Friday, December 31, 2010


In your eyes
I see the world everyday
many stories unfolding completely
and the game being played every moment.
I weave the golden web of
mystery and silence and suffering.
You stand a distance away and smile.
You spread your dreams of silver togetherness
and hold her hands close and warm.
The poinsettias blossom passionately
and drive the wildernesses crazy.
Her eyes live in yours and stories intermingle.
I look around and see colours in riot.
Celebration of intense comforts. So deep....
Red large passionate poinsettias engross
my fiery imagination and promise me
a walk fired with love lost and dreamt.
I transform into a scarlet fairy and shower
your path with flaming leafy velvets,
as you kiss her into a day unfolding within.
I don a silver tiara and wear my red dreams
and become a poinsettia princess.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Bochhor -- years of existence

Pathorey rokto lege thake.
Hoyto nishith raate karo hridoy bhengeche,
othoba kono kishorir rugno deho
chhire gache unmotto ashurik kamonae.
Othoba pishe diye gache kono lorry-r chaka
kono sranto ghum k.
Hoyto bhenge gache karo shanto protichhobi
ba mod-er botol.
Tolte thake rokto makha paa.
Dhulo mishe jae lojjae
Manush o manobotar itihash
mukh lukiye kandey ...
Calendar-r pata bodlae shudhu,
bochhorer gae lege thake dhongsher ashfalon.

sinduk bhenge kanna churi gache,
aynae tari awaj shona jae,
fele dawa mati te jodi jonmae kono gachh,
upre niye jabe tara eshe.
beej bopon korbe re? ato boro sahosh kar?
matha kete tar fele debe pukurer jole,
jonmabar aj karo nei odhikar

Monday, December 27, 2010

A morning message

I wake up early in the morning
with an essential sense of purpose --
that I have to say something to someone.
I dont know what it is,
I dont know how it is,
but I desperately need to say it.
Things kept locked away in the corners,
weep alone and reach out helplessly.
One word or two, one smile, one gesture ...
and nothing ... to weave stories by.

So John Denver sings to me
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry ...
Golden droplets throw their embrace on me
through the windows and kiss my wet cheeks.
No hands reach out through finicky distances.

Maybe you will walk by one day
and not know me from discarded memories.
And still I wait, for who knows what?
Life threatens and promises unforgiving wounds,
and yet I hope, I wish, I dream, I empty out my hours,
for you, who perhaps would not even think that a
young, raw, unkempt elf like me would ever dare
to smile at your heights and be so proud of you
and protective, unnecessarily ...

And others keep on telling me that I should just forget
and move on, and leave you because you belong
to someone else in silent hours and starlit evenings ...
I turn on them and walk away, as if I matter, to them or you ....

I turn pages after pages, to read and wonder
what face am I looking into? Whose?
Do they know something that I dont?
I was always a bit stupid, I know.
But your eyes tell me a different story every moment ....
Blues. And songs. And images we share. And words scattered ....

It was so essential to know, to let know. I'm scared.
Of what? I dont know. I really dont ....
Maybe I dont deserve to know. Its you after all.
Someone I have known only through my gut feelings.
I hope ....
Before I get old and die ....
If I could give you the best gift, what would it be?

If I had a tale that I could tell you
I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while.
Sunshine ....

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Emptiness engulfs me as I look inside
and try to find you.
Somewhere I find you gone, and I am
left alone, as usual.
Have you deserted me too?

Have I done something wrong?
Why then tears fill my eyes?
And I reach out around me
and find the empty air gasping for breath.

I dont find you now, where have you gone?
Have you left me all alone?
I find me no sweet words to write a poem
No embellishments to decor and adorn emotions.

I dont know why I am so much in pain
and tears flow uncontrollably.
I dont know so many things, so much ...

On Christmas

The winter morning embraces us with her white muslin fogs as we stand in the golden sunlight, and listen to the sounds in the air. Beats,music,children's voices and laughter. Fathers and mothers walking by, taking children with them, to the church. A rustic church which adorns itself with candles,bells,glittering papers,balloons,stars and balls. Hawkers sit on their temporary stalls and sell cakes. Big cakes, small cakes, burnt cakes, plum cakes, thick cakes, thin cakes, fruit cakes, branded cakes -- cakes of all creed, all breed, all shapes, all size. Oranges, joy-nogorer moa and picnic people screaming their lungs out. Joy flushes the morning air as sweaters, monkey-caps, chadars, mufflers, gloves and socks all walk by, run, tease, laugh, smile and smile and smile. Sorrows and sufferings cringe their existence all through the year, but one day, one winter morning becomes so different. Tell me, do you see their faces, their simple joy at spending quality time with family and friends? Do you really think that they are the sinners suffering for a sin they have been tied to? The sin lies at their feet and redemption laughs. Yet I see some slimy presences that would again rise their monstrosities and gulp down such simple pleasures.
The baby is born. We look at his face, his chubby baby face, his tiny fingers and wonder .... His sacrifice hasn't gone waste, the rebeller, the man who created a movement of Love, like Sri Chaitanya did. His Love exists in the happy faces that laugh on a Christmas morning. The baby smiles in his cradle as others look on.
Come, let us close our eyes and make some wishes.

Friday, December 24, 2010

a college fest evening

rocking nights
partying at fests
loud music
hard rock
and blood lights
male attention
mad moves
sliding away
wild nights
carnivalesque throbs (and I dont care what Bakhtin says, its my poem)
dust smoke
body aches (do not misinterpret)
booming eardrums
and romance
sliding down the shadows.

And yet an emptiness
in the wild cries cheering
for the dazzling halloween lights
and fires in the blood.
We want to belong, we want so deep
that it bleeds inside
as we cheer and cry for some hard piercing music
tearing the night air and stabbing us
with the feel that we are one.
one crowd
one feel
one joy
one beat
and desperate to join
in love
in tears
in music
and cries.

wild dances
cracked voices
burnt leaves
smell of alcohol
and lost souls
in the dazed air.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

jotted lines

A close call. Whispers in the night air and trembling, shaking, shivering. Chilly air and uncertainties.
Insecure tomorrows.A career walking down the fog.I cant see beyond what is at hand.
Fear. Anxiety. Loss. More Loss.
Losing you?Losing me?Losing them?Losing us?Losing our stories?Written and unwritten texts?Lines and meanings beyond erased? Histories and hopes denied?
Afraid. Scared. Emptiness.
Humiliation and shame. I just wanted to make you smile and feel proud, so proud, of me!Performance. Fate. Chance. Love. Respect. Admiration. Hopes. Dreams. And love again ... I fail and rise and succeed and lose and win and smile and laugh and cry and fall again and rise ... I refuse to give up. I love my work. I love my self, and love them who smile at me everyday.
I know I will succeed some day and make them proud, make you happy and be happy myself.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Grohon o Daan

Muthi ta khulo na amar, haate shunno ta lekha ache.
Hridoyer kono prante jodi theke thake lal rokter ava,
tobe ta dhue jawa jeeboner sesh chhoa tuku, sindure megher rong.
Amar jhuli shunno, ak mutho gaan ta te nei j tomae daan debo.
Rikto ontoshhar shunno beche thaka tobu hoe othe orthomoy --
Tumi acho bole, tomra acho bole, sondhye nabar agey go-dhulir alo hoe.
Neel aguner dikey ami moher abesh nie takiye thaki, r bhabi
ki odbhut ei jeebon. Prochondo kanna peleo kichu mukh futey othe
Bhorer tarar moton r agley dhore kache, neerobe, r kokhon hashi hoe
Fute othe ak akash ador, ahlad. Ache ache -- aro kotha ache, aro sur ache.
Yeh to sirf trailer tha, kahani abhi baki hai mere dost ...
Asha, bhorosha, prem, neerobo ta makha kothar jowar r onek khani ador
kokhon aki-buki kete gache haater patae. Muthi ta khuli ebar.
Jhuli amar bhora daane, amar nijer dhon nai, tomar sathe bhaag kore nite pari
sonchito madhu-korir onno, bhaag ditey pari nijer shunno tar kebol. Tumi nebe ki?

Friday, December 17, 2010

Golden Apples

A frightened little heart, an anxious despair,
a little fairy crouches in the corner
as darkness threatens the garden.

Fear, scathing fear
and tension,
scattering of precious images and
enshrouding threats in the caves of
magma and lava kissed flames.

But desires and dreams are stronger than anything.

Powers percolate and the volcano erupts,
throwing up molten magma and unimaginably hot
flames of intense fantasy and deep love.

Two hands pick up the soft little fairy
and press her close on warm lips,
kiss her frightened wings and a reddened face.

Alladin's magic carpet carries them away into the sunlight.

The apple garden waits,
wild with blossoms and drops of the flame-red fruition.
The paths are covered with petals and leaves,
and small golden apples that entice
little moments of hidden joy and inflamed expressions.

Come, take a bite into the maroon flame of love-stories
and melt away into the honey sweet reality of hearts.
A moment, a fragrance, unknown joys and the gold of magic dreams,
anointed with the royal flames of fruition and blossoms.

The golden apples shine with a promise of love.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

pothiker gaan

kanna bheja shohor amar
kanna bheja ghor
dukkher noaw-e paal tulechi
ami jajabor.

tomar shone bhab piriti
tomar shone alo
tomar shone chaibo firey
sopon prodip jelo.

tobu akul pother pane
dhaite hobe taane
roibe praane dukher shohor
tumi roibe gaane.

A Drop

A pearl of rain fell from the leaves
and wet her lips with a plop.
He thought it was the Saharan dew
and drank down the drop.

tHe CutEsT LOVE POEM eveR wRittEN

pecha koy pechani
khasha tor chechani
shune shune aan mon
galo mor pran mon
tor gaane pechi re
sob bhule gechi re
chand mukhe meethe gan
shune jhore du noyan (SUKUMAR RAY)

Monday, December 13, 2010

Eurydice Speaks

Tell me not that you have grown old
and bald patches show on your head.
Tell me not that this is a cactus land
and all hopes are dead.

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

I do not accept defeat
I am not a hollow man
I have come over the lands of verdour
and green peace, rainy joys and silver love.
I bear in me the power to survive.
Come, walk with me.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

The world shall not end with a whimper.
It shall not end at all.
The big bang may happen as we dream of a fair morning.
As we sing together a hymn to the Lord
for none but the unimaginable binds us together.

Take a look at the small flower that grows out of the concrete pavement.
Does it grow old? sick? tired?
It lives with all its strength and smiles.

I discard the coffee spoon you have taken up to measure your life
and hand you a bucket....
there is a lot of life even in the jarring cacophony of the dead.

Come, hold my hand
and kiss my cold fingers.
For I have come, come to tell you all, I shall tell you all.....
I have patience, you have brains, and understanding eyes.
I have come from the dead, I am Eurydice, come come come
My love....

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Winter Songs


Listen to the shadows of mild December whispering under the dark trees.

The cold rain drizzles by and spreads the news of cheer on a foggy morn.

I have come a long way

I have come all alone

I know what it is to weep

Over lost pearls

And knowing

It will never be mine again

Losses more losses and losses in pain


Hot smokes curl over a cup of tea as the sleeping dog dreams of a tomorrow.

Palms taste the cold and white fumes emerge from the soft breaths between shy lips.

I know it all

How it feels to be so alone

How it feels to love all alone

Unreciprocated cares and concerns

Tears wept hot

Wrists slit

Drops of blood

Winter and love ...


A song on the radio transforms the sleeping Beauty inside to a Fairy tale of love.

An invisible presence felt nearby causes blush ... a fantasy? schizophrenia? Love?

Can feel him on the skin

Bright and burning

Loveless nights

And drowning dreams…

Do you promise love?

Do you dare to love?

Have courage enough to close your eyes and trust?


No reply.


Covers, protects, speaks, adores, embellishes, frightens, doubts, tears, kills

The answer lies before the mirror

By a game of chess

On a Shakespeherian rag ….

Do you know what slow poisoning is?

It’s like a kiss

Flows along your blood


Eyes search. Eyes wait as eyes probe into depths, swims over and under, gets flooded with words

And then, postpones.

Hearts chafe and fret, kicking chains with golden hooves and beats enormous wings!

Sunlight beneath them powders down into golden flecks and gathers around entwined destinies.

I know it

I know it all

About sad stories and hellish ashes

But then I trust you

I have faith

I believe

I feel I know you

I always did

I don’t know why

But I do

And I am waiting for you

Break the glass if you will

Or look in it deep…

I read your eyes last night


Winter comes, with a promise of faiths and close bonds.

A symphony plays on the hearts’ strings

Of smiles, and dreamy rains

And a whispered promise

To be continued….

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Autograph -- and friendships....

hiya tuptap jiya nostal
mithe kuashae bheja astin
ami bhule jai kake chaitam
r tui ka k bhalobashti....

This picture is an autograph in time. It captures a moment of our bonding between friends on a night when we became terribly alone inside after watching a film. We were afraid that our dreams may too slip away and we were sorry for all those dreams whch had already slipped ... We are friends.The three of us. Anusua, Shobhini, Amrita. I am more of Shobhini's baby and Anu's friend. Friends who participate in each other's lives and do not graze off the exterior of our daily existences. Each hour passes by and we wonder if we will lose this bonding, this trust, this faith and these moments after Presidency. Like Shubho did .... change beyond recognition. His relationship with his ideals, his principles, his friends, his girl ... all changed beyond recognition. But why did he have to change?

R evabei norom balishe,
tomar oi chokher nalishe
beche thak raat-pori der snan
thote nie beche thakar gaan.
R evabei mukher chadore,
porichito hather adorey,

The fairies dont stay forever, dreams change shape and mortify our deepest sleep into senseless coma stage. We give up our dreams to handle a reality we are not ready to face. We are scared of the world. We are scared to death by rejection and defeat. And that is normal. But is this paralysed condition normal? We have become so individualistic in the modern life that even life seems to be so strange. We have to peep in Big Boss's house to see the normal day to day home life, and the fake, purposely created problems inorder to realise that we atleast enjoy a camera-free status in the privacy of our homes. Even privacy is up for sale now. Reality show. The biggest Reality Show is life and we forget that behind some hoardings and television screens. Our lives have become a big cage now and we have entrapped ourselves by respectfully following trends and 'social norms'. Nobody remembers that society is something we build. Instead now it is something which is always already made for us. Who makes it? We dont know. Therefore Shubho-s have to get all worked up, tensed, anxious, nervous in fear of loss, rejection and make decisions which ruin them forever. The choice is always between ruins. Ruining gracefully and ruining harshly.

Orey machher lov-ey boga baka orey ural diya
phandey poriya boga kandey re.....

I could have crushed for Indraneil Sengupta, hadnt he turned out to be a loser at the end. It was just one choice. If not between wrong and right, if not between mind and soul, if not between idealism and rude practical life, then the choice was between pure common sense and stupidity. I mean, hello? who are you messing with? producer? THE producer? You are an ass enough to try to sell the candid confession of someone who is funding you? Who sells their raw private life for profit? Even the Roshans faked a Barbara-Hrithik affair for sale, it was fake!!! Could Shubho sell his girlfriends' private moments with himself for profit? Though he 'thought' about selling Arun-Srinandita affair, he was chicken enough to even go and tell Srinandita -- Hello Lady! I am your man and I love you and I dont want you seeing the producer. Simple! I guess it's difficult for all men to say that to their nymphs. Wonder why, though? Does it hurt their ego or do they feel vulnerable and exposed? Is love that unimportant for men? I was somehow hoping I could atleast be Srinandita in my imagination for Indraneil, but the very first scene and I am made to know, he smokes, he drinks (vodka, champagne,rum... bla bla... and he hates chicken). I quit Indraneil, I quit being Nandana.... As an afterthought, no wonder Shubho didnt like chicken, he was one himself and he drank his principles in a peg and smoked off his dreams in rings.
And of Srinandita and the "arshola, tiktiki, kumir couple" and my Presidency ....

Uthche jege sokal gulo
paash firey mon abar shulo
ebar tokey ador chokhe dekhbe se.
dekhbe damaal prem ki rokom
montro chharai jeleche hom
kapche alo, basbe bhalo sob seshe...

Prosenjit Chattopadhayay is unmatched. He remains as charismatic as ever. None, not even Soumitro Chattopadhyay has his reach into masses and his level of all-round appeal. This man is good at every role he does. From baatil movie to antel movie, this dude bags it all. Infact Prosenjit Chatterjee is a chapter in the bengali film industry. His role was so well played. Every bit about the man was so realistic. I loved seeing Rudraprasad Sengupta on stage. Another matchless actor. I have never seen a live theatre performance ever. If I could I would wish to see his acting onstage. Arun -- the making of Arun Chattopadhyay and the bricolage of his life. Arun the man who could never forgive himself. Can Shubho forgive himself? Can Srin forgive him ever? If relationships presuppose such rude breaking of trust and loss of a lifetime's love, I am better off single. Cant handle breakages. But again, am I really single? Dont all my friends, relations tie me in a love? Will I too,have to choose between love,ideals,happiness and great achievements? Shall I have to be lonely at the top? Shall I slip like Shubho between the should-do and the must-do? Its sad.

Tomar ei dumiyar jahpsha alo, kichu sondhyer guro howa kancher moto,
jodi urey jete jao tobey ga bhasiye dao, durbiney chokh rakhbona na na na...
Tomar rokte ache sopno joto, tara chhutche ratri din nijer moto,
kokhono somoy pele ektu bhebo, anguler fakey ami koi...
ei jahaj mastul chharkhar tobu golpo likhchi panch bar...
R chesta korchi barbar santre paar khojar....

After the film was over and we stepped out of Fame, it was almost 9. Kolkata was wet. It was a wet winter night and the dark skies were drizzling rain over the slippery roads. Wet Kolkata. Cold Kolkata. Wet dreams. Lost dreams. And three of us walking down the road in the rain towards Shobhini's home. The rain-drops wept on our heads, our shoulders and our feet. We walked through the quieter roads and silent rain. Mon kharaper bristi ....

priyo bondhur para nijjhum
chena chand chole jae rickshae,
mukhe ja khushi boluk rattir
shudu chokh theke chokhe dik shae..
pae ghum jae aka footpath
orey jochhonae mora plastic
ami bhule jai ka k chaitam
r tui ka k bhlaobashti....

Shobhini took the picture at a cosy moment and calls it her masterpiece. I call it her "autograph".

Sunday, December 5, 2010


Kagojer nouka baniyechi.
Kolom ta nao, boitha lagbe.
Rumal ta dhoro to, pal tola jak.
R edik odik takio na,
dukkher teer niye maya korcho?
Ki go tumi? Ekdom chele manush.
Ebar shuto ta kholo, nouka bhashuk.
Esho, palai.


The brown leaves cover the blue paths

As winter breathes in and we walk quietly

Hand in hand, steps matching steps.

We don’t know that we really exist

And the white drops of flowers smile

Sadly at our peculiar ignorance or stupidity.

We keep on walking in sad steps and thinking

About things we could have, we could make,

We could be, we could gift, and we could weave

Together, had we been close enough.

We sigh in union and a shooting star passes by.

We grow sad thinking that we will not share

The lovely winter evening over a hot coffee.

The silver dawn only peeks on the sky above,

We grasp each other’s hands tighter as the fog

Surrounds us and we barely know where we stand.

We stop, puzzled, at one point, hand in hand,

Waiting, thinking, wondering where to go,

And wishing the other was there, for support.

We look up at the morning star and make a wish.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Din gona

Bela j furiye elo ebar.
Sonali rod, sheetol kichu aram,
r ghonibhuto chhayara
haar kapae r mone koriye dae,
ekhane kothao pore thakbe hajar smriti,
shukno pata r muchhe jawa kajol.

Kaaler buke roe jabe ei sopno-kella,
ei ghor gulor golpo, ei baranda gulo,
r tader ghire protidhonito howa
amader shohor,amader kotha-ra.
R kichu dheke rakha hashi makha itihash.

Amader jiboner sotti gulo
shohoj noy, bastob gulo sob alada.
Jeebon tene niye jabe kon srote
ta janina, hariye jabo, chirotore,
onno kothao, onno kono khane.

Kichu asha o chahida boro kothin,
boro obujh, boro maya-moy.
Bhalolagar abesh tuku poritripto
korbe kichu muhurto, kichu khon,
tarpor logenze-r wrapper-r moto chhure
fele debe tumi kono porittokto dustbin-e.

Traffic light green signal dilei
druto paar hoe jabey rasta,
firey takanor somoy tuku kar ache?
Ochin baul sur dhorbe jokhon dotarae
kono goriye chola trainer kamrae,
chokh bujleo tokhon khuje pabena
kono fele asha mukh, jiboner kono prantey.

Haata khunti, jama kapor, bus tram-e
kokhon mishe jabe tel ghaam sindur.
Alu-sobjir torkari te kalo-jeere foron diye
kokhon periye jabe ful kurabar bela,
r hariye jabe kobitar khata tukuo.

Kono ak sondhyae chhadey asbo tokhon,
akasher chotto taara gulo k dekhbo
r bhabbo, ei smriti gulor rong sur maya.
Hariye jawa kobita gulo k khujbo akbar
buker bhetor, chetonar gobhire, jodi
uthe ashey duto akta line ba harano muhurto?

Jeebon boye jabe obikol, obiram, oshanto.
Coffeer chamoche jeebon mepe chola
Eliot shaheb tokhon tar dhongsho stupe
bosey tar korun banshi ti bajaben r akash
alo kore chand uthbe akti kalo meyer bagane.

*** ***
Bhalo theko shohor, bhalo theko sopno-kella,
bhalo theko tumio. Bhalo thakuk rongon ful,
mather ghaash, aam-er bol, neri kukur, lohar gate.
Golpo tuku sesh hobar agey jeev-e makhiye nao
swad, tentul-r acharer moto. Tarpor kagoj ta
kono gach tolae fele dio, matitey mishe jabe akdin.