My Strength

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Saturday, August 18, 2012


The frozen message in the eyes of a goat at the butcher’s
The rain drops on the beak of a dead bird
The cry of a half fed baby in a brothel
The veiled wail of a martyr’s young half
The fear in the eyes of a girl of the cruel stares
And the dangerous snares
The wait in the eyes of the bedridden
And the baby at the door for the working mother
Song of the blind by the sidewalk
The sad tale of a printed mishap on passengers' lap
The mystery of a sudden exit
The lewd, inviting gestures of a housewife whose husband slogs day and night
The bruises of domestic violence 
And her smoky, choking chores
The complacent smile of a lauded poet
The greedy hospitality of a desperate sycophant
The pathetic servility of a hapless labourer
The empty verbal revolutions
There is nothing sadder than the face of a grazing cow
I can’t bear it any more
Enough is enough
--by Santhosh Kumar Kana

Monday, August 13, 2012


A Mahtama is not born in the bookshelves
Nor among sartorial luxuries 
A Mahatma is born when the pain on the trampled body feels millions
When the beast within bows down in defeat
When a trodden path is walked upon with unseen awareness

A Mahatma contains millions of atma within
It is one pulse
A Mahatma bears the brunt of a million blows
feels the heat of a million tears
and sheds them for millions

A Mahatma knows the way within in one step
A Mahatma is a fragrance you can’t resist
A mirror you can’t break
A Mahatma is called back when the halo begins to wane
A Mahatma sees through you with compassionate eyes
Your title “Mahatma” is a mere garland.

-by Santhosh Kumar Kana

Friday, August 3, 2012

for YOU in desperation-Durbar Marg, Kathmandu

Really unbearable
There’s a bird within flapping its wings
Messages and calls falling feathers
Once all fallen
Still there would be a chirrup, a croon, a whimper or a whisper
Then nothing
Then no more
Till then bear with me.

I remember your messages and missed calls blinking on my screen like the night flight.
How my screen used to be cleansed by your words!
And you became my conscience!!
I feel you like a rustle in the trees, the drizzle hits me like your hair
The deepest conversations are only with utmost physical proximity!
Want you badly, to be on you like a creeper, like the serpentine trails on the hills.

We were like childhood playmates
We plucked flowers, chased dragonflies,
rubbed the sap of a leaf on our eyelashes,
jumped over thorny fences,
stood panting lost in the brightness of each other's eyes,
We could read the poetry of life despite its prosaic relalities,
We hugged each other in immense joy....innocence intact..

You stabbed my creativity out, I love it… your brutish love
My creative bleeding
Oh! How much you take out of me!!!
Each visit of yours was a stab

You left me without a word
Though painful,
Let me go like this….
Let us go like this with many “unsaid”s
It leaves a pain and a discontent to live
It leaves something to live for

Don’t make it so clear and plain
Let the abstract and the waited remain
It gives some dream moments that we never could
Let it be its poetry
With an eloquent silence and an abundant emptiness!!!!  

 --by Santhosh Kumar Kana