POEMS

In My Dreams – Surjyabrat Buragohain

Dreams those adorn the path

Of my cozy anonymity;

Those that fulfil and accompany

Every conquest and each fall

Of my uncanny reality;

Or, the dreams that remained dreams –

Whose shattered promises perhaps

Conceive an ocean that submerge

Relics of many inspirations

And endless probabilities…

Into the depths of these waters

I plunge to drift aimlessly.

 

People who tread in my existence,

Eagerly, and at times, surreptitiously;

In every crowd and each place

Follow me like my own shadow

As part of my chequered destiny;

Or, those faceless surge of humanity –

Whose affection and collaboration

Could constitute the shades

Of a joyous rainbow

Against the dark cloudy sky

That conceals my travesties…

In this deluge of psychedelic outpouring

I get drenched completely.

 

Where would you prefer to meet me,

Aparoopa?

At the zenith

Of the peaks I conquer in my journey?

Or, at the nadir

Of the ocean of my broken dreams?

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POEMS

An Ode to Entrepreneurs; 11/8/19

It never was meant to be

A bed of roses,

When you settled your dilemma,

‘To be or not to be’;

And chose to traverse

The long and lonely

‘Road less traveled’ –

Where more often than not,

Failure and despair are the only company.

 

Defying the crowd,

You drifted from the milky way –

Where stars glitter,

Cheer and celebrate success –

To revel somewhere afar

In the carnival that defies gravity

And climb the dizzy heights of insanity

Over a mountain of mistakes sans glory.

 

Riding the carousels,

You embraced an ocean of thorns

While playing hide and seek;

An existence filled with risks –

Psychological, social, and financial.

Striving to market your innovation

And make it commercial,

You hide and ignore your pain

To satisfy the masses in their bargain.

You are precious, unique and special!

 

Ideation, prototyping, and testing –

Your passion lies in problem-solving;

When ordinary mortals crib and complain

You spot an opportunity

And come out with a business plan,

Sacrifice cushy jobs and status symbols,

Recoup under a shed or a garage…

With only a business model to navigate,

Your journey commences with a leap of faith.

Toil and sweat make you hibernate,

Persevere, endure, and create,

To realize your dreams,

To pursue a vision!

A flight of fancy to launch creative disruptions –

Revolutions that change

The course of human evolution;

Solutions that spur the wheels of civilization!

Or, is it a disastrous recipe

Where debits and credits fail to tally?

And assets cease to service liabilities?

 

Notwithstanding the travesties,

In the balance sheet of life

You are a role-model and a true deity.

Creator of jobs and livelihoods,

Corner-stone of the economy.

But here lies the real irony –

While you immerse in a mission

To make others’ lives better

With flashes of value addition,

And wipe off miseries of millions,

Would you find a lone shoulder

To relate your insecurities

And find some solace

In the moments of solitude?

No, the swelling river bed is not your destiny,

End of this journey is not the remedy;

Be it a unicorn, a one-man army,

Or a failed entity,

You live in my heart for eternity…

 

Entrepreneur, may your tribe increase.

Therein lies true happiness, prosperity,

And peace!

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POEMS

In My Eyes; 14/7/2019

My eyes lack the warmth

To kindle a spark,

Somewhere in the depths

Of your intricate heart.

They are deep, tranquil, and perceiving;

But silent, fixed, and cold.

Yes, there is an ocean beneath –

Profound, solid, and frozen.

 

Every occasion

When it had showed compassion,

Ice melted and overflowed with emotions.

I drown in the deluge of melted blood,

It burnt my desires to conquer profanity,

Institute congruence, and sanity.

I drown in the ocean in my eyes;

How many times I have to wish good byes?

Every laughter turns into sighs

In painful miseries I experience a high.

Life can be a prison

Being human is a high treason;

People come only to perish and die!

Hope and nirvana – you are a sweet lie;

Yet, I long for your callous hug;

Because every time you despise and deny,

My ecstasy marvels in the try.

 

I do not know what, who and why,

Flood inundates my eyes.

I wish I had a heart

To pump the waters

From the ocean in my eyes

And drown the soul with melted ice!

Oh! my melted ice….

Benumb my body and my aching heart…

I am torn apart…

Sing my lullaby

With gay abandon;

I wish to leave this paradise

And fly…

See, here I fly…

Higher, and so high….

I almost touch the blue sky!

Good bye…

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POEMS

Aparoopa (The One with Enchanting Beauty); April, 2019

There is a sanctuary in my heart –

Deep, dense, and distant.

Hidden from the urban milieu

Concealed from business of planet Earth;

An island, immune to the horizon’s girth,

Asserts its autonomy –

In the lush and opulent glory!

Here I sail into the mystic waters

Quietly gliding on a boat,

That yesterday I had lost

In the thick mist beyond the moat;

Filling every parched space

That exists in my vast emptiness,

With the blue animated vapours

That rise from the surface

Of the river that flows today…

I inhale, I breathe, and slip into a trance –

Lost in my present to be found in the past!

 

There is a dwelling in the sanctuary –

A beauty, a dream, a home.

Its flowering fragrant garden

Grows and nurtures hues of every season.

If I stay there for a thousand years,

I have every reason;

Music pores through each door

Windows open to snow-clad

Golden peaks at sunrise;

Sometimes dark billowy clouds

Merge into a passionate thunder

And drench the lavish creation

With an outburst of myriad emotions.

The evenings light up the milky way

As night descends through the stairway

Silently with a gust of romance –

In the flashes of lightning

I see a visage;

Soft as a forest in moonlit nights;

Pristine and tranquil as the Taj.

A face as ancient as mine,

Sans the evidence of toil of time;

So exuberant and buoyant –

Is it for real, or, a magic unfolding?

Neither do I know, nor am I asking.

For, every moment is a remedial therapy –

Rekindles life, rejuvenates the soul.

Here I sleep holding peace in my arms;

A tight embrace to make time freeze.

But it flies away with the breeze…

Till I wake up next morn –

Touching love with an evergreen song…

In a state of bliss; soaked in nirvana,

Here I find Aparoopa – my Aparoopa!

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POEMS

Placement Training, 2017; 8/7/17

 

Chhatrapati Shivaji welcomed us

To this ‘Mayamahanagari’.

To keep our dates with

IBS Placement Training.

 

Arrived from Bengaluru

Amidst a metro strike;

Landed in Mumbai

To find the taxis on strike!

Oh! Monsoon…how I long for thee;

Come soon with your lightning strikes!

 

Andheri, Jogeswari, Goregaon,

Malnad East and West, and finally

The Resort to rest;

For learning and sharing and networking,

This place is the best!

 

The world is a stage – but,

Which role should I play

With effectiveness and efficacy?

If not the Nation,

But I need to know

The role-set

That commensurate my value-set.

 

Should I hold the handle,

Or, the cutting edge?

If I am the handle,

I cannot make the cut…

If I am the cutting edge,

I bleed to death…

Either way it is me who is to pay!

 

Sin goods attract 28% GST

Much effort was needed

In front of the camera

To smile and say cheese!

 

In this age of IT,

Corporate engagement and

Communication is the key.

Lateral placements, Campus connect,

MDP, EDP for free

Can shorten the placement lifecycle

And attract the corporate

For a recruitment spree!

 

Interface between academics and placement!

Reminds of John Travolta

And Pulp Fiction;

Nicolas Cage and Face-Off!

Or, 1962 – A War Story;

Hindi-Chini bhai bhai;

Who will be our Chou En Lai?

Nehru is no more

For this tryst of destiny;

Let Siddhi Vinayaka take the call

And make placements for all!

 

After the doses of Chanakya

It is time to hit the beach;

Together we will swim or sink…

‘Coz no man is an island,

Sea is not the place to be…

Let us be a piece of the continent

Where we shall generate 100% placement!

 

By balancing

Dharma and Artha,

I get into a zone of confusiona,

Should I go for an i10

Or an Audi?

If I invoke Maulana Rumi,

It is not me

Who will choose the car;

But the car will choose me!

 

Volvo is making cars with battery;

Let us conserve our energy

For tomorrow’s team-building activities

Where we shall play CHESS

And deploy our strategies;

With chariots, horses, and elephants.

But do not forget to pay homage

To the sentinels of our nation,

Our great soldiers!

 

The keyword that emerged

Is collaboration…

We shall argue,

We will debate;

We shall discuss,

We will agree to disagree!

With proper communication,

And flawless execution,

We can reach the stars and the moons!

And play the greatest ever IPL –

IBS Placement League!

It’s just a thought – ek soch!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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POEMS

Masinagudi 23/05/2017

In the foothills of Ooty
There is an ocean of greenery.
Where every sight
Is an anthology of botany.
The Author has written
Every chapter so gracefully!
Wildlife roam around peacefully
And the cool breeze
Blow away every human misery.
This green tsunami
Makes mockery of urbanization
And human vanity!
My camera is working tirelessly
To capture the moments
In this vast and endless scenery.
This is where I would be
For the next few days
Putting my emotions into poetry;
The place is called Masinagudi…
Amidst the biodiversity

In the laps of Nilgiris.
If you wish to escape
The rat race and its tyranny,
Come join me and forget the agony.
Alas! If we could escape the drudgery ….
The curse of human destiny!

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POEMS

IBS Selection Process 2017

 

(Dedicated to the wonderful faculty members of the 9 IBS Business Schools spread across the length and breadth of India. Jai Hind!)

– Surjyabrat Buragohain; 26/02/2017

 

Elite and erudite commandos

Descended from the Hyderabad skies;

Divided by geographies

United by IBS,

So many colours merging into oneness!

From eight directions they came

With reputation and global fame!

 

Buses and car loads of candidates

Swarmed the lawns every morning.

‘Papa kehte hain bada naam karega,

Beta hamara IBS mein padhega;

Magar yeh toh koyi na jaane

GD aur PI mein hota hain kya…’

This IBS legacy

Has taken us to glory,

And will go down in history

For the unity in diversity!

 

Thus began our annual IBS mela

With thousands of footfalls,

Tons of hopes; 10,000 MW of smiles,

No one here is akela.

Dignified colleagues

Truly represent the academia;

In good company we conduct

GD, PI and the paraphernalia!

 

Last year PI was the status symbol.

We prayed for it,

Longed and lusted for it;

Contagious was the PI fever.

But this season GD was the flavour.

To avoid PI, well before sunrise

Scholars recite sankatmochan

Hanuman chalisa,

Wise men with grey hairs demand

Senior citizen’s quota;

Demonetization, bullet trains, cloning,

Advertising, and corporate ethics,

We prefer to sit through the day

Listening to these topics!

 

If you are air dropped sans a parachute,

You are in PI soup.

Your emotions would give away

While having your chai.

But some sessions of PI

Can give you a real high.

When Britain ‘departed from Europe’

It is known as BREXIT;

And it is their prerogative

Where they go…

US, Africa, or, Mexico!

Candidates not only take away your chocolates,

They also take account of your age,

Like Caribbean pirates!

 

As the evening sets in

And a billion stars shine,

Under the moonlit sky

Many a things we try;

Some go for a stroll like a rolling stone,

Some search for paranormal activities

Amidst the darkest cavities,

Some take the opportunity

To burn their calories.

Some try to spot the satellites,

Others take selfies under the street lights.

At 7pm sharp, under the floodlights

You will find a good professor

Who loves cricket;

But never finds the eleven

Around his wicket.

As others would rest to overcome ‘thakaan’

He would resort to ‘Lagaan’ –

‘Arre Tipu, yeh konu muskil khel nehi hain…

Gore din mein khelte hain

Aur hum GD, PI ke baad!’

 

Some prefer to sleep

Until the next daylight.

Some would plan for a night

Of gastronomical delight.

Some would have migraine to fight.

Others go for a shopping spree,

And this lonely, poor poet

Would sit under a mango tree

To pen down poetry…

Dreaming of paradise

And its plates full of ‘biryani!’

 

Thus for ten long days

Away from the loved ones and family,

But heart and soul firmly united,

With full might

We conduct the surgical strike!

And meticulously execute

A process

So flawless and tight.

No need for six sigma or an ISO,

We all naturally shine

Like pearls in the land of ‘Charminar’.

With wonderful faculty, delightful staff

And the best of facility

Number will flow for sure…

But as time has come

To leave and go,

Like I have said before,

I say it once again…

Yeh dil maange more!

 

Last, but not the least,

If you liked my poetry,

Listen to my ‘mann ki baat’ –

Can I have GD instead of PI?

 

 

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