Sunday, February 27, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
one that could kiss you,
in its golden sunlight,
cold air that would face you,
could soothe your
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
Monday, February 14, 2011
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
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
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.