It was just a dainty night

In its blazing bosom senses

I trudged and turned back

A casual brush

On tracing the washed away innocence

The only car that honked on the streets

The only ruffian who howled and wandered

His words echoed the repressed prances and tamed thrills

Toed the edges of cliched and feared axioms

His song has little audience

It was lousy banal affair with nocturnal naivety

His bottle a muse for narcissm and the dog's eyes a symbol of self-glory

No mighty repulses,no signs of kins

Just loose hanging remorses

Like a salient criminal

He squats and conforms to called for agonies

A wrap,A shadow

He has a sense of waning conspiciousness

In the bottle the bubble holds truth

Waits for nod of none

Neither the pragmatic nor the ascetic

Neither the prudent nor the opulent

nether the cynic nor iconic

Neither myself nor himself

Every night and before dawn a life is murdered

A life whose later births remain incognito.

I retreated from the day consulting my conscience, senses of approval and propriety of mannerisms.No i actually didnt respond to the clarion call.All what i did was that i became the a part of the regularities for few moments and the rest remain freezed,solidified,intangible veil,unparalleled but personally visioned and uniquely conversed.A little refuge,a little walled room laced with my wanderings,a lost mind,a soul embrasive of guilty deeds of seeking mendacious paths for demanding the phase of finely defined isolation,little space much distant from stimulating bitching sessions and sarcasm without any formidable meaning to it. Somethimes things can be so meaningless and random.Those moments when i plunged in Tagore's poems,those moments when i circled around the stacks of books,those moments when never did i have to overassess the ambiguities and feel like dropped-in- pit like cynic,those moments when conversation didnt have the mandatory requirement of two minds,two souls,two facing nicely chiselled biological structures and converged into one and feeling of self-sufficiency and self-emphasis (briefly drunkard narcisst)resurfaced were optimally savoured,or should i say,devoured by me.The time laid down with broken arms,it laid down its mission for ceaseless acquisition and conquest occasioned by the fracture and amputation.And guess what i danced in thrill at such severence and obliteration.

Let the baby sleep in peace
Like the pearl in a shell
Like the curled up pigeon in the waning refuge
Lets not throw up fears of sanctions
Let not for once blood and and diamond become synonymous
Let not the clay of blood become the cliched playarticles of children
Let not human killing instruments become instrumental in human existence
Let everyone control their livid hormones and raging possibilities
Let the baby sleep in peace
Lets not wake her up from raw floating dreams
Lets not prevent such dreams to rupture into reality
Lets not tell her that world is a bad bad place
A place for grim frames of inaction and maloccurences
A place where lives are extinguished out of intolerence
A ground with splotch and stench of blood
A ground,A grave for nameless bodies
Dont rush,just trudge and see
How labour sows slews of alternatives aginst ceaseless killings and habitual strifes
Just walk and feel the restlessness of positvity
Stop scurrying to pulverise homes and charr lives
Allow the wife relish returns arising from extols and ackowledgements from her blood kins and spouse
For the food she makes
Its that time of the day she maximises her worth and bathes in self-contentment
Lets not make her the deprived damsel
Let the child lurk behind his mother
Let the child play with fake guns
To make a show of his innocuous power and not-so-refined gallantry
Lets not translate such veneer of childhood musings into blocks of realism
Let them hear the sounds emanating from battery-induced guns and not witness splotch of blood as consequence
Let them realise that causing deaths are not their prerogative rights
Let not the diamond dazzle and gleam with a murky scar
Let the acts of plunder and nefarious killings be adjugded
Let for once delineate the rationale behind human existence and prevalence of peace and sanity
Let for once question god and ask him
I know, i concede, i nod
He will tell you what human lives seek over the past million years
Let the baby sleep in peace
Let not rip her off from the sheath
Lets not crush her heart and organs
Lets not reduce her to tatters of oblivious object
Let her cry and react
Let her build the innate impulses
Let her see what blood relations are and not flaming blood
LET THE CIVIL WAR END
Let SIERRA LEONE,UGANDA,ETHIOPIA spearhead peace movements
Let the use of arsenals of arms and ammunitions become an extinct operation
Let the baby sleep in peace
Like the pearl in a shell.

When i sit in silence

In the world where i live
In the world where you live
In the world where we live
I stop to see you walk and trip
I curl back to see you unfurl
I speak less to hear you speak incessantly
I share my dreamspace with you
I sit in silence and see you clean your wings
I feel the restlessness of the sea to capture your shadows
But i wait for one magnificience
In doing so i try to keep my outpouring patience in fetters
Dont know whether it is in vain or not?
I pine to be universal spectator of your virility.

I want to chase the time with closed eyes

I pine to be the owner of time

Mobilising the wheels of time at my caprice

When world would be at peak of its frenzy

When the eyes wont blink

With pace unfettered

And steps cluttered

When chaos and cacophony would turn into self-designed harmony

When thorn of poverty and blame subside

When rythm and rain would converge

I wait for the armoury of time

Which would make my life a palette of splendour

A rare gentle touch

Unlike the gnawing moments

Let the time for once fly with superwings

Please let the day come

When the pastures would turn moist

Let me romance the swing of time

Let me yarn the indomitable mind

When the inevitable would turn into flimsy surmises and conjectures

When accepted and appropriate would become a misnomer

That day i will paddle among many

To see the smiles

To hear the the voices

To become the mirror of inner tyranny

To vent inner turmoil

Its baggage of ages and bygones

For which time is the only antidote.

KOLKATA OBSESSIONS

You are my rudder in darkness
You are my resort in voidness
You are the infallible open road for the yearning souls
You are all pervasive in my divisive mind
You are my LOVELY CITY KOLKATA
With angelic trams crawling at gentle speed
You are the comforting touch to my frazzled vision
I close my eyes and see you in seductive garb
I hear when melodies rhyme in the bustling cacophony
When breathing of hordes confluence in the overpowering merger of reason and money
When mystic rains create persistent hangovers
Which you fail to abandon
when the princely yellow taxis snake their way and ferry
Few perturbed are caught in frames,few complacent abscond the glare
When macher bajar(fish market)brings solace to the fishermen community
The sun smiles and shines to His heartfilled content
The waves of GANGA rattle in swagger
When the intellectsia give their shaving another miss
The barber whines and grumbles
When sedentary lifestyle borne kids flock PARK STREET
The ROCK MUSIC send wavesof narcissm
The city snoops and sails into the inner recesses of turmoil and self-dereliction
When cupid frequents Victoria,Nalban and Dhakuria lake
The aroma of lovestories waft in
Where many feelings remain unreciprocated
Where the devils beckon slews of heartbreaks
Where many narrations and confessions remain incomplete
But still the carrier of love sails unstaggered
When colour befriends textiles
Luring the hard earned money out of pocket
Assuaging the indefinite choices
People throng NEW MARKET,GARIAHAT
many lives sleep peacefully beneath the basics
Many relations are revived,when trains chug in royally monstrous HOWRAH STATION
Enveloping ma-estranged souls within armoury of love and warmth
Soothing dry souls with the moist of GANGA
And when the city slips into the slumber on sly
It wakes up to become abode of its unique form.

WHEN YOU CAME

I was like the maiden in the bleak castle till you came

I was like the ambivalent old man till you came

Whose voice and choice were obliterated

Whose memories were his sole resort

And wife's face the source of solace

I was like the hapless child waiting to be crucified in the realm of rejection,till you came

I was like the pearl on the leaf waiting to be extolled,till you came

I was like the forlorn road waiting for urchins,ragamuffins and cars to keep me company,till you came

I was like the falling raindrops aiming to please the populace with the sheath of coolness,till you came

I was the fierce wave contemplating to intimidate the ingenous travellers,till you came

I was the dreamer with frivolous dreams,till you came

But i became the muse of your dream when you came.

CLASSIC GIRL

I am a little classic girl
With many beautiful pink smock-frocks
I see people around me walk in cassocks bestowing blessings
I have the garlanded crown kept beside my bedstead
I wake up to floral fragnance wafting in
I cant operate gadgets
i cant run fast
But i can ride horses
I play the piano and create slow staccatos
I have dainty cronies belting out plaintive notes
I have sweet girls to read stories of gallantry and virility
While i dip myself in rose water
I cant operate gadgets
But i can ride horses
I fiddle with spears
I trim the flowers
I wear silver enhancements
I eat organised food
I cant operate gadgets
But i can ride horses
I have air around me ruffling my hair
I have a room for little nothings
Every evening i treat myself to musical soiree
A little fringe of violin,a little fringe of flute
I stop now to let reins of mystical rythm take over me
I cant operate gadgets
But i can ride horses
I have big classis dreams in classic frames
Princely dreams shorn of monetary wraps
Nothing so grand,nothing to surprise
The dream of soft arrival and swift departure to classic world
Where classics are woven and queens fly on horses with wings

As i look outside the window
It reminds me of something
So worldly it is
And when the gush of air blows in
I feel restless
Like a cynic
This is the touch i have felt before
It duped me before i embraced
I ask you
Do you know me?
No more do i wish to live in this sea of anonymity
I know assurances are shallow boxes
I dont want to survive on tip-up anymore
open the window of reality
Let it take my mind by storm
I want that touch which once healed my scars
Where is she?
Fill in the gaps with truth
I wish i could sabotage the vicious lies
i long to see the droplets of water in the folds of her cringed nose
When her flow of hair would descend?
And stir me
Bring those senses to this laying crass
Can you?
Please bring back those tyranny of desires..
Can you harvest the dried tears?
Can you infuse in me the touch of reason and immortality
Can you set me right?
Can you teach my blood their function?
Can you weave the fabric of my memory?
Can you make the corpse alive?

NUANCES OF NIGHT

Nights dawn,redefining eternal beauty
When heaven kisses the earth
When silence enhances the noise
is it so exquisite??
Yes it is so
How many souls remain awake to be a spectator of such enigma?
But yes many reap dreams in this mellowing melody
Many lives join to experience third beauty
And the internal sorrows surface
When many lie with inner recesses bare
When time comes as a gift to reconcert for the straying souls
Wings are ready to fly
When vision breaks free
Through the expanse of filled yet forlorn forest
When the lethaly elegant and frail moon places irresistible choice to savour either the source or reflected enhancements
When beggars repose and we are freed from the show of degrading begging
While others churn money out of such show
When choices are not clearly framed
And left with sole funny choice
Where more comes out of less
Night makes us opportunist
We weave gains of earth's indifference
Be that as it may
For heaven is a rare treat and gift.

The slave returns from illegitimate work
Still in rags
Those smell of grubby dictates
His body bears etched marks of thrash and unruly beatings
The blood accumulates forming stale marks
He still makes calculated moves
As ordained by undying habit
He whips up some soup
With the age old vegetables floating above
The utensils go haywire
He notices unprecedented facial contours in vapour-emitting hot soup
Making his weakness a loose fragile sheath
He drinks down soup
Aquires no vigour
Quite funnily he requires none
For he has no one to praise
He has no one even to care
Has lost the humdrum
His spouse has gone to relish riches
And flaunt them back to him
So that he bangs his fist and head at his sheer imprudency
So that the realisation dawns on him
Ultimately making him crumble into seclusive pieces
With passage of time he coughs and snuffle
The sun rises
Creating a glorious canvas of dark and dazzle
The contrasts surface
And his hands become as white as mysterious clouds
It was stifling
She sauntered in her scintillating smock-frock
There was a thud
Nature asked as to why she appears morbidly sad
Like the sordid owl
Her pink dress gets splattered with oozing blood
The novelty was scarred
So much so that she sat immersed in melancholic overtones
The rythm of scuffles had died down
She checked the veins
And gleefully danced in the pouring colours
Her dress became conspicious in the gloomy backdrop
She gazed at the corpse with inebriated wistful eyes
Relunctunt to wear it off and drench the soul with strokes of desertion
She rushed to the woods to share it with glowing darkness
And urged them to rejoice
Willingly she liberated herself from slavish mental prisons