A Scar :-

It's been a futile attempt
to get rid of the scar,
its deep with roots underneath,
vows, pledges so acutely laid
it hurts to death
and bleeds to pain.
its the indication,
that something still remains
the bearer of memories
so treasured with instant feeling
the scar inevitably defines itself...
adds a face value in its turn,
deludes light and summons shadow.
Its a mark, of subtle insanities,
a probe into the distant past,
an instinct to move towards future.

How can you leave me like this?

There were thousand words which couldn't escape...

I love you, Batash...more than my life

I know that

Promise me you won't leave me n stay with me forever

Akash,we're best friends...how can i ever leave you?I'll always be there beside you.


I love you...would it been a different situation this could have been of a grand kind.

That's not important...i know you love me...i love you too




Let's go for a movie or to that old meeting place of ours?

wherever you like...



did you return home? i have been trying you for the last two hours, where were you?

I went to meet Chandrayee, i told you the other day...

what did she say?

she can't live without me and neither can I, even i will not be happy without you...

A gush of wind went past and drew the curtains apart, broke the window panes into pieces making a terrible noise.

See, we're friends forever, let's forget what went between us

but how is it possible, how can you even think of that?

nothing can be done...you know there are so many complications...n don't argue with me why i didn't call you up...i didn't think it necessary, is it okay?

no more...no more...shall i ask you anything


A storm gushed leaving behind broken things...piece of glass,a broken flower-vase and a broken heart...



we'll have a child...no two child

what will be their names...thought of it?

you are there for that

Srishti...n Mishti...good na?

Greeeeeat!




I wonder why you say such silly stupid things

didn't you promise me anything, darling?

i told you na, i can't help it

don't worry, i'll be out of your way, you are my best friend after all...best friend...it's significant whether you agree or not






trinnnng trinnnng!

hello

hello

can you hear me?

how are you?

I am fine...i have a news for you

oh! any promotions or a new company?

it's on 25th Nov...we're getting married...me n Chandrayee

Greeeeeat! when will you give the treat?

on the wedding day

Congrats!



The room is too big to be stuffy...why is it so? what went wrong?
we were best friends and still are...how could he forget that?
or is that relation the cause of all trouble? Can he ever be replaced?





i don't know...perhaps no...never...

Death:-

I crept through the dark shadows on the streets
they were long and strong but i kept on
moving towards the blind alley
where light seemed to have stopped
the way led only to blank black stop
hope,fun and happiness never strode
in that path, life seemed to have lost itself.
The figures moved all around with masks
they took me to a dark enclosure
to make me one of them and
i realised when i saw a ray of light
that i am in Heaven among the dead
I cried to be among my dear ones, it was late
and i was left alone in the swallowing darkness...

It's time to scribble on page about the vagaries of mind.Mind...how strange are your ways! It is never ever governed or dominated by anything.I am sometimes taken aback by the complexities of my mind.Sometimes I feel I don't know myself...completely lost, lost forever.it really hurts when you yourself dunno what to do with yourself so that you can get peace of mind.

Cupid :-

In the valley of roses
Floating on the carpet of dreams
with fairies all around me
with tingling rivers and clear streams
Cupid arrived with an arrow in his hand,
pulled me towards him and threw me on the grassland
where flies buzzed on sweet-smelling flowers
there's no place for seconds, minutes and hours
He kissed and shot me an arrow from his bow
I fell in love as he proposed me bending low,
He touched me and made love till i lost my senses
I was killed almost by those mischievous glances...

Ask me a question:-

Ask me a question, ask my soul
why do i wander and where do i fall?
Enter in a frenzy of a spirited mind
why do i bother and what did i find?
Mingle with similar friends and foes
why am i anxious and what are my woes?
Love to make a different world of my own
where do i stand and where the seeds are sown?
And all of a sudden when i wake up from my dream
What did i see that made me cry and scream?

Life in a metro:-

Dawn to dusk roar
with frustration underneath,
wondering through the valleys
of its thwarted dreams and surely
in a craze for success.
Its been painful out here
to keep away Satan from
his phenomenal job...
the city weeps and crave
to escape, to cry, to sleep
to gather the scraps
for yet another day and
to live on its own.

Anonymous:-

No...I'm not in a mood to write a poem today. It seems silly these days. Its a fascination of something which i cant possibly get. Dreams...dreams n dreams...so stupid it sounds yaar! isn't it? Face to face with the crude reality of life.

Black everywhere --

Its black everywhere...
all around ,
in a dark zone ,
of infinite blank...
where time perishes
to say goodbye,
flickering moments cast their spell
dull shadows menacing
leading to utter numbness,
thoughts extinct in an enclosure,
bitter taste of broken dreams,
a city fast asleep, decomposed
of its humane soul and values,
leaving its shell behind.

Thought:-

Thought of you turns me on
its life to me...love to me
promise kept and forgotten
expectations counting on that face
treasured possession
a lifetime asset to be cared
a recognized emotional bonding
preserved underneath.

A voice:-

I roam in a haze of a distant voice,
and lie to myself of its incoherent noise,
as I lay down on my empty bed.

The sound becomes clear and apparently near,
my heart pounds with joy as it seems to appear,
a voice so intimate and relevant to hear.

I loose my composure in a matter of seconds,
in a quest to deliver a reason to my senses,
but in vain do I hope and run after a mirage,
I have been deceived by my own stands.

Stranger :-

He bent and gazed at me
with those cold eyes...
lips seemed to mutter,
lost as if in a way,
afraid to move further.
Still as a painted picture,
in the wink of an eye...
he touched my hand and
begged for help, I crossed
the path and led him to
his abode, grateful, he took me in
and vowed to be friends forever...
He thanked God since then,
blindness not a curse any more
but a bliss he considered,
and since then we crossed
so many roads, he saw
through my eyes the beauty of nature.
We walked side by side, sweet companion,
honored to have such a friend,
who never parted from me till death,
put an end...

Innocence born:-

The soft hands gently touching my face,
innocence reflected through those pair of eyes,
tender body, a smile so gratifying and virtuous,
knitting thousand dreams in my mind's eye
too cute, an eternal pleasure in its presence,
a celestial glow from its composure,
soft flesh, feeding on the milk of my own
the journey from a bud to a blooming flower

it's my own, part of me...

I've craved for it and felt it grow
within myself and now I know,
the best possession I ever had...
I'm blessed with the purest creation
about whom I had dreams ever since been a woman
no matter what form and shape it takes
with my love and care I shall nourish
it and keep away from the complex world.

it's part of me...it's my own.

Silence:-

Silence, I have heard your protests,
the clamors against the walls of incumbent cells
believing in your presence even in the busiest
streets when night falls asleep with the church bells...

Silence I have seen you creep through
the darkest and blindest alleys,
knocking the haunted house in ghostly attire,
peeping out of the mind's unknown ways...

Silence, I have observed thousands take
refuge in your bare laps and refuse to speak words,
during their intimate sufferings stretch hands towards you,
as a bosom friend, as a mighty lord.

Silence, I feel you within myself sometimes
as a mother feels her own flesh growing within her.
Your absence disturbs me and compels me to think,
at times it even inspires to visit mysterious lands so far.

Past

I am aware of the bloopers done,
since i was born, it's my fault...
but am i a gal that lives on
the mercy of destiny ever since?

Past has ever left its footprints on my way
but i have tried deliberately...
to compensate with it at brief visits
to pay least attention to it.

It returns though with its presence
so irritating that it hurts me,
it pulls away me from myself,
snatches the best out of the worst...

I am left alone in that dudgeon, reckoning
my better part but in vain...
it's a tenacious task, but yet
I try to be free...

A love story

"Kaise kisiko baataein, kaise ye samjhayen, kya pyaar hai
isme bandhan nehi hai aur na koi bhi diwar hai
suno pyaar ki nirali hai dastaan"

Yes, I'm here today to narrate a story of a maiden who's suffering terribly and asked me to write a few lines about her..."Pyaar ki ek kahani suno, ek ladka tha ek ladki thi..."but there is an exception with this story. Love had as if bloomed every nook and corner of a dark room as is usual. The girl was madly in love with the boy and thought "doli me bithake, sitaro se sajake, zamane se churake, le jayega ek roz tera urake jiya..." which proved to be otherwise...
(to be continued)

Dreams:-

Muttering through the clouds, my dreams
spatter the shades of new life
thoughts scattered in a row
a world of fervent emotions
touching love as if never felt before
arrive at the juncture of reality
where colors fade and feed on
stern cruelties of existence...

You never care

I never ever protest to the things you say,
I care for you with all my love
I cry for the moments spent together
Fate dictates terms on me and you
The sun shines as it does everyday
The sea floods the shore as is the way…
Stabbed, struggling to survive, my little heart
Bleeds in pain, eager to escape somewhere…
Cruel; I shout but in vain…my voice
Travels miles to reach you perhaps…
Your sleep at night is disturbed, you never care
Experience teaches…never to tread the same way
Don’t you see I’m left in the dessert?
A black blank tunnel of eternal curse
Surrounds me…but you never care.

Death of a beggar:-

A girl peeped out of the window staring at the dismal face of the beggar woman standing outside begging for alms. She was about seventy-seventy five years old with wrinkles criss crossing her face although which once might have been a perfect picture of a dignified woman. Limbs trembling as if unable to stand the immense burden it has been subjected to bear for so many years now. The little girl called her mother-“ma, dekho na poisha chaiche, amader shirite boshe poreche…” The little girl stood there, beside the door with a bewildered look at the sight of such an old person. A mixture of pity and curiosity made her stand there until her mother appeared with a one rupee coin in her hand. “nao ma, eta diye dao” She turned her back to go back to the kitchen when the old woman said-“ektu jol hobe ma…khub teshta peyeche”.

The old woman was wearing a shabby, torn white saree with a stick on her hand to support her. There was a strange calmness and stolidity on her face which was so different from the other paupers. There was a stern appeal in her eyes, so expressive as if demanding conscious attention. Shraboni, with a dismal face stretched out her hands to give her the one rupee coin. The old woman was tired and thirsty so much that her voice choked-the last words were almost inaudible. Shraboni opened the gate of their house and pulled her in to make her rest in the verandah. There is a strange under current of placid satisfaction revealed in her expressions which made her distinguished. She could not sit even for a while but lay down in the verandah-“ Amake ektu shute debe maa, ami ektu porei chole jabo…”

Mr Sen, a diligent businessman came out in the verandah, hearing a unknown voice for quite sometime now. “ki holo, e ki ke shuye ache amader baranday?” The little girl replied much before her mother could say anything “baba, ma o k bhetore dhukiyeche gate khule, jol kheye shuye poreche, mone hoy ashustho, tai na baba?” the girl pleaded.

“Katodin na korechi achena kauke ebhabe jokhon tokhon barir moddhe dhukte dio na…jano na char dike kemon churi dakati hochche?” Shraboni replied from the kitchen “tumi ghore dhoko to, chechiyona. Eto boyeshko mohila, ki kashto bolo to, rastay rastay ghure berate hochche dubela du muthor jonno…Before she could complete her words her husband shouted “ Bah! Bhalo bolecho to, tobe r ki, ei rokom abosthar shikar jara, shongshar tongshar chere tader sebay lege porlei to paro…” “Ami to tai cheyechilam, tumi r ta hote dile koi?” Shraboni had just passed her graduation when she was married to Mr. Sen. She had an immense zeal to work for the downtrodden, deprived destitutes. She was engaged with a NGO from the year she passed her +2 exams. She had been an active member of their several projects but after marriage she had to sacrifice this.” Ghar shangshar r samaj sheba eksathe hoyna…you have to choose between the two…”The intrigues and the intricacies of a person’s mind were beyond the reach of Mr. Sen, what he understood was only moneeeeeeeey!

The old lady got up suddenly from her sleep with a cry that escaped her throat unknowingly which compelled the inhabitants of the house to emerge out in the verandah. Perhaps…she saw a dream or might be that she had heard the voice of her son “maa, ami tomar kache jabo…” and tears flooded down her eyes. She became restless, a panic was visible in her eyes. Sheaboni felt there was something that was disturbing the old lady. She patted the old woman on her head, went inside and in a plate brought back dal, bhat and shabji, “ ei tuku kheye nao, keu kichu bolbe na, ami bolchi…” The old lady gave an alarming look towards Shraboni. Then she gulped the food as fast as she could, might have been hungry for several days now…She recalled the golden days of her prime, when she was as much settled, responsible and a dedicated woman as Shraboni now. She lived with her only son Rohan in their North Kolkata residence with quite affluence. Her husband, a pilot, stayed away most of the time from them while her son was a brilliant student of one of the most well acknowledged schools. Days were as evergreen and nights passed by in the hope of a new beginning every day.

One day when her son was at school, the front door bell rang…As she opened the door she saw officers of the aviation dept. carrying a suitcase. It hardly took seconds for Mrs.Sengupto to recognize the same which she had packed with her own hands. The officers stood before the door with a strange look of mourning on their visage. She asked deliberately for a reply of such a gesture but in vain. “ki hoyeche, apnara ebhabe chupchap dariye achen keno…bolun na ki hoyeche?” She stepped out and saw the corpse being laid outside the periphery of their house. That was thirty five years ago…From then on, she had to struggle and tread the thorny ways of life for the only meaning of her life then, her son. The road was not smooth and paved for them. Both of them had to travel a long distance in order to defeat the crafts of Destiny. Rohan, right from his childhood had an ambition to become a pilot, gain the name and fame earned by his father, step out into his shoes with much more accomplishments to his credit. He had often whilw sleeping dreamt of his father talking to him in that husky voice of his, “ babu, dekhish tui amar cheyeo baro pilot hobi…” this would provide the required inspiration and instigated the child further more to achieve his goal. He craved to attain this, the only desire. The day arrived after years of toil, hard days of trials and tribulations when he became a pilot and made his mother proud. Rohan left his home this time to be on his first flight with blessings from his mother. A sudden feeling of disgust, fear and agony filled up Mrs. Roy’s heart. She grasped her son close within her arms and kissed his forehead.” Shabdhane jash r taratari fire ashish, baba. Ami apekkha korbo tor jonno…” The flight was to take off at 7.30 in the morning. He left home wearing the uniform which suited his sharp features and well built body, nourished with the love and care of his mother. Memories crowded before Rina’s eyes. It had been the same way before…She was busy doing the household chores and preparing the favorite dish for her son. She took a speedy look at the clock in the dining room, it was thirty-five minutes to seven, the flight must have took off…it was his first flight…Rohan deliberately wanted his mother to accompany him to the airport but she drifted apart from the proposal. Since her husband’s death the airport seemed to her a fiend and the plains were as if murderers which had snatched the dearest possession of her life from her…she could see the mark of vermillion on her forehead…” tomake ki shundar lageshindur pore, ekdom lokkhi protima…”but this did not last long…an eternal blank lay ahead, she had no idea. She never wanted her son to be a pilot like his fatherbut the boy and his father wished this to be the destiny. Again, a quick look at the clock which now struck at 7.40…

She was about to sit for her prayer when suddenly the phone rang, krinng! krinng!... She thought of the various possibilities about the person on the other side of the line…her son, may be he wanted to share his happiness with his mother of the first experience of flying in the air or her brother calling from London-the only associate of their family who had kept contact since the death of her husband…or some relative…no…the last thought had no chance. The relatives from her in-laws side had stayed away from her, perhaps they thought they had to take their responsibilities. They had offered her to sell the house and live in a rented house but she was never ready to do so…every nook and corner of the house seemed to be filled with the memories of her husband…no question of leaving…and since then they had stayed away. A deep and thoughtful sigh…she held up the receiver to her ears…”Hello…Mrs.Roy speaking…ki…ki kore holo…eta ki kore shambhab?”...the receiver hanged from the down from the phone stand and she sat down in want of breath, feeling as if a large stone had been thrust on her. She almost lost her senses after that, as if time and tide had lost their significance and she cried to survive…but how could she do so…without her son…Co-pilots and other officers carried the corpse of her son, within an hour. It was a stern reality, hard to accept…but had to be realized as early as possible.

Rina had roamed for several days since then in the streets searching for her son, loosing the balance of her mind… “shoke dukkhe ekdom pagol hoye gelo…ki theke ki hoye gelo…” She had been admitted to one of the nearest asylums by her relatives. It took several years to recover her normal composure, but no one came to take her back home. She went to her house only to get it locked and see the notice of auction…terrible…how could they do that…she went to a relatives house who on querry answered that this was quite inevitable as there was no other way and threatened her not to trouble them in doing so…lost in the world she had to fight for earning mere bread…no way of survival left…she had craved to die but to no avail…death couldn’t come when wanted… “Amake lorai korei bachte hobe” From then on she had been a pauper on the streets struggling against the forces of destiny.

“Amar khaowa hoye geche…nao ma, shukhi hao, swami shongshar niye shukhe ghar shongshar karo” She left from Shraboni’s house. She stepped outside, a feeble figure counting the last years, may be months, days or even minutes of her life…

The next day when early morning Mr.Sen went to the near by bazaar, he saw a croud gathered with their sole attention to something, he moved forward to see what had happened. To his utter surprise he saw a feeble body in a white torn saree …He couldn’t control his emotions, ran to his home to tell his wife but when they arrived the body had already been carried in a municipality van. “ ki r hobe, dekhun katodin kichu khete pay na” “ ha, kal raatei mara geche nishchoi, aj bhore oi machwala body-ta dekhte pay” “are moshai erom khider jalay protidin-I kato lok mara jachche”. Soon people were busy in there daily chores…Mrs.Sen couldn’t eat anything that day…the face of the old lady as if tortured her…but life had to take its own course…

Dead lover

Dead Lover:-

Drenched and plunged in a pool of blood,
Numb senses, still as picture, memories flood.
In the burning twilight his beloved stood,
In vain did he try to survive much as he could.
Limbs trembling, touching the earth in utter pain,
Love, the cause of his being slain.
The feeling of deception struck in his heart,
He craved to die for a second birth.
Hope to be united with his love then,
Together forever, with bliss from heaven...
The last kiss, the last embrace from her
reminded him, in spite, to forget he did endeavor
Shadows seemed to move, the world took a spin
Suffering all alone, suffering from a terrible sin,
Struggling utmost in the tender moon beam
Death rested its shroud at last over him.

The Golden Heritage:-

The Golden Heritage:-

".....sans teeth, sans sight, sans all." - William Shakespeare (Seven Ages )
The chances of retrieval are almost nil in a society which is bulging out with a series of bloopers, pretending to be impatient to show their mettle in the daily chores of survival strategies. It is besotted by the luxuries and comforts offered, ignoring in their wake the precious resources suffering day in and day out from utter despair. The well-known proverb "Old is Gold" is being deliberately ignored with sheer maltreatment that is meted to them. These sufferings, the clash of ideas mostly due to the generation gap are sure to reach the zenith if the level of ill treatment and negligence of the present scenario continues to ascend at such a fast pace.
A rat race after the a mirage is the general portrayal of every household in their way to accumulate the utmost to establish a flambuyant and secure future. This flaw is gradually eating up the very core of our social set up, devoid of the basic morals destined towards a devastating consequence.
The cardinal virtues are getting replaced by the dream of a strong foothold, a ravishing platform where the self is acting like mere puppet unsatisfied forever in a way to gulp more and more...It is a matter of immense regret that a large section of our society which comprises of the aged population are suffering from disgust and immeasurable agony although it can't be denied that the present is what it is today because of the blissful existence of the past and with the presence of past and present side by side only can we hope for a better future.
But the inevitable fact that lay bare infront of our perceptible surroundings needs attention to be paid. The assets of our family needs to be loved and cared for although the present scenario suggests just the reverse situation and the trend of an ever increasing number of old age homes which have become the habitat of these aged section who neccessarily command respect and recognition foretell the plethora of desperate sorrows behind their meek and placid composure.This is a shameful fact and points towards an irresponsible act on the part of a large section of our society.
Besides, this can't be denied that these enriched and experienced souls are treasures and a source of inspiration and can provide the neccessary guideline towards attaining a prosperous future which may not be pompous but will definitely be peaceful. Their blessings will surely help us in shaping our destinies and in a wider scale to build up a nation one feels proud of mentioning.
The story of their plight demands neccessary attention towards them recognising the truth that be it a king or a beggar, every other self is in the grasp of this grim fact of ageing which is as inevitable as death is.

Biography of a moron:-

Biography of a moron:-

"I can rise to the height of clouds,
I can swim to the depth of sea,
I can fly like birds in the sky,
I can wish as much as wish can be..."

The vagaries of mind are strange! Sometimes it tries to do things forbidden. Feelings seem to grow wings and fly to the world of fantasy. Past can never be detached, it stays in memory forever. What if life could be spent without a past, inhabiting in the present with the thoughts of a ravishing future. But often, the rythm of music is obstacled by a blast of stormy winds of a sudden unwanted incident which seem to devastate the dreams and desires and complicate the situation further...everything gets destroyed , totally in vain , in an absolute blank,lost in the darkness of the unknown...
Dreams become wild gestures loosing their significance.Days pass by in utter numbness, without relevant events.It's terrible to be living within a circle but going outside it without any control.The mind is a world in itself, with odds and evens. Two self struggling in a conflict of ideas, the normal self trying to win over the other, unable to sustain the balance of the psyche. Present in the world inhabited by others but staying in a different existence altogether. Mind treads to lands unknown, travelling a wide range of area, roaming forever to attain satisfaction. It's really terrible to know and understand that the surrounding remains unchanged but the self has had undergone a tremendous transfer...as such to refer it as a moron.The feelings within the mind still can't be hidden, subject to exposure, attracting more and more attention. Living in a familiar yet unknown world, faces seem to be wearing fake masks of sheer appearance with a tale behind each one...The world seems to stare at the self, with a completely bewildered and mystifying look! Everything seems changed, transformed which hurts immensely.
To a moron, others seem abnormal. The fact is very painful to understand. May be the person could be the most normal creature on earth although the atmosphere and the compelling circumstances have forced to drive the truth to become topsy turvy! The urge of the self is to be heard with sympathy to make the world a better place to live in. The only possible treatment is love, love and only love, to show that you care so that the self may not feel deprived and isolated coz every one in this world be it a child or a minister wants recognition, wants space, wants importance. It's the sheer feeling of negligence and the scare of scarce attention that makes a self a moron! Therefore it can well be a established fact without any argument that a person can be brought back to the mainstream of life as easily coz every life has its own significance. Every self has some feelings, sometimes real, sometimes imaginary but the thoughts must be heard, to make them feel that we really care!

(Readers of this article, it's an earnest request to you, please don't walk by a moron next time with just a conventional laugh but try to think of the terrible circumstances which have made them what they are today! Be a bit sympathetic!)