesn't exist in the face of murder.....

The Assassin...

2006-12-23T20:18:00.000-08:00

Silence like cancer grows,

Estrangement reaches its final throes,

We meet, dine, smile and dance,

But none of it makes sense, by chance.

But oh! Were that night lived once more:

The wine, the music, the candles, her lore,

The salsa by the fireplace, then the linen white,

As shadows played across the room, coupled in moonlight.

Formality dictates terms under the roof

Pretence plays Her part to keep fools aloof…

But She still fails to seduce me so,

This she knows, and thus I know.

And yet, there had been sunny days

When Pretence stayed away….

Two souls had truly loved then,

The Sun shone bright, and they made hay.

Then the storm did knock one fine morn

When, o’er a cup of tea

An argument brewed

A war of words ensued

And then came the assassin—silence.

The cloud precedes a silver lining

I’ve often heard them say,

But the winds that arrived by mail that morn

Still do roar at bay.

Will the roughs subside?

Will Darkness leave the shore?

Future remains mute, but I have hope:

Hope that the night may be lived once more!

Re: Riding the tsunami wave!!

2006-12-02T07:44:00.000-08:00

Readers will be happy to know that "Riding the tsunami wave!!" has won the gold medal in the competition mentioned below....

Riding the tsunami wave!

2006-10-30T03:32:00.000-08:00

This is a piece that I wrote in the recent Inter-Hall English Creative Writing Contest where I was handed the topic:"Riding the tsunami wave!"......

"Don't risk your life, my dearest lad"..
The Nostradamuses did say...
"Why venture forth for Bermuda,
When knells ring all the way??
Enjoy the warmth of the fireplace,
The winds do roar at bay."

But....

I choose not to be engulfed by walls,
Nor witness corpses play..
I'd rather throw myself to the wind
And let Nature have Her say
Today I'd ride the tsunami wave..
Let Her wash my corpse away...

For....

It is the soul that I do care for,
Not the stale armor of flesh...
This skin-deep child of Maya
Doth bind Me in a mesh
The key of the dungeon I've eventually found..
Tonight does my spirit undress......

Now.....

The mysterious shadows that inhabit
Yon dark Amazon banks..
The rustic lady of the Gobi
Spreads out her wizened hands...
"Embrace me, O brave wanderer..
Who hunts for troubled lands...."

So....

I'll drink my life to the lees
In what time is mine today...
My soul hums to the pirate's tune...
Which hushes the 'roughs' at play....
Let the knells ring out with all their might,
Fear of the Night, I have nay!!

Thus...

Today I'd ride the tsunami wave..
Let Her wash my corpse away.....

Stars like dust float around me..

2006-10-25T23:49:00.000-07:00

This is my attempt at abrupt and blank verse.....

The glitter in her eyes...
Was reason enough
For the rhapsodic fluid to fill my soul....

Was the glitter fake?
Did Pretence play her,
As She plays every other man that sports a smiling face??

They say that your aspirations
Do come true when the time is ripe....
The stars bow to you all at once....
True indeed...for today...
Stars like dust float around me....
Alas!For I am a shooting star....
Whose ecstacy is but short-lived..
And biting the dust will my flame extinguish...
... A corpse trudging through the cycle of life...

Oh!! Why did she spurn me so??
I remember the day well...
The fire inside her....
Flickering like a candle thrown to the wind...
As she looked from me to the blonde
..That lay unclothed on the sheet of linen...
No questions were asked....just a pause of eternity..

There she lay.. the fresh wreath on her bosom
Embarrassed that such a dewy face....
Required His services before the grass dried....
And the flowers do give me a cursing look
As if she hath silently whispered to them:
"Behold your Prince... who gave his body to a whore and his soul to the Devil.."

The dagger I take out... but then slide it back....
For this is my punishment...
She never sought my explanation...
But how I wish she had asked for one....
For things might have been different then...

But I guess this is how the corpse...
Which today is crowned King...
Will doth trudge along till he falls....

Stars like dust float around me.....
But alas!! I am but a shooting star....

Memories.....

2006-10-20T08:44:00.000-07:00

Well... this piece is inspired by a popular song by a Bengali pop/rock band named Cactus... the music will remain the same.....only the language changes... and, to some extent, the thoughts as well...

The lovebirds on the branch
Of the same old tree of mirth
Sang ballads to each other
In the morn of yonder years..

In a brutal storm they lost the race
..And the smile was wiped from the child's face..

Will the days return, the joy that's gone??
Those wonder years, oh oh!!

The boatswain old and chirpy
The waters clear and blue...
On the Unicorn of Eden
My heart rode straight to you..

Love is blind, She lost Her way..
My princess parted, on an eve in May..

Will the days return, the dream that's gone??
Those wonder years, once more !!

Hunting for the treasures
That the palace ruins did hold..
The horizon did beckon
The child into Her fold..

Till the floods wiped Her straight away...
In vain I search for her today...

Will the days return, the joy that's gone??
Those wonder years, oh oh!!

Will the days return, the dream that's gone??
Those wonder years, once more !!

Will the days return, the days of yon??
Those wonder years, once more !!

For people who listen to Cactus..you are open to guess which song this actually is..

The Land of the Albatross....

2006-09-05T06:03:00.000-07:00

Feel free to continue the poem in your way.......as I try to complete the piece in my OWN way...
Here it goes:

I see the land across
The dark abyss...
Where life breathes
Under solar bliss..
The land of the albatross..

INSANE CORRIDORS

2006-07-23T23:26:00.000-07:00

The nothingness
Stares right at me
Bars the door ..
As I try to flee......
Light across the exit
Fades away.......
As i sink into the feeling....
That I'll have to stay.........
Forever...............
Trapped amidst the insane corridors..

The walls come alive...
Along the way...
As the bulbs overhead.....
Cease their say....
The darkness around...
Is all but dead..
As the hound of fear...
Into me is led....
I'm alone..............................
Trapped amidst the insane corridors

In vain I search ...
For the stairs upward....
My brains shout out...
Hoping to be heard......
For upstairs ....
I might find the booth
....that'd key me away
...from the world of truth.......
A world...................
Trapped amidst the insane corridors

The Chronicles of Fate

2006-07-17T00:44:00.000-07:00

Drunken, when I think of you
I sink into a feeling of late,
Of why I came to love you so
And surrendered myself to ruthless Fate

Surrendered.........to the Chronicles of Fate.....

The 'S' in your name seems prominent now,
All the rest is blurred and how
Only does the twinkle in your eyes remain
To haunt my fettered soul to pain..

Haunted..........by the Chronicles of Fate......

Never did my heart beat but for love of you
Never did your smile fly but for fake warmth
Still I took the noble gesture as true
And wrote the night sky in bright new hue.....