O childhood
I was again lost in your innocence
When you didn’t ask me why
Your anger looks so complete
For both of us
That it doesn’t need words
Like that expression on your face
As natural, as reactive,
As life is supposed to be
You speak when you feel
You react when you have to
A freedom so natural to us
Yet we have to crave for it
In a life, driven by compulsions
We have almost forgotten
What it is about being a human
Our broken souls do cry inside
But in a painted world
Where we selectively cry
As it is invitational to its semiotics
And so to our inhibitions
When I see you o childhood
I realize what I have lost in life
And I go through this grind so often



(An August 2010 work, rearranged and rewritten today.)

Sometimes beginning the day with a whisper,
Sometimes with a cry,
Sometimes gaping in the void,
At times beginning it with an innocent invite.

Cruising into the myopic state of your bionic reflections,
Jaded by the hyperemia,
The ephemeral circumvention of the moment,
Drawn away from the routine empirical hysteria.

To the cerebral existence of the self-efficacious creation,
To that fleeting vision,
You never knew when it took you into its embrace,
As you just reacted naturally, like you do always.

The sudden trance that it takes you into,
Away from the oversized clutches of the trite,
Dragging away, disconnected,
Liberating to the elementary momentary amnesia.

There comes a time,
When debates become primordial,
When the need of solutions become unreal.

O childhood,
Why don’t you stay forever transcending me,
To the realms of that fading Ideal.

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey - http://severallyalone.blogspot.com


©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


Creation can be felt in different ways
And happiness is a way to look at it
Driven by the events in the moments
When we feel content with the flow
And want to live the moment forever
Living in today
And feeling it in every tomorrow
Creation speaks through that innocent face
That opened its eyes this morning
Staring at faces and colours around him
As if looking around to know his new home
As if trying to read the spaces around
His cry says all, his smile says all
Even if a word is not spoken
And the feeling is mutual, shared by all
Creation always conveys it’s elements to us
And a child’s birth is its purest moment
It wraps us in its joy
To pull us back from the forgotten feelings
It calls us back
Into a world that is somehow ours as well
With a charming face, with a warming smile
It tells us to come together and celebrate
What we don’t appreciate anymore
A life lived in now, a life built on this now
A newborn creates a spell around us
It asks us to live in the moment
Forgetting the ‘ifs’ of tomorrow
With a smiling face, with inquisitive eyes
It reminds us again the purity of innocence
That the world so easily forgets in its created ‘realities’

(On birth of my sister’s child, a baby boy, on June 12)

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


O mother, I don’t need the sky
Haven’t you given me the wings to fly?

You don’t feel it but I understand
The pain you take for me to stand

I am still small and I may not express
But how can’t I read your distress

The words I speak are given by you
The moves I make are reflections of you

The world I have extends from you
The times I have trail back to you

O mother, I don’t need anything but you
Haven’t you been the only one for me?

I can’t read the emptiness of your eyes
But I feel the suffering and its cries

You keep your tears from me
But I can sense your urge to run free

And I need to say, please don’t bow anymore
It’s the time, take your call and open the door

To the life, beyond this muddied flow
And I’ll be there, with your wings, as I grow

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


The quiet restrictions of the playfulness

The unchained joy of the rough surface

Missing like hell the charm of those days

In a life driven by sophisticated excess

A desperate urge in an age of prowess

To meet the child in you and his grace

Living the life in that careful embrace

Oh that paradise and this futile access

Time cannot go back but have your recess

Rediscover the child in you, that lovely mess

Of kin, of friends, of the thoughtless ways

Oh the carefree days, that childhood caress

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


Morning ride, evening break
Fun to go, a run to partake
Oh that round shaped happiness
So many of them but why this mess
The beautiful blue, green, yellow, red
He could not decide which one to take
But the pull was so immaculate
He pleaded again to make his case
Why couldn’t he take each of the shade?
Jumping like a novice dancer fully awake
Mixing in all his wisdom of his age
Punching in the morning shake
Munching with the evening trek
He pleaded again to make his case
Oh so my, blue, green, yellow and red
Blue are my eyes, green is my sun-hat
Yellow of my shirt is so joyfully great
The red of my jacket is so passionate
The beautiful blue, green, yellow, red
So near and dear to me, they all fascinate
Leaving what, what can be my catch?
I am at a loss on choosing from this batch
So I wish to propose if I could have the red
With blue, green and yellow to head
On my morning ride, on my evening break
Out of this logjam, the key to my happiness
Sir, see, it is so simple to iron out this mess

©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/


A child can make a toy out of anything. Be it the leftovers from the garbage dump or highly sophisticated gazettes that cost a fortune, the attention is immaculate.

Anywhere can be the playground of a child – a leveller, free of class discrimination.

These photographs are artistic expression of collective effort of a group of one of the most marginalized social formations – children of sex workers.

Taken at Gudia centre for sex workers’ children at the red-light area (still) of Shivdaspur locality in Varanasi, these photographs convey this feeling. Untrained children here have created model of a water theme park from waste material after their visit to the water park on the outskirts of the city.

And the seniors at the Gudia centre say the model is a matching model replica of the water park capturing elements in detail. Such a good work in only possible when it is done with pure joy at heart.

Gudia is a not-for-profit working against human trafficking for forced prostitution.

Gudia Children Water Park 1
Gudia Children Water Park 3
Gudia Children Water Park 2
©/IPR: Santosh Chaubey – https://santoshchaubey.wordpress.com/