AND THEY FALL

And they fall

One by one, one after one,

Against their will, against the wind,

Green and juicy the Mangoes fall,

Swinging high, swinging low,

Mangoes above and mangoes below,

Small and big and all, Mangoes fall.

-Kishor Jangda

FEW FEET BELOW HEAVEN

FEW FEET BELOW HEAVEN

You are a Pesach, oh great death,

I’m, with the loss of shadow and soul, engraved,

Thank you for the caress, thank you for the greth,

With you, oh death, I never haggled and waived,

My soul rambled to the heaven,

But I found unentreatied perdition,

And just few feet below heaven,

I lost the path again,

The rays of virtues, liberties and love shone,

As effluvium of heaven grows day by day,

Innocent, eternal and gracious once, now gone,

With speechless surprises I rambled away,

Though on earth, I was beleaguered,

But now I’m an ambivalent soul,

Forced by constraints, I delivered,

The acts of a human’s role,

Please spare my wan body,

I’m dead now and forever,

Sorry if I acted shoddy,

But, on earth, my role is over,

With all the sagacity outmoded around,

I ended in goodness and rectitude,

But few feet below heaven, few feet above ground,

My story disappeared in solitude,

My tombstone is unwritten,

And the cenotaphs unembraced,

Buried in a graveyard often forgotten,

All my belongings are misplaced,

With nobody to bemoan,

With a sleep without a sweven,

With nobody to atone,

On the way few feet below heaven…..

-KISHOR  JANGDA

FIVE MORE DAYS TO LIVE

FIVE MORE DAYS

Few hundred heartbeats to free,

Oh dear God! Too high you live,

Not me but my soul can reach thee,

With five more days to live,

As death is a set of doleful doctrines,

For these mental misshapen oddities; forgive,

I see them collecting pastoral eglantines,

For my wreath; with five more days to live,

Costly and gorgeous, my cenotaph is sculptured,

 It is but one of the million deaths I hast to outlive,

With all dearest dreams I’ll leave refined and cultured,

I wail no more, during these five more days to live,

Under the trees I sit still,

With thee in heart, I believe,

My farewell is but your will,

With just five more days to live,

Oh father! Cast light on my shadow,

Though on my body you don’t believe,

All I owe is a promise to borrow,

But I have five more days to live,

Stop all the mourners, I’m not dead!

Lord! Test my body with your sieve,

Pour in me my soul toe to head,

I have five more days to live,

Who held my faith, who held my heart?

What wilt they do with my bones, wilt they connive?

Is my loneliness invisible till I depart?

Or do I really have five more days to live?

In my mid-teenage I want to survive,

With a list of strange magnificent dreams to live,

Take me where God wilt arrive,

Followed his steps, still five more days to live,

How can my breathes to me belie?

Nothing more than an empty hope to give,

As they vanish, I must die!

In your memory, five more days to live,

Pour your ichor and bliss,

Before everything I loose, let me achieve,

Everything that a human can miss,

Please guard my soul; I’ve five more days to live,

I’m ash against winds of immoderate grief,

Like an effluviumless lamp yet to retrieve,

As death is just a relief from mortal belief,

Torn asunder; with just five more days to live,

End all my days like these,

And memories; with just five more days to live…..

Happy B'day

FOR  THE  CHARMING LADY

Melting lights, searching eyes and a restless way,

Just stop and listen “Hey! Happy B’day”

You’re as good as the best of all,

Juvenile and budding; stay a child after all,

364 days went and passed 364 nights,

One by one they passed unaware of delights,

So shall we celebrate this special day on Earth?

Let’s make the B’day 364 times worth,

No B’day ghosts can make us chill,

Can’t call them at our will,

But the claim is just, and just one day it will be,

Too much or too little, spend some time with me,

Kick the high-flying theories on the way,

Accept this small present; Happy B’day…..

-Kishor Jangda

THE WARRIOR

THE WARRIOR

The first bullet made me slow,

The second bullet hit me inches below,

The third bullet made my heart hollow,

And the last bullet made my anger grow,

But till my last breathe with the gun,

I made the enemies run,

Oh god! Let me survive,

I promised to return within fifty nights,

Help my friends, who are still alive,

Still hopeless after these fatal fights,

Till their death they fought hard,

Don’t put them in forgotten graveyard,

We are the hurricane lamps that glow,

Despite the imprisoning limitations,

During wild winds, rains and heavy snow,

We extract peace in all bad situations,

We always die for a greater cause,

Still, we lie in the battle fields without any gauze,

We have no more wars to fight,

But have candles of my friend’s name to enlighten,

Though bodies dwindled and disappeared yet souls unite,

After vain and profitless but glorious tradition,

-KISHOR JANGDA