The Poet’s Ruse

An encounter left the nation divided. Truth walks on no man's land. I rest my case.

when justice is

delayed, revenge

is a dish

served cold

revenge is conceived

giving birth to

miscarriage of

justice

a good cop is

a bad cop, sometimes,

and sometimes

a judge, jury and

executioner

with long arm of the law,

above the law, you

take the law into your own hands

and pull the trigger

to get even,

to get away with

murder, maybe

tit for tat

an eye for an eye,

a tooth for a tooth,

turn a blind eye

it's an open and

shut case

the nation

wants to know;

hell no!

no offence,

you don't want

justice,

you want

justice in a movie

justice is never

revenge, and revenge is

justice not done

Written by: Rupesh Mandal

Hope is the last thing ever lost. Profound.

a beautiful

chaos

a pretty

mess

much like

love

and life

lipstick

mark

on her

teacup

brews

a permanent

mark

on my heart

the beauty

spot

on her deer

neck

makes

a blind

spot

accident-prone

glitters

in those big

eyes

mirror

the fire

in the

belly

a strong

mind sharp

enough

to give paper

cuts

gives up

only

to her big

heart

her

smiling

bye-byes

make me

sigh

for another

hi

gone girl

that sweet

scent

of you

still lingers

around

lost and

found

Written by: Rupesh Mandal

An ode to embracing your inner child.

I want to smile

all the while

I want to cry

squeeze orange peels

in my eye

I want to run,

go after a kite

under the sun

I want to jump

see the earth rotate, only to

come back to the same place

with a flump

I want to know

why do fireflies

in the night glow

I want to ask

how hot remains hot

and cold, cold

in a flask

I want to shout

from the rooftops

with my lungs out

I want to fight

like cats and dogs

Then reunite

I want to forgive

when you don't return

the comic books

that I give

I want to share

the last bubblegum

and the tattoo sticker, in-pair

I want to kick

stones on the way back

from school

a football trick

I want to sing

ding-ting, ding-ting, ting-ding

I want to dance

before the mirror

with my shadow

given half a chance

I want to hate

the first and last day

at school,

crossing the gate

I want to love

everything I do,

hand in glove

I want to promise

tomorrow means tomorrow,

mother-promise

I want to wish

upon a shooting star, ish!

I want to hope

even when you say

nope

I want to believe

Santa would come on

Christmas Eve

I just want to be a kid

as long as I can

last but not the least

make a bid

Written by: Rupesh Mandal

All I wanted was to be in her good books. Today, she is a lost bookmark in my life.

sometimes i wish

i were the book you're reading

holding my face

you turn the pages of my heart

wish i were the words

see myself in your eyes

when you run your fingers

through my hair

you whisper, read

and i try to hear my name

your sigh

breathes life in me

words

that make you smile

make you cry

let you wonder

and ask why

without you

i’m naked

just black block letters

sometimes i wish

i were the book you're reading

and it’s a never-ending one

Written by: Rupesh Mandal

Take a chair. Listen. Now, stand up and offer a two-minute silence for our democracy. Indian Politics is nothing less than a Musical Chair.

Chair chair

Musical chair

Enough of solitaire

Now vote for this funfair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Play solo, or with an old pair

State a sorry affair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Bring your own armchair

Even a wheelchair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Everyone's a player

Spectators ain’t unaware

Chair chair

Musical chair

Be a tortoise or a hare

You know how you fare

Chair chair

Musical chair

Push, elbow, or pull hair

Everything is fair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Lie or dare

When the truth is a snare

Chair chair

Musical chair

Stand up in assembly, not to care

Sitting back is your flair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Round and round, there there,

Go back to one-square

Chair chair

Musical chair

To win at any fare

Play on a wing and prayer

Chair chair

Musical chair

Play in hope or despair

When things are beyond repair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Every here and there

The music goes off the air

Chair chair

Musical chair

Sit on the lion’s share

Or hang by a hair

Chair chair

Musical chair

What gives you grey hair

Is a judgement, impair

Chair chair

Musical chair

Who wants to be a millionaire

Not an out of syllabus questionnaire

Chair chair

Musical chair

It’s just a game, you declare

To clear the air

Written by: Rupesh Mandal

In the wake of the Me Too movement, giving a voice to women against consumerism, advertising objectifying women, eve-teasing, sexual harassment, workplace harassment, gender pay gap, gender inequality, domestic violence, cultural suppression of female sexuality, power dynamics in the bedroom, and ending with new product ideas for humanity.

Body wash

Will it scrub those

Dirty looks

And lustful stares

Hand wash

Will it purge

That dominant handshake,

Extended squeeze

Face wash

Will it reveal

The cuts and bruises

Hidden beneath the makeup

Mouthwash

Will it raise her voice

Amongst the mute

Spectators

Intimate wash

Ah! Will it make him

Go down on her

For a change

Hair wash

Will it hold

Her head high to

Face the world

How about a regret

Shampoo, a soul

Cleanser, and

Aftersin lotion

How about an

Equality conditioner,

Compassion cream,

And a goodwill Moisturiser

Written by: Rupesh Mandal