It was that Tuesday I had that big dream
Of a big windy city collapsing in chicken hearted reign of long colonial conquest
As two big birds after long years’ kamikaze like the Fat Boy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
Flapped their wings of fire and shot into the big head
Of cerebral thrombosis, the gods of small children not wept smilingly
To play ducks and drakes with the concrete fibrosis of the big walls in pools of black blood

That big Tuesday of the ninth September with no awe and shock
I woke up with bated breath from my big dream to clap my hands from the depth of my pent-up voice
With wistful eyes seeing the rubbles of the monster of power razed to the ground with a big thud
And I again clapped my hands and counted the rosary again and again
To pray to the gods’ small children for setting a thief to catch a thief for sometime to forget it not
And I forgot it not, that big dream stills burns my flesh for a bigger day to burn the empire into dusts and ashes.

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I ask you
Who are you
And what are you
You never ask me
Who am I
And what am I
Yet we meet
At the same cross road
Of the rising dawn
We breathe the same air
And we die together
At the labyrinth
Of same days
Oblivious of the darkness
Close to our nights.

We know not
Who we are
And what we are
What will befall on us
When things will do us apart
When we will part our ways
At the sound of the tolling bell
What will happen to us
If we hide our souls
In shadows of long silence
Saying our love only
In aloneness of lonely hearts.

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Stephen Hawkin is reported to have opined that the work of the Large Hadron Collider is crucial for the survival of humanity. As per his assertion the 2.4 billion pound machine is “vital if the human race is not to stultify and eventually die out”.


Stephen Hawkin chuckles
While the groping world sees no light
At the end of the twenty-seven kms. long tunnel
As the cavern of fire is turned on the black holes
Little black holes remain little black holes
Beaming no light on the cyclotron of the big bang
Nor steadying the state of the dark matter in a jerk
Dark energy remaining in the hollow darkness
As it has been a long unassuming darkness
Since one and a half billion years’ old wives’ tale
Days after days have melted into a long night of days
But there is no silver lining in the darkness of mystery
Nobody knows how secretly the universe is wrapped
Only the fools ever dare to bare the facts in fiction
Even when the mystery remains the mystery of hunger.

If the cyclotron buzzes with the high hope
Of seeing the beauty of the universe coming down heavily
At the webbed feet of the sophists of the czar’s empire
Truth remains truth as good as a mystery
As particles of light at the end of twenty-seven kms. long tunnel
Is that the truth is more mysterious than the pangs of hunger?
Should the stoking fire of hunger nonchalantly be spoiled
At the cost of billions of pound of blood and sweat?
Why should the human flesh and blood get stultified
And die at the drop of a bang of an unseasonal rain?
What if the beauty of truth remains as ever
As a mystery of an apocalyptical truth?
Nothing matters much to the colloidal ideas
Of thousand flowers blooming and blushing
In course of diurnal pains and pleasures
The myth and mystery of truth enlightens hoi polloi to no end
Why is the higgledy-piggledy of those big heads
Huddled together to destroy the myths of genesis so haughtily?
Will the bedraggled truth provide even a morsel of food
To excuse the hunger of millions of poor souls
Despite that the divine manna provides solace to the befooled?

Stephen Hawkins chuckles
While the colliders have united
To cruelly break the bones of the Apocalypse
For nothing boasting themselves of unveiling the camouflage
Of the elusive truth of cosmic empire and the birth of a nation
But as hard as they try exclusively to appease the corporate world
They will prove nothing but gullible truth
To hoist the flying colours of haughty nonsense
Neither steady state nor big bang will win the days and nights
Of garbled truth manufactured under twenty-seven kms long tunnel
And the tunnel will never see the light at the end of darkness.

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Mother, where are you hiding your baby? Sky stares at him, birds singing lullaby. He will not sleep on your lap. He will discover you, he will run away from. You cannot deny him his freedom. Let him be dirty with his disguised tricks. He will trick you into his hidden world. Have you ever been to his sunshine world? You will be his plaything. He will play with your love, he will give you the half sky to conquer.

Mother, why are you worried to see him crossing all frontiers? Why are you begging him mercy? Someday he will be the emperor of your destined land. He will win you many battles and then he will dethrone you from your vested desire. He carries the scepter of enchanted silence to whisper your love into the wind. He will break the ice of love for you when the rising sun gathers storm to break the world apart.

Mother, what are you plucking in the perfume garden? His worried eyes roam like flatfooted swan in a blue lake. His innocence will show you the way to the gate of blessings. He is the child of universal desire. You cannot ever prison him in your world of lust and greed. Let him be free to play his innocent tricks. He will talk to the sky. He will fly with the wind. And he will destroy all the frontiers.

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Is education a one-way traffic? The teacher will gorge out something from his memory or from his notebook and the students will listen to him like some dumb dudes? If this is education practiced in one-way-traffic module, what is destined to happen is happening all over the world and most predictably the so-called educated people have been turned into dumb dudes. They have fallen a victim to 'culture of silence'. This 'culture of silence' is the way of life that the powers-that-be have intelligently instilled into the mindset of the common denominators and that is what they want.

Paul Freire in his seminal book Pedagogy of The Oppressed says that it is not education. Conventional education is mechanical and parroting to the point of being corrupted to the core in so far as it tends to exert pressure on the common people to eat the humble pie of existence. It cannot enlighten the students with new visions and thoughts. According to his opinion, proper education should be dialogical and interactive between the teacher and the students. Only that way education can become pro-active in the sense that proactivity with the existing standard of life would interact with the way we should live.

So, education's sole objective should be to educate the mass of people how to change this world. To change the world, people have to know the actual reality of the world in due perspective and thereby to transcend that reality. If they know it, they will automatically want to change the undesirable societal condition of the world. On that condition, the teacher cannot parrot some methodological ideas which are barren and inefficacious. From the teacher a student will learn something and then he should be prompted to ask questions one after another to get plausible answers themselves with the aiding and abetting with the proper help and guidance from the attending teacher.

That is a two-way traffic and two-way-traffic education is truly dialogical and interactive. And interactive and dialogical education is the only proper way to educate the mass of people who are burning within themselves to change the unjust world. To reiterate it again, first and foremost they should know and be of the firm conviction that the world they live in is utterly an unjust one. Gaining this conviction is not just gaining in knowledge but remold one's mindset with a vision, a vision that shows the new light at the end of the tunnel at the crossroad of life's one and only true mission.

Freire is a Brazilian educator who conducted many educational workshops among the poor and illiterate peasants and factory workers of Latin American countries to lend a hand to their political education so that they could know the world better. And he returned with immense and enthusiastic responses from them. He says in his book, "In the midst of the argument a man who previously had been a factory worker for many years spoke out : 'Perhaps I am the only one here of working class origin. I can't say that I've understood everything you've said, but I can say one thing - when I begin this course I was naive, and when I found how naive I was, I started to get critical... "

And getting critical is the bottomline of Freire's pedagogy as far as the liberating education is concerned. It generates critical consciousness and that "conscientization" then cries for freedom from all shackles of oppression prevalent in the society. Freire says : "Freedom is acquired by conquest, not by gift. It must be pursued constantly and responsively. Freedom is not an ideal located outside of man; nor is it an idea which becomes myth. It is rather the indispensable condition for the quest for the human completion."

Now let us briefly point to the "culture of silence" which shackles the mindset of the wretched of the earth. The oppressors of the world do not like the idea that the wretched people never raise their voice against injustice and cry for their legitimate demand of freedom. It is rather that they remain "dumb dudes" meekly surrendering themselves to their existential fatalism. They should not get critical of their essences of existence reverberating in their political consciousness. And here lies the crux. As long as the oppressed people eschew the "culture of violence", their juggernaut of economic appropriation and political shenanigans will roll on undisturbed and uninterrupted.

So, let them sing the songs of silence!

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Dry leaves fall on your face
Like drops of dew in the twilight
Shadowy rhythms of your beauty remains
The ruins of the universe vanish in a pity delight.

Guilty feelings crying foul in oblique silence
Can it claim you of your veiled moments
Can it console you of moment of torments?

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