An Ugly Face

Some good things in life come to us with a distorted and ugly face. How much ever we despise it at first, the goodness in it reveals itself much later. We as mere mortals often fail to realize that the point of utmost fear is the same point beyond which lies absolute bliss. Most of us don’t have the courage to cross that point, and that is why all our doubts and miseries never dwindle. It is only them who have patience enough to wait and watch gets to see and live the bliss beyond that point. It is only them who have the courage to withstand all the fears gets to see the goodness beyond that point.

I am not worthy of you. I have not been. I know that by now. Time and again I have failed you according to your values and principles. I am aware of it by now. I will not try to preach you my values and principles anymore because I have understood that how much ever we try, oil and water can never mix. But I still believe there must be a way where they can coexist.

For the first few years of our life together till now, I have come across to you with a distorted and ugly face. I have not been able to fit in your definitions completely, breaking you into pieces over and over again. I have terrified you with this horrifying mask all this while. But you must know this and you should, that the goodness in me still lies intact within the folds of this terrible mask. It is only but recently that I have realized the presence of this ugly mask covering my real self. Now the time has come for me to slowly open it. You may have seen glimpses of the real me inside but very seldom, not quite often. So seldom that you didn’t even believe that it was me. So seldom that you thought it’s just your imagination and whisked it aside.

The mask is now at my feet. Muscled with dirt and dust and sand from the dry scorching earth beneath. I stand here with my valor showing the world what i am here for. Believe it. It is happening.

Adventures in a jungle

Samik, Sayan, Kalyan and I have met after a long time and decided to go for an adventure in a Jungle resort. A lot of our friends and family are also staying there. We take a walk towards the forest and come across a big entrance going down towards a tunneled basement having a mysterious staircase. We enter the orifice and start following the staircase. Like in a normal building the staircase kept winding back and forth as we change the floors. After a couple of floors there are openings on either sides like an open staircase. Through them the forest slowly reveals itself. Right in front there is a water body, kind of a pond. And looking at that I have a dejavu. I have been here before. I have been to this forest before with Krishna and it is a dangerous forest with a lot of ferocious animals. I had just started remembering all the past incidences and before I could speak it out to them, I see Samik has already gone ahead, in a matter of seconds straightaway head on, he slides himself down into the pool.

I give out a shriek of fear and start telling the others that a massive ferocious crocodile stays in that pond. Gasping for more breath I say, " once you are in there, there is no chance you can come back alive". All of us start panicking and the next moment I spot some movement in the water. I see thorny dark scales shining in the obscured sunlight through the thick cover of the forest, moving in the water. I bring their attention to the movement and instantly all of us realize it is the massive crocodile I was talking about. We cry and call out his name aloud but he is nowhere to be seen. We saw him slide into the pond but no sign of him after that.

We are out in the open Jungle now and suddenly there is a foreigner with us looking to explore more. I start walking with her telling her stories I had gone through the previous time I was here. We were being chased by animals we have never seen before. Ferocious mythical creatures which come in a herd and just want to kill you in a stampede. Baboons, elephants, rhinos, dinosaurs, lions - none of them and as much we know about in this Real world. All of them look different, more ferocious than normal, like from a mythical world. I was narrating how we were constantly running to escape from each of these attacks, how we maneuvered to get away from the stampedes. Suddenly the earth starts shaking. We See The Rocks, water and trees vibrating in thunder and I knew they have come again. I hold the foreigner's hand and show him from far away a huge cloud of dust rumbling towards us. And before we could gather any sense to react, in the whirlpool of the dust we could see a herd of massive mammoths running towards us.

In seconds all of us are already scattered and I end up in the Tunnel through which we had entered the jungle. I start climbing up, running and gasping for breath. After a couple of floors I end up in another entrance of the forest. I retract and start climbing down to the next floor and I land up in yet another instance of the forest. I quickly realize that it is a maze. No matter how many steps I go up or down I will end up in another entrance of the forest. Apparently there is no way out of here. Still I keep panting and I keep climbing up and down searching for a new opening for hours to come. I don't remember how many hours passed by before I lose my consciousness out of fatigue one one of the floors.

Next time I open my eyes, I am lying down on one of the Midway staircase landings, my eyes fixed on a half opening through the Midway landing leading into a new flight of stairs which I couldn't notice before because it is hidden from normal eyesight. I manage to crawl through that small opening into the new staircase which leads me to the exit where I finally see people happy with their families, smiling heavily after a brief visit to the forest. In contrast I I'm terribly distressed losing all my friends and having wanted to save their lives I start running towards the resort where our friends and family were staying. On my way running I meet Gautam mesho and ask him if he has seen my father. He says no. I keep running and straight away enter a room where I see my mother and sister safe relaxing. I tell them what just happened but no one believed me and kept quiet. Now that they were at least safe I left them and locked myself in a room with Eyes full of Tears exploding with helplessness and guilt.

After several months I happen to meet Samik again and was shocked. I catch hold of him and shake him and ask him, " what happened that day?"

He said, " I got lucky and escaped through a hidden tunnel inside the pond."

One big sigh of relief and I finally felt that I have never been happier before.

Convicts

Prisoners move in a queue one by one at the serving counter in the prison mess, getting their lunch served on steel plates. Two convicts having distinctly different facial features, quite evidently raised in two different cultures, in two different regions speaking two different languages come to a table and sit down opposite to each other with their respective plates, bowls and dishes, surprisingly quite an elaborate meal for a prison meal.

One of them is called Shaikh, a Muslim Bangladeshi who has an elaborate Bangal meal in front of him which includes aampora sherbet (roasted green mango drink), maacher kabiraji (fish cutlet in lacy eggnet), koraishutir kochuri (hot and sweet peas kachori) with aloor dum (brown potatos) and kosha pathar mangsho (mutton gravy), ghee pulao (savory rice dish), aloo posto (boiled potato with poppy seeds), macher mathar moog dal (pulses with fish head), chingri macher malai curry (creamy red prawn curry), bhetki paturi (bhetki fish fillet seasoned with mustard, steam wrapped in banana leaf), bhapa illish (hilsa fish in creamy mustard sauce), tomato tetul khejurer chutney (tomato-tamarind-dates sauce), papad, rasgulla (sweet dessert), payesh (condensed milk dessert), bhapa sandesh, rabdi and malpua (authentic Bengali sweets).

The other prisoner is called Iyer, a very disciplined South Indian Brahmin very sophisticated in his own culture. He has an elaborate South Indian meal in front of him which includes Ponni boiled white rice, Sambar (lentils), Rasam (tamarind juice with tomato, chilli pepper, cumin and other spices), pumpkin kootu (veg curry cooked with lentils), potato fry, carrot kosumari (salad with grated carrot, coconut lime juice and a tadka), medu vada (deep fried lentil dumpling), appalam, curd, spicy mango pickle, akkaravadisal (sweet made with cooked rice and lentils) and a serving of fruits like banana, papaya and watermelon.

Before starting their meals, South Indian Brahmins often follow a ritual of offering prayers to God. So to speak this Brahmin in question was also doing the same thing as the Bangal keep on looking at him with puzzled amusement and a sense of awe, one of his hand already holding the glass of aampora sherbet, waiting for Iyer to finish his ritual. Little did he know that it would test his patience like a thirsty crow waiting for the rains in a hot and dry scorching desert. Overcome by his impatience, Shaikh decides to break the Brahmin's prayer by sipping on his sherbet making a loud slurp sound, and keeps it on the table with a satisfied smile of a food connoisseur.

Iyer gets slightly angry and irritated with the nuisance of the slurp sound distracting his prayer ritual in an unprecedented unsophisticated fashion. In reply, he also takes his butter milk glass from the table and makes a similar sound slurping it in as if indicating that he is ready to start a battle or rather a game of foods with his Bangal opponent.

Shaikh starts by looking at his sherbet glass and then towards Iyer, "Aah! This mango sherbet is the best way to start your day in this terrible summer heat! What say Iyer?"

Looking at the fish kabiraji (cutlet) with gullible greed, he takes it up in his hand and describes, “Have you seen the color of this kabiraji? Ufff... like the golden rays of the sun!". Taking a big bite he utters with mouth filled with hot cutlet, “Aah hahaha... I could bet that this fish is surely going to heaven!”.

Iyer keeps sitting with his hands folded on his lap looking at Shaikh with disbelief and a bit of pitiful disgust. He gives a big sigh slowly turning his eyes down nodding his head in resentment and starts to dig in the Ponni white rice without saying a word.

Then Shaikh bends over a little closer towards Iyer, and says nodding his head in mockery, “You people will never understand the essence of good food. Wherever you go, you eat the same sambar and rasam and curd rice... How do you eat all that sour shit all the time?", speaking with such excitement that a shower of spit from his mouth almost wet the whole table in front of him.

Disbelief and slight irritation shows on Iyer's face. Still he keeps quiet, giving the Bangal a cold stare with his right hand digged in the sambar rice. He keeps with the same cold stare for a while, and slowly starts eating his Ponni rice uttering, "How you have become an animal by eating animals! How you disrespect a Brahmin sitting in front of you?"

Shaikh mian with an unapologetic smile continues eating and says, “Relax Iyer babu... You know our Brahmins eat everything.... fish, chicken, mutton... As long as it is tasty, we will eat it!"

Immediately Iyer stops eating, looks up at Shaikh and retaliates in an unpleasant surprise, "Vittala Vittala Vittala!!! Taste is not everything you stupid filthy creature. Don't you have any morality left in you people? How do you find pleasure in killing innocent animals?"

Shaikh replies, “You see we are merely mortals - alive today, dead tomorrow. And in this small life, all we trust in are the five precious senses. And probably... our tongue is the most important one of them!", he starts giggling mockingly.

The Brahmin utters in exasperation continuing with his meal, "It seems that after so many years of human civilization, you have had no evolution. You are still living as ape men, controlled more by your greed and gluttony than your intellect. You call this pleasure? In the name of killing? Ignorant barbarians... I think it is high time you should realize the benefits of eating these green vegetables. This I promise will ensure a long and healthy life."

The Bangal snaps back at him, "Which health are you talking about? Look at Europeans, look at the Pathans. Are they not strong and healthy? They live on meat and only meat. See the difference between their physique and your physique on the field. Without meat, where will you get all the muscles to fight?"

The Brahmin continues smiling laboriously, "With all this obsession about growing muscles, your mind has become lethargic, and your intentions more cruel. You have become an animal Shaikh mian!"

Shaikh now starts getting a bit enraged, "How dare you call me an animal?". Still trying to keep his calm he continues, "Listen mister, I don’t understand what you will lose eating it. Don't think so deep about everything in life! Just trust me and try this fish at least!"

Iyer looks at him with disgust and distances himself a little bit giving the Bangal a sharp critical look with his hand gesturing to stay away from him. Shaikh almost gets offended and screams, "All big big dialogues... How do you get your appetite of so much gyan (wisdom) living on this green fodder?"

Iyer replies with an air of superiority, "Gyana? This is not gyana mian jaan... this is the truth. Your system is overworking itself to digest all that toxin. And in this process your life is getting shorter. Look, look at your paunch Shaikh!"

Shaikh utters with a tone of dismissal, “Leave aside my paunch, and all your meaningless dharmic notions! Try something new today, at least for the sake of an experiment." He takes a bowl of chicken gravy and offers it towards Iyer, "You should try this chicken and for once in your life stop being so stubborn! After tasting it, you tell me if you don’t like it. You can sermon me about my sins only after you taste this!", saying this he actually puts a chicken leg on the Brahmin's plate, despite his warning.

Immediately Iyer gets infuriated, bangs on the table and stands up shouting in anger, "You fucking piece of shit! You have ruined me now! You have severed my faith in God! Vittala Vittala Vittala!!!"

As they stare at each other in awful shock, a loud prison siren goes off and footsteps of the jailer is heard coming from one side. The siren sound shakes them off from their dream state as they suddenly remember that both of them are just two convicts wearing the same prisoner's uniform, and not exactly what they were imagining themselves to be. Even the plates in front of them were just ordinary steel plates with some half eaten dal roti, and not exactly what they were imagining it to be.

They turn towards the officer in disbelief and gets shouted at being ordered to clear the table now.

Just like an enlightened mind would have said. Whatever we humans fight about in our lives based on our culture, caste, creed, race, ethnicity or religion are all futile and these differences are only but a figment of our imagination. In reality we are all the same, living and getting nourished from the same mother earth where we all have come from.

Ohio!

O hio hio ho! Ohio hio
O hio hio ho! Ohio hio

A midnight fox on a Rapunzel trail,
With the hunger of a sponge…

Came prying with light yellow steps,
Brute! She is on her thongs!

Is she here to kill me or eat me?
Or seduce me with her songs?

She is sultry, she is mysterious,
She is everything promiscuous…

Shall I give in to her, or shall I frown?
For sins of my past, must I really drown?

O hio hio ho! Ohio hio
O hio hio ho! Ohio hio

Stuck in a stack of lines

It’s been a while I've been wandering.
Passing through cold, not touching. Wavering.
It’s been a while that I’ve been lost.
These lines of asymmetry. Lines of frost.

I am but a mere creature made of hide and skin,
I am but a mere feature in this jumble of a dream.

It all started when grazing at the beach house of grass,
When the fair phosphorous was glowing in the hour of dusk.
Waves washing away dust in sand in earth in a storm...
What a way it was to bid goodbye from home!

All my brothers and sisters had ears to the whistle,
They did not pay heed to this flickering drizzle.

Me, had my mind to the drone of a feisty storm,
Whirling sand scattering high to the gods forlorn.
Like a shower of offering in honor of the king,
Like a blessing of Eros for sprouts to begin.

They ran and they crammed inside the stock of a house,
While I stayed aloft riding the waves of winds so aroused.

At first my mind was blown into numb for a while...
Then I started to enjoy this rush through the black of an aisle,
Where they catch you and throw you in mid air blues,
To dress you and despair you in pink cotton hues.

A maze of transcendence where you float and you swim,
To move towards the dive in that far white stream.

I floated here for endless days and came to a halt,
Where I found a bronze broken gate covered in salt.
It was a path, a sign, a legend forgotten;
Years ago a castle where a war was fought in.

There were so many lights, twinkling lights beyond,
I was nervous to enter the chaos and that sound.

The marks of wrath and glory still etched on the guild,
The scratches and screams of warriors withheld.
The stink of sweat and blood on the iron shield,
The taste of fire and spark and dirt revealed.

Good over evil, or rise against the fall?
Which battle’s the greatest, the greatest of them all?

Blurry it started to be in there, in the cold white dark.
The salts had eaten the gates into a wide open arc.
The memoirs of the battle pulled me closer within.
Past is past; but they'd never let me forget my sin.

I have fought this fight so many several times,

The clashes still call me like heavy metal chimes.

Sure I had no choice but to step inside,
I had no will to go backwards or to hide.
These bright sonic lights seemed to be my only way,
That could make or break my gingerly day.

It was a long long moment I cannot measure,
It was in a time space void I’d surely treasure.

But you need to move on as everybody does.
You need to roll, refresh and give it a pass.
So I stepped forward into the neon lines of haze,
Where everything passed me like a frenzied daze.

Not only do I see but hear these lines, Allah cries
That, in a dargah the mullah sighs...

I do not see a highway but is it one of those?
I do not hear a train but is it something close?
I feel insane speed wearing this muddy shoe,
I can see beasts on rollers passing through.

The only way out is the way ahead,
Have to keep walking till the lights aren’t dead.

Walk, walk, walk away...
On the straight path in front without a say...
And meander this while through the maze of them beasts,
That menacing speed, feed them as much as they'd want to feast.

Now I am a loner on the streets of merry Burberry,
I am just a clown in this twinkling town of sherry!

I see a few fairies strutting on the tile,
They look happy the least when they quench and they smile.
A few of them smile in a moment of smoky allure,
A few of them do that just to check your fake valor.

Now do I dwell in this unsure world of so sure frailties,
Now do I sway through a road with white little dainties.

It sounds like a story of a cow in which she cannot say!
But this cow, may be your savior in days of dismay.
Her master may not leave her, but he leaves her as he does,
Because she does not say much, so should I talk as much?

All my life I have been this meandering moose,
Through the cream laden meadows named Praline and Rouge.

There lived a milkman at the end of this strange little town,
There he milked his way to make himself a crown.
The crown of cream and frozen diamond,
Which he thought did taste like roasted almond.

He comes to me and wakes me at dawn,
Says come on now old kid! It’s time to go home.

Shupto iccha

Shupto iccha, shupto bashona
Roilo lekha kathar phaake,
Hobe ki naki hobe janiney
Ei putul naacher jibon maajhe.

Jor gola aar nei re aamar
Jor khatanor shomoy pichhey,
Jor diye je hoyna kichui
Shoto muni rishi aaurey geche.

Shob e hobe,
Shotti ja chai shetai hobe...
Shotto je shudhu chaite hobe!

A dream that meant everything!

I am racing a car. Racing, racing, racing but its not moving. It is stuck, jammed, inclined underneath the roof of tiles built on the ground. There is no space to move forward. But me in a trance, I don't understand. This is happening in my birth residence.

And then Father came. And all the tiles started flying off as in a hurricane wind. Like a tornado invisible in form taking away is burnt clay one by one in the sky with it.

Just like...

Just like,
A Pinch in a blade of grass
Doesn't tremble the whole world, no.

Just like,
The yolk of the setting sun,
Has been melting my heart from long ago.

Just like,
A circle of eternal glow,
Is here for Him to show...
The only way is nothing to know!
What meaneth this mankind?
But to follow what is to flow...

Just like,
The pink in the dusky sky,
Is enough to leave me on a high.

Just like,
The noise of the tweeting birds,
In their nest where they grow.

Just like,
This circle of eternal glow,
Is here for me to show...
The only way is nothing to know!
What meaneth this mankind?
But to follow what is to flow...

For the love of this world,
We shall again come and go,
To and fro, to and fro.

Fly upwards and fall again,
Like the valor of a long shot arrow,
God's messengers we, from His bow.

Let us all be roots and shoots in a row,
Sprout in millions from a wet Earth below,
As wet as my mother's womb,
As wet as Kumaon's tomb,
Nourishing every bit of my soul to toe,
So that when I am able I may show,
The seeds for further sprouts to grow.

An Ode to Dusk

The best time of the day is dusk for sure
Run for my means is but a task obscure
Which, has come to an end for now
And 'tis time to take an honest bow
Bid adieu this while
To my good old friend
Of the morning vow

I run for my need, and
I earn for my creed
This world that we feed, and
This gold that we greed
All this fight for a greater flight
Has to come to an end now
And I, my soul return somehow

Now I can rest with my setting sun
Now I compare myself with none
Only swing with a melody in joyous bliss
A clap so silent my breath could kiss
Her cheek in rose in milk in cream
Her voice like husk in calm serene
Now I may talk, and not just scream

Talk with her and her soul alone
Dive in an ocean so marooned
It's been wailing and crying, all this while
I couldn't care for I had been vile
I was lost, and messed and crossed in ways
She never could pretend to find this maze
Of wondrous lustre; a rotten lust for haze

I have come now oh my darling me
Forgive me if I'd been far too free
I have known now to fall my robe
For 'tis but a method only to grope
For what's not mine and can never be
'Tis but a toy for my fun, for my glee
Come still water, I see you, d'you see me?

And the birds are chirping to their joy
A joy or a paranoia, which ahoy?
The light of dusk goes so slow you see
They cannot help but so sweetly wee
To their mates in calling for the night to pass
In a silent warm luke summer wash

In my garden chair I sit and stare
With grapes and berries I play solitaire
And feel so sunk in the juice of life amiss
Hear harmony sings, listen, retain, keep, it flees
Both of us will stay a-put tonight
In hope to wake again in the morning light

'Tis no time to forgo no fear, no sorrow
'Tis time to sleep now, for the run tomorrow

A grandfather's premonition

After long days of emotional separation, it was the day of a possible reconciliation. I climbed down the stairs exit through the porch of Ballerina block. An old Bengali man was sitting and reciting a book to his grand daughter,

"Aar shey shokol ke shu shongbad janiye shustho bhabe ghare phirlen."

Dharma

1. I shall only ASK, because I don't know.

2. It is only my WORK that shall lead me to TRUTH.

3. My CONSORT is the wisdom behind all my actions - She is my Goddess - My Saraswati, Lakshmi and Shakti.

4. The only path to be truly happy is renunciation of my ego - TYAGA.

5. I do not need to DO anything to be happy, because my true state of being is already happy.

The Midget Ride

There came a strange Midget with long and thick, black and brown braids. He had sand brown skin, and squinted big brown eyes. He sang with a course midgety voice and gathered people all around. He talked about Sadhu, a guru from whom he had learnt all his knowledge. He even showed a picture to everyone. Sadhu was there no more. So he needed a home to stay. The moment he saw me, he started following me guri guri paye (small baby steps). I climbed up the stairs of my old Baguiati house. And before I reached, he ran and sprinted through my legs, entered the room on the left, hurriedly like a mouse. Dad was in front of the basin, shaving. I called out, "Dad! Midget!". He turned, entered the room, looked under the bed, pulled him out by his leg and smash! On the ground. The midget's head got severed from his body immediately like a doll. Before throwing his body out, dad said "Wait!", and shaved his head, his long black braids. Then he threw him out.

Sad he never liked midget the first day he saw him enter his house.

The coarse voice was gone for now. Then there came a lady bald in head. With a sweet soft melodious voice singing quietly to herself. Sitting in the companionship of a tree and a bird maybe. She was his other side, the hidden side, the holier side, the better side. And that was all that was left of her. Bald, soft, sweet, serene.

I wake up seeing a point of light wavering between the curtains. The point giving me thoughts, ideas, solutions. Showing me the path while my mind fills up with several things to do, changes to make. The point of light seems like a flickering energy appearing from nowhere like a Firefly behind the curtain existing just for those few seconds only for me, to show me something.

She stares out the balcony window with her husband beside her, smiling at us.

The man from another realm

Me and her come back after a big fight on the street.

Both of us are quite furious upon each other and can't stand each other's presence. We enter the apartment floor from the lift and see a North Eastern man standing outside our door. We approach him slowly with a confused look. He was still looking down on the door mat facing the door from outside.

We move closer, he suddenly looks up to us and says, " I am waiting for my wife. We stay in B-407."

We look at each other even more confused. And before we could out something to say, he starts walking through us towards the lift.

The truth is that we live on the 4th floor and there were only 5 flats numbered till B-405.

That man said he and his wife lived in B-407.

Tui toh kebol i ayena

Bojhao taarey
Ami karo ekar nohey
Keu bojhao taarey,
Ami karo ekar nohey

Tui bujhli ki aar?
Tor tot goron aar
Kajol aankhir ashru

Tor na pawa aar
Tor harano bikar
Khhoy korey ei baastu

Tor dabi chahidaye
Ki eshe jaye?
Tui toh kebol i ayena

Ayena shudhui
Shottyo dekhaye
Korey na kobhu bayena

Shon re tobey
Shuney rakh tui
Ei holo tor shottyo

Ayena je tui
Morichika majhe
Thakbi roye attyo

Karma tohar
Joto ta dekhar
Toto tai pher phiriye dewar

Taar cheye beshi
Chawa pawa ja
Shob i holo maan rakhar

Ahonkar

Lojjito ami!
Oti lojjito ami
Ki bhabey torey manai?

Matha nera hoye
Shob joley diye
Mridu konthhe tore janai

Ami e tomar ahonkaar
Haat dhorey niye jabey jekhaney
Mukh bujey ami jabo shekaney
Ekti kathao bolbo na jey
Aar jabo na ami
Taader khojey
Tumi niye ashbey jakey
Golaye lagabo shudhu tahakey
Aar kaukey noy
Dibbi dilam,
Aar kaukey noy.

Aami aaj nuton!
Shob lanchhona baad diye aaj
Holam ami shudhui tomar
Dukkho koshto oneyk diyechi
Tobey aar noy
Joto na diyechi
Toto ki peyechi?
Pabo, jani ami pabo
Dhher dukkher obhagi hobo
Mukh bujey shob giley nebo

Amar aar kono khidey nei
Nei ba kono chawa
Shob chawa ke hariye ami
Hotey chai tomar hawa
Tumi jey agni, bujey bujey jwalo
Amarey niye haat dhorey cholo
Thakbo kachhey shorbodai

Maayer aancholey mukh lukiye
Boro hoyechi ami
Shei maayer aanchol
Urey geche kobey, nahi jani nahi jani
Aaj tomar aanchol dhorechi tai
Mukh lukiye tor pichhoney haatbo shodai
Houk grishyo houk boroshai

Aaj paap punyer urdhey ami
Ondho hoye tomar premi
Ondho thaka boroi shukher
Jantam na shei muluker
Raajye. Aaj jenechi,
Dekhar khhomota tomar beshi
Amar cheye o oneyk beshi

Tor koshter din shesh
Maan, ami katha dilam
Tor koshter din shesh
Buk phatiye shonkho bajiye
Shuru holo tor gorber din
Matha thhekiye chorono toley
Holem ami toree ahong!

Jagabo taharey shei din...

Ar ki shudhai?

Ar ki shunai?

Ar koto din emni kore

Din gulirey dhuyae udai?

Tui jene ki korbe shey shob?

Tohar horin ankhi royeche nirob...

Thakuk shey aj nijo nirobey..

Jagabo na tarey aj kolir kamaley..

Amar mon jurolo na ei din. Jurobey,

Jedin tor shey ankhi hashite chaibe..

Amar aanginaye nachitey chaibey..

Nachiya khushitey kaditey chahibe..

Aj noy re, aj je nohe..

Jagabo tahare shei din..

Aaro chai

Haan aachi...
Tobe tai ki shudhu beche achi?
Ar jedin thakbona?
Shedin ki ar beche thakbona?
Nah.. shey hoy na...
Shey hote parena...
Beche thakar naam jibon noy re..
Shey hoy na..
Shey hotey pare na..
Beche thaka ek chhuto matro..
Tai boli ami chai..
Chai chai hunkaar diye boli ami aaro chai..
Chawa chhara jiboner kono ortho nai..

Ami toh paani

Grishyo taape topto chetoney
Boshi achi eka thhaye
Eka ki ami, ami eka nai
Amar opore ushnota boye jaye

Hongsho aji nameni dingaye
Rawmonir opekkhaye
Rawmoni tobu asheni aaji
Amar aanginaye

Ami toh paani, boddho paani
Ami ki jani ortho pranir?
Koto shoto botshorey aaj
Hoyechi prothom rawmoni kaami

Eshechilo shey sheydin raate
Borsha bheja shondhya praate
Honhoniye nupur haathey
Key jaane kar pichu chharatey

Komola ronger sharee poroney
Gothhon taahar bhaari goroner
Modhur chhonde haatar chholey
Muchki muchki hashlo bole

Polokkhoney chhotfotiye chhutte ele
Katha kohoney boshle eshe aamar kachi

Kesh uriye ghaar ghuriye
Aamar bimbey mon juriye

Aamaye shey ki dekhlo naki?

Phishpishiye...
bollo shey ki...
shunbey naki?

আজ সে আসেনি...

এখন খুঁজবো কোথা  আমি তাহারে 

হণ্যে হয়ে কোন পাহাড়ে ?

The red spot

There is a thing in the red spot. Something unnatural. Yet the most natural. It allures you, it calls you. It welcomes you, it embraces you. It hugs you, it kisses you and sucks you within – a pure attraction, like a magnetic force. Anywhere around you would like to see, you would want to see, you are struggling, you are searching to see a red spot, even if invisible. You are frantic for it, even if unconsciously. And when you find it, you feel it. It’s something close to an orgasm if you let yourself go. Completely. Ruthlessly. You are not yours then. You are complete and one with the happening. Every breath, every inch, and every drop of your being has dissolved with the red spot. Only if you let yourself drown, or take the leap, or go with the flow. If you can be the flow. Completely. Then, you are. The red spot.

You are always searching for it. Knowingly or unknowingly. You feel satisfied, content, experience peace and enjoy silence when you happen to pass by. The red spot. Only when you are in your human senses, you are capable of seeing. This red little spot.

It is nothing but the burning dot in the rapture of a bright yellow sky.

It is but the glistening spot in the cover of a dark blue night.

It is nothing but the veins of a leaf in a tree.

And the point in a pen when it goes on a spree.

It is the burning part of a smoking spliff,

And the tear in the eye of a girl so miffed.

Join me, join me, join me tonight

Oh come you sinners and please my sight

Let us sing, let us dance,

Let us freely take our chance.

So what will happen tomorrow if we think.

Joy and merry with a coffee we’ll drink.

Keep counting, keep hounding,

Wherever you stay.

I will listen or I won’t

It’s me who’ll say

How much I’ll make, and

How many I’ll break.

Tear them, their rotting rugs apart!

I want to see, I want to see

Flowers and smiles and,

Content and glee.

In despair if they be,

Tell them to talk to Him inside.

Who is Him, I will never hide.

Ask me if you want to know.

I’ve sung this song from long ago.

He is the one who’s a part of you

And a part of me, in this naive little tree.

In this stone, in this seed

In the smallest spark of fire so free.

When you are in silence so deep,

When you have gone through

A path of desire so steep,

When you have engulfed yourself,

In complete, then

You can hear Him.

But not what he says.

What he feels.

Not what he feels.

What he is.

There is something,

In the red spot. A glory.

The bindi on your forehead you wear.

It looks so beautiful.

The chandan spots very neatly

Drawn in perfect symmetry.

It looks so beautiful. Exotic.

I would love to see you like this.

But maybe not.

Why not? Maybe yes.

But not me. Only you.

You know,

There is something,

In the red spot.

Like a window,

A breath of air.

No, something more human.

Something manmade - a glory!

A tunnel of transience.

A pathway of awareness.

I am.

The feeling of existing.

Comes. When we see.

The red spot.

In anything.

It does not have to be red.

But it has to, it has to be read.

You have to see it.

In anything.

In any being.

In the top of a lollipop

Between the slippery lips

Of a girl in teens,

Trotting on heels so high

The horse could sigh.

Do you see?

Do you see the red spot?

When the wind cries,

It is in the cry.

When the ashes fly,

Look for it, where is it?

See it flies, do you see?

Do you feel?

The red spot?

When a man falls

From his saddle brawls

The moment of fall,

Or the fall itself, or

The violent leap?

What is it? Where is it?

Can you see the red spot?

It is difficult to see.

For me.

It is.

Yes.

Say that.

Say it loud.

Louder. Louder again.

It is difficult to see.

For me. It is.

Relief,

Comes with acceptance

Of your guilt, of your glory,

Of your thanks, and your sorry.

It comes with being yourself.

So accept. You should.

You have to see somehow,

Your red little spot.

Accept,

But do not tolerate.

Shoo them away if they forget.

Help them in need,

Teach them to breed.

You have to.

You’re meant to.

That is your red spot.

The path,

Is a winding way

Into the center,

The center of being.

It is not easy,

Nor is it short.

Each breath is made here

In heaven’s distraught.

There is no heaven,

If you don’t breathe.

There is no sky if you’re not freed.

You have to live this life

You have been given.

Living ain’t living, when

This red little spot becomes a fact of life.

This red little spot ain’t a fact of life,

This red little spot is itself the life.

We fools forget.

We want to see a million things,

Act like pigeons with hundred wings.

What about seeing one single thing?

With passion and patience,

For as long as we’ve been here

With us unseen.

What is this mania? What is this noise?

Why is this impatience without a voice?

It does not matter how many we look,

But it does matter how keenly we do.

How deeply we feel the one in me.

How closely we see the one to be.

You may eat, or you may hog

Who does care for a hungry dog?

Or you may choose to be a man,

Have much less for much more time.

Then you shall truly enjoy the chore, and

Relish the mundane much many more.

In a big bash party,

People sing and stomp the floor.

You and I get drunk at the door.

There is merry in what we do,

But not so merry if we do much too.

The merry lies in cherishing,

Never so much, not much in doing.

This merry may be a forgotten story

Under sheets and layers of a dusty memory.

But the red spot when you feel in it,

It comes like breeze from the ocean,

On a sultry day sipping coconut potion.

You live this moment, you cherish its flavor.

And this very moment becomes forever.

Look for the spot,

The red little spot.

It is there. Always it is.

When mother asks,

“What have you eaten?”

Look for the spot,

Like your mother does.

We fools forget.

We forget to see,

Where we’ve come from,

And where we will be.

This dream is real!

An old abandoned warehouse is home to a few artists like me, and my sir. Sir looks like Pankaj Kapoor. He comes to me and asks for a hand to bring down one of his paintings which he wants to present to the rest. I readily agree. The hour is dusk and faint rays of the setting sun glows dimly through the rusty glass windows of the high ceiling studio. It is shady, blue, rusty and smells of clay. Hay in every corner you can see them scattered all over. It’s almost a miniature style painting on canvas with some figures standing and forming a dome or a pyramid. And the painting looks so blue. Dark Prussian blue.

I pick up the painting and look up to follow him. By then he is gone. Downstairs. I look at him from his studio set like a tree house and me perched up looking like a little bird waiting for mother to bring some food. When I come hurriedly down the stairs trying to follow him, I almost trip and the painting falls from my hand. I manage to catch it somehow, saving it. He stands at a distance watching the whole drama, and silently smiles. I come down carefully and run briskly to catch up with his fast pace. A couple, foreigners I think, didn’t notice so keenly, pass me by giggling, the boy holding a spliff between his fingers, and the girl merrily following him, giggling. They are going upstairs to the terrace to have a happy time I presume.

I am still running briskly trying to keep up with sir. There are a few ladies in vision now – in a smoky ante-chamber they play around as geishas to men like us. They have no relationship with anybody living there. They swing and they giggle, they swoon and they wiggle through arms of men seeking pleasurable moments in their mundane time. Them, girls have come just to entertain us, give us all the pleasures in the world we fantasize. Sir takes a turn round a corner and is clouded by waves of girls like them in seconds. He talks to them and plays with them, with a copper smile on his face for what it seemed like hours. And I slowly feel myself drowning in a mellow poison intoxicating my senses to the brim. I am moving, swinging, I am floating with the wind that touches the surface of my water creating ripples that shine and shimmer like fiery dust of gold on a lucid pond of cold numbing calm.

While running behind him I had been constantly telling sir how much I adore him and respect him, and how lucky I am to be living and working in the same place with him. But none of these words seemed to bother him at all. He wasn’t interested to listen to what I had to say. He was just occasionally turning his head towards me from the front while walking, and sometimes smiled silently.

When covered in the ocean of entertaining girls I remember myself laughing, talking, enjoying myself. I am dozed - intoxicated, inebriated, drowned in the pleasures on offering. There are three girls on me, with me swinging by, in an impromptu to and fro motion. I look carefully, and one of them is Rekha. She swirls to stop me, holds me tight by my hand, she shakes and she jerks me off from sleep, she tries. She looks so beautiful with the red bindi on her forehead. She comes closer now, leans over and whispers in my ear the most important words of my life.