A LOST MARK
When doors are closed
I assured you myself
The exterior so crude and duping
You still looked with earnest eyes
When the words fell
And shattered my writing
The thunder that broke the prisons
So blatant a sight
Before long the echo of silence crippled me
You gloating fool
Believed like a deformed pacified
I never sought the meaning
A stay by the glimmer
Of something,of sliver,of trace
A trail inexplorable,an exhuming so futile
The far away explanation
So less voluminous with shreds of forsaken flakes
The shuddered steps so enshrouded
You will get the pending answer
The day I will forget to write
The day my nerves will rest
The day you will interrogate the glooming vain
I shall leave a whisper by your ear
To calm your insensibilities
The glint of the embers is of scant worth
Like that of horse who never careens off
The moment of retrieving will unlock my pain
That deepened unawares
That would qualify my smiles
That would make those hushes a deafening scramble
That would render the lurked,the stark,
The inflicts of voidness,meaningless
The mires of nihilism a glamourised mist
A moment that shall prove your doomed existence and failures.
After that there would be no harking back.

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.