Forgive and Forget
Hiranya Borah
Forgive and Forget
****
By Hiranya Borah
Copyright 2016 Hiranya Borah
Thank You for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized retailer.
Thank you for your support.
Preface: Forgive and Forget
We always say forgive and forget who poisoned our lives to move ahead. But sometimes it is difficult to do so. If blood bleeds due to some wrong doings by someone, are you going to stop criticising him/ her after his/ her death? Legally yes. You have to drop case against him. But your heart will never allow you to forget and forgive easily. Those who are not the victims can utter those saintly words very easily. But can you, as a victim?
The other eight poems are based on contemporary situations of our daily social lives and social relations. Some of them are on serious issues and some are written on lighter vein. I hope my readers will like the compilation.
Poet
In memory of Braveheart
Clad with a pyajama,
Sitting on the floor,
Reading a letter from his pregnant wife;
Lakhan yelled to his friend;
I have to go home;
Gita is expecting next month!
I too want to go home;
My mom is not well;
Irfan also echoed Lakhan.
Why you are silent Subedarjee?
Any information from home?
Nothing special, son passed 12th,
Going to college regularly.
They were just gossiping;
In the early morning;
Taking a sip of coffee.
Some were yet to discard;
Lovely morning sleep!
They were not aware,
A group of cowards;
Approaching their tents;
With lethal weapons.
Lakhan, Irfan or Subedar;
Never worried for death;
Nor feared for a battle;
But they were talking;
About pregnant wife or ailing mother!
The cowards blasted a grenade;
Near to their tent!
All of them were ready to fight back;
Picking up their arms;
But fire engulfed the tent;
Closing their exit!
They could have fired back;
But they preferred to die,
Thinking their bullet might hit;
Their own men fighting with the cowards.
They died, but they did not use their weapons;
Thinking they may hit another Braveheart;
They preferred to die!!!!
Why Can’t Criticise
That scoundrel has died;
The young girl commented about her former boss!
Do not criticise the dead man;
Her mother advised!
Why I can’t?
She asked with an irritation in her voice!
Dead man becomes dear to God;
Mother explained!
Then why every year Mahisasur is slain?
Why Duryodhan is condemned?
Why Ravan is burnt?
Why Hitler is criticised for his deed?
Why we criticise the colonial rulers;
Who died Long back?
Why we call General Dyer as Monster?
Even Mahatma is not spared for some of his decisions!
Even God is not spared,
Apparently when he does not hear to us!
Then why I cannot criticise;
The person who molested me?
Only because he is a dead man now?
Should we go like politicians;
Who fight tooth and nail when alive;
To place a wreath on the dead body;
And pay Last Respect?
Then give an articulated speech;
In the deceased honour?
Mom, I am an ordinary person;
Made of flesh and blood;
Having a small heart;
Which bleeds when it is hurt.
Let me criticise the dead man;
Who gave me so much pain when he was alive;
When he was in power!
Those who were not victims,
Can give a long lecture on,
Forget and Forgive!
The victims, whose hearts bleed;
Will never forgive and forget!
Even death will never cleanse;
The blood that flowed from the hearts of the victims!
Mom, do not show your greatness;
By advising me not to criticise a dead monster!!!!!
On saying I love you
Nobody is an expert
On saying, I love you,
More than I;
He claims before me.
He is not surrounded by beautiful babes;
As I expected, as per his claim;
When I met my friend!
You are joking;
You Bl—y B—d;
I said with a laugh.
He took me to an orphanage;
He embraced all the kids,
One by one and said;
I love you my dear sweetheart!
Then he took me to an old age home;
He said every lady;
Hi Sweety, looking very beautiful today;
I love you darling!
He told the old man,
Looking to the sky with a dejected face;
Hey, old f—g boy,
Why you are so upset today?
I love you, old bl—y hack.
His presence in the orphanage,
In the old age home,
Illuminated hundreds of faces!
(To be continued)
All look forward to his next visit;
Then my friend took me to a Gosala;
He talked to the cows;
Everyone with a different name;
Saying ‘I love you, black beauty’ to one.
I love you, red monkey,
To another one and so on!
He took me to a garden,
Introduced his friends in their best attire!
In the forest,
He talked to trees;
He uttered the same sentence,
I love you, my friend,
Darling, Sweety and Sweet heart or Honey!
Everywhere he was acknowledged;
With an open heart,
With open mind and arms!
He goes always empty hands;
But with a smiling face,
With a sympathetic heart,
To all these places.
At the end of the day;
I agreed to him,
He is the best master in saying;
I love you!!!!
I asked him,
What is the secret?
He tells none;
Half of his income;
Earns from different resources;
Goes to different Orphanage,
Different Old age homes;
Different Gosalas;
For maintaining,
Parks, forests and gardens;
For maintenance of
Roads and reservoirs;
For the defence of the country and so on.
How much he earns?
He does not know;
But he never cheats the country
While paying taxes;
He is an ordinary man;
Like you and me.
I understood,
To be a hero,
You need not have to be an extraordinary man. br />
Do your duties properly;
You are a hero;
On your own right!
Tell all of them,
I love you,
Whom my friend tells!!!!
My Ego
Staying in a locality,
Where everyone’s ego is
Larger than life size,
I also tried to rear an animal,
He or she is my own ego!
I pampered him,
I introduced him to others as,
My treasured Self-Respect!
When I say about others,
I say it as ego;
In my case it is just self-respect!
But I have changed my thinking now;
Keeping the views of a friend!
One of close friends;
Once told me;
Whenever I say;
I am from a backward village;
Where electricity reached;
When I was in my graduation;
When I say; I saw a city;
After my matriculation;
I am not saying those sentences;
It is my ego;
Who is uttering those sentences!
Whenever I say;
I am the only member of my family
Who hails from rural India;
Or when I say,
I am the only member of the family who studied,
Not in English medium;
My ego is saying those proud sentences!
When I say I am from a poor family;
Flashing of my ego is evident!
When I say;
I started learning cooking at the age of four;
I am just boasting!
When I used to say;
I worked in the remotest places of India;
My ego is telling on my behalf.
When I say, I am sending my children to Government schools;
That is also nothing but my ego!
But sometimes I think,
If my ego is so big;
What about my friends;
Who flaunt about their,
Elite economic backgrounds,
Or their elite schools!
When they say they used to ride on their own car;
The moment they arrived this beautiful world;
That may be their just a revelation!
When they say,
They do not know cooking;
That is their profound humility!
When they say,
They worked in many world class cities;
But not the remotest places of India,
Those are nothing but humble submission!
Now I realized;
I am the most egoist person in my neighbourhood,
In my own fraternity;
Amongst the friends and relatives;
To be condemned;
By the humble elites!!!!!!
What is Love
What is love?
Is it sharing of good days and bad days alike?
Is it standing by you when you are depressed?
Is it just sharing a bed?
Or just sharing a bank account?
Or just staying with you without sleep;
In a hospital when you are ill?
Or roaming in a mall hand in hand?
Or just eager to know your welfare?
Or just to wait for your phone call at night;
After everyone goes to sleep?
Hugging in public,
Or saying I love you in public;
Is that the ultimate love?
No, my knowledgeable friend told me;
With a whisper!
