Sunday, February 27, 2011

a tramp's song

livin in a sandbox
chokin everyday
cryin out in despair
not knowin what to say.

bitin on a cracked lip
eyes pink with tears
livin in a sad box
wipin all my fears.

tellin me a cross tale
bunchin up my hair
shuttin out the sunlight
crinchin at the glare

livin in a broken well
buildin you in pasts
gatherin up the memories
waitin in the dusts.

How long does it take?

How long exactly does it take
To look at someone and get
Stuck at a point of no-return?
To forget where, when, how
And just for once,
To those eyes without a damn
Care for any pretensions,
awkward deliberations and facades.
Just a surrender into the soothening
cool waves of peace and intense
Joy that seeps inside a soul.
Can one hide what is linked
To your blood,your very existence?
Can one negate one's truth?
How long shall it take for him
To wake up from stabbing oblivions
And throw away his ghostly mask?
How long shall he risk to bear
Treading along broken glasses that
Bleeds us to reddened deaths?
O break the silence before we sink!

Thursday, February 24, 2011

a sign

i want to wake up
on a lotus dawn
and ope my eyes
to gaze and fawn
upon a face
that would loom
above mine
and make me bloom
like a mystic ray
of sylvan light
or spread wings
in golden flight.
i could just look
smile and smile
paint a colour bridge
for a hundred mile
i still can feel on
my breath
intoxicating odour
of the magic wreath
of words and glances
unspelt glee-s
at meaningful gaps
prayers and pleas

call it belief
ignorance or fate
i am still on the wait
and would want
to know of you
if flames and hopes glow
on the other side too

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Weeping Shadows

Strange feelings ...
Trackless thoughts
Enter my blocked head
Create a ruckus within.
Stop! I yell: No more!
But the heart is deaf,
Ever has been.

Thoughts that ruin me
inside, emerge from
nowhere and fill me
through and through.
In closed eyes I see
none but a faceless
shadow of you.

Clouds and watery eyes...

Hands reach out unknowingly
To receive a sad palm.
I forcefully close my eyes,
To block out the known
deep deep look that
enters my soul and
drinks me down with love
and empties me of all fear.



I step back
And close my eyes
Only to find an embrace
A warm close embrace
girdling my soul like
an twirling creeper
of passion-flowers.
And I melt
All alone ...

I feel warm tears
running down my body
from the back of my neck
as if someone holds me in
a hug and cries uncontrollably.
Why do I feel thus, why?

I look out to the moonless sky
That returns an empty stare.
Strange thoughts fill up my mind.
And heaves the night air,
with sobbing breaths and
restless eyes, expressionless faces.
O do not ask what the heart
finds in such felt teary embraces.

Saturday, February 19, 2011

morning blues

its a beautiful morning,
one that could kiss you,
in its golden sunlight,
cold air that would face you,
could soothe your
cramped mind
and remind you of dreams
misspelt and left behind.

you wish you could cry
atleast sob aloud
but your eyes remain dry,
like faint summer clouds.
you know you had loved,
you know you hadnt erred,
you're confused how you went wrong,
and what you had seen and heard.

the morning becomes prettier,
and as enchanting a seraphim,
that tears just might roll out,
and release the stream within.

Friday, February 18, 2011

My Beloved Place

Presidency. Presidency College, Kolkata. College Street. Boi-para. The gate. The huge tree beside it. Main building. Lover’s lane. Avenue of shady walks and the great destination called the Tank, where something funny is sure to meet your eyes or atleast some chaapa flowers scattered, enticing you to pick them up. Our postgraduate dept. Every morning I rush like a lunatic for a class, either ending up for an empty class as or an already ongoing class. Sorry, sir … Madam, may I …

Shantiniketan. Admission test. Overheard some girls talking about interview at Presidency the very next day. Exam. Evening. Rushing back home. The department’s computer room. I knew I’ll not get through anyway. So, I may as well be a little cheeky. It’s a lost case. ACM,DB,PR,MA,SD. Intertextual questions, basic questions and my huge answers, referring back to the epics. Everyone listening to me. I laughed aloud suddenly. Things easened up. Clear vibes that I got through. I was leaving. As I shut the door behind, I heard a chorus – o ki bhalo,na? First love. Presidency.

My choice of leaving science and opting for love, literature, was justified in one word. Presi?!!

Our story began. Open friendships. Trying to know people. Trying to understand what and how ACM and DKB taught. Half things going over the head but then, the mesmerizing effect. I could feel my brains being stimulated and encouraged. This is it. This is the place to be. I belong here. A strange new world of intellectualism and ideas, everything that I felt but was refused earlier, came back and got grounds this time. I felt so connected, so intellectually supported and at home. I believed in me once again. Land of faith. I wasn’t alone here.

Presidency gave me a spine – to rise and fight back and come out from a relationship I had been suffering for 4 yrs. An abusive relationship that I had given my best to. Each and every rope I had tied fell loose and I broke, like a glass doll. Till December I suffered. The gap behind canteen -- hide, weep, insults. Presidency te giye to khub nongrami shikhecho. Chhi chhi. Agey koto lokkhi shanto chile. Akhon? @#$%^&*!$&((*^)#$ Presi hugged me with empty alleys, the Geography dept. balcony and a golden sunshine by which I promised I will kill myself. But the very next day, when I was supposed to leave this world, Presi showed me a reason to live, a little love. I lived. I gained.

The roads and walks and pathways around Presi knows my life almost. Each path has many stories, moments, events, incidents, scattered laughter and insane jokes. Friends. The best ones I have got in my entire life. As close as school buddies. A motherly girl and some lovely ladies who would want me as a sister. So much comfort they gave me. And naming me, Virgin Queen which I choose to take as compliment. Food, guys, trees, numerous dogs, garbage, sudden temples, libraries, derozio hall. And some awesome viva days! Some moments to remember.

Two years. Presidency has given me knowledge. I have always felt Presi is my saviour – intellectually, emotionally, even physically. I changed my look slightly here though no weight loss, sadly. And guys! Nice fan following in two years. Wow! Facebbok. Farmville. My beloved blog. October posts. And some of the best creations of my life till date. Dreams and wild conjectures. A half dreamt story … certain simple, ecstatic joys -- romantic, clean and pure.

Leaving Presidency.

It is one word now that has got mixed up with strong emotions of love, hope, dreams, illusions, brokenhearts, adda, stupidity, strong ideas, beliefs, efforts and sheer, sheer love – literature and the people around literature. Words and the lack of it. Chaos and eros.

Presi -- I’m yours.


Dana mele ora amar riti
Dokhin hawa amar odhikar
Roktey amar boiche saat somudrer dheu
Jodi kache astey chao keu
To toiri theko uthal-pathal hawae
R neel akasher dakey.
Thakbo ami ranga gulmohore
Kono kalboishakhir unmadonae.
Thakbo tomar chokito sopne
Ba omogh kolponae.
Ami j nibir, ami j gohon
Boro prio, bhishon gopon.
Ami dhulo, ami nishaash
Ami jatona, ami asshash.
Ami unmadona, ami prottoy
Ami mostishko, ami hridoy.
Ami bayu, ami gaan
Ami kabbo, ami pran.
Ami prem, ami dhyan
Ami shanti, ami gyan.
Ami manoshee, ami dabi,
Shoto boddho duare jadu-chabi.
Ami chorom o porom
Ami lirlojja o shorom.
Ami deen, ami heen,
Ami kono shayerir nausheen.
Ami sadhona, ami sadhika,
Amie prem, kishori radhika.
Projapotir alo hoe jabo tomae ghirey
R ushno agun ese dogdhabe
Balir shwet shubhro anweshwon.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

A Declaration


I have come into the world

To live, to laugh, to light

Up the days of some lives.

The dark cobwebs of remorse

Try to bog me down.

I refuse

To budge, to die out,

To be torn asunder.

I have only loved

And I am not ashamed.


It is not a fault to love

And make oneself happy.

Love is all we live for

And live by – a personal emotion.

What is it that belongs to you?

And is entirely yours?

What at all?

Only words and frames of signifiers

That expresses the deepest

Desires and intensities within.


I have seen the purity

Of lovely morning mists

And shy poinsettias blush.

And I have felt upon my skin

The odour of kindling passions

And intoxicated moonlights.

I have not erred

I have not sinned

I have just loved

The beauty and the bliss.


The rainbows may have left me

But I am drenched in its hue.

I cannot be angry and restless

Nor can I ever dislike you.

Prized, precarious and destined

You are, if at all, a piece of

My diamond dews and crystal affections.


I long for a shower of rain

That could drench in watery blossom

And embrace me tightly in its

Comforts, in its caring manly bosom.

And pounce upon my dry lips

For a hungry mesmerized spell.

I have come to laugh, to live

And trouble your heart so well.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Basanto esechilo sedin
sei bhora ashwiner
kuashar orna jorano bhorey.
Jokhon upodrob chilo
tulo megher, neel akasher buke,
kichu dustu premer beejer moto.
Tukro tukro meghera tokhon
ghaser boney ful futiyechilo.
Tokhon hariye jawa ak nabik
hotat sondhan peyechilo
kono daruchini dwiper.
R basanto esechilo
chardikey praner plabon niye.
Aj ritu-chokre eseche bosonto,
gache gache praner sonchar,
jongla gachh fule matowara,
shudu osomoyer bosonto tuku
aj dhongshe porinoto,
kono deho-posharinir premer moto.
Shudhu kono rikto bhogno
murtir moto khov o kostey
tar ahoto obosthan.
Sei bosonto shudui ak
bhranto kolpona chilo.
Ak onamni meyer
hariye jawar upakkhan ....


Khub icche kore
ak bar
shudu ekti bar
khub kache jai
ak bar
shudu ekti bar
chokhe chokh rakhi
gole jak
charipash hotat
shudhu ak bar
opolok sei dristi-te
khuji tar ortho
se ki keboli
nirmom ak upohash?
nisthur roktopat?
ekti bar khuji
tar chokhe
ekti bar kebol
shudhu ekti proshno
rakhi tar kache --
ki oporadh chilo amar
kano aj bondini ami
amari bhul badhone?


Bhaggish noishobdo ra chilo
noile ami kichu tei aral petam na
nijer bhul bhranti r bokami gulo
bishal akare dhora pore jeto.
Jeno kan pete shunchilam
onner premalap, ba gopon
kono alapcharita, gohon
kamatur goponiyo tae jano
onuprobesh kari, tader
birokti ghrina r dwesh
puriye dite pare amar shorir.
Bhaggish noishobdo ra chilo,
noile ami j bhul kokkhe dhuke
porechilam, sei paap amar khoma
kora jetona kichu tei.
Ami sei moithun drishyo theke
sorey esechi durey, bhito,
sontrosto, onutopto.
Hae hae hae; ki lojja!
Ami kano kichu shobdo
kichu kothar mayae joralam
ja amar noy, poro-kriyae
onuprobesh karini boner pakhi,
k bolechilo tokey upobone dhukte?
Bhaggish noishobdo ra chilo.
Amar kolponar noishobde
chilo neerob garho onubhuti,
atmo-somorpon o nishchinto nibirota,
sei olik kolponar noishobder
chadore nijer glani dheke aj
amar mukhor mugdhota polatok.
Roktakto ak molinota pore thak,
kono mrito akulotar sesh chinho.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Kagojer Sesh Golpo

Ak deshe chilo ak chotto kagojer putul. Ektu domrano tar kagojer chehara ta, ektu kochkano, jor hawae tar kagojer shada ga ektu muchre gache. Ta ki r kora, se kintu sei chotto meyeti roilo, kagojer putul. Nam? Dhora jak Kagji. Kagji tar baba ma k niye thakto. Tar baba mayer gaye koto kotha lekha, babbah! Koto aki buki, chhera fata, futow ache kichu, rong kichu ache, kichu dhue gache. Tar baba mayer gaye besir bhag dukkher golpo r onek chestar golpo. Kagji obak hoe shunto. Tar mone hoto se nijeo golpo banabe, sundor golpo, sopnomoy golpo, joyer golpo. Kagji tar choto shada sorir-tar opor ghosha daag gulo dekhto. Ogulow tar golpo. Tar etodiner kotha.

Kagji akta kagojer putul. Duti binuni, ekti frock porihita choto ak meye. Kagojer rong shada. Kintu ichher rong edik odik pore thake. Kichu taal patar sepaai ashey, chesta kore Kagji k sei ronge sajate. Kagjir boyei gache. Se ki taal-patar sepia chae? Se chae ronger jadukori, sopner rongin alpona aka thakbe tar shada gae. Choto meye, tar melai sokh. Akbar se ak taaler sepaai-r theke rong niyechilo kintu eesh ki baje rong. Se chesta koreo makhte pareni se rong. Kagji jane sepaai ra tar moton noy. Ora onno rokom.

Kagjir deshe akdin mela boshlo. Onek boro mela. Se mela prochur anando, prochur jinish. Desh bidesh theke balloon elo, kagojer aro putulera elo, basher khelna elo, matir putul elo, kacher putulo elo. Elo manusher dol sei somosto khelna, putul, baanshi r tupir poshra niye. Tader koto rokom khela. Keu keu ghurio dekhalo. Kagoj noy kintu omni patla plastic kamon akashe orey. Kagji kintu akashe urte parbe na. se hariye jabe j. Besi hawa dilei se jabe urey, kono dewale byatha pabe, chhirey jabe, moyla hoe jabe. Kagji boro adurey. Se oto kosto soibe kamon kore? Na na. Kagji tai nijeke halka akta dheele bedhe rekheche. Oi tar niyom, tar mot, tar adorsho. Oi badhon khulle se bheshe jabe niyotir kalo andhare. Ak domka hawae oi polka kagojer manush tuku sesh. Kagji shudu obak hoe dakhe r shekhe.

Oi manusher dole Kagji dekhlo ak rong beronger manush. Lokey takey bole shong. Kagji obak chokhe takey dekhte thake. Kia k odbhut manush se. Sara dehey tar ronger chhota, kintu thik kamon jeno. Thik sobar moton noy. Se ektu kachh theke dekhtei jae bepar khana ki? Jei na takey dekha, hotat takey shong dile soriye. Kagji bhari dukkhu pele. Tarpor sorey giye bhable e ki? Dukkho pelam kano? Na na. E ki? Se dekhle tar samne kotto rong. Ektu khani se makhle thote. Achha thak. Se chole jae okhan theke.

Ghurte ghurte thik abar Kagji dekhe samne sei shong. Ebar r shong takey tarae na. Se dekhate thake nana rokom khela. Rongin sopno buney chole se hawae. Sobai tali dae r Kagji kamon odbhut ak ghore chole jae. Ojantei. Tar kamon mone hotey thake ei sob tar jonno. Ei mela, ei etto jinish, ei shong, shonger sob khela, shonger rong, shonger dhong, melar gondho sob tar. Se opekkha kore. Kiser, kano, se jane na. Se rong makhte thake. Notun notun ronge se seje othey praae. Sobai bole kano eto saj? Kiser sopno bunish tui? Ato rong makhchis kano tui kagojer putul hoe? Kagji kichu bole na. Se bujhi peyeche kichur sondhan. Hijibiji kuchikuchi lekhae bhore othey tar binuni duti. Sari sari sopner shuto diye jaal bune se mayar chador jorae. Prithibi rongin hoe othey r Kagji bhison lojja pae, anmone. Sob-e to tar, se jane.

Tarpor akdin ak sundor gari ashe. Rajkumari nabey sei tomtom theke. Shong tar songey chole jae. Se j rajkumarir shong. Eto sobai jane. Desh shuddhu lok. Ei mela Rajkumarir jonne. Eto rong, eto anando, sobi tar upolokkhe. Shong to tari nijer manush. Putul gulow sei rajkumarir rope dishe hara. Sobai k mugdho kore tara biday nae.

Ki korbe Kagji ebar? Kadbe? Na na na na. Ekdom na. Kagojer putulder to kadte nei. R kadbei ba kano se? Tar kiser dukkho? Se to nije nijei akta bishal boro mitthye sopner shuto chhoracchilo. Ebar sei shuto tei nije jorie morche. Ta te dukkher ki ache? Eto tar prappo saja. Tar shasti. Kagojer putul hoe tar atokhani dhrishto ta? Tar to koto bhaggo j desher manush takey chhirey fele daeni. Chotto akta kagojer meye tar abar koto sokh. Ish, ato rong se mekhechilo? Ato saj kano? Ki sob kilbiley lekha tar gaye? Chii chhi. Laj nei, shorom nei, behaya kagojer putul kothakar. Chhhi!!! Sobi mitthye mitthye mitthye mitthye. Sob tar dosh. Chhhi!!! Shong ki bhablo takey? Rong mekhe chola ak nongra kagojer putul? Jar dam nei, nam nei, ostitto nei. Shong kebol rogor dekheche r bhebeche ki boka, ki orthoheen unmad hote pare akti samanno kagojer putul. Putulero kina sesh obdi … hahahahaha … chhi chhi chhi chhi chhi …

Lojja lage Kagjir boddo. Khub lojja lage. E ki koreche se? Kano koreche se? Jokhon sara duniyar lok takey akrokom shuniyeche se karo kothae biswas koreni. Tar nijero onekbar mone hoeche jano esob tar jonne noy, tobuo se kon oshomo sahoshe bhor kore nijeke sajiyeche? Rong mekheche? Nijeke amon koreo keu opoman kore bujhi? Atotao niche namae keu nijeke? Holoi ba se kagojer meye. Tai bole nijer atto-sonman bole ki kichui nei Kagjir? Chhi !!!!

Ebar upay? Se to akta upay bar kora chai. Tar badhon dawa dheeler shuto chhirey Kagji nijeke hawae bhasiye dilo. K bole hawa kagojer shotru? Hawar moton porom bondhu r ache bujhi? Ei to aj hawa tei muktir sondhan pelo se. Chotto kagojer putulti ak jor domka hawae bheshe chollo. Urte urte urte se opore uthte laglo. Praae megher kachakachi. Se megher rong kalo.

Hotat bristi namlo. Kagji bhije galo. Pore galo matite. R golte laglo boro boro bristir fotae. Kagoj gole rokto berote thaklo. Boite laglo se rokto paharer gaa beye. Jhornar jole mishe galo ta. Golapi borno dharon korlo se jol. Garo hote laglo se borno. Kagojer gayeo rokto thake bujhi?

Kagji puro goley gache. Se r nei.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Magic Lamp

A hope
A flame
Burning gold
On a tiny lamp ablaze
The cold wind came
and blew it out
Still did it amaze

The flame
died out
And burst forth again
By no obvious logic
Maybe thats why
they call it
The love-lamp of magic.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

A Note

Looking back again and again
at past moments and magic spells,
wondering if they shall ever be
back and I would have those sudden
seconds of pure ecstasy ever again.

A strange fluttering sensation
within a restless heart
and a feeling of loss somewhere.

I had found a world of unknown
joys and happiness like a dream.
A story weaved by destiny
A dream in words covered in silence.
A dance of imaginations melted into
a reality and fusion of felt similarities,
basking under the same sunshine
looking at the same tiara of the night
from either ends of the rainbow bridge
mysterious smiles,people wondering,trackless...

O I can live by the memories
they make me so happy and I shine
like a little star on the dark wish of night.
Be happy, wherever you are,
whatever you do, and find soulful peace.
May all and all and all your dreams come true.
I thank you for every little drop
of magic that has come in a life
torn, tattered and wounded cruelly.
Thanks for showing that dreams are not dead
and fairy tales do exist.
The world is not a bad place and some emotions
and feelings are as genuine as
i dont know
maybe, love?!

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Symbolic Realm

Would you want to walk into
a tender moment
when the earliest hours
of a promising dawn
peep through the dark curtains
of night and show the delicate
skin of her eyelids
lined with shy sleep?

Would you want to wake up
on a regular morning
full of drab jobs ahead,
to the sunrays playing on her face?
You shade her skin with a hand
that protects and caresses,
as she snuggles up a bit more,
all untidy, messy yet innocent.

Would you want to live through a dusty
day full of travel and tiresome troubles
and crisscross work tables conjoined
at the hips -- pending and reserved?
Yet interwoven with shades of a
laughter and surprised, enveloped messages
across a cup of coffee or sunday cooking together.

Would you hope to share her thrills at
a consumerist evening, window-shopping?
Or would you want to put a rose
in her hand on her stressed days
and surrender in her silly comforts
when you have had a stupid problem?

Would you love to lick an icecream
and walk with her through roads
choked with traffic jam, giving a damn
to the spaceless inferno around,
when you have her and your own feet
to walk on, and this heavily junk city.

Would you close your eyes and drench
yourself in the first monsoon rain
or a sudden shower that would tell
stories of a childhood, or a college memory
or some distant forgotten melodies?
Would you close your eyes and remember
the first love of your life or an old poem?
Interlocked fingers, old stories, drops of rain on faces

Would you desire to light a candle
and float it in a glass bowl,
water decked with rose petals?
A soft music plays in your heart
as you hold her close, too close
and a slow dance
shadows shivering on the walls...

Would you want a walk
under the silver moonlight,
hand in hand and a content whispering
of wet grass under your feet, about
a completeness found under the sylvan skies?

Its all here
in this beautiful life.
the chest of mysteries.


I fold my legs
dig my chin into my knees
and close my fists tight.
Shut my eyes
close my ears
reduce myself
into a foetus
and wish I was never born
being undone thus.
Half weeping
half hoping
half awake
half sleeping
fearing a loss
deep inside.
I stretch out my arms
and want to belong
want to be loved
and cared for
a kiss
a tender touch
a breath of assurance.
Where do I find a shelter
for my hurt being?
Cut into pieces and scattered
over the dust and burnt.
I can only weep
and turn like a wheel
from love to despair
from dreams to loss
and be left alone
to put back everything
like a jigsaw puzzle.
I want to go back
into the dark amniotic sac
and the cerebral presence
the umbilical cord
my trace into the womb.
Better still
the zygotic meosis stopped
and me only a possibility.
An idea of a daughter.
Undo me
O undo me, mother!

Monday, February 7, 2011


The mind sets on its own journey
when the heart trembles softly
at the soft buds of blossoms white.
Passions about to bloom at dawn.
Closed eyes see, hear and feel
words, dialogues and essences
that have not any foundings in
reality. Dismissed as idle dreams
they float on heavy air and fade.
Only to come back sometime later
as reality in a sweetly surprised
world of truths and tactile existence.
I wonder how that happens.
Interconnection of thoughts...
moulded into actions and existences...
a connection that cannot be whisked away
as another idle thought or wishful thinking.
Being together on another level
not merely imaginary but perhaps telepathic.
How much has unconscious connections unlocked?
Not merely the heart but a chunk of mind.
What would we call it? what can it be called?

Wonder if you too can feel my bliss
and breath in the air around you.
Wonder if I can listen to your heartbeat
by touching my own pulse ....

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The Name

A moment
like blue lightning
and freezes
in an instant
the throbbing mind
the restless heart
the anxious thoughts
and unquiet silences
framed upon panes of
memories and yearnings.

Fingers had touched
on wet sand
the Name.
The air has breathed
the words many times
with its soulful existence.
The flowers have shaken
their yellow petals
to trace the Name
etched on the soft soil.
A timeless ageless act
rehearsed over and over again.

Over mountains and oceans
rivers and terrains
of green or brown
or ash
the mind has run like
wild beasts
or supersonic sound,
looking for the Name
one has lost or fears to lose.

And then
the moment
that was awaited
with trembling perfection
and freezes
Eyes do not meet.
Breathing halts.
Only an invisible
string binds something
somewhere in a deep embrace.
Never to untie again
Not in this life.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


Beyond closed lids in intimate darkness
A face sketches itself in light
Crayons of moments past
Fills its unmasked expressions
Of unrepressed joy and surrender
Submission to the feelings frothing
underneath an exterior carefully made-up.
Drowning in layers of silk and
chocolatey butter bliss and kiss
of unnamed smiles drenched with
purple mystery and lavender breaths,
I ask myself questions that have
no answers or perhaps lack the answerer.
Words and the power of words.
Faith and the quest of belief.
Trust and the strength of enamour.
The brown darkness engulfs all senses
and shows me deep inside
the silver arc yearning completion.