The cog in the Machine
Potshangbam Nyaydhar *
This human! "the me"
The "input-output machine"
Parents and teachers expect,
To come with a bag of marks,
Marks! Marks! Marks!
Nothing but, only numbers,
The empty heads ring,
With the riotous numerals,
Nothing is left in the "human-automata"
Numbers going in-and-out,
Which clue shall I pick up?
In my bewilderedness,
Pythagoras must be smiling,
"Up above the world so high",
For, the number dice he unleashed,
Have lodged in the marrow bones,
Which thread shall I find?
Schools, homes and society,
Have no room for the light to shine,
The students—"the empty gunny bags,
The passive recipient of what pours into it,
Whither shall I go from hither?
In the world of blind adults,
None is there to lead the youths,
Out of the overwhelming darkness,
Like the stars how shall I shine?
Like the cloud sailing across the blue sky,
With the winged friends can I dive?
And fly at my will along the winds,
In this hazy dream numbers no more play,
How I long to bloom like the flowers,
And sing with the song birds,
In their happy moods,
Yes! If I am Ramanujan,
I may be become captivated,
By the sheer beauty of numbers
Like him, while still half-asleep,
May scribble numbers on the slate,
Oh! friends! Go on dreaming,
Under the eternal gaze,
Of the heavenly stars,
In dreaming alone,
Borne are we every moment,
* Poem written by Potshangbam Nyaydhar for Hueiyen Lanpao (English Edition) as part of Nyaydhar's Poetic Circlet
The poet is Class-X student at Bethel English School, Nambol
This poem was webcasted on July 15 2013.
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