The Girls of Titagarh

The train has just trundled out of the station

And moved a few meters off the platforms

When I heard catcalls and whistles

In the compartment I was crammed

The young men standing at wide door

Were looking out with pleasure

Some girls were standing
beside the railway tracks

Girls in their teens or just twenty

In miniskirts that show their thighs

Tight Short blouses exposing in covering

Their luring pair of mounds

Three or four men are standing around

And speaking to the girls…

Must be their clients or pimps!?

The wall beside the tracks

To keep away animals and people

Is breached like their virginity

And the smelly dirty shacks behind

That’s what remains of their life and body

The girls don’t look up to the catcalls

As if they have lost their hearing!

Can any sensitivity be left after

Being violated repeatedly

By hungry men again and again

And being used like garbage bin--

Can a girl save a shred of her self- respect?

Yet, something within me says

I respect you, girls, I respect you,
For accepting life as it comes.

Xavier Bage

Thurs, May 13, 2017

Swollen Heads

How power went to their heavy heads

And filled them with insane arrogance;

Their acts postured with swollen chest

Their voice rose in proud resonance!

The world knew they loved blood shed

From the day they felled a peaceful voice;

It’s only natural for them to strangle those

Who don’t keep to ways of their choice!

Patriotism is their reserved monopoly

And they claim power is theirs alone,

No use speaking to them with reason

Their minds sprint one track known!

Our souls are not for bowing to bigotry,

Our hearts can’t be ’hind bars confined;

Not by those bent backward in insolence,

To the One only is our being inclined.

From their thrones they’ll be thrown

Those who occupy God’s place in pride;

Not this day may be but the day after

Sure like the Sun, and they can’t hide.

If not this year may be the year next

Arrogance has a certain tragic fall;

It’s as natural as defecation in life

It’s a rule for creatures one and all!

Xavier Bage

Sat, May 20, 2017

To Catch a Dragonfly

Near his tea estate quarter

There were dragonflies few

The child often tried to catch them

Magically his fancy they drew

in their flowered courtyard

He ran behind them many a day

But not even a tip of finger

On one of them could lay!

Many are seen hovering about

in the local primary school ground

but with so many children

running around, playing around

It was lovely to see them but

he could not grip those creatures

though he tried. The winged devils were

too furtive for  his tender features!

That day before school, the child

Walked through workers’ residence

In small steps, past the small village church

Across the open garden’s iron gate, fence

Into the endless, trimmed tea bushes

Into the haven of dragonflies multitude

The innocent heart was thrilled to find them

He went about his wish, filled with gratitude.

But in the realm of his pure revelry

An eerie sound floated to his ears

An echo of distant howling

That shook his heart with fears

A humming like faraway siren

A croon of ghosts who match their voice

With blowing winds in wood

And wild sounds of their choice!

The boy turned, ran back to the lines

He felt something following behind.

He didn’t look back, not once!

He didn’t have a wishing mind

He stopped only when he stepped

Into his familiar home compound

Far from the wild and the haunted

Evergreen but ghostly ground!

It could have ended in tragedy

In injury or even in death

For prowling animals hide in bushes

Awaiting some tender breath!

A goat or a lamb is the best flesh

For a sumptuous satisfying lunch

But if no animal is near their teeth

A little human is ok for a munch!

Protected by his guardian angel

Was the child, believes the scribe

As he pens these words finds he

Many were the threats to his life

For from the jaws of death he returned

To tell the story of his redemption

In His mercy and love, the Father

Always made a filial exemption!

Xavier Bage

Fri, May 19, 2017

The Maiden of the East called Morning

 

Here she nears, the maiden

The virgin from the east

Birds are singing her welcome songs

Her advent is the reason of feast!

Look, she peers over the horizon

Her eyes radiate life anew

Turning all mundane to miracles

The snow peaks and the dew

Her face is freshness pure

No trace of memory of the past

No link to Yesterday‘s noise or poise

Not a whisper backward cast!

Listen to her floating steps

As she approaches me nigh

Embraces me in fragrance free

Lifting my earth to heaven high!

Xavier Bage

Sat, May 13, 2017