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.

a college fest evening

rocking nights
partying at fests
loud music
hard rock
metal
jazz
drums
and blood lights
male attention
mad moves
sliding away
shyness
wild nights
carnivalesque throbs (and I dont care what Bakhtin says, its my poem)
dust smoke
allergy
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
jazz
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.

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.
You.
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.

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?

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.