NEMESIS
CHANDRA SHEKHARDUBEY
A restlessness entwines consciousness
Shadows of insecurity, incandescent fear lurk
Spiraling our thoughts like a python.
Dry and diseased thoughts girdle our ideational shield
Like old, rusty webs of wire.
We live being cyclothymic, swaddled with darkness.
Meanings of life and nature have lost into mazes of mystery.
We Cannot look beyond our own cocoons
Cursed like silk worms destined to die in-their own shells.
A vague kind of notion clouds our consciousness
Numbed by steel helmets, rifle bayonets
Pointed to pierce and tatter innocents
Clad with weary, frightened and frozen look
Flickering like a plastic disc to arrive at a station
Ringed with rags, moth-eaten fabric, a heap of garbage.
A place which knows no peace except tortured brains
And life put to knife’s edge eclipsing into countdown.
Our joys are faint like lost memories of childhood
So short, so shadowy like rainbow prisms on the bubbles of water
Eager to mingle with void. Our pain is riddled with
Some unknown force of indignity.
Blood stained knives, grenades, gun points
inhabit our consciousness smitten with gruesome incidents
That we pass every incident as ‘hadsa’
Without shrieks or simmerings in our heads.
Cursed to a stony bed devoid of our own heritage.