Cleavage of green hills
Wearing a lake pendant,
Unpolluted she lies, hidden,
Guarded, by thick forests
From prying eyes of greed.
Wild sunflowers dance on her
Cheeks, yellow miniatures
Paying silent obeisance to that
Distant sustainer of life; time
Stops still to suck in her charm!
Drenched in showers, my valley
Pregnant with nature’s beauty
Nestles in the arms of her lover,
Silent as a woman, content with
Love making!
Friday, December 17, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Motherless World
That night, when face to face
With a terrible reality
I wanted to cry out
Say that it was unfair,
That I needed you
A little longer
To hold my hands for me.
Then I saw fate
Standing in the dark recess
Of the hospital corridor
With a silent smile on his face,
I squeezed back the tears
And took the first step forward
To meet him in a motherless world!
With a terrible reality
I wanted to cry out
Say that it was unfair,
That I needed you
A little longer
To hold my hands for me.
Then I saw fate
Standing in the dark recess
Of the hospital corridor
With a silent smile on his face,
I squeezed back the tears
And took the first step forward
To meet him in a motherless world!
Monday, April 5, 2010
PLACHIMADA(the anti Coke war)
I sit beside this well of despair,
Amidst fallen twigs and dry leaves
With an empty battered pitcher
And a son of the soil’s lost cause.
A droplet of moist kindness, is
All I ask for my parched throat
And cracked lips, yet you deny me
Knowing I am helpless to stave off
Your multi national greed for green
Bucks, you complacent giant, you
Know that my protests are too feeble
To jolt you, that I cannot take my fight
Beyond a certain point; having haggled
Hard, you have purchased all my would
Be protectors; bureaucrats, politicians,
Even courts, this country’s middle class
Seduced long ago with fat pay packets,
A generation of dummies poisoned by
Your sweetened drink; my fields made
Infertile by your cadmium sludge charity,*
I know you have come to conquer these
Brown shores with your brown drink.
In another century you came seeking pepper,
Cardamom and my native land’s riches in
Another guise and stayed back to rule us
For a couple of centuries, breaking backs
Of our existence, forever you thought; but
When you left, our resilient brown hands
Clawed us out of the depths of misery into
Which you had sunk us; now that we have
Slowly begun to stand erect, you are here
By stealth in your MNC garb with bribes,
And the same old divide and rule strategy,
Speaking of development and growth you
Lure my country’s ‘haves’ into your webs
Of deceit, myopic fools have swallowed your
Globalized bait, hooked on to it, they dangle
Like clowns in three piece suits and double
Knotted designer ties; but I am a true son of
The soil, last time I faced your cannons and
Rifles with just bows, arrows and spears,**
You have more sophisticated weapons now,
AK 47s, SLRs and missiles; mine are same
Old rudimentary, but I’ll not give up without
A fight, howsoever symbolic; I’ll never stand
By and watch my mother’s rape, alive;
With my parched throat, I’ll fight you
Till the last breath of my brown soul,
My tribal instincts can see through your
Deceit; I am an ADIVASI! VANDE MATARAM!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
16/04/08 R Jayachandran
* Coco Cola supplied sludge (waste) from their
bottling plant to the villagers as free fertilizer;
it contained dangerous levels of the carcinogen
cadmium.
**The Kurichers, adivasi tribals of Wayanad hills, Kerala, India,
fought valiantly under Pazhazi Raja against the British.
Note: In 2002, the adivasis of Plachimada village in Kerala
State, India began a struggle against the exploitation of
ground water reserves by Coco Cola’s bottling plant at
Plachimada resulting in the plant being finally
shut down. The matter is now pending before the supreme
court of India. The Plachimada issue has grabbed the attention
of anti-globalizationists world wide and many have expressed
solidarity with the adivasi villagers’ just struggle. This poem is
a tribute to them and to the anti – globalization moment.
Amidst fallen twigs and dry leaves
With an empty battered pitcher
And a son of the soil’s lost cause.
A droplet of moist kindness, is
All I ask for my parched throat
And cracked lips, yet you deny me
Knowing I am helpless to stave off
Your multi national greed for green
Bucks, you complacent giant, you
Know that my protests are too feeble
To jolt you, that I cannot take my fight
Beyond a certain point; having haggled
Hard, you have purchased all my would
Be protectors; bureaucrats, politicians,
Even courts, this country’s middle class
Seduced long ago with fat pay packets,
A generation of dummies poisoned by
Your sweetened drink; my fields made
Infertile by your cadmium sludge charity,*
I know you have come to conquer these
Brown shores with your brown drink.
In another century you came seeking pepper,
Cardamom and my native land’s riches in
Another guise and stayed back to rule us
For a couple of centuries, breaking backs
Of our existence, forever you thought; but
When you left, our resilient brown hands
Clawed us out of the depths of misery into
Which you had sunk us; now that we have
Slowly begun to stand erect, you are here
By stealth in your MNC garb with bribes,
And the same old divide and rule strategy,
Speaking of development and growth you
Lure my country’s ‘haves’ into your webs
Of deceit, myopic fools have swallowed your
Globalized bait, hooked on to it, they dangle
Like clowns in three piece suits and double
Knotted designer ties; but I am a true son of
The soil, last time I faced your cannons and
Rifles with just bows, arrows and spears,**
You have more sophisticated weapons now,
AK 47s, SLRs and missiles; mine are same
Old rudimentary, but I’ll not give up without
A fight, howsoever symbolic; I’ll never stand
By and watch my mother’s rape, alive;
With my parched throat, I’ll fight you
Till the last breath of my brown soul,
My tribal instincts can see through your
Deceit; I am an ADIVASI! VANDE MATARAM!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
16/04/08 R Jayachandran
* Coco Cola supplied sludge (waste) from their
bottling plant to the villagers as free fertilizer;
it contained dangerous levels of the carcinogen
cadmium.
**The Kurichers, adivasi tribals of Wayanad hills, Kerala, India,
fought valiantly under Pazhazi Raja against the British.
Note: In 2002, the adivasis of Plachimada village in Kerala
State, India began a struggle against the exploitation of
ground water reserves by Coco Cola’s bottling plant at
Plachimada resulting in the plant being finally
shut down. The matter is now pending before the supreme
court of India. The Plachimada issue has grabbed the attention
of anti-globalizationists world wide and many have expressed
solidarity with the adivasi villagers’ just struggle. This poem is
a tribute to them and to the anti – globalization moment.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Empty Tear Ducts
Bereft of the salty lubricant
of self pity and deceit, these
empty tear ducts that dried
up so long ago begin to hurt
like hell, the searing pain of
dryness runs like a red hot
iron branding soul……
Life is a sadist playing games!
Doomed to suffer in mute
agony, I manage a mocking
smile, making others think
I have a granite heart. But
deep down in the silence of
the soul, still I wonder, cynic
where have all the tears gone?
-------------------------------
03/02/08 R Jayachandran
of self pity and deceit, these
empty tear ducts that dried
up so long ago begin to hurt
like hell, the searing pain of
dryness runs like a red hot
iron branding soul……
Life is a sadist playing games!
Doomed to suffer in mute
agony, I manage a mocking
smile, making others think
I have a granite heart. But
deep down in the silence of
the soul, still I wonder, cynic
where have all the tears gone?
-------------------------------
03/02/08 R Jayachandran
Saturday, April 3, 2010
SPRING THUNDER - an appeal to the Indian state
First God made humans,
then he divided them into
exploiters and the exploited.
And he gave power to the
exploiters to exploit the
exploited, till one day the
exploited turned around
and asked, is there any
God and if so whose?
The lord God was silent.
Then the exploited said
there is no God and became
NAXALITES!.............................from the book of an INDIAN tribal/ peasant.
You say I am an
enemy of my own state,
a traitor. That I’m red,
ultra, extremist, maoist.
You also call me Naxalite!
My names are numerous,
you can’t define me yet.
So keep giving new ones!
And oh yes! Announce new
packages, schemes, whatever.
A few reams of paper ain’t
that costly, besides I can’t
even read or write. So it
doesn’t matter, I won’t ever
ask what happens afterwards,
to all those moth eaten files
gathering dust. I never asked
what happened to that 1969
report, its recommendations
and the others that followed.
In your laws, I’m a scheduled
caste or a tribal; an adivasi
eligible for special benefits.
But, in your sub conscious,
an untouchable, still!
Has it occurred to you
I’m human too? An
ill fed, unclothed naked
soul? Shivering in rain,
scalded by sun?
As you go on subsidizing
poor, poor Tatas, Birlas,
Ambanis, do I ever crib?
Even when you say there’s
no money for me, I only
smile through hunger,
fill the stomach with dirt
water running through my
streams, rivers; get malaria,
dysentery and die uncared!
It’s alright I’ve lived this
life through ages, to be
born again and again
from this soil. Its soul
vibrates in me, only me!
You always have miser’s
fist when you think of me.
When you are liberal with
Tatas, it’s liberalization,
For development and jobs!
When you help MNC’s it’s
globalization; opportunities,
jobs and more jobs. Rupees
700 crores daily on corporate
subsidies? Hidden ones!
Trillions annually? Atrocious
actually! And you say I’m the
one committing atrocities?
When you come to take away
the piece of land that I still till,
or the forests where I dwell,
in the guise of economic zones
for ‘these specials’; and zone me
out of existence, should I drown,
or rebel and pick up a gun?
Why damn me to ‘dam’ the rivers,
why damn me to mine this land?
I’m illiterate, won’t you enlighten
me? I am a citizen too. Not equal?
Okay! But is there any rights at all?
If you’ll never understand
why I’m naxal, leave me alone.
Don’t come to grab my anscetral
land for ‘them’! Ain’t I human?
Today is world human rights day,
please illumine me! Shall I
continue to march to the peal
of that spring thunder forever?
Just take away my hunger or put
some bullets in my stomach!
-------------------------------------
10/10/2009 R Jayachandran
Note: This poem is not in support of the naxalite movement. It is an attempt to see things from the perspective of the lesser privileged sections of Indian society who are forced to stray into the arms of the naxalites by our neglect and callous lack of concern for their well being. If it serves as a wake up call for at least a few I shall feel redeemed.
The Naxalite movement began in Naxalbari village in West Bengal, India in 1967 as a peasant uprising led by Charu Mazhumdar, Kanu Sanyal and Jangal Santhal against feudal landlords and soon acquired a momentum of its own and spread to many parts of India.
Some of the finest brains and cream of India’s youth spurred by dreams of a new social order left their homes and colleges to join this movement. The Chinese Communist Party and the government of China initially hailed the Indian revolutionaries and lent support. The ‘People’s Daily’ proclaimed in its editorial that “a peal of spring thunder” has crashed over India.
The response of the Indian state was brutal. Overwhelming use of armed force to repress the movement and its leaders! Yet, the might of the Indian state backed by the world’s second largest army, fourth largest air-force & fourth largest navy, a well organized police force and crores of rupees have all failed miserably to wipe out the naxalite movement which has only continued to grow from strength to strength over the last four decades and today poses the gravest threat to the unity and integrity of India.
A committee set up by the government of India in the wake of the naxalite uprisings had way back in 1969 itself compiled a report entitled ‘The Causes and Nature of Current Agrarian Tensions’ in which it is stated clearly that the prime cause of unrest is basically the defective implementation of the laws enacted to protect the interests of the tribals and the under- privileged. The recommendations of this and other committees set up by governments from time to time remains unimplemented even today despite proclamations of lofty intentions by the powers that be, from time to time.
The alienation of tribals and the other under-privileged and their support to the naxalite cause continues unabated as a result. The policy of arming and deploying extra constitutional forces like the Salwa Jalum by the Chattisgargh state government has proved to be counter productive and has only helped in further alienating the under-privileged. Unless they are brought into the national mainstream and made stake holders, movements such as naxalism will continue to flourish and threaten the Indian state.
Today, the naxalites are active in 220 districts spread across 20 states within the Indian union which is about 40 percent of our geographical spread. They control about 92,000 square kilometers of Indian territory known as the red corridor, where the government of India’s writ doesn’t prevail at all. All this with a mere 20,000 armed cadre and another 50,000 regular cadre!
If this menace is left unchecked it will gradually consume the Indian state someday. It’s time for all free thinking Indians to sit up and ponder how we
have let things to come to this pass and how our policies and approach should be revamped to check this menace and win back the confidence of the tribals
and the other under – privileged sections of our soceity. JAI HIND!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
then he divided them into
exploiters and the exploited.
And he gave power to the
exploiters to exploit the
exploited, till one day the
exploited turned around
and asked, is there any
God and if so whose?
The lord God was silent.
Then the exploited said
there is no God and became
NAXALITES!.............................from the book of an INDIAN tribal/ peasant.
You say I am an
enemy of my own state,
a traitor. That I’m red,
ultra, extremist, maoist.
You also call me Naxalite!
My names are numerous,
you can’t define me yet.
So keep giving new ones!
And oh yes! Announce new
packages, schemes, whatever.
A few reams of paper ain’t
that costly, besides I can’t
even read or write. So it
doesn’t matter, I won’t ever
ask what happens afterwards,
to all those moth eaten files
gathering dust. I never asked
what happened to that 1969
report, its recommendations
and the others that followed.
In your laws, I’m a scheduled
caste or a tribal; an adivasi
eligible for special benefits.
But, in your sub conscious,
an untouchable, still!
Has it occurred to you
I’m human too? An
ill fed, unclothed naked
soul? Shivering in rain,
scalded by sun?
As you go on subsidizing
poor, poor Tatas, Birlas,
Ambanis, do I ever crib?
Even when you say there’s
no money for me, I only
smile through hunger,
fill the stomach with dirt
water running through my
streams, rivers; get malaria,
dysentery and die uncared!
It’s alright I’ve lived this
life through ages, to be
born again and again
from this soil. Its soul
vibrates in me, only me!
You always have miser’s
fist when you think of me.
When you are liberal with
Tatas, it’s liberalization,
For development and jobs!
When you help MNC’s it’s
globalization; opportunities,
jobs and more jobs. Rupees
700 crores daily on corporate
subsidies? Hidden ones!
Trillions annually? Atrocious
actually! And you say I’m the
one committing atrocities?
When you come to take away
the piece of land that I still till,
or the forests where I dwell,
in the guise of economic zones
for ‘these specials’; and zone me
out of existence, should I drown,
or rebel and pick up a gun?
Why damn me to ‘dam’ the rivers,
why damn me to mine this land?
I’m illiterate, won’t you enlighten
me? I am a citizen too. Not equal?
Okay! But is there any rights at all?
If you’ll never understand
why I’m naxal, leave me alone.
Don’t come to grab my anscetral
land for ‘them’! Ain’t I human?
Today is world human rights day,
please illumine me! Shall I
continue to march to the peal
of that spring thunder forever?
Just take away my hunger or put
some bullets in my stomach!
-------------------------------------
10/10/2009 R Jayachandran
Note: This poem is not in support of the naxalite movement. It is an attempt to see things from the perspective of the lesser privileged sections of Indian society who are forced to stray into the arms of the naxalites by our neglect and callous lack of concern for their well being. If it serves as a wake up call for at least a few I shall feel redeemed.
The Naxalite movement began in Naxalbari village in West Bengal, India in 1967 as a peasant uprising led by Charu Mazhumdar, Kanu Sanyal and Jangal Santhal against feudal landlords and soon acquired a momentum of its own and spread to many parts of India.
Some of the finest brains and cream of India’s youth spurred by dreams of a new social order left their homes and colleges to join this movement. The Chinese Communist Party and the government of China initially hailed the Indian revolutionaries and lent support. The ‘People’s Daily’ proclaimed in its editorial that “a peal of spring thunder” has crashed over India.
The response of the Indian state was brutal. Overwhelming use of armed force to repress the movement and its leaders! Yet, the might of the Indian state backed by the world’s second largest army, fourth largest air-force & fourth largest navy, a well organized police force and crores of rupees have all failed miserably to wipe out the naxalite movement which has only continued to grow from strength to strength over the last four decades and today poses the gravest threat to the unity and integrity of India.
A committee set up by the government of India in the wake of the naxalite uprisings had way back in 1969 itself compiled a report entitled ‘The Causes and Nature of Current Agrarian Tensions’ in which it is stated clearly that the prime cause of unrest is basically the defective implementation of the laws enacted to protect the interests of the tribals and the under- privileged. The recommendations of this and other committees set up by governments from time to time remains unimplemented even today despite proclamations of lofty intentions by the powers that be, from time to time.
The alienation of tribals and the other under-privileged and their support to the naxalite cause continues unabated as a result. The policy of arming and deploying extra constitutional forces like the Salwa Jalum by the Chattisgargh state government has proved to be counter productive and has only helped in further alienating the under-privileged. Unless they are brought into the national mainstream and made stake holders, movements such as naxalism will continue to flourish and threaten the Indian state.
Today, the naxalites are active in 220 districts spread across 20 states within the Indian union which is about 40 percent of our geographical spread. They control about 92,000 square kilometers of Indian territory known as the red corridor, where the government of India’s writ doesn’t prevail at all. All this with a mere 20,000 armed cadre and another 50,000 regular cadre!
If this menace is left unchecked it will gradually consume the Indian state someday. It’s time for all free thinking Indians to sit up and ponder how we
have let things to come to this pass and how our policies and approach should be revamped to check this menace and win back the confidence of the tribals
and the other under – privileged sections of our soceity. JAI HIND!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
IROM SHARMILA CHANU ( The Iron Lady of Manipur)
WHO's AFRAID OF IROM SHARMILA?
SISTER WHY DO YOU REFUSE TO EAT?
She fights with her life
for repeal of an unjust
law, raping democracy
in her homeland….
a hunger strike spanning
a decade sends chills down
the spines of those who run
Indian state….
she stares down the might
of a powerful state, renders
it impotent almost, its
bureaucracy, armed forces
virtually helpless against
raw courage, determination,
sense of righteousness of a
lone woman; her iron resolve
its prisons, force-feedings,
unable to subdue, like
Aung San Suu Kyi, she
remains a prisoner of
conscience against state
repression. Did I say
state repression? Hey,
wait! This is not Burma,
is it? There are no dictators
here! This is India! World’s
largest democracy! Yet, the
state represses? But why?
Really, who’s afraid of
Irom Sharmila? Why
this desperation to stifle
her protest?
I was taught that all
Indians are my brothers
and sisters! Then why is
my sister refusing to eat?
What burned an anguish
so deep in her heart?
Refusing food for a
whole decade!
What filled her soul
with a terrible resolve?
Why are we deaf to
Manipur’s agony?
Is she being obstinate?
Asking too much? To
withdraw the license to
kill with impunity……
The Armed Forces Special
Powers Act! A democracy
needs this to fight our own?
Shame on us!
A democracy or a demon
crazy? Remember Irom
Sharmila is not alone. If
Manipur wails India bleeds!
Arrogance crumbles mighty
empires! Won't we wake up
before it’s too late and ask
her why she refuses to eat?
---------------------------------------
31/03/10 R Jayachandran
*39 year old, IROM SHARMILA CHANU has been on a
fast unto death since November 4th, 2000, demanding
the withdrawal of AFSPA, the Armed Forces
(Special Powers) Act, 1958 from Manipur and neighboring
states of the northeast. She was arrested on November 6th,
2000. Since then a ritual of release and rearrest has been
continuing as she insists on continuing her fast till her
demands are met.
Fragrance of Peace
(A poem by Irom Sharmila)
When life comes to its end
You, please transport
My lifeless body
Place it on the soil of Father Koubru
To reduce my dead body
To cinders amidst the flames
Chopping it with axe and spade
Fills my mind with revulsion
The outer cover is sure to dry out
Let it rot under the ground
Let it be of some use to future generations
Let it transform into ore in the mine
I'll spread the fragrance of peace
From Kanglei, my birthplace
In the ages to come
It will spread all over the world.
-lrom Sharmila
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