Our time is here – 2 poems

How we withered away

It was around 2011 when the first signs came in
I began to drink heavy, and this country seemed drunk
My body began to ache, my conversations, now bordering sex and new vision
My emails filled with hate speech, my articles in vain
I began to lose my teeth when nationalism became a bullet train
I stopped playing my guitar, I stopped singing when they sang out of scale
And you, you all clapped when I got slapped, estranged for my existence, my politics
Yes I was slapped because of my poems, my words
I could not be a nationalist, a middle-class belly garnished with fragrances of morality
I could not be an admirer of this mad, mad sycophancy.
My throat began to hurt then,
And then they won.
Then we rested our faith in the common
But that too seemed fictitious
So I stopped videographing
And I stopped making sense
And they stopped making sense
And I started heavy drinking early morning
And they started heavy bullshit newsmaking early morning
Many poets gunned down by governments
Many artists reportedly have cut their hands
Many tongues snatched out
Now they have got into our brains
My stomach aches, my lungs burnt
They have started writing death threats to our brains
Regulate what we must read or write or wear or eat
They who fuck my intestine
They who kill me a little every day
They who pose by the side of a lake pouting their asses
And I shall not be seduced
And I shall defy
And I shall not be stopped
And I will write my poem until they stop
My universities are burning
My bookshops are burning
My libraries are empty
My generation is happy
My poets are shot at sight every day, every hour, every single loveless night
My lovers are in jail
My body burns
My perception fades
My speech stripped off, now defying meaning, gravity, vanity
My urges mostly taste like adultery
My retaliation mostly vague, self-destructive
I have begun to stink
I have begun to stink just like my country
And I have begun to scream like our prime minister
I will refuse to travel until things get better
I must not leave this house
I will be here and there and everywhere
Sometimes I think that I am the reason for everything
Sometimes I blame my existence for everything that is wrong
Sometimes I cannot believe in love anymore
Hatred has taken over us like ever smiling Page 3 ladies
I am nothing that is mine in me
I lose weight like India loses sensibilities
I lose my vision like India loses love and compassion
I dissent like India crushes
Every single protest decently
I am not living, India is not living
India is not here or there, Dylan has gone fishing

What we have are beggars fighting for cakes
What we have is this life that is a waste
What we have is heights of mountains and thrill of rivers

India is the biggest anti-national

India cannot stop my rivers
India cannot cut down my mountains
India cannot sell my villages, my paddy fields
India cannot take control of my ladies
India cannot read my unwritten letters to my lovers
India must not cut my fingers
I will masturbate every chance I get
Hate is not exactly love,
And your way is not exactly the highway
Oh fuck, I am bored again,
I must not waste my precious time for this existence.
Let me get some sleep now.

Our time is here

Oh the time has come once again my brothers,
My sisters and friends
To open up our minds
And think:

What good is a life without a question?
What good is a life with all the same answers?
Why do we live?, Why do we love?
Why can’t we give some love back to this world again?

Oh the time has come once again my brothers,
My sisters and friends
To question what we have learned, again.
Men and Women have suffered fire, age of ice
Survived wild beasts in cold nights of rain
The time has come to open up our minds
And think of a new world again

Sometimes I think Adam was a bad man
He left Lilith alone, forsaken
But love it was how the world began
And love can delay the apocalypse again

What good is a life without a question?
What good is a life with all the same answers?
Why do we live?, Why do we love?
Why can’t we give some love back to this world again?

Oh the time has come once again my brothers,
My sister and my friends
To question
Our parents, our teachers and the army men
To sing about those who choke inside our parliament
To question our bosses, our leaders and the common men
To argue with writers and poets and critics, press men
To open up our minds
And think again.

What good is a life without a question?
What good is a life with all the same answers?
Why do we live?, Why do we love?
Why can’t we give some love back to this world again?

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Goirick Brahmachari Written by:

Goirick Brahmachari works as a consultant in NIPFP, a research org in New Delhi. He hails from Silchar, Assam. His articles and poems have appeared in various dailies and literary magazines.

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