Sunday, October 31, 2010


The last show is over. The screen blank.

All the words, laughter, colours, songs,

Glitz, glam and melodramatic emotions

Are over. No more love. No more pain.

The screen shall blank forever remain.

Phrases, lines, promises and catches

Of songs replay themselves in the black.

And the flashback starts with a jerk

Behind closed eyes. The voices heard

For the last time, resound and doze off.

A glass of wine held in cold hands

Trembles with unfulfilled hopes,

Aspirations false. Darkness clouds in.

The colourless poison mixes well

Drop by drop

Into the lusty red wine and

Disappears in the taste of wasted grapes.

The hall is large and dark and empty.

The chairs are where people have been.

The steps to the podium rise and go

Nowhere but sigh at the nothingness.

The screen is blank, dark and wears

A dark mourning shroud. Silence.

Eyes close and the icy cold air enters

The nostrils in a long long breath and soothes

The burning skin and inflamed insides.

Promises and dreams break away like

Shattered glass. And a salty drop

Plops into the still wine and dissolves.

Lips touch the cold edge of the crystal wineglass.

And sip it in as do the eyes of a lover drink his

Beloved’s face with a strange yearning

And smear her face with love dreamt and discarded.

The final dreg and a kiss on the edge are all

That shall remain, as remembrance and signs

Of a forgotten tomorrow, a forgotten love

And an intoxicated belief of peace in death.

A dream awakening

As eyes close in the desire of animated colours and dreams spell a charm on them, somewhere a magic land awakens to a newborn light. Castles and cottages, wear a shade of slate blue and the eastern sky blushes with a reddish tinge. The magic-man plays on his flute then, a sweet tune. Flowers open their petals and peep out to see who that player is and how he plays such a sweet note. Birds happily come out of their shady nest in pairs and join in the sweet tune. And he plays on, as the sun kisses the horizon with a passionate reddish orange and the sky brightens with elated joy. In their togetherness, they brighten and morning shines through.
In the castles and cottages, eyes open and listen to the liquid music. They lie in their beds and the music seeps through their brains and soothe their souls. Some feel joyous, and want to run out towards a green happy day. Some feel the harmony and sing along a rustic line or two. Some turn towards their close ones lying beside them and hold them warmly close. They feel lucky enough to have loved ones, a family and God's grace. Some close their eyes again and the face of their beloved one swims before their eyes. They marvel at the inexplicable joy that fills their heart and also a stab of pain. A hundred words travel through their minds all desiring to be spoken -- to him, to her. The music plays on. Some lay tight on their bed as memories of their wrong doing grasp them tight and kill their souls. Some weep in remorse, some weep in lamentation and some weep sadly, all alone. Some little eyes go back to sleep as the music whispers a lullaby. Some sit up and thank the Lord and pray for happiness and peace for all and sundry. Mothers kiss their little children. The sun glows with a warm shine as lovers melt away.
But where is the magic man? Where does he brings his music from and what is he playing of? Is it the music of joy and love? Does it speak of the pain in his heart? Is he in love? Where does the magic lie? Where is the magic man? He is not by the river bank, nor in the shady haunt of the hills, nor in the garden of wild flowers in the meadows. Where is he then? And what song flows from his magic flute? Can you hear it dear reader? Do you know?

Saturday, October 30, 2010


Sedin sokal shuru holei surjo bole hi!!!

Golap gache kuri gulo olpo futey jae,

Neel akash ta papri mele alto hashi hashe,

r moner bhetor bokorbokor bhorti fishfashey.

Keu jane na, keu jane na, gopon se ak khela.

Shada kalo dhulor majhe, hajar ronger mela.

Lal dopati, neel dopati, sobuj ghasher sish.

Khepate sopne ghum ashena, jagchi ohornish

Chokher majhe golpo lekha, kothok esheche.

Bolbe kotha ki kore se? Jiv-e kamor legeche.

Keu jane na, keu jane na. gopon se ak kotha.

Hajar mukto khuje pawa akti matro kotha.

Samne jokhon elo se tar noyon bhora sukh,

mukher peshi shokto kintu ta-dhin nache buk.

Keu bolo na, keu bolo na,

hashi futbe thote,

onek koste chepe rakha onubhuti ta bote.

Chokh duti te jonak jole, atke thake fuley.

Chul guli tar roy na badha, eliye pore khule.

Mon pathore nam likhecho, dubbe na r jole,

kon jadu te prem harale, mon jetano bole?

Keu jane na, keu bole na, gopon se ak kotha.

Keu jane na, keu bojhe na, lukano se ak byatha.

Keu janena, keu janena,

Kahini robe ki na robe,

keu bolena, keu bojhena,

erpor ki hobe ....

Friday, October 29, 2010

A Second Thought

As I check my sentmail box
litters of laughter fall crushing in.
Cheeks redden and flush deep
with hot embarrassment,
as I realise someone having laughed
inaudibly over all the stupid lines
I have written someday.
I keep telling myself that
I really didnt mean to sound
so stupid, I am not stupid.

But then, I laugh at myself.
And wonder, how silly does
this get? Silly-er? Silliest?
What do people think of me?
Mad? Bad? Weird? Or worse,
Wild? A child?
That is the complaint really.
A child. An overgrown immature
impulsive stubborn child.
I try to conjure faces wincing
as they pen down a stern line,
or a rude opinion cropping up
inside and boiling disapproval;
and poor me facing it all,
red hot, flushed, embarrassed.

Impulses make the kill.
A laughter
is way better than a rude wince
or a retort, dismissal, throwing aside.
A laughter is acceptance, forgivance,
understanding and grace.
A scope for the child to grope
the meaning of such silly acts.
And then, I sit, looking at the
mirror and believing I have grown up.

Somewhere a voice calls,
and warns me in strong lines,
Beware Beware of people out there
who shall not know impulses,
who shall not forgive and smile
in sheer amusement and laugh.
But there are ones who are
full of malice. Bear your chalice
of innocent love and simplicity
with the utmost care.
Simplicity is, my child, not simple to bear.

I sigh and wonder what to do.
There is nothing by which
the harm I can undo but be aware
of malicious fares hidden somewhere.

And quietly I thank and pray
for them who have accepted me
with a smile, and some rosy colours.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Dhoro jodi ....

Dhoro dekha holo tomae amae

Ordho shotabdi por.

Tokhon to thakbo na r ei sorirer

Srinkhole, tobu chinbe ki?

Chinbe ki amae?

Projapotir dana theke jhore

Jabe holud sopno, neel obhiggota

Roibe shirae uposhirae.

Chinbe ki tokhon amae?

Rupoli chul tokhon badhbe

Chander bardhokko,

Mukhe tokhon ordho

Shotabdir manchitro,

R thote roiben Narayan.

Sei kunchito chormo,pokko

Kesh nari ti ki chinbe ki?

Tomae kintu thik chinbo,

Roye jabe smritir otole tumi,

Chinbo tomae bohudur hote.

Hoyto bhule onno karo majheo,

Jeno hotat dekhechi firey

Jiboner sesh teere,

Tumi roye jabe chhonde,

Kono ochin fuler gondhe,

Roye jabe neel akasher gae,

Aleya bhora khatar patae.

Tumi roye jabe

Mitthe bhabonar mohima-e.

Hariye jabo jeebon srotey,

Roilo bidaay durer hotey,

Boibe bochhor hajar sholo,

Tobu ki dekha hobe bolo?

Ordho shotabdi hobe paar,

Khulbe sesh duwar ojanar.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010


dreams are tiny bubbles
that floats on the balmy air
making a pattern of hopes
with an artful soapy flair.

bubbles of charms and spell
spheres of entrapped air
that speak of hidden vacuums
and the final despair.

bubbles are dreams in love
bubbles are drops of tales
globules of myth and maya
that measure heartbeats in scales.

To One Whom I Treasured

bring it on
bring it on
let me see
how much hatred
have you nestled
up your fair brow
how much distaste
stored for me.

hit me hard
harder than that
hit me full on
let me see
how much
rage is pent up
beneath those
cold eyes and
fake smiles
and airy gestures.

burn me up
burn me down
burn me to the core
add more fuel
add more fire
burn me a bit more.
let me see what
else resides in
that dark heart of yours.

hate me good
hate me fine
laugh behind my back
hack me well with
bloody knifes
and stuff me in the sack.
cook my savage flesh,
eat me well and good,
if you were an animal
i know that you would.

after all the love, laughter,
care and admiration,
if all you can give me is hate,
then that is my inspiration.
i have no chains,have no weight,
have no sense of waste.
i can fly away whenever i wish
and change myself in haste.

but i will not run nor hide
i will not turn away
i will not flinch from your hate
i will not make a say.
do what you want,
bleed me to death
tear me to tiny shreds,
if my love had to be killed,
then i bow to no more dreads.

jara chilo na

sondhye namar mukhe
jokhon baati nibhe ashe
oi khola akasher gae,
tokhon lukiye khata khuli,
koto khoroch holo dekhi
koto porlo joma
amar khajana-e.

bhalobasa chara r kichu
j nei pawar,
debaro kichu nei.
du haat bhore dekhi
koto sojon bondhu, eki?
ato jomece naki
moner thikanae?

noyon bhore dekhi,
koto jotoner joto mukh,
karo bhetor chhelemanush
karo jhuli bojhai sukh.
keu ba bojhe onek kichu,
keu ba bhalobase
keu ba apon bhebe amae
emni kache asey.

ebar sondhey namey garo
bhuban adhar hoe ase.
Jalai chotto mom-r alo,
amar heere-r jhapir pashe.
jader besechi ato bhalo,
jara royeche amar kache,
tader jyoti robey bhora
amar nikosh kalo raate.

tader alto haathe chue
jei ani alor chhoay,
dekhe obak boney jai,
tara keu kothao nai.
amar ahlader sei dhon
gache harie kokhon,
shudhu kholosh fele gache.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Spell Bound

Just a glimpse from a distance,
and the sky reddens
with the glow of blood
rushing into cheeks and lips.
The red spreads on faces like abir.
The sun laughs into morning.


Outside a tea-stall,
three little puppies play,
and someone stares at them
with eyes full of glee and cheer.
The lamp-post watches intensely,
all lit up with sombre shades.


Water trickles down the cloudy glass,
as rain leaps down in torrential sheets.
Flowers set themselves free from bondage as
eager ears lose their attuned senses
in the beloved sound.And some secretly
get wet,drenched to the skin,helplessly.


The clock ticks away,left right left
tick tock tick,bhul bhul thik!
Pages after pages expire in the calender.
Time leaves no trail.The sand runs out.
They look at mirrors and touch the glass.


A splash of water freshens memories,
a shower of rain re-awakening the greens.
Some moments so delicate remains
that to touch them with words
breaks the bubble of felt magic.
Wet faces and whispering rains
tell stories of what remains.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

lazy lamhe

Staying alone at home does not leave much of a choice but to loiter around the room wondering what to do. For a basically lazy person like me, it is quite difficult to zero on something and remain focused on doing that thing. Often I have tried picking up a book and reading it. It takes me only ten minutes to decide that I have done enough reading already and now I can sleep. So I doze off. But that doesn’t help. A noise somewhere instantly brings me back to alertness as I realize I can’t sleep. So, what do I do? Tadam tadam tadam tadam ….
I switch on my laptop and log on to Facebook. I have my favourite applications there, Farmville and Amora, the love oracle. I open the Farmville fields and see that all my neighbours have climbed on to the higher levels like 51, 81, 93. Big farmers! I look at my huge expanse of land and wonder when I will be able to get out of my level 27. I till my lands with instantaneous clicks and visit the market place looking for seeds. Ok so, rice shall take 12 hours to be harvested. So, it will be evening and Baba will bark at me, howl at me, growl, and roar and create all sorts of animal sounds. He refuses to believe that any good can come out of me. I don’t blame him. It’s a little difficult for any person to believe in a lazy lout. Ok so I should probably plant pink roses which take 2 days to be ready. Two days are too long. What shall I do tomorrow then? Should I plant red tulips? Only takes a day’s time. But what if I don’t stay at home tomorrow? I could go to the National Library or even for a film. Ok, leave it. I don’t plant anything in Farmville now, we will see later. Any wonders that I can’t cross the 27th level barrier? I will be staying at home tomorrow anyway, so we will see later. Tomorrow maybe.
I move on to the love oracle, Amora. Interesting application! It always has two predictions, one for Amrita honey, another for Amrita darling or Amrita dear. She hopes that either one or the other shall work! Ha ha. Another confident person with her confident oracles. They are often sweet as predictions but I am the wrong person for whom she wastes those words. Here I am sitting at home in a dress all folded and gathered up, all snug and comfy, with tangled uncombed hair falling across my back and my teddy sitting on the top of my books, looking at me with what-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are-doing eyes. And Amora says, Amrita honey, your admirer shall fall helplessly in love with you today as your charm carries his heart away. Charm? Who, me? Admirer? I look at my teddy with suspicious eyes. Bhochu! Teddy looks at me with innocent eyes. I trust him and I carry on to my personalized prediction next. Amrita darling, be on the lookout this weekend. Changes may happen around you and what you want could magically coincide with your partner's desires. Changes? In a stuffed room? Where I am all alone? Desire in a lonely room should ideally take two people. :-p :-) :-D Ahem! Well, what do I want? I want to sing. So my partner should ideally want to sing too. I hum on a tune which comes out too bad. If my partner would be as bad a singer as I am, we should have a beautiful chorus. And people would throw us out of the neighborhood. That should be fun! I imagine me and my mystery man standing together in a dark balcony on a moonlit night, looking at each other’s faces and me singing a line for him, and he joins in, we sing together a lovely line or two, and a group of neri-kuttas comes running and barking up at us. How romantic!
I lie down on the bed and decide all I can do in the spare time is weave yarns of dreams and do nothing else. Are lazy people good dreamers? Eliot smiles at me. My eyes follow the pile and one by one I see the neat bindings of Walter Scott (which I wont do for my term paper anyway), the Xeroxed copies of Literary Theory books, files of materials waiting to be read, someday. The untouched pujo sonkhya laughs at me. And from beneath it peeps the Norton edition of Vanity Fair which I borrowed from the HOD and haven’t really flipped a page.
I will have to start studying soon, one of these days and finish atleast Vanity Fair or DB is going to kill me after the vacations. Murder in the cathedral! The Presidency main building even has a clock tower like cathedrals do. Fair enough for Vanities to be killed!

Saturday, October 23, 2010

chhaya tumi

chhayar sathe holo dekha
abchha alor raate.
boshlo dure, koilo kotha
obak amar sathe.

garo konthe, nibir sworey,
bollo bhalobashi.
abar hotat bhishon rege
bollo, ebar ashi.

kokhono tar chokhe maya,
komol alor dhoni,
kokhono chowal shokto j tar,
dekhe promad goni.

janina chhaya, bujhina tomae
osthir hoi boro,
kokhono apon, kokhono ochin,
kokhono ba ghrina koro.

kokhono chhaya norom tumi,
khushi te bhashe mukh,
kokhono chhaya andhar tumi
joley bhese jae sukh.

hoyto sob-i bhul dekhechi,
bhul bujhechi bosey.
hoyto sopno bhangar agey
rong korchi koshe.

hereo kothao jitchi bujhi
chand utheche tai.
chhaya tumi songi khojo,
ami ebar jai.

Friday, October 22, 2010

life is ....

life is
nothing but
a balloon
filled with
coloured water.

a candle burning
with all its
and spreading
a subtle light
that fills
all darkness
soft love.

life is nothing
but a bunch
of pink roses
and yellow butterflies
flying over
a diamond smile.

life is nothing
but a tiger
cub frolicking
around its mamma,
all tender
and protective.

life is nothing
but a small brook
dancing among rocks
with vibrant sparkles
and tiny fishes swimming.

life is nothing
but soft icecreams
and demon-masks.

life is nothing
you and i,
under a pretty lit up
sky,with dark eyes
and shy smiles
speaking a thousand words.

Thursday, October 21, 2010


Where is it?
Where did it go?
Remove the papers.
Search the room.
Under the bed?
Below the covers?
Its mine.
So dear.
So pure.
So nice.
So soft.
Its mine.
Its warm.
This much in size.
Have you seen it?
Cant find it.


You THREW it away?
Out of the window????
Just because you did
know how to care?
So you flung it away???
How dare you!
Where is it?
Down there?

O my God!
Thats my thing!
My poor poor
bleeding heart!
My precious
little Love!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

The dejected wife

The coffee goes cold
as she stares into
the empty blankness
of the shivering night.
Some stars blink
at her with sleepy eyes
and yawn lazily wide.
The moon has gone to
sleep in its cradle.
She waits for him.
The night walks by.

A partner one craves,
a man of her own.
A soul she can share,
a comfort she can bear.
A lover at mystery lights,
a friend at lonely nights.
A husband,they named him,
a strange man,she had to bind.

Official relationship of
traditional customs and duties,
they bound two bodies by a thread.
Who knows where the hearts are?
Does he love me?Is he seeing someone?
Does he give me a thought?
Who knows? No time.
No time for love.

A rat scuttles by quick.
Her phone screen remains dark.
Her eyes remain blank.
Her heart doesnt receive
the warmth of a single phrase
or a single word,from a
beloved voice - come! to me!
Fear of rejection hangs high
and the desolate loneliness.
Absence and silent sighs ...

Tuesday, October 19, 2010


ondhokar ak ojana
othoba khola maath
nikosh kalo
haar kapano hawa
r ojana
druto hote thaka
r hotat
ok,wake up
eta nightmare.
hah hah ha


Nothing comes out of nothing.
Only fake dreams and wax that melts.
Clouds of conjured mirth
Evaporates and leave behind
A dry sigh.
I reach out all around me
With arms spread like wings
For vibes that send through
The hot skin,
The cheer of a mermaid’s song.
And nothing do I feel
But emptiness in the stale air,
It was but a dream wasted.
A broken dry branch
Mistook for an olive laurel.
Bubbles float in festive air
Yet bursts so helplessly
As we reach out for a touch
With simple, simple joy.
I stand alone in a dark room
As blackness haunts the night
Dry wind whirls within
And blows out my candle light.

Friday, October 15, 2010

nam debo na

kalo megh
nibir kore ghire ase
kache r dub
dae abeshe bhora
gohon chule.

jhore pore
kichu papri
holud pata
r megher dana.

kar sari urey
jae jhoro hawae
r pore giye
ojana anginae.

stobdho tar
majhe kar
gobhir konthe
gaan shona jae
misti gungun.

aji jhorojhoro mukhoro
badolo dine...

kar haather
churi beje othe
r payer shobdo
shona jae
tripto ghaashe.

akash paane
cheye thaka
shanto chhele-ta
kar sathe bhijte chae?

aro ghire ase borosha
r alo nivey jae
porom mamotae
kono sona
bou-er songshar-e.

tup kore ak fota
jol jhore pore
shanto thote
r duronto premiker
moto shushe nae
osnato oshanto

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Whispers in the Wind

Sounds by thousands coalesce
into a silence deep,
condensed and passionately calm.
Heartbeats resound in the
dark recesses of the mysterious
gully,in a fastened pace,just
as if we have met each other
suddenly,in a moment tight,
a quick glance and a deferred look...

Empty corridors and lit-up stairways
get nostalgic over a sunny evening
when we were designed to meet,
not strangers,not friends,known faces
and unknown objectives entwining lives,
opinions and fate.Hilarious guts,
mysterious mirroring,quiet,blocked
abstract moments.Things changed
and hidden perspectives played games.
Awkward feelings and a link somewhere...

Eyes,they say,are windows to one's soul.
Some eyes are so eager,vibrant,talkative
that one forgets the silence that remains.
Words flow like rapid torrents of gushing
water through the honey-mild stolen glances
and secret smiles that stop at the edges
and laughter bursts out from twinkling eyes.
Sudden moments alter orders and the curtain
falls away,as eyes look into eyes,deep through...

A thousand words can be spoken,they say,without
uttering a single word.But nobody says what happens
when silences speak and utterances contrast
with a stony stillness and cold vibes.
Who knows but a dream may lie?Beyond explanation,
words give evidence to dreams falsified and tears
dried on cheeks flushed with embarrassment red.

Whispers in the wind brings magic moments back
and whiffs of the past gleaming with a hue
of stories unearthed and unexpectedly kept
in shades and folds,of gulmohar flowers
and remembrances gold as Baby-Austin cars.
She remains inaudibly quiet,as if her whisper may
break the bubble and cast her away,from
the shadow world and falsified images of
tender love.He alone knows what plays within,
his hands full of shrapnels and roses,
waiting for something,somewhere to begin
or end.
Magic remains in the history of secrets.

Sunday, October 10, 2010


What do you know of strange
nights and unknown fears?
What do you know of being
alone and staying up in
the dark sweating and feeling
the nerves pulsating under
the creamy translucent skin?

What do you know of dreams
that remain unfulfilled forever?
What do you know of constraints
and connivances that stab at
every step threatening to kill?
What do you know of being afraid
of the dark and closed spaces?

You can remain up there and
touch the sky,pluck some stars
and decorate your room.
You can make gardens and grow
flowers and spend sweet hours
there cooing with your beloved.
What do you know of promises
broken and relationships abused?

You can dream high and play with
thoughts,create cute webs of colours
and allure lonely wandering children.
What do you know of fairy tales
gone wrong and stepmoms and witches?
You can suck on a candy and sail
on a white boat.what do you know
of hearts who weep at moonlights?

You have magic wands and soft wings,
you can fly away at your whim.
What do you know of butterflies
who have broken their wings and
flap sadly around wild roses?
You can kiss grass-flowers and
drink honeydew.What will you know
of little birds who sing to brighten
the sunlight and get their feathers
scorched by the rude heat?

What do you know of rivers flowing
through liquid hearts and silences
hiding songs of saddest cheer?
You can make and break,tease and
leave,search and discard,imagine
and wake up.What do you know of
calls from the unknown and
living with a purpose strong,
having to live,carry on,love or
no love,storm or no storm?

What do you know of friendlessness
and overwhelming joy at a slight
touch of care?What do you know of
tears flowing at a slight kiss?
You can dream of happy lands and
green meadows,of ball-dances and
princely intimacies.What do you
know of a pauper's grace and solitude?

You can stack hoards of gems and
stud them on the night sky.You can
whisper into her ears and make her
blush,bring down the sky for her.
What do you know of imaginary riches
in my room?Sparkling stars on my
earrings?What do you know of feathers
on my back?You can hold a princess
in your arms.What do you know of my
Disney princess stickers?

I am richer than you.With all
my failures,my broken dreams,my
stupid hopes,false allurings,
dishevelled emotions,meaningless
attractions,silky diamond teardrops
and salty excuses for mushy sentiments.
I am richer.With my weird songs,
rhythmless dances,melodramatic expressions
and rootless wanderings.Im a lost child.
What do you know of searching for tunes?

Saturday, October 9, 2010


k se amar kei ba jane -- kichu ba tar dekhi abha,
kichu ba pai onumane, kichu tahar bujhi na ba.
majhe majhe tar barta amar bhashae pae ki kotha re
o se, amae jani pathae bani amar gaane lukiye taare.

Walking amidst the morning mists
She smiles quietly to herself
And wraps the orhnee around
Like a protective glance of
Crystal care and dewy peace.
The white serene morning
Smiles and re-adjusts the mists
Like she does her sylvan veil.
She smiles and walks.
The green wet grass beneath her
Feet, play with her skin,
Tingle them, touch them, make
Them so cold, covered with droplets.
She breathes out a wisp of air
That smokes cloudy white and
Laughs as it mingles with the mist,
Intensifying the morning veil
By a degree. She looks up to
The slate blue sky and drops of
Dew kiss her face, here and there,
On temples and cheeks, lips and eyes.
The shiuli flowers scatter themselves
On her way, craving to be picked up
Tenderly and held on her long fingers
And pink palms, a bit coarse, a bit
Tired with wars of a regular life, but
Kind enough to love, to live, to laugh.
She stoops and picks them up
And holds them close, so close
That they let out their divine
Odour and fill her little life
And dark eyes with ecstacy
Beyond words, beyond time.
The morning draws the mists
Closer and embraces her.

Thursday, October 7, 2010


The song in eyes
have found a way
and it seeps through
like sweat
and trails down
the skin over
the blushing pink
and traces it way...

it gets lost among
soft curves and folds
of grace and luxury,
finds its way again
over and drops like
fountains of pleasure
along the neck
and snakes down
the waiting shoulders...

the naughty locks of silk
enmesh them and play
hide and seek with the
deepening colour of ecstacy.
the magical spells cast them
aside and the coloured trail
seep inside the blood again
and run through veins...

only to resurface over the
hands in a happy brown
or a cheerful dry red,
of mehendi flowers and intense
patterns of love.
palms spread to receive the
throbbing song and hold
the dream of love infinite
bright with sparkling joy...

the small designs of painted
imagination creates the wish
of being as delicately and
tenderly treasured and the
maroon flowers are hopes
of dreams and togetherness.
somewhere among the jewelled
lines lie the human name
as the relationship covers the
eyes with a maroon gold-flowered veil.

rainy joy

Rain Rain come again
Go away another day
Little Jane wants to play
Rain rain come again

splash splash chhhoppp
splash hippie hoppp
splash splash hopp.
its raining its raining
the waters all puddling
little feet jumping
and dancing in the water.
splash splash splash
its a rainy bash!!!

Sunday, October 3, 2010


i apologise
i apologise
to all of you
who have meant
such a lot to me
who i have
fooled around with,
disturbed you
with pranks
and stupid mischiefs
and unnecessary
chatter and talk.
i apologise...

i am sorry ma
for creating
such pain and agony
for you as i lay
in cushioned joy
surrounded by the protective
amniotic sac
connected to the umblicial cord,
my link to life
your link to pain,
unbearable pain.
and a pain i have
been, since birth.
i apologise...

i am sorry baba
for being a girl,
a daughter
who is only a burden.
i was never a champion
never did i top anything,
an exam, a job interview
or a simple race.
you gave me education
in a country where
daughters are wed off early
you gave me scope
and i never buried my head
in books and made you proud.
neither am i beautiful
that i can get you
compliments on being my father.
i apologise ....

i am sorry dadu,
trust me
i loved you,
but i could not see you
in your death bed.
i could only close my eyes
and see your smiling face
as i sucked on your rudraksh
and you handing me a dhanuk
as i imagined myself to be
Shri Ram of your tales
or your darling naatni
who you would bring flowers to.
how could i see you dying?
i apologise ...

i am sorry dida.
i miss your soyabean curry
and pui-foler torkari,
but i could not live upto
be a doctor
who could cure you of your
silly naughty ailments.
i love you kiddo
and i apologise ...

i am sorry my heart.
i could not understand you
i should have.
you had given me the taste
of being loved, wanted, desired.
your lips have twitched
with an insane temptation,
as i smiled good-naturedly
or wickedly amidst public.
your eyes shone the moment
i stepped out in sight,
and you dreamt of a good-life
with me in your arms.
yet i could not decipher
your busy silences
or your awkward avoidances.
did i annoy you? irritate you?
i apologise, sincerely ...

my dear friends, i am sorry.
you have been there through
thick and thin, or havent.
sometimes, you have bore
my weird jokes and maddening
arguments, my repeat-broadcasts
of melodramatic incidents
or gigantic embarassments.
thanks for telling me repeatedly
i am pretty too and
i shall slim down one day,
and that i am great,
which we know may not be true.
you have given me all
the smiles available
in the sunlight.
i apologise for every let-downs...

and you, who have always inspired
me to carry on. who have always blessed
me with a smile, and replied
to my jokes with witty lines.
who have shared bits and pieces of
your life, and absorbed my pains
and lended me some light to
make me walk and talk,
i am sorry that i could not
always live upto your name
and not always bring smiles.
i apologise ...

tonight i die
a blissful death.
under cloudy skies
and chilly breeze
wrapping me in delight
as the poison trickles
down my throat.
my eternal bed awaits me.
i must go now.
i love you all
i am really sorry,
i apologise......

Saturday, October 2, 2010


kal raate hotat ekraash shunno ta grash kore nilo
amar ostitto. sthan kal patro sob bhule gelam.
bishal ei prithibir majhe khudro, nogonno ek ostitto
hoe toiri holam kono ek ojana mohajuddher jonno.
jekhane khoma nei, nei ek inchi jaega kono bahuller.
jekhane du'dhare khudar khaad, sombhabona j kono
muhurte hariye jabar ondhokarer otole. jekhane kali nei
kolom nei, mon nei. lekha nei nijossho kheyal.
louho akoriker moto onishchoyota jekhane stupikrito
pahar niye darie ache, r ache pragyo
obhiggo ek bisshoy, nistobdho boddhobhumi.
akasher rong jekhane neel noy, slate ronger oppekha
chheye thake, gachh jekhane prohorir moto
otondro jege thake r lokkho kore jae nirnimesh
amader lorai -- chhayae chhayae lorai,
kayae kayae juddho, mayar obisshasyo bishforon.
mahabharater maha-ron jano uthe ashe khola hawae --
keu nei, keu kei, charidike kebol shunno ta.
k bondhu? ki biswas? biswas-ghatoki ba k?
penciler bhanga shisher moto joubono ekdin harie
jabe -- jibon shonate parbena r somudrer kolorol.
tokhon rong makhano kobita berobe na pata jurey
gorom fanush hoe akashe urey jabe rongin icche.
ishwar keo khuje pawa jabe na r, bachie rakhar churanto khomota
o glaanio tokhon tar haathe. sei nissho raate jodi
bladey haath kate kono klanto khudro shoinik;
keu raag korbe na, keu moneo rakhbe na.
thik tokhoni bondho hote thaka dorja ta atke jae.
goriye esheche chotto akta marble -- ronger jholkani te
se tokhon somoy kinche, r kore dicce biwhol kono sujog.
tokhoni hotat baba hath rakhe mathae, ghumer ghorei bole
ay ma, ay
chokite pichhie jae rono-topto prohor
dariye thake neel seemanae.


Hete chole jabo bohudur,
jethae ochena somuddur,
dak pare ae chole ae.
amar srote neme por,
nabik hoe ba jajabor,
kotha dicci ferabo na r toke.
bisram ne amar buke,
chokh buje chirosukhe,
ghumie por joler bichhanae.