SIDE-KICK : A Social Operator

Hi All

Have a fun with my SIDE-KICK operator!
I list SIX properties of the operator.

i. Reflexive
X side-kick X.

ii. Non-commutative
X side-kick Y not implies Y side-kick X

iii. Transitivity

X side-kick Y, Y side-kick Z the
X side-kick Z.

iv. Trivially Indifference
X side-kick Y for G and Z side-kick Y for G' then
X indifferent-to Z

v. Profitably Cohesive


X side-kick Y for G and P side-kick Y for G then
X Cohesive Y when X,Y shares G.

Vi. Shamefully Repulsive

X side-kick Y for G and P side-kick Y for G then
X Repulsive Y when X or Y exclusively share G.

The Last Spring

Stood like a lonely palm tree
Far away from green fields;
Stretching arms up
To touch the moon with a hope.
An angel would come one day
With cosmic fragrance
To open her misty eyes
In this field of despairs and hopes.


In an evening of the last spring
While the moon was glittering
In high blue sky,
Mischievous cold and
Sweet tropical warmth were around,
Felt the touch of a shy and sleek
Who fell on and rouse to the occasion
To latch on till the Sun is in horizon.


The breeze of the spring became exotic,
The moon played hide-and-seek.
She winked from a pregnant pond,
Hives of hopes filled with honey
Fell on the ground.
The bees of passions
Started dancing around.


Shy birds flew off and
Anxiety sat in,
Wild wishes set out and
The glowing worms entered through the skin.
Each stung broke the cement of innocence
While the flowery touch brought
The Ocean of wishes.

That spring though the last one there
Still blooms in the jungle of memories
Intoxicating to collect pebbles more and more
At the Ocean, for the museum of the expectations.


******************************************

Hrushikesha Mohanty

( For the last Spring at IIT Kharagpur
written in '89 and this one is the edited one)

OBLITERATION

(Now)

I resemble to everyone

But myself

In sea of crowd,

Serpentine queues of malls,

Wilderness of personnel rules

And civil society.

I – a file

Placed on personnel department shelf

With a tagged code

A competitive commodity for super companies

But self gathering dust in a forgotten corner.

I – a robot

Dragged through main gate metal detector

At bewitching tunes of Krishna's flute.

Myth inhabits and psyche pervades

Like gopies of Gokul

Lost myself in vacuum – a undefined state.

Who are you? Identify self.

The man at counter shouts.

With my humility I justify self and

ID card comes to rescue, where 'I' sits

Often being mutilated

For on my face being signed

(by security officer).

Is it me - the self?

I resemble everyone

But My-Self?

Hrushikesha Mohanty

August 2008.

OBLITERATION

(Then)

I resemble to everyone

But myself

In sea of crowd with uniform,

Serpentine queues of company canteen,

Wilderness of personnel rules

And civil society.

I – a file

Placed on personnel department shelf

With a tagged code

A uncompetitive supermarket commodity

Gathering dust in a forbidden corner.

I – a robot

Dragged through main gate

At bewitching tunes of Krishna's flute.

Myth inhabits and psyche pervades

Like gopies of Gokul

Lost myself in vacuum – a undefined state.

Who are you? Identify self.

The man at counter shouts.

With my humility I justify self and

ID card comes to rescue, where 'I' sits

Often being mutilated

For on my face being signed

(by security officer).

Is it me - the self?

I resemble everyone

But My-Self?

Hrushikesha Mohanty

before 1994.

Note

I find nothing much has changed in psyche between the crowd at ECIL gate and the young software engineers speeding to their companies now.

AT THE OTHER SIDE OF THE BRIDGE

Not known who blew off the fire

From her well curved eyes;

Not known why she is here

Where everybody cries.

Day begins with benign face

At the foot-step of the bridge

That connects the dark to light;

Alas, the bridge is full of pain and hate

Still, relentlessly she keeps on fight.

Tramps of footsteps passes by;

Hardly anyone listens the cry.

For her,

Hues of sun rise and silvery night

Are alike; do not make any sense;

the face of sympathy and the unkind face

Are alike; but she is full of grace.

Some are born lucky and some earn luck,

But, some are unlucky (for their no fault)

To shed tears on the rock.

Shall we not bother to come out

Of our cocoon

To share little somebody's

Sorrows and pain?

For life exists at

The other side of the bridge

With right to grow

Laugh and sustain.

Hrushikesha Mohanty

This poem appeared in SCOPE; Vol.16, Issue 2, July 1989

Note: For the blind girl who was sitting at the foot step of the bridge near

ECIL bus stand.

SCALING

Lark was flying to touch the Everest
Came down on its own weight.
Fell into the lap of mighty Himalayas,
Hey! you guys are not special under the sky.


A Marcos with large purse in Las Vegas
Down one day by uprise of mass.
The purse cut holes, dollars went down,
Hai, Emerald where is my crown?


True, the polar bear no more roars,
True, uncle Sam also preaches.
Afghani and Vietnameese are shouting
Yeh! you guys are no more frightening.

But ....

Tedious and boring to be a common.
To live a life with mercy and pain.

So ...

Fly high till the wings flutter,
Try hard for the best of labour.
Live with a peg and a poem,
Ah! those verses of Omarkhyam.

$$$$$$$$$$$$
Note: This poem I wrote in 1990 and the same appeared in the publication of
Electronics Corporation of India, Hyderabad Officers' Association.
Vol.16, Issue 7, Page 8.

PROGENY

From seven-palm-tree depth of ocean
Tsunami of desires blew up.
Pushed the cloud away
But
Since than the ocean wails
With bouncing waives
To get back.


Teen eagerness and Alexandrian desire
Monsoon cloud eager to pervade
Floats on and on
For gold and glee.


Stag jumped off to a valley of bounty,
Ampule opened to mesmerize.
Instigated to roll on gold to squelch
And amused to squeal.


Wailing ocean embossed on
The amulet hanging on cloud.
Stag saw, recalled and turned squirrel
To climb up the cloud
Drained out to detergent white
And being towed away.


Cloud: with conflicts but consistent
Ocean: wailing but deep and calm
Hugs on bosoms
Cloud melts to drops in ocean.

***
Hrushikesha Mohanty
19th April 2008

FOR YOU

This is not the only line for you
But I can write it many ways.
When tomorrow is in time's womb
I dream of you being farther away.



This is not only a nightmare for me
But thousands of stings pierce into my spine.
When I see roses in my garden fading away
I'm afraid to hope for you being farther away.



This is not only a grey day for me
Wish, there are not many in stores.
When the shady picture hangs on today's horizon
I dearly wait for you being farther away.



This is not only a silver line for me
Hope, it is followed by shower of solaces.
When I trace your foot-steps in my lawn
I find closure of you being farther away.


*******************************
Hrushikesha Mohanty