1981 and Iran

"Many times, we feel that nothing's going to happen to me. My sea career is going to be absolutely smooth, as ever. But, it does not happen. So, I'm going to quote one small incidence...or what I've encountered.
1981, I was master on an Iranian ship, called Iran-Ehsaan, and we had brought the cargo from..uh, Europe, to be discharged, at various ports of Iran. So, we arrived in Bandar Abbas, the first port of Iran, and by that time, the war between Iran and Iraq has erupted, and there was a solid shelling, and actual fight was going on. So, we were told by the Iranian Ar...Navy to...that you have to wait, for this convoy...their naval convoy and they will accompany us through the Shatt al-Arab to go to Bandar Khomeini, which was the ultimate port of Iran. And,  as you geographically see that on the west side of the shatt Al arab there is Iraq, and on the east coast there is Iran. So, we were all well prepared to...all sort of emergency or exigencies, because this Iraq used to fire...this..uh, heat seeking missiles and...just to damage, mostly the engine room parts and subsequently you'll find the ship getting flodded with water and there'd be hardly any time...you may sink in 5-6 minutes. So, while going to Bandar Khomeini, luckily...it did not happen. But while on the way back, in the convoy we were at number 3 that was Iran-Ahsaan and at number 2 was Iran-Rezwan, which was mostly manned by the Indian officers.....and few Jordanians. So, early in the morning, as we started coming out from Bandar Khomeini, and just entered into Shatt al-Arab, just around 4:30 or quarter to five, where you could just see the light, twilight, the...we could hear the big bang and the ship number 2, which was Iran-Rezwan, was hit, by that Iraqi missile, and it was... through and through that missile, we could see the piercing through, and the ship tilted and within a spans of, just few minutes, the ship was about to sink. So, luckily...like we have prepared, so as the other ships as well as, so suddenly I saw this, all those people with their, the crew and the officers, floating with their life jackets in the water. And shouting for help. And naturally being number 3 and the closest, it is my prior duty to lower the life boats, which we already were ready. So, the experience was that, I lowered the life boat myself, and we could just go across, just a few yards and luckily just happened, that we could save the lives of this Iran-Rezwan crew and ahh..uhh.. fortunately since we had the knowledge of this we could retrieve most of them, except one fellow, oiler, which was...he could not swim, and he was drifted quite away, we couldn't rescue him, but other than that, we could rescue all of them, and one second engineer, his wife and child, there is a very...I'm very...still today I take that pride, in me that we could save them and till today that lady sends me the Rakhi, and I feel so proud about it, so... at least with that great feeling, I can safely retire and that... even today, when I think of it, I f..fee..feel, that as if that incidence happened just yesterday.
So, what I want to share, that...this message, is..the thing that; be prepared, for any kind of emergencies or exigencies, that may occur in your life, anytime.
Thank you." - Captain Anil D. Athale

roots

till that last ounce of emotion
lit up
till those exaggerated poems
he once wrote becomes a reality
till the school books
turn into big lies
till the track of his tears
disappear
till every thing that once mattered
lose it's importance
till he realizes
that you don't meet many people who'd stick with you till last
till he falls in love
deeply and truly
till he starts replying to the letters
because he wants to
till he paints down his own emotions
and not for some pretty girl he wants to impress
till he starts drinking
not to get high
till he starts giving his punching bag
names and characters
till he learns to smile
at the liars
till he starts to forgive
because there's no way out anyway
till his mistakes become guilt
and that guilt burn his insides
till he gives up those english songs
and starts understanding the folk
till he is back to his roots
till then,
wait,
because then only your Boy would be home. - roots / m. sandhu

disability

clueless, totally
i am
i mean it's kind of a mess
i've failed, miserably, pathetically
and all other something-ly-ies
i've failed to photograph, pen down, paint and express
the moments which deserved to be.
it had always been about the moments before
or after
the one which really...
i don't know the word here..
the one that would mean 'deserved to fly down the memory lanes of people in such a way that would inspire and induce a thought process'
getting me?
maybe it's my lack of knowledge
and ability to express as i feel
or just cowardliness
wars have ruined men
maybe
you know.
it's like cowardliness.
and the fear, which you feel
when you think that your ideas,
ideas which didn't emerge on their own,
but were forced out of brain,
would yawn into sleep,
slowly, with time and
the distance one will have to scroll down your timelines,
and the expressions and that fire beneath those lungs
somewhere, unknown to bio students
would sob, mourn and rest.
or those moments where
you had a choice and a fear
and the moments where you had vulnerability and an image
where you seeked discipline and freedom,
at the same time.
or maybe its...
...
(His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettin'
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's chokin', how, everybody's jokin' now
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!)
...
...
"yes?...no...talk to you tomorrow...switch off the lights and close the door after you"
...
don't worry,
you'll create,
when that Fire
would start burning your insides.
till then try taming your demons with high bass. - disability / m. sandhu

starting over

all of it is just about
tearing apart those scents
from ribs and the guts
and wrecking that dorm of memories
and telling the mind it's okay
and it'll just end if you bear it
for a little more
and then
dig up the nails,
pulling up the skin
and listening to track of the
cracking separation
as the skin trims open
the wounds within
and the idea of a fresh start
pulls out those nodes
spilling blood all over.
and at the end,
when the bones would become too weak
to bear their own weight
burn that mask
and ask everyone to bloody rot themselves
because it had been enough
of you holding up
and them foxing over
and over again,
of you burning
and them, burning.
but do you trust yourself enough
to forgive yourself; a sailor from other end asks
and the castle breaks. - starting over / m. sandhu

dumpyards

Let's assume there is a city, a small town kind of a city, with people having a healthy and simple lifestyle.
But humans generate waste, so the people of the city starts dumping out of the city and within no time, a dumpyard is formed at the outskirts of the town.
Now, the city grows and the dumpyard which once was on the outskirts, gets into the city,
But people adjust.
Now, another dumpyard is formed, additional, on the outskirts of this newly formed up city,
And again the city grows and the dumpyard becomes a part of the city.
Forests are cleared, mountains are chipped down and lands are made suitable, and the city keeps on growing,
adding to the number of dumpyards it has within.

Those who got it, got it. - dumpyards / m. sandhu

no complaints though

it's a little warm
no complaints though
the swing is at just the perfect pace
to and forth
and back again
a few squeaks, as it swings
no complaints though
you are reading me poetry
some french poet, i think
about how stars fall and
how galaxies rupture into clouds of dust
i am missing out some words
but no complaints though
it's time..you need tea
i know it, somehow
it's something you understand as you grow old together
you turn pages as i prepare tea
you slide your finger over the words
but then you stop
it's your wounds
the places from where your poetry flows
has never turned into scars
regardless of how much i wanted them to
you still bleed
but that's okay
you are not bleeding alone, nevertheless
i look out
at the fields,
the mountains,
the trees
and that queue of ants
struggling with that sugar cube
keeping your book and the cup aside
you wrap around me
and i think how poetic people can get
over the tiniest emotions and phenomenons
and here i am, holding you tight against my chest
uncertain if you are spring or winters
if butterflies tickle your soul or what
if you are blah blah or blah
and every metaphor that's used
but you sure are beautiful
i hope my heartbeats would have conveyed it to you
time and again
it's strange, you know
how i've kept my poems about you
safe in my chest
i think I'm screwed in your love
but it feels far better than being not so screwed
there a music that buzzes
i've to get up
it's reality that's alarming
it's time to erase the clouds
and kiss you goodbye
but no complaints though
you're here, always and Forever. - no complaints though // m. sandhu