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Satish Collection

Satish Verma is ferociously original. You feel resentment, outrage and violence, cannot pin it down but wonderfully spin your brain. Satish has the greatest sensibility which sweetly exploits the delicacies of human conflicts. You are taken aback. This is magic, profoundly soulful. In a lone, long journey Satish Verma is still discovering himself. Beaten, betrayed, felled, he comes back with fierce velocity. His childhood was traumatized by India’s partition. Terror, violence and death were witnessed which built the morals of poet. Becoming defiantly recluse Satish Verma pursued his value based life on the path of truth. Teaching Botany for 35 years he was writing poetry, privately and solemnly and published twelve collections.

 

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With tall questions I am 
alone, waiting for the 
tomb robbers to come. 

Truth was no more a religion. 
You wanted to consecrate― 
the illusion, sealed in myths. 

A graffiti appears on the 
waiting trees. Who put― 
the curse on swaying blooms? 

The dialect of the moon will 
not listen to heart beats of sun. 
The grammar was in primitive state. 

Yes, the music of lake has 
a meaning. The boat will carry 
the wreaths for the wilting words.

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What noun was combative, 
enduring the poison, when 
you were subject of― 
the history, which will 
remain unwritten? 

The war was on, in the 
night of terror. You cannot 
reach the extremeties, for the 
sake of modesty. Violence 
sits in speech, in dirty words. 

The flesh needs new blood, 
and blood demands the bone 
of justice that will not― 
conceive mutilation. You become 
benevolent in spreading the fear.

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Impromptu, word by 
word, I will anoint you 
with poetry. 



Moon was sinking 
slowly, watching me 
reciting an elegy. 



The gates were still 
closed, for the candle 
bearers to stand vigil.

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A poem, like death-was 
unpredictable. You wait for it, 
it does not come. 

Then you drag a corpse 
on stones to find its home 
which never materializes. 

You give me a hurt. I 
become mute. Very shy 
to accept the verbatim. 

How different we are 
in alikeness. I touch you in twilight 
of life to become one. 

And from daily life 
I gather the pain, to print 
the version of tomorrow.

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A moon interrupted; 
riles the social class. 
A native sense comes of age. 

Piercing stare becomes rarefied, 
unbuttons the peaks and 
kills you with a mallet. 

The scared mask falls 
off the divine embrace, lets 
free the pigeons from the golden cage. 

The forked tongue will 
speak only truth. Blood 
was the only stain, washed easily. 

I will get the tan 
in moonlight only. My scars 
will remain invisible in silver.

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It is the truth which 
never was. After many 
deaths I will come to you 
to repeal my verses. 

The festering earth was 
making the rains green, 
to suck the dry sands 
thrown by the angry winds. 

The soul upturns the body. 
You will crawl in a tunnel 
to come out for sedation 
accepting the karma. 

A non-acceptance of the 
straitjacket. Let the anxiety 
rise like a beast.

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It was the presence. 
Somewhere magnolias 
were in bloom. 

At this moment, there 
was a meek withdrawl 
sidestepping the explosion. 

In the hour of 
waking. Moon was sleeping, 
morning after the acid attack― 

putting ahead the 
dilemma, before the sun rises 
retracting the claim for martyrdom. 

Anxiety was writ 
large on the volte-face of earth 
when it failed to lasso the witch.

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You did not want to play― 
into the strength, 
of the other. 

Wrecking the pecking order, 
to become poorer, 
giving away your entire height? 

I could live, 
without your blasts, O sun, 
but I need my moon, 
for whole night. 

It pervades, 
the dark matter, in every pore. 
Like gingko tree 
I will drop all the pretentions 
tonight, and become leafless.

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When you release the 
words, your curled fingers 
burst into flame. 

It was an ancient filth, 
a bird fighting in the mud- 
house of quote-unquote. 

Someone navigated 
over the bald heads to find 
a landing place for a cuckoo. 

Between real and fiction, 
you cannot write a hymn 
in praise of satan, called god. 

I am done with the darkness 
all around, and rip open 
the wall to let in the jupiter.

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Ready to pounce on 
a scarecrow. 
The ants were hungry. 

It was a dried bone― 
frame, wearing the royal 
costume, waiting for the moon. 

Can you play with the 
jewels and still 
remain poor? 

The suckers refuse to 
shrink, taking away skin, 
the eyes, the ears. 

It overwhelms the loneliness, 
the silence, the colossus, 
and the two-faced king in making.

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The one happening; 
which never happned. 
A slice of mock invasion on 
inner sanctum to find your own name. 
Who were you? 
A mind not on the mend? A 
house you were not living in? 

The forecast was wary of strangers. 
A deadly intent was hurling 
the desires onto the stones 
of eyes. A fog hides the melt. 

You were not ready for syntax, 
a rhyme breaks into sobs. 
Washed by pain, a sting 
becomes the poem.

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The black holes ringed 
the galaxy. Tainted 
moon, was in tow. 



Any generational gap 
was evident between 
Neanderthals and humans? 



How our brain works 
I wanted to know? 
Are there any real men?

योगी आदित्यनाथ जी हकीकत देखिए !

ऑडियो विज्युअल मीडिया ऐसा खिलाड़ी है कि डिटर्जेंट जैसे प्रकृति के दुश्मन जहर को ‘दूध सी सफेदी’ का लालच दिखाकर और शीतल पेय ‘कोला’ जैसे जहर को अमृत बताकर घर-घर बेचता है, पर इनसे सेहत पर पड़ने वाले नुकसान की बात तक नही करता । यही हाल सत्तानशीं होने वाले पीएम या सीएम का भी होता है ।

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तुम्हारा वह अंदाज़ याद रहेगा, ठाकुर !

हिन्दी सिनेमा के सौ साल से ज्यादा लम्बे इतिहास में जिन अभिनेताओं ने अभिनय को नए आयाम दिए और नई परिभाषाएं गढ़ी, उनमें स्वर्गीय संजीव कुमार उर्फ़ हरिभाई जरीवाला एक प्रमुख नाम है। अपने भावप्रवण चेहरे, विलक्षण संवाद-शैली और अभिनय में विविधता के लिए विख्यात संजीव कुमार एक बेहतरीन अभिनेता ही नहीं, अभिनय के एक स्कूल माने जाते हैं।

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मोदी की इजराइल यात्रा के निहितार्थ !

फिलिस्तीन और इजरायल के बीच तनाव और संघर्ष के कई दौर मानव इतिहास की सबसे बड़ी त्रासदियों में एक है। उनकी लड़ाई में हज़ारों लोग मारे जा चुके हैं जिनमें ज्यादातर बेगुनाह नागरिक और मासूम बच्चे शामिल हैं। मसला दोनों के अस्तित्व से ज्यादा ऐतिहासिक वजहों से उनके बीच सदियों से पल रही बेपनाह नफरत का है।

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