Sep 10, 2012

World of wonders

Shhh.. I am silently entering into a world of wonders…
Wonders of touch, smell and colours…
Juices contained in translucent skins,
About to break
Into squeeze of a sugary drop,
Hanging onto the tip of a leaf
Precariously, making love…
For some more time,
A while more,
As long as it can
Last, long, belong
To the tip of its beloved leaf…
Shhh! Make way for the drop,
Make way for the sounds of silence now…

Mediterranean drops
Sprinkle salt and lime,
To the pink of her prawns
And shine of her dimes.

Here oranges do seed
With so much greed,
And blue bright indigos
They broodingly breed.
Here, trees have shades
Of purple and white,
And green you will see
Is raging bright.
Here, plums please peaches
And apples please pink
Cranberries ooze a punch
Rouged raspberries wink,
Even when you dream, If you may
Touch, blink, and feel this wonder a maze!

Sep 9, 2012

Here, I am mine

I am silently entering into an alternate sphere of existence.
Here I do not live below, above, or for you.
Here I just live. Here, I am. 

It is a state of mind that floats to exist.
It does not have legs like we do.
It cannot stand, like we can.

It just floats, like air.
And so it moves

Long winding tunnels in streaks, lines in my mind.
And so it feels like an exploding, expanding, exhausting
Cinematic journey of churning organic images forming a kaleidoscope

Of splifferaging colours splatterin’!
Only I can see this now.
Not you, nor them.

It is but for me, only for me.
I am supposed to. I choose to.
I will. I shall. I should.

And to see this,
I need to be here with myself.
Here with me. I need to be me, so much so as I can.

I choose to. And here I feel my nerves to the thick of my thumping, oozing heart.
I am special because I can. You can’t, nor them. Not like this.
So I am about to sink in myself for some time now.

Without having to think about you, or them.
I wish this to be my time now. Not yours, nor theirs.
Do not think I want it from you, or them. This time is not yours, nor theirs.

Here I need to be me now.
Here I am mine. And you,
Have to let me go.

For some little time more,
You have to let me go.
And wander.

For a while,
So I could think of a smile.
Even when you are not there.

You toh ratri titli chameli
Ami toh mantra jhere porini
Hobe ki naki montro safal?

Goli te kokhon jombe re jol?
Shokal bikel khabar khawai
Chop chopey roshey pachha dobai

Chat shey pachha
Roshey bhora swadhey
Keno kharap shonai? Mone boro badhe?

Dhur chhai koi,
Dhur chhai koi
Dhur chhai koi hete chole jai

Choltey choltey,
Koto path hete,
Beche thekeo jeno more more jai.

Etu tuk gaan likhlam, kaan shunli naki bol?
Elo ki alo, mon juralo? Shure badha ujjol,
Toree kalir kajol.

Jete hobe amaye hariye ekhon
Ei pawa haranor chhol je kokhon
Shuru holo taha bol?

Dekhe rakh ey'chhol shuru shobey
Bole rakhlam, rakh re shikhe
Mantra mugdho hoye thakbi shukhe

Dekha hobe, dekha hobe,
Chholey chholey pher dekha hobe

Ei holo bole… ekhoni hobe… abar hobe…

Sep 8, 2012

Its midnight, and the evening has just started


It is midnight, and the evening has just started.
I am standing on the porch of Marcela’s house,
And looking out her window to a polished placa
Of shiny stone tiles Catalunyan.
The placa is bordered on one side
With a line of dark green trees,
Dancing in a cool autumn breeze.
And on three other sides stand adorned faces
Of pretty iron balconies and windows like mine.
It is midnight, and people walking on the side street
Look like they’ve just turned twenty,
Playing and wiggling and swiggling.
I witness this play live today.
And smile.

It started with hum of a song today, a song in my heart
When I went to meet those lovers of paradise in hay
Hands in hand, then kisses on the cheek

Beer dos grandes and three puffs of weed
Then we merry merrily walked around
Through stoned streets of El Born…

Snuffing a royal hookah Kashmiri,
Outside a shop sits this old bent lady.
Tonight, she’s reading fairy tales for free!

The more I drift apart,
The more I come back
To being myself.

So pray we may rise, and again fall.
So we may must see it all!


A small ball bounced round a small tree in the placa.
And there comes a cute little doggy
Bouncing more than the ball,
So much with life trying to fetch it.
Then I see a man, a very young man,
In the prime and peak of his generative years,
Swinging and posing quickly
For the next football pass to his doggy.
Doggy has a small stature, short legs
With a long flowy fur body, and dangling flappy ears.
He jumps around for the ball,
And his long and black silk swirls
With sudden gusts of the whispering breeze
Showing shades of snow white underneath.

He looks so beautiful,
So lively, so joyful, I could die.

He embodies all bloom
So fresh, so wild,
Mori ami more jai.

He has a white streak,
Through the middle of his forehead.
And he looks so more handsome with that!

His tail looks like a tight oblong ball
Of strewn wool, vibrating vigorously
When he waits impatiently for the long pass.

It looks funny. But being funny has its own joy.
So much so as being joyful has its own fun.
It is past midnight, and I witness. Smiling.


A woman appears then after.
She has short n black curly hair.
And I can say,
That she has spent almost all
Heavy years of her life, already.
Now she’s turned alive again,
The most she has ever been!
Her supple skin shining
In halogen white
From such a distance,
Refreshes me to my fingertips.
She exchanges a sweet glance
Dipped in a smile with the man,
Who has the ball tightly placed
Under his sneakered right foot.

Few words I hear them say,
So I know they are neighbors.

And then Doggy starts a wiggle-tail
So vehemently, feet jumping in the air
To greet this lady as excitingly as he could.

So the man and the woman played with Doggy,
Eyeing him, talking to him, teasing him with the ball.

Dekhi ami dekhe jai
Hathrey shatrey dube jai

Now slo-w-ly lost in me I be-come
In a rich velvet prussian sky

And I see, my eyes dripping in love, just being witness
To this heart melting moment in time!
So sublime! 


Marcela asks,
Rito, are you here?
I wake, gather myself and turn.
And I see her grin,
In a way no one else
Must have never noticed.
In her grin she is, and you can never see.
You have to see her through her.
It is not something you will see
When you look at her,
Or talk to her,
Or make love to her.
You see it only when you look closer,
A lot closer; it comes from where she breathes.

Marcela, I want to breathe you,
When you breathe a li’l closer.

Marcela, I want to become you
As you become my mother.

As a quiet baby in her womb,
I try to match her grin in a way

And say, I’m just having fun!
The truth is,

At this very moment,
This very present moment,
I am feeling pure golden jovial joy.

I feel I am alive.
I feel I am living.

I feel I am life.