Unrevealing Epistimological Truth

Tribes in the City

[bodhi-chakma-posts-blog]

I WONDER

I am trying to rethink about myself whats my value of self gone, where am i, who made us these, where are we heading now?    

I wonder when many birds fly

I wonder when the rivers get dry

I wonder when the storms come

I wonder when no one talks that they are endangered to few and some.   

Every time we wander the shadow follows

The shadow that kills us till the end

The deep to it, we stuck to shallow

As of killing of us, becomes the trend.

All these years we asked only for survival

Till you conquer our land and labeled us as the rival.

The world is confused, should we call the Adivasi or Tribal.

The question marks are still there that’s you never tried us to revival.

Some of us still wandering, where some of us got settled.

Some of us still pondering, when some of us took the battle.

Till some of us gave lives and some of us called anti-national.

Still, we have stuck is the cubical mind of creating a Ideational.

I wonder  I wonder and I wonder  till the END

with metta.

[bodhi-chakma-posts-blog]

The Aesthetic

Tribes have a timeless connection and ecological balance with the nature, however in recent times they have been detached and pushed away from their natural habitat in the name of their welfare and development.  This poem represents the tribal celebration with nature and the sorrows of their live due to forceful evictions.

Have you ever seen nature?

When people started living with their culture.

The culture that’s made up of belief

Nature that helps them to sleep.

Have you ever heard the morning sound?

Songs of birds you can’t even count.

The sound of the river flowing from the hill

It can be the emptiness of which can’t be filled.

Have you ever felt the breeze in an open field?

The wind that touches your soul and makes you heal.

The voices from within cannot be sealed

The voices for them will be the wield.

Have you ever seen them making a house?

With bamboo and mud under the cloud.

The construction of your empire wiping them out

Everyone is deaf even when the tribes shout.

with metta

[bodhi-chakma-posts-blog]

FREEDOM: The Voices

A visit to Sanjay Gandhi National Park, interactions with the tribal and seeing the reality, their struggle for water and sanitation, education, housing, health had motivated me to write this poem.

They say it was tough back in the 80’s

Making a law was not an obligation,

It was a humiliation.

Knowledge that’s been destroyed,

Culture that’s been void.

Mainstreamed that makes them humanoid.

Thousands of ages have passed away,

Tribal communities all around Bombay.

A society, a society that have been thrown down,

And the knowledge that have been burned down.

The rules we talk, the rules we follow

The culture we make needs to be followed.

These are the secret evils.

They divide, kill and makes them pay the bills.

Now and everything it’s enough, but,

It’s not that you can make them shut up.

Fight for the fight, fight for the freedom

All is abide by the constitution.

The reality have been hollow,

And the voices have been shallow.

They have a voice, they will say,

Things that have been forgotten, will be on the way.

With metta