THUMBPRINTNE POETRY COLUMN
POETRY EDITOR ANANYA S GUHA'S NOTE:
Nicholas Kharjahrin is a school student. His poems at times satirical, covers themes from war to other social injustices. They are to be read to understand the poetic vision of a sixteen or seventeen year old. The poems also explore social, political or individual spaces.
Child Under Rubbles Of War
Oh child under the rubbles of war,
My apologies for the tears you wept but ignored.
A soul like yours; a flower unbloomed,
Stuck among corpses amidst deadly fumes.
Your father martyred, your mother in agony,
Surrounded by endless riots—in a devious symphony.
May your cries be honoured by the heavens above,
For snakes of this world despise the sight of doves.
And when you breathe your last and finally go to rest,
May you wake to your father's laugh and your mother's comforting breast.
But don't you question God for why your life was unfair,
For wars are not sent from above but by beasts in elected chairs.
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The Season of Rain
The season of rain;
Which gives a farmer his glimpse of hope.
The water which nourishes all his grains;
A letter from God in a cloudy envelope.
The season of rain;
When children start folding their paperboats.
Off they play down the watery lanes,
Though their boat all soaked their smiles stay afloat.
The season of rain;
When no music compares to the pitter-patter splashing sound.
The water which has filled all the potholes and drains,
Might drench your dresses as well as your gowns.
The season of rain;
The only way possible for the sky to kiss the ground.
Though the fall might cause some pain,
Yet,it never hesitates falling down.
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A Rose
Your beauty is like a rose,
Mesmerizing enough to keep me starin',
But I am cautious enough not to hold onto you,
Or your thorns might prickle in.
As the years go by,
Your fragrance scatters around.
But as time passes,
Your petals start falling down.
A price is paid,
To pluck you off from within your shoots,
But when your colour starts to fade,
You get stamped under the same buyer's boots.
Almost every lover writes about you,
And on every Valentine, you find someplace new.
On every first night, the bed is dressed in you,
And on every funeral, your pale white skin symbolizes the start of something new.
The gift of you indeed makes thousands smile every day,
But the memories hidden in you as a souvenir melt hearts right away.
And the beauty in you still lives even after you die,
But your thorns still prickle, though they have dried.
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In Your Name
You preach of charity,
You carve a pathway to peace.
But your preachers birth chaos,
And revolts in your name bring only unease.
Oh, how valuable your scriptures are—
A poor man's treasure, worth more than gold.
Yet I’ve seen certain creatures
Use that same treasure to cheapen countless souls.
But it’s not your fault, is it?
All you ever tried was to unite mortals like me.
Yet somehow, that unification has birthed—
Separation in your name:
Religion,
The division of humanity.
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If She is weak
If she is weak,
Then why do you care
When for herself she dresses
Why do you stare?
If she is weak,
And worthless is what you call her,
But when you couldn’t speak,
She was there for you, in the form of your mother.
If she is weak,
Then why don’t you give her a chance,
Why leave her only under the sheets?
But forbid her to sing and dance.
If she is weak,
Then weaker are you and me,
A little respect and value in what she pleads
But the so called ‘weak’ in her is what you see.
ABOUT THE POET:
Nicholas Kharjahrin is a student of St Anthony's Higher Secondary School, Shillong
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