Are we human, p.1
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Are We Human?
Are We Human?

  ****

  By Hiranya Borah

  Copyright 2017 Hiranya Borah

  Thank You for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorized retailer.

  Thank you for your support.

  Preface

  This book contains only three poems based on social and cultural evils leading to criminality.

  Thanks to my readers and friends and above all my family for their constant support to write something usual and unusual. I love them all.

  Author

  A Mammal

  I do not know;

  From where I came from.

  I am told, I was born,

  As a child to a human couple;

  Like any other mammal,

  Through a natural process,

  Starting from a simple mating of two adults.

  I was inside the womb of a female body;

  Later on I came to know;

  She was my mother.

  I also grew

  After taking first sip of milk,

  From my mother’s beast;

  As my first food;

  And I began my journey of life;

  Like any other mammal on this earth.

  After few years,

  I am told I am a Hindu;

  Few years later,

  I came to know about my caste,

  When I was abused by a classmate,

  While I was in a metropolitan college.

  I met a girl couple of years ago;

  I did not know her caste or religion.

  I fell in love with her.

  My love was true for her;

  Her love for me was true.

  We also wanted to reproduce;

  Offspring like any other mammal;

  You call them children;

  I want to call them;

  Only offspring to keep on my lineage;

  For reproduce another generation of mammals;

  We call them Human;

  Without caste and creed.

  But her parent thought otherwise;

  She was thrown out of home;

  My mother says;

  She is not from my caste.

  I took her to my place;

  My father kicked both of us out of his home;

  Both the family accused us;

  We brought disrepute to our families.

  Someone from her family killed her;

  Someone call it, honour killing.

  I want to join her,

  I do not know where;

  I do not know,

  From where twenty five years ago I came;

  Without clothes, religion and caste;

  Not even with repute and dis-repute.

  But I want to go to the same place;

  Where probably,

  There is no caste, no religion,

  No honour and no honour killing either!

  A Daughter

  He told me to remove my frock.

  I recalled,

  Two years ago;

  My father used to remove my cloths;

  For giving me a bath;

  Or for changing my dress.

  I cherish those days of mine;

  With my deceased father.

  He kissed on my bare body.

  That reminded me of my deceased father;

  Who used to kiss on my bosom,

  I used to giggle on his every kiss,

  He used to place on my small body,

  A body of three year old daughter.

  He forced me to spread my legs.

  That reminded me of my deceased father;

  Who used to spread my legs;

  To clean my private parts;

  And to dry it by using the best of the powders.

  Still I used to recall,

  Powdering of my whole body;

  By his tender hands.

  But he left me alone;

  With a selfish mother two years ago.

  She only loves herself;

  After taking control of all property of my deceased father;

  Kicking out parent of my deceased father;

  Married to her secret lover for years;

  Within twelve months’ after death of my father.

  She introduced her new husband;

  As my new father for the rest of my life.

  Yes, he became my father for the rest of my life;

  A short life of only one year.

  Instead of drying or powdering;

  He inserted his finger in it.

  I cried aloud in a piercing pain.

  He laughed aloud which sent a simmering fear in my heart.

  I stopped crying,

  In fear

  Or as I lost all sensitivities in my tiny body.

  I lost my sense when he abused me thoroughly,

  Blood was oozing out;

  I collapsed;

  He became a worried monster.

  He strangulated me;

  Before he smothered my face beyond recognition;

  With a hard object.

  He dropped my lifeless body;

  Inside the septic tank behind our house.

  I could have thanked him;

  For sending me;

  To meet my deceased father;

  At a place where tranquillity and peace;

  Rule the minds and spirits.

  But I could not thank him because

  Even the rampaging lion,

  Who kills the offspring of the earlier lion,

  Perhaps never abuses sexually the young females.

  My father was waiting at the golden gate,

  Of a small cottage;

  By opening his arms to receive

  His beloved small and tiny daughter.

  Now, there is no stain of blood;

  On my white cloths.

  There is only fragrance of a perfume of pure love of a father;

  On the white dress, my father had given,

  Two years ago, on my third birth day.

  With a smile in his face,

  Hugging me in his chest,

  Whispered,

  This is the place,

  Where a daughter can live with her father forever,

  With head high and without any fear.

  A Mother

  I knew,

  I was ugly, I was rustic,

  I was blunt, I was powerless,

  I was money-less, I was worthless,

  I was less of good and appropriate words with appropriate meaning,

  I was hopeless in all aspects,

  Even then I was priceless for my family and friends

  A few Years ago,

  My husband and young children

  Used to love me.

  I was always positive to face any eventuality in those days.

  I always tried to use a positive sentence

  Even after realizing I was in a hopeless position

  Or at a hopeless situation.

  At all times,

  I used to laugh at myself more than others;

  Because I was supported by my families;

  Whenever I looked at them for their support;

  Financial or mental.

  But time has changed.

  I am reminded by my near and dears every day,

  I am ugly, I am rustic,

  I am blunt, I am powerless,

  I am money-less, I am worthless,

  I am less of good and appropriate words with appropriate meaning,

  I am hopeless in all aspects,

  Now I am useless for my family and friends.
/>
  Few Years ago,

  My husband had left me

  To face my changed children

  Who used to love me when they were young and vulnerable.

  Time has changed,

  People are changing,

  Minds have been changing.

  I am no more positive to face any eventuality now-a- days.

  I no more try to use a positive sentence

  Even after realizing it may invite trouble.

  I forgot to laugh at myself any more.

  My children think,

  I am a burden and I should make an early exit;

  From their life and from this world.

  As my death refuse to come at an early date,

  They decided to abandon me to die,

  Without any medical aid.

  Even then my death refuse to come.

  One of them suggested;

  She can be sent to an old age home.

  Who will pay?

  There was a silence in the room.

  Another suggestion came,

  Can we keep her inside her room without food and water,

  Till she dies.

  Finally, I called one of them and told

  Drop me at the flooding river,

  At least I shall not die,

  Without water for days together!

  I shall think;

  That is the Ganga jaal,

  You have put on my mouth before my death!!

 

  The author is a Government servant and a man of vivid experiences derived from his official postings across the country, travels across India and numerous visits outside India. He is presently placed at New Delhi.

  His earlier publications are:

  1. Random Thoughts through a Coloured Prism

  2. Dilemma of a Young Mind

  3. Funny Statistics and Serious Statisticians

  4. Melody of Fragrance

  5. Akhadya

  6. Few Cities through the Lens of Hiranya Borah

  7. Guilt: Gift of Winter Spring

  8. Beautiful Ghost

  9. Great Fighters: Grace of God

  10. All Blurred

  11. Putting kids to sleep

  12. How to become unpopular

  13. Soulmates

  14. My grumpy Face

  15. Love and Worries

  16. Discussion of own Birth: A Taboo

  17. Interview

  18. Indecent Love Affairs

  19. My Fair Lady

  20. Waiting time

  21. Two Stories

  22. My Mother: Dashami Borah

  23. Parineeta

  24. Manorama

  25. Unwanted

  26. First Attempt

  27. A father

  28. The Portrait

  29. Snapped Thread

  30. Only He Knows

  31. The Stupid Mother

  32. The Same Old Story

  33. The Old Scoundrel

  34. Third Attempt

  35. Some of my First Days and First Nights

  36. Snubbed Twice

  37. Have You Met the God?

  38. Frequent Flier

  39. Messiah

  40. Forgive and Forget

  41. To Win or to lose

  42. Call Girl

  43. Beyond Blood Relation

  44. Lady with a Black Car

  45. My wife

  46. Complete Woman

  47. Diwali Gift

  48. Romance with a Lady

  49. Open Heart Surgery

  50. My First Love

  51. Replacement

  52. Pebbles on My Way Home

  53. My First Bengali Book

  54. Murder Mystery

  55. Niharika

  56. Swapping

  57. Make a Habit to Thank God

  58. Killing of a Bird

  59. The Hero

  60. Fantasy versus Reality

  61. The Party

  62. Road Rage

  63. Death of a Friend

  64. Cannot Live with Memory Only

  65. None Cares for Me

  66. A Tribute to My Guru

  67. Two Professionals

  68. The Choice

  69. The Elusive Spouse

  70. First Encounter with A P

  71. Plane Crash

  72. Plane Crash Part-II

  73. Plane Crash Part-III

  74. Abducted

  75. A Bag of Currency

  76. Suitable Groom

  77. Head Hunters

  78. My Dear Sister

  79. Selection While Waiting at the Airport

  80. Oh Shit

  81. Perverse

  82. He Got Back His Wife

  83. Beautiful Faces

  84. Elder Sister

  85. Good Morning

  86. Prey

  87. Pass on your Death to Someone Else

  88. Colour of Holi

  89. Why blame others

  90. A Forbidden Issue

  91. Hat-trick of Failures

  92. Agony of Writers

  93. Contrasts

  94. Three Directors

  95. An Unusual Love Affair

  96. Birth Day

  97. Do not Tell Anyone

  98. Anupama

  99. Late By Ten Years

  100. Murder in a Foreign City

  101. Strange Life

  102. I love You Darling

  103. Falsehood

  104. Lady in the Park

  105. Do Anything, I Shall comment

  106. Professionalism

  107. Art of Flirting

  Connect with him

  Email: hbmb@rediffmail.com

  Friend him on Facebook: hbmb@rediffmail.com

 
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