Feb 13, 2019

What is Art? What is Craft?

Art if defined in one word, is simply nothing but expression. Art can be defined as pronounced expressions of life, in any form. It does not matter whether you are a painter or a sculptor, a musician or a dancer. You can be a great artist by being a gardener, if you are able to express your passion for life fully and exuberantly through that medium. Not only that, art also has the power to move an audience emotionally and evoke a thought process in the viewer's mind. I believe that the primary goal of art is very emotional, not necessarily political or social, but mostly very personal. The moment it starts serving a social purpose or relates itself to a political scenario, it ceases to be art and turns itself into propaganda. Art is not propaganda, it should never be. Art is simply someone's emotional expression of how they've perceived and experienced life.

But yes, if this expression is mundane or common, there is nothing artistic about it. For any expression to become art, it has to be pronounced, or in simpler words, it should be overflowing with emotions. Any human expression overflowing with pure unassuming emotions, has the potential to become art. Most common people are either too shy, or too rigid to be able to express themselves so freely, thus making art so uncommon in our concrete world.  An artist's job is to express freely and fully, evoking real emotions in the viewer's heart. Art when perceived, essentially enters through the brain, passes through the mind and eventually ends up changing the heart. That, when happens is true art.

Yes, artists are different, because they cannot be mundane. Mere fodder cannot satisfy the hunger for their kind. They feed on the phenomenon of life itself. That is why most artists are always so full of life and eccentric by nature. They don't need to follow any discipline or a set routine made by society for them. They are free to make their own rules, their own space, and their own time. And that, they should be allowed to. Because a bird can fly only so much if you put it in a cage. And needless to say, a cage is not the most convenient place for a bird to spread it's wings.

You often hear about artists being so engrossed in their creation, that they forget to eat, drink, sleep or even respond to any external worldly stimulation. The process of creating art is so introspective and overwhelming that this experience itself becomes the food for the artist. This process in it's essence is totally inclusive, spiritual and meditative in nature. In this process, artists will often lose connection with ground realities, and find themselves connected to some higher realm of existence, which in a way guides the artist to create art through their humanly perceived skills. This connection to a higher energy field makes us artists realize that we are not really the authoritative creators of our art. We artists just possess some exceptional human skills, and are nothing but a conduit from a higher and more vast imperceptible realm to this tangible mortal worldly realm.

The reasons for creating Art, and the consequences of perceiving Art, are both very closely related to the existence of duality in our nature. Duality in simple terms means the existence of two sides in the same coin; like male and female, day and night, good and bad, so on and so forth. Duality in our nature establishes movement, which is essentially a journey from one place to another. The purpose of art is also to create movement. It is only possible for a piece of life as we know it, to experience this duality in some form. And it is only humanly possible to feel this movement, the journey that happens between the two extremes of duality. Due to the presence of you and me, a conversation can start. And this conversation which satisfies the bare necessity of human expression, when cultured, inevitably turns itself into art sooner or later - like a seedling transforming itself into a tree in full bloom.

I am glad and grateful that I am able to see this happening every moment of my life. As an artist, the ability to perceive this very happening is my true gift, neither my skills nor my creations. Thus in essence, Art can be defined as purely an individualistic expression which moves the viewer in some way, either emotionally, physically or energetically.


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Craft on the other hand is often mistaken or confused with Art by the general mass of people. This misconception has prevailed for centuries especially in India, due to lack of progressive art related education in general. Indians for ages have taken pride in considering their craftsmanship skills as art. Generations of so-called artists have been replicating exactly what their forefathers had been painting for hundreds of years in the past - for example traditional art forms such as the likes of Madhubani, Raghurajpur, Kalighat, Warli, Tanjore, so on and so forth. Jamini Roy, for example created his own signature style of art drawing inspiration from these traditional art forms, but eventually our society has inevitably converted it into a form of craft. In present age there are schools who teach children how to draw in Jamini Roy style. Jamini Roy in his time did create art, but today's children replicating his works can be safely termed as a craft.

Replication is not Art. Replication is a skill. Replication is a Craft. The same holds true even for some European Renaissance Painters who could copy a portrait or a figure exactly how they saw it in reality, but often lacked in original expression. If a painting looks exactly the same or even quite similar to what it is being drawn from - either another painting, a photograph or even the reality, where is the individual expression of the artist? As a viewer where can I see how the artist is feeling while creating that piece of art? Yes, even when life or the real world can inspire most artists through some strong experiences and poignant moments, the artist has to find a way of expressing it in his own style. He has to find his own way to stroke his brush on the canvas. Then only it shall become art, not otherwise, not until he unlearns how to replicate from others. Till then he remains a craftsman but not an artist.

In hindsight, an artist does not need to be a good craftsman himself in order to become a great artist. An artist is an artist because he thinks in the language of art, and not because he does it. The idea in Art is more often than not, greater than execution of the piece itself. On the other hand, when it comes to the execution, the Craft is always greater than the idea of Art itself. There could be a thousand masons who built the Taj Mahal with their own hands, but they were not the artists, they were the craftsmen. The artist was Shah Jahan who thought about the idea of building it. But think about it, however great an artist he might have been, could he have built it with his own hands?

The artist is privileged to be endowed with the power to imbibe an idea of creation, and henceforth the craftsman finds his way to manifest this idea into matter and reality. Having said that, Art is not greater than Craft, neither the opposite. Both are essential for each other to survive and evolve together. Just like the ultimate truth in the concept of duality, one is nothing without the other. One cannot exist without the other. Art and Craft although very different in meaning and essence, will continue to be pronounced in the same breath by most of us till the time they both shall exist.

Jan 1, 2019

আমি কি ভালো ?

আমি কি ভালো ?
নাকি অতটাও ভালো নই...
আমি কি কালো ?
নাকি অতটাও কালো নই...

এমনও আছে কোনো তপ্ত দেশে
যে নিজেকে ফর্সা মনে করে।
এমনও আছে কোনো সুপ্ত ক্লেশে
যার আনন্দ মনে ধরে।

খারাপ নেশা ধরেছিস তো
মনে কিসের এত ভয় ?
চরস গাঁজা আফিম তামাক
তাতে কি সত্যিই ক্ষতি হয় ?

ক্ষতি হয়, ক্ষতি হয়...
তবে শুধু নেশা দ্রব্যে নয়...
ক্ষতি হয়, ক্ষতি হয়...
কিসে ? শুধু মাত্র ভয়ে...

এই ভয়ই হল সর্বনাশা,
ভয়ের চোটে উধাও আশা...
ভয় হল এক গড়ল সম;
বল ! নির্ভয় হয়ে থাকব মম।

তুচ্ছ যাহা মনে ধরে, তুচ্ছ তাহা নয়,
গুচ্ছ হয়ে জমা হয় সে পাহাড় সম ভয়।
ভয়ে ভয়ে কত কি ক্ষয় সে তো বলার নয়,
এ জীবনের চেয়ে বড় তোফা আর কি কিছু হয়?

Sep 25, 2018

Jaaga (Hindi)

I

Hum hain dharti ke vaasi
Dhar humaari maa se pyaari,
Jal vaayu bhu aur agni
Pashu panchi per apni...

Jis fiza ne humein banaya
Uski ki gun mein dhun ye gaana,
Pran o pranay se ghar basana
Ek dujhe se gale laga na...

Jaaga har ek ki chitta..
Nishtha satta, vishwa satya

Jaaga har ek ki chitta..
Nishtha satta, vishwa satya

Jaaga vishwas hamaara
Jaaga vishwas hamaara
Jaaga vishwas hamaara...


II

Gagan shunya neer punya
Agni dharani Meri karani,
Ekta mein Prerna hai
Karam apna prem hai...

Gagan shunya neer punya
Agni dharani Meri karani,
Ekta mein Prerna hai
Karam apna prem hai...

Jaaga vishwas hamaara
Jaaga vishwas...

Jaaga vishwas hamaara
Jaaga vishwas...

Jaaga (English)

I

We children of creation,
Mother nature's celebration!
You created life in glory,
One with peace and harmony.

We are fauna, we are flora,
We the peaks of Himalaya!
Air, water, earth, fire,
Come together take me higher.

Awakening has begun...
Dawning On Me Like The Sun!

Awakening has begun...
Dawning On Me Like The Sun!

I am awakening...
I am awakening...
I am now wide awake !


II

Clear skies and clean water,
Warm silt earth, like a mother!
In love for true humanity,
Lies the strength of Unity.

Clear skies and clean water,
Warm silt earth, like a mother!
In love for true humanity,
Lies the strength of Unity.

I am now wide awake !
I am awake...

I am now wide awake !
I am awake...

Jul 2, 2017

My Child is my most precious Creation

The day we returned from Har ki Doon, I had this day dream; although everything in it actually happened with me, it felt like a reminder of my father's lost Battle of life. And it brought me to tears, yet again.

Someone like Debo or Jith has been looming around my studio for a while, maybe a few days - asking me to leave, or close the studio. I didn't know why. So I have not been paying attention and I have been ignoring him although I knew that he was dangerously looming around and fuming like a demon.

One day I was inside with my sister, Khushi. She was sitting on the sofa and I was standing and talking to her. Suddenly he gushes the glass door open and enters like a storm. I am still standing facing him while he charged at me like a bull, or a mad elephant. I felt completely powerless, helpless, numb, so much so that I could not move an inch to dodge him. It was as if I was hypnotized to a trance, possessed by something like a demon reducing my physical powers to null; numbing my mind and my strength completely. He comes straight ahead and rams me to the ground. My head cracks. Before I realize he lends a heavy cracking blow to my right cheek bone with his knee. I hear my skull crack right open. In an instant he cracks open my left jaw with his elbow and I could feel blood oozing inside my Skull and gushing out through all the openings of my face. Keeps slamming me left, right and center until I almost lose my consciousness. In my half dead state I could dreamily see my sister also getting hurt, and then he left like a storm through the door before I blacked out completely.

Next time I open my eyes, I am shivering with excruciating pain and incomparable fear trembling to regain my posture. I take sometime to sit up and see my face in the mirror totally disfigured and decapitated. I struggle to stand up still shaking, my hands and legs trembling to find the keys quickly. I manage to get my hands on them, switch off all the lights, come out and lock the glass door and leave immediately in my decapitated state, body reduced to a rubble.

After I return home, I see my sister quietly lying down, head resting on the lap of my father and I could also sense the presence of my mother sitting beside. My father is stroking my sister's head staring blankly into the white wall in front and no one is saying a word. My mom utters, " you have the same script as your dad". I turned my gaze from them and isolate myself into a closed room.

My eyes open and I wake up stretching my jaws as if I could still feel the blows on my face. First quote that comes to me is, " let the world grow into you and you can grow into the world" - a slight aberration from Jith's tattoo quote, " let the world change you, and you can change the world." I switch on the dim bed-light and sit quietly staring blankly into my blanket.

Thoughts start streaming in as I try to figure out the meaning of this dream that I had. The only thing that I could sense was my mother's words which meant my life was almost totally the replica of my father's life. Till recently I have not been able to look into his eyes and speak. Every time I do look into his eyes now, I can see pain, tremendous amount of heart wrenching, excruciating and unexpressed pain, forcibly held inside for years so that no one else can see it.

He had tried to do everything in his life in the best possible way with the best possible intentions, never wanting to hurt or harm anyone in the process, always trying to protect and provide for his family and close ones. First the biggest blow he got was from his own Blood Brother, then he was forced to start his own venture which was forcibly shut down by the laborers. Then he tried again and again. And again he tried but failed every time. Eventually he got ousted from his own house where he had grown up spending almost 40 years of his life. After that, at almost 60 he could not recover from his Haunting past and left all hopes of making it big ever again. In this while both his son and daughter had grown up taking up their own career path and that was his biggest achievement in his whole life, all that he could really be proud of.

I felt a strange pang in my heart while all these thoughts were streaming through me. Questions started clouding my head. Will I also fail in my career like him? What did my mother mean by her words? Will my son also have to see the same sad eyes burdened with a lifetime of pain like I do in my father? Will I also end up so lonely, isolated, unheard, not cared for? All the virtues I have built, will that all go in vain? All the things I could do, will that all wither in vain? All the things I could give the world and its people, will all of it rot away in vain?

Yes, the dream could only make that much sense to me. They won't let you, they won't let you, they won't let you. You could lose the whole world but make sure you never let yourself lose your family.

Of all my Creations, my child is my most precious creation.

May 30, 2017

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.

Mar 30, 2017

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.

Apr 6, 2016

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.

Feb 13, 2015

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

Dec 23, 2014

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.

May 31, 2014

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!

May 12, 2014

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.

Apr 30, 2014

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.

Apr 28, 2014

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

Apr 8, 2014

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."

Apr 7, 2014

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.

Apr 4, 2014

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.

Mar 29, 2014

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.

Mar 15, 2014

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!