Oh! Nadezhda

Infatuation

A robust voice on a gloomy October evening announced
your passion for freedom and humanity.
A rush of rhetoric swept away the university premises.
My dispassionate numbers drooled over your firebrand.
1% : 22%, 0.1% : 11% are men : wealth in America,
a curse of 21st century inequality.
The promise of America is between the sky and deep sea.

Love

I saw the dawn of proletariat; good morning my Nadezhda!
Let us wake up now as opportunity knocks at the gates.
Let us incite against $7.25 wage when billions are in profit.
Add your acerbity to the fuel that just ignited a fire.
Our voice got sharper at the altar of Government propaganda.
there, we burnt the brightest.
Your flame kept me warm all night long, thank you!

War

On second day of occupation, the cold wave of penury hit us.
At the street corner, we met with Jesus Christ, exhausted.
His crucified bloody body rebelled, still being kicked by greed.
He offered love to starving kids of main street.
And, I struggled against a few strong Men but could not save my love.
O Nadezhda, is this the end of us?
War is still on all the streets; how much love left in you, Jesus?

Death

The funeral is the end of your one life cycle but not your humanity.
Red and white flowers on your grave are our shared memories.
A bunch of tired but unyielding wills,
low sound of your flapping wings.
A march of our infatuation, love and war and your grande finale.
Goodbye my Nadezhda.

E= hv= mc2

You are blue and young, only a few light years away.
I wait for eternal darkness to arrive every evening,
for you to bright up a halo with a burst of energy.
Your constant smile in Hubble's universe and
your dancing photons are equations of my future.
If you see my mother, tell her to slow down.
If you see my dad, tell him to take good rest;
he is running all his life in four dimensions.

You are young and brilliant blue of midnight horizon.
My feet on an arrow of time start to break the blindness
and follow your light amid cacophony of wide open field.
When I get tired, I renew myself by the shower of your duality,
eh! dazzling wave-particle on the tangent of summer curvature.
I am closer to your blue frequency now more than ever.
Let us dance together at a rhythm of our resonance.
We are a star of infinite darkness, my matter-morphosis!
..................................................................
The equations of motion in Newtonian mechanics were replaced by similar equations between matrices; it was a strange experience to find that many of the old results of Newtonian mechanics, like conservation of energy etc., could be derived also in the new scheme. Later the investigations of Born, Jordan and Dirac showed that the matrices representing position and momentum of the electron do not commute. This later fact demonstrated clearly the essential difference between quantum mechanics and classical mechanics.

Werner Heisenberg in Physics and Philosophy
(Chapter II. The History of Quantum Theory)
..................................................................
The difference between Newtonian mechanics and Einstein's theory of relativity is this: In classical theory we assume that future and past are separated by an infinitely short time interval which we may call the present moment. In the theory of relativity we have learned that the situation is different: future and past are separated by a finite time interval the length of which depends on the distance from the observer. Any action can only be propagated by a velocity smaller than or equal to the velocity of light. Therefore, an observer can at a given instant neither know of nor influence any event at a distant point which takes place between two characteristic times. The one time is the instant at which a light signal has to be given from the point of the event in order to reach the observer at the instant of observation. The other time is the instant at which a light signal, given by the observer at the instant of observation, reaches the point of the event. The whole finite time interval between these two instants may be said to belong to the "present time" for the observer at the instant of observation. Any event taking place between the two characteristic times may be called "simultaneous" with the act of observation.

Werner Heisenberg in Physics and Philosophy
(Chapter VII. The Theory of Relativity)

2010

Saturday, September 4^th

And there you are, at last!

Sitting on a low wood by the edge of a narrow lane,

your wait celebrates every moment dashing to 6 PM.

Under slanting Sun and your bright eyes,
beats of an unknown joy evolve in my heart.

A spring of your straight smile flows instantly;

possibly, still vivid on the western crimson riot!

Our nonsense talks about cop chasing car,

Anderson Hall through almost bleeding Fall,

and your love for Oreo brownie ice-cream,

as if everything is a fast infatuation!

As evening fervor blossoms the brightest,

innocence glimmers amongst glitter of our eyes, just!

Friday, September 10^th

Radina’s Coffee, 3 PM

Early romance getting fervent,

we sit by the window glass facing the same narrow lane.

I am afraid today if this is a dream,

moving rapidly through multitude snapshots.

Happiness on your smile abundant, you rejoice,

and I wonder if it’s just the random weekend vibe!

East Stadium, 11:30 PM

Night falls and green turf becomes brazen by September dew.

Train of impulses takes us over now,

soft words culminate into touches restrained,

I see sensation on your dove like neck.

Under a million glittering darkness,

we look far above in the ever unfolding mystery.

Tenderness moistens aloud on our trembling lips.

Monday, September 13^th, evening

With our every passing zeal in the thunder evening,

chains of inhibitions are liberated one by one.

Now, you unleash yourself as passion arrives.

The gate of ecstasy opens up in a rage.

Fast murmur of our breath follows veiled aroma lissome,

I see goose bumps from your neck to your bosom,

Some lines between us melt into glory,

with every paint on your lips and fingers sublime.

Whisper by whisper, bite by bite,

bursting thrill colors a hickey on my neck.

Wednesday, September 22^nd, Konza Prairie

Wonder of fading rays on the cloud of heaven

leaves a trail through just showered prairie.

Blinded by cold sun, we kiss, see time fly!

As stars get brighter and moon burns full,

we start towards cacophony of wild.

Adrenaline takes over curvy roads little known.

We believe, you pray and we believe again.

Warmth by warmth, I sense you the most today.

Walk by walk, I live an age in this moment halfway!

Stefan, I and A Few Others

I dedicate this work to my PhD adviser, Prof. Stefan H. Bossmann.

Under the lull of a purple town,

a brilliance touched by eccentricity

incites motivation, weaved in freedom of thought.

A glorious rainbow rises in the dark rooms of sweat and sweet.

Every cyanine lights up my mind infinite;

I would hold a candle to those cells on the horizon.

Dreams and dreams, your loudest song alive!

Multitude of parachutes migrate in bright and blue

in the deepest darkness of the ocean bed.

As power of imagination charges,

bio-luminescence makes a leap from the ocean to CB 344.

Step by step, a party of molecules starts in a round bottom flask.

Fire, Fire! set alight those cells;
let them die and us live for a while.

A touch insanity flirting with risk, your grandest show!

.................................................................

Cyanine: A range of dyes that we synthesized in lab in order to image tumor

Parachutes: a metaphor for jelly fish whose luminescence is being used for radiation therapy

those cells: cancer cells

CB344: synthesis lab

An Evening With Dostoyevsky

On a low light evening, I went to an underground Moscow bar.
There, I met with a filthy, ruffled face in a dark corner.
A drunk gambler, but, what an amazing charisma!
I sat opposite to his table and an obnoxious smell welcome me.
I saw Russian damsels hovering around his prodigy. 
He murmured an introduction to a revolutionary manifesto.
It was about blue and white collar,
less oligarchy and more happiness.
He declared Putin a Rasputin, a failed "Superman".
"Keeping fellow men impoverished is crime,
that deserves punishment."
His murmur became thunderous, almost epileptic!
Next, a few concubines offered him their ample thirst.
Nothing distracted him at that point and he went on aloud.

I asked if we would become evil as we plotted against devil.
"greater good would follow", he thundered.
I shared with him my trajectory of "greater good"
by the length of mighty Brahmaputra river.
Two decades of deception and wile,
two decades of lost childhood!
There was prevarication of ideology and ideals. 
"Red October promise was a facade of socialism.
It was an orgy of oligarchy;
every gulab became gulag."

I asked,"Why is Pussy Riot Karamazov being punished?
A blasphemy or a veiled avenge of Rasputin?"
"Only a benevolent 'idiot' can save us.
Now, we wait for His arrival to wipe out our days of sin."
I said, "He may have already returned, but, He is crucified by-
Government, organized religions, liberals and conservatives."
Fanatics!

To A Secret Lover (Illusion)

"The very essence of romance is uncertainty." Oscar Wilde

Red roses and dark chocolates will surprise you this morning.
You will ask if anyone saw me leaving a part of adoration on your door.
Few names will cross your mind, but, you will still be wondering.
Dark chocolates will melt my infatuation into your revelry.
Every cocoa bit will make you wonder if love is a dark inebriety.
Then, you look keen and you will see my dreams on the velvet petals.
Some will be brilliant like your red hot blouse.
Some will be cold, February cold of our frozen inhibitions.
Some dreams are lofty hopes, to see you every Wednesday and
to run to the summer rain beyond scarlet celebration.
Some dreams are pure pale, your hidden treasures deserve my expedition.
You will know me in those screaming dreams of yellow morning.

Epilogue (Reality)

Dear Fab,
               When I wrote "To A Secret Lover", I was thinking about you. Not knowing too well was compensated by the power of imagination. Why should you know this? Because a) you are the protagonist in the poem, b) when my biography will be written someday, the posterity must know who the secret lover was and c) I have always adored you. Only cardinal sin I have committed is that I painted you in red; it probably should have been white which is your favorite color. Do not say anything now, your silence is my imagination.

Mausam,
              Wow. I did not expect such a message. It was nice, but also made me uncomfortable, especially since I am engaged. I am sure the posterity will remember you for something else than any inspiration I had.

Killing

It was a cold, December Friday.
You waited for a lovely weekend with your little girl.

Travel to a fairyland, to the warmth of Merry Christmas.
But, cruelty unleashed a psychopath among children;
Mother earth soaked red and every bit of innocent laughter.
Echoes of your brightest flower were never heard again.
Heaven too changed its color from blue to black

in the hope to cry a gloom to wash away your tears.
Mothers of Newtown,
"Do you still look forward to the weekends?"

You do remember the day you brought your baby home;
You looked at the back seat often while driving your car.
The miracle arrived with a scream to pour joy into your soul.
But on a Friday, a psychopath scared away the miracle forever.
Now, you wonder why; your beliefs are challenged by that fatal day.
Your dreams and hopes are dashed by the sound of sin.
When your son asked where his sister had gone, you cried silently.
Fathers of Newtown,
"Do you still look at the back seat while driving?"

Lincoln's moral high ground divided and united a nation.
Morality is, now, your propaganda to lecture gullible Americans.
When a soldier dies in the senseless caves of Karbala;
when a child is dissolved by the bullets of second amendment,
you see money in war and in gun lobbies. (institutionalized corruption)
Red is the color of money and red is the color of Washington DC.
Politicians of America, "Do you see the blood of the kids in your hands?"