Year : 2008  |  Volume : 50  |  Issue : 2  |  Page : 149--150

Poems by Kumar


Vinay Kumar 
 Consultant Psychiatrist, Manoved Mind Hospital & Research Center Pvt. Ltd. NC-116, S.B.I. Officers Colony, Kankarbagh, Patna - 20, India

Correspondence Address:
Vinay Kumar
Consultant Psychiatrist, Manoved Mind Hospital & Research Center Pvt. Ltd. NC-116, S.B.I. Officers Colony, Kankarbagh, Patna - 20
India




How to cite this article:
Kumar V. Poems by Kumar.Indian J Psychiatry 2008;50:149-150


How to cite this URL:
Kumar V. Poems by Kumar. Indian J Psychiatry [serial online] 2008 [cited 2020 Jul 13 ];50:149-150
Available from: http://www.indianjpsychiatry.org/text.asp?2008/50/2/149/42407


Full Text

The Non-Metallic Age

Somnolence has spread and spilled all around,

Day has shrunk to patches of dusky islands,

Instead of returning unsolicited

After unwelcome knocks on the closed windows,

Sun now enters her room unhindered, unquestioned.

But Sunetra's eyes

Remain ever-closed,

Like the heavy shutters of a mega-shop.

The sun-rays keep beholding her

For long and long after,

Until they return defeated, unrewarded.



The somnolence fluid is spreading again, all-round

Astride the first day-break island.

Sunetra ruminates,

What days are these?

So dark and dusky,

All faces are blurred.

Fair ones have all blackened,

All voices have blunted tones.

Even ghostess-kids have

Now hoarse and husky voice.



My sensibility has strangely

Become pachydermic.

Is it a shield or a skin-cast?

Mom, tell me

When shall I come out of it?

Ask your doctor,

Promptly and dutifully

Replies my mother.

Doctor is even more diplomatic.

Says, a little while more.



Impatiently one day Sunetra shrieks.

I can no more live like this.

I want to first-hand-experience

The sheen-n-shine of all objects around.

I want to feel and hear

The down-pouring sun-rays

From the skies.

I want to dance to the tunes

Of metallic sounds.



O'Lord,

When shall it cease,

The dampened and dusky

Non-metallic age.



And one day

She stops all medicines.

Sunetra's Mother

0It is tough to be a mother.

Tougher still is to mother a child.

But toughest truly is

To keep mothering a Sunetra.



The flawless flow of life,

Afloat for

Twenty years and nine months.

Can it really end so quietly?

Insidiously, can

What time wrote for years,

Be proven wrong

In a whimper?

I am lost,

Totally lost.

My confidence is shattered.

I lose faith,

Both in pen and prose.



Transition of a mother

Is terribly tedious,

Into Sunetra's mother.

No less than the surreptitious

Sneaking-in of Schizophrenia.

A fifty-year-old woman

Becomes a dwelling

With walls made of pooled-up courage,

Windows closed to

All contacts and coteries,

Doors disinclined to welcome

One and all,

Inside she stands

Immersed up to chin

In pools of apprehension.

Any slight movement

Further threatens her nose.

After all

Her Mind,

Which essentially she is,

Cannot start swimming

Like a fish

In a flash.



Mothering Sunetra

Means

A drowning mother,

Trying to save

Her drowning daughter,

By over-inflating her lungs,

Completely oblivious of

Any possible rupture.



Mothering Sunetra

Also means

Losing oneself completely,

In the expedition

Of trying to save

A 'meaning'

That is just on the verge of

Fading away,

And living like

Siamese-twins

With your daughter.



Sunetra's world

Hovers inside the courtyard

Like a helicopter,

With mother hanging

All alone

By the lone hope

That surely her daughter

Shall break out one day

Of this crooked clamshell,

And run

And crawl on her knees,

Sporting and smearing dust-n-sand

Amidst a bunch of butterflies.



Sunetra's mother

Personifies

The ceaseless, tiresome, hard labor,

To enable her to buy

A 'palanquin' made of

Light and color and melody

For her daughter.