Monday, November 22, 2010

Kagoj-er ful….

. .

Shei thikana

Pore ache bichana


Alta paye chutche se

Megher chador urche je


Gacher pata khoshe pore

Du muthoi se chepe dhore


Snigdho alor melar khela

Ful tole se shokal bela


Chul-e atlke shiuli ful,

Taare bhaloabeshe hoyeche bhul…


Saturday, November 20, 2010

the evening touch

a winter evening..the sun had already set..and there lay no reddish tinge in the western sky..the grey veil of the evening slowly dropping in….somewhere nearby a song from a recent flim played on..the half done construction of a building nearby,stood alone….a white ambassador waited at the office door to carry the boss back to his family….far way,at the horizon,birds flew… I saw two minute feathers floating mid way in the air….. I smelt the burning coals,as the smoke curled up from a nearby hut,… fingers intertwined as I sighed silently….at the municipal corporation nearby,I heard someone bang the door shut….i saw officers and politicians dressed in white,leaving for their homes…

the room lights in all the neighbouring houses started coming into life… warm the approaching cold night……I piled up all the dried up clothes hanging in the verandah,………and walked back to my room…………


To stitch into

the stitches of my torn life..

A faint hope,

licking the morning dust,

does survive


amar khela ghorer sinduk

bhanga rong pencil

chera kagoj

lal fite

rubber-er guro


putul-er bhanga pa


anka chobi

plastic kouto

khelar chamoch

shukno ful


khela garir chaka

pen-er khap





Friday, November 19, 2010


I pushed open my window and leaned out.. I rested my palms on the window sill and let my eyes graze in the field of nature… it was eight-thirty in the morning,and the sun hadn’t left its bed yet..i could smell my breath ,the freshly brushed toothpaste..i smelt it all.. .. there at a small construction site near my house,the workers had already set to work.. a girl dressed in red skirt and white shirt cycled down the grey pitched road,off to school…. Somewhere near by a cycle rickshaw honked.. I saw a grand father,combed white hair,in grey pyjamas taking his grand daughter to school…down there,beside my apartment,there stood a girl,busy texting to someone..i could hear a conversation between the locals vegetable seller and a middle aged woman.. I could hear the baby in the neighbouring house,fumbling with his newly learnt words….

A crow flapped his wings and flew by..the banana tree near my apartment building had outgrown.. I noticed the leaves hung over on the other side of the of it had dried up,and drooped down..the building overlooking my apartment was an old one..i saw peepal saplings growing from the cracks of the building…it looked old,weary..experienced and weathered….

Along the window railing,I noticed a dispatched spider lay there..may be it was a failed attempt by a spider,I thought.. the air smelt musty,like spinach leaves..i heard the clanging of utensils …. Slowly the sunlight started filtering in,and in gradual succession,I could hear the noise of daily life amplifying…honks of vehicles,calls of vegetable sellers,shops opening…..i did not want to hear it all over again……, I pulledthe curtain,sat down at my table and stuck a book at my nose………

….the day had had already begun……..


Monday, November 15, 2010


I let the spray of cold water from the shower to relax my pounding head.. I sat down and held my head between my knees.. I felt weak.. nothing felt good__the shower flowed on,and there under the showeri poured mugfuls of water down my hair…lukewarm tears flowed down..and even under the shower..i felt their presence,their flow,their warmth…. I closed the tapsand brushed my drenched hair with the wooly towel…. In the crispy,warm clothes and wet hair,I stepped out of the cold bathroom…. I felt giddy and rushed over and bent over the kitchen sink__my stomach churned,but nothing exploded out of my mouth..__the smell of bile that rose from the burps made me dizzy………….

I closed my eyes..wishing to crush my eyeballs____and pressed my temples against the wall… I pressed hard until,beneath my skin,the blood capillaries had burst open…… I clutched my feet,desiring to bang them away___i felt miserable

My veins seemed to be drugged,as I dragged my loathing body __to the bedroom… I pulled aside my bed cover and layon the bare bed,…..yes,I’m depressed………..

And all this afternoon,I’ve done so….


Saturday, November 13, 2010

Back yard

The smell of the heated concrete back yard..splattered with the scent of the setting coal dust..infused with the smell of the pink and yellow roses growing in the brown pots in the yard..the setting sun brushes aside the clouds,spreads its clothes and lays fall into a satisfying slumber…..

I keep playing with the mud and the balsam flowers..making a curry of water,soil,stone chips,fallen flowers and leaves,which in my belief,is a remedy for the weak plants.. oh, I’m only eight years old girl..the frills of my frock bordered by the muddy water,and lapped by the white and yellow sand particles….the herons line up to bid farewell and leave for their nests………..i’ve already lost my flouroscent green ball in the garden ..and I’m about to be charged by my mother,for spilling mud water at the door-way….

But now I’m eighteen..far away from where I was,when I was only eight…I want to smell that air once again…here,I’m breathless..nothing provokes me to breathe,and I tend to skip breaths once in a while..the sun here has already set,and the mourning sky smoothened with grey-tinged clouds,without even a glimpse og the blue sky……….it makes me gloomy all over again….

Yes,I miss my home…there..where I lived as a child….at my father’s India..west bengal…raniganj..

I sigh deeper and deeper..


Cholo..dekha kori…













Onubhob er obhab

Debo ki jobab?


Ontor-nihito ortho

Dekha kora ki jothartho?


Toh asbe je kache

Tai bujhi spondon nache?

Odrishho rohoshho

Shobdo sohoshro..


Sudhui ki kothar khela

na ki asbe o bela


Paat-er dhare ektu nun

Jolche ondhokarer unun


Ache koto pichutan

Koro a oto onuman..


Bolo ki thik korle

Na aro pichu shorle..


Ascho tahole aj

Porone khushir taj..


Ta hole,besh..

Ei amader kotha sesh..



The night air stuck to my body,as I leaned against the verandah railing…my eyes spotted some dragon-flies in the light coming off the gleaming street light….the pale golden yellow light emitted by the street lights illuminated the dark lanes….my shoulder strained….I busied myself in unknotting my muscles…pressed the shoulder blades and twisted my head sideways..pressing relief on my body…I looked up at the sky,while my hand glided down and searched for the verandah railing to hold on to…I breathed harder as the crescent moon looked down upon me….my thoughts wandered..and I wondered about the poets who get inspired by the faint white light of the crescent moon….the satellite of Mother Earth……

No,the white light did not catch my attention..what was held in my web—was that half of the moon,which was lost in the darkness of itself…I drew the distinctly faint outline of the other half of the crescent moon…didn’t it desire to charm the world..or sing a lullaby to the motherless child…. Did it feel deprived..sure,it did… what pleasure and celebration must it for the other half on the full moon night….i was lost in these revolving thoughts when I heard my mother in the kitchen……..


The girl who left her heart in her soul…kichu kotha bhule jao na


Surjo je dhole na

Murkho ke bolo na,

Bolo na e kotha

Buke j boro batha.

Bolte j bolo tare

Bujhbe kj bolo kare.

Rojoni j odhare surjo k ghum paray

Amaro edhare ghum harai.

Shondhe name,adhar chore

Raatero adhere chuyechi tomare.

Gogone fuler tara fute othe

Jhore jhore papri pore mukut e.

Duti noyon e prodip jele othe

Dui haath bhije jai paprir borshon e.

Chutia chutia bayu kotha hote ashe

Janina j se kare go bhalobashe…….


Bhalobashar domon hoilo opare

Rokto chitke elo epare.


Drops of words that come pouring down

Pages of tears flying all around.

Pockets of emotions walking down the streets

Fruits of love hanging from the trees.

Flowers of smiles stacked into the vase

Sad emotions bordering the lace of my dress.

I stopped crying,yet tripping all day

Hold me in thy arms,gripping all night.

Learning to dance,to dance to my song

Giving new tunes to your all dedicated wrongs.

Sing a lullaby to put me to sleep,

Don’t drag me all along,my dreams might rip.


Surjo j neme geche

Buke betha jege geche.

E prithibite keho bujhbena

Ami tomake harabona.

Raat chuye eseche tomay

Ghum hariye feleche amai.

Jibon er shondha-raate e ki lukochuri.

Bhalobashar mukut gole gelo krondon er shrote

Jani tomar rokte uthle poreche bhalobashar abege.

Bhalobasha-taar jonno bhalobasha.



Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Creativity competition


So many creative writing competitions are held in my school..every year…interchool..intraschool..etc…

I write so much daily…but never have I ever won any such competition.. Actually,the whole idea or concept of writing----TO COMPETE—never does fascinate me….


Rather,it sorta sound weird…the whole arrangement of it..writing is one’s is not to be displayed to impress is to satisfy quench one’s own thirst.___It is simply so weird---there is a specific topic given,specific time..and what more…..a WORD LIMIT!!!

…its jus so funny!


I did once attend such a competition(actually I didn’t out of my own desire..i was forced into an invitation by my English teacher)…you know,what I did there?...In the beginningi tried to jot down something,___then I spent quite some time—observing others—someone bent over her paper..someone scribbling…someone trying hard to extract something worthwhile___i gazed on__and then__after a while,I pushed back my chair,and submitted my almost blank paper and walked off___

MOREOVER,creativity CANNOT BE JUDGED .._because the creator alone knows the creation implicitly_ _ _and the judge or the observer might not have(generally doesnot have) the perception of the creator,to judge the creation,…..and this is my opinion..


p.s. opinions vary from one person to the other..


and so,when you read/see a creation by someone else,you only have the right and the ability to express what it makes you feel,but never…good or bad…….. :)



Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Straight from my den……….. ..

Theres something weird I did this Sunday..i put out my chocolate bar out in the schorching sun..for the choco to melt..oh..believe actually tasted wonderful,when I let it into my mouth..liked baked or roasted wafer dipped into a bowl of hot chocolate…..

You can try it too :) ….and here I’m waiting for the next Sunday to come,and I can try something more weird ;) …by the way..i guess,my mom’s already left home,to get my name registered in the asylum :)


Impress or suppress?

Neither to impress..nor to suppress…

There is no right or wrong..thats my opinion though..right or wrong is something,that we create…..its just a choice of the mind….a state of the mind…because in every right there is a wrong..and in every wrong,there is a right…..its is just something one chooses to believe in..and choices do vary :0 ..there is nothing wrong about being right..and right about being wrong….and of course..vice versa……….it is the balance between the two,that keeps the world stabilized….

Yup..i’m a nihilist..a non-believer of **right and wrong**

{I know..even to this,someone will say, ”no this is wrong..”…or ‘yes..thats right..”…………but I’ll say,”it is jus how I suppose it to be__again,I my thinking..there is neither right..nor wrong”}


Ontoheen…the endless wait….

The wish that harbours my soul..

I wish..i wish I were born in a wealthy family..with no compulsions as to get an early job,to finance the family…I wish I were not bound to some rules…some necessities of this family… be allowed to do what I want to do….

And what is it that I want…?

You wanna know…

…I don’t like to and want to compete..i don’t want to be a part of the wild-goose chase in this world…I don’t want to run..i want to wander..i want to lay back,and learn…….that is what I want..learn……know…see..

I would’t mind being enveloped by the fineness of art—of knowing—of understanding—the intrinsic charm of poetry,of the distinct crystallized soul—the earth__ like touching everything, I can smell………learning to speak___culturing the soul—slowly-----naturally____something that is endless…………that is what I want__wanted to happen to me……

….like being allowed to breathe in deep__being allowed to observe__to be silent__to get down on the earth__see the world…exploring the depths of Divinity,the beauty of it…..

Words can’t set down the intensity of my desire---___i alone can feel the mist of it around me,the warmth if it,which swells up my heart….like sinking deep into the Divine___i want that..but its all..just a distant star in my night sky_----something that I can only desire to have___but never have…


Sunday, November 7, 2010

I dedicate this post to my friend,aamen…who introduced me to blogging….sure enough,she was only advertising for her own blog..but still,I can’t help but thank her.. :)

As the no of school days are gradually dwindling,I use one of my posts to thank her..without whom….jus like my previous poems,the poems in my blog too,would have been lost….blogging is my way of preserving my poems..previosly I have lost around 45 of my poems,when I knew not blogging…so thanks to blogging…n Aamen(a blogger n a school-friend)..

So,heres to her…a gift :) ; )

Counting the no. of songs you have memorized

Counting the no. of times we have hi-fived…


Counting the no. of bridal dresses short-listed

Counting the no. of ways you’re god-gifted….


Counting the no. of days I’ve known you well

Counting the no. of times,a lizard makes you yell


Counting the no. of times,your spit-balls attack me

Counting the no. of you pestered me for “bumble-bee”


Counting my brother as your possible life-partner

Counting the no. of times,you speak of Taylor Lautner


Counting the no. of school-days left….

Here I wonder,how many times,has Aamen wept?



By the way,whatz the last count of “randomness”!?

::::::::::: :::::::::::: :::::::::::: :::::::::::

“”madness in school”” soon to be a closed chapter

How will I do without you,here after!?


Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Megher dust

Haath duti pete dao..mor jibon niye nao

Ki koribo mor e jibon niye?

Harano sei sur-e taal ki debe tumi-----

Debe na toh,batash ke boite diyo na tumi,

Ki jani-----------chokher jol hariyejai jodi___


((Haste toh dao tumi,kajol makha noyon ke

Kadte pare na jokhon ranga duti thot)) (2)


Shithai kobhu hosto pore na tomar

Pran chahe tobu oshru gore na amar

Goriye dao tumi ei koti din k

Prithibir opare na hole,dekha hoibe ki kore___


((Shondher akashe,chokh dube batashe

Megh ghono ghono hoi,bhoi hoi brishti hoi

Angon bhije jabe amar,tomai porbe mone abar)) (2)


Chaichi na toh,chaichi na toh,

Mone korte oi koti din k..

Ure beriye,ghure tomar ochoitonno hridoye..


Akashe gorjon,buke borshon__

__kotha koite esechile tumi,

Aj keno asho na,mon k keno hashao na..

Oshru je hashte chai amar___


Dukhho kono neiko amar,

Dukhho keno hoibe abar..

Bhalo jokhon besechi tomai..

Aponar-e bhalobashai,aponar-e hridoy gelo bhore

Bagan-er joto shada papri,shob-e gelo jhore….


Baire brishti ami shunbo,

Na tomai oshru-brishti sonabo…

Ki koribo,bhebe pailam kotha…___



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