Bura Mat Mano, Bhaiyya, Holi Hain, But Keep You On Guard Of

Bura Mat Mano, Bhaiyya, Holi Hain, But Keep You On Guard Of

Bura mat mano, Holi hain,
Take you it not bad, it’s Holi,
The festival of colours,
Coloured water and coloured powder
Sprinkled over and thrown to,
Sprinkled and smeared with,
It’s Holi, Holi hain,
Bura mat mano, Holi hain,
The old and the children
All drenched in,
The old and the young
Looking colured-coloured,
Blackly and multi-coloured
And smiling and smiling
With the teeth too coloured
Red or green, blue or black
Looking like ghosts,
The hair dirty with coloured powder
And the faces strangely coloured,
But celebrate you, celebrate you
With restraint
Not by being a dullard
Without the senses,
A reveler totally lost
In revelry.

Copyright © Bijay Kant Dubey

Disclaimer: The image used herein is in the public domain and taken from the Internet and due appreciation and credit is acknowledged for the same. 


Kar Lo Duniya Mutthi Mei, The Ad For Mobile Connectivity

Kar Lo Duniya Mutthi Mei, The Ad For Mobile Connectivity

A slim girl smilingly
On the billboard
With the mobile,
Mobile phone handset
Into the hands,
Hands of hers
And the wires
Plugged into the ears
With the music playing
And she,
She finely tuned,
Tuned to the song,
Song, dance and music,
Music and its beats,
Beats and vibes,
Vibes of modernity and modern living,
Kar lo,
Kar lo duniya mutthi mei,
She saying,
Saying it so nicely,
Presenting, presenting it so beautifully,
Clutching the world
Into her hands.

© Bijay Kant Dubey


The Golden Brown Jackal

The Golden Brown Jackal

The golden brown jackal
Often see I
Passing by,
Slipping through
With the swift steps
The jackal,
The golden brown
Brownish,blackish jackal
Appearing from the burrows
In search of food
During the night time
And slipping past swiftly
Into the bushes,
To the lonely tracts
The jackal,
The golden brown
Brownish, blackish jackal
With the glowing-glowing eyes,
Deep and burning,
Burning deep and lighting
From far
Vanishing into,
Disappearing so fast
Taking to secluded domains,
The wild forest tracts
Full of exotic flora and fauna,
The animal world
So full of awe and suspense.

© Bijay Kant Dubey


My English Hindustani English

You do not take me for
A pucca Englishman,
Speaking Standard English,
Impeccable English,
Not even for an Anglo-Indian,
Not a gora sahib,
But a brown, very brown sahib,
An Hindustani man
As no Englishman am I
Nor a European too.

I am an Indian, an India man,
A Hindustani boy
Speaking in English,
Just trying to speak in
Haltingly, hesitantly
Not so fluent, proficient in,
Not even conversant with
The nuances and idiosyncrasies of it,
Never, never an Englishman,
But, but a Hindustani man,
Speaking, speaking Hindustani English.

My dear friends, ladies and gentlemen,
Take me not for an Englishman,
Even an Anglo-Indian
Nor for a convent-educated boy,
A Hindustani boy, boy am I
Never, never a convent boy,
But a rural boy
Learning by rote to speak in English,
Putting paan to my mouth
To speak in.

I thinking and thinking to speak,
Speak in English,
Framing sentences to express,
Sometimes fumbling and faltering badly,
Misspelling the words,
Beginning to stammer,
Sometimes failing to put it before,
What to say and how to
As words come not,
Sentences fail I to construct,
A bilingual, trilingual am I.

Goonda, chor, badmash
My words,
Ram Sing, come here,
Order I
Like a sahib calling
Call I
My waiter, orderly
In an English tone
To show that I know English,
That I a sahib of some sort
Speaking in English,
Ordering in the likewise manner.

History, History of The World Know I Not

History, history of the world
Know I not,
How was it created,
How vast is it,
When did it originate,
How the end of the mysterious universe?

How did I come into this world,
Where to go finally,
What the pathway end,
What is man’s history,
What the history of the world,
What the truth, what the reality,
Who to tell it?

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