Monday, August 31, 2015

On killing fields

Mines that had been planted
Under the upper layer
Of the crust,
They could burst

Killing fields
had made foray
Into homes

They come not
with crops
For crops had
Become wealth of the rich

They come in different
Bayonets have become obsolete

Iron pellets are now bred

Friday, August 28, 2015

Jesus of kolkata

There  was no red signal
Of prohibition
still stopped sudden
The city which so far had the speed
of storm;
Precariously held on to the road
Balancing perilous on wheels
Taxi and private,tempo, tiger embossed double deckers;

All those who raised hue and cry
And came from all sides
Labourers, hawkers, shopkeepers,customers-
They all became part of a still picture
Done by the artist, stuck to his easel;

Everyone dumbfounded
Saw how a naked child crossed the road
From one end to another;

It had rained a few hours ago
At the chowringhee;

Now the light had pierced through
the clouds
Kolkata seemed to be flooded by illusory light;

Peering out of the window of state bus
Saw the face of the sky and saw you too;

Son of a mother
You the Jesus of Kolkata

Stopped the traffic by your spell;

The screaming millions,
The teething and gnawing of impatient drivers
Did not deter you;

You walk through
The passage
with death on both sides,
Like someone learning to walk,

Like humanity incarnate
too glad to learn to walk
Trying to get the whole world
Within your grasp;
Like by treading trembling
you were walking from one end to another
Of the world.

(Transliteration of a poem by Nirendranath Chakraborty)

Monday, August 17, 2015

Kwalkhu, a glimpse,

The alley that went away
From the chowpatty
Had houses on both sides
Their red brown bricks
Without any trace of plaster
Looked distinctively
The doors were big
with bolts placed diagonally,
Had those who lived inside
caught on the siesta?
But the wheels were taking those houses
away too,
And the dust and rubbles were getting settled
On trousers and hands and faces...

would be away soon,
But that memory of that alley,
That colored paper flagged one,
Would remain.

'Not all who wander are lost'

Not all
Are lost
though they
wander the most
From one end
To another,

They wander
But they don't get lost.

Thursday, August 13, 2015

Some postcards...

I can say I cannot take you
To the place where I wish to go
But I can always send you
Breath of chinars covered with snow,

It is such a beautiful sojourn
To be drowned in the tenderness
of leaves forever falling soft
On the rugged earth's cold surface,

I can say I see the face of children
Not mortified by the shadows of guns
I can always send you post cards
Of larks and flock of homing pigeons.

Monday, August 10, 2015


I would be totally wrong
If I would say I did not long
For Luke to come and call me out
For a hike through the most dense fog
The weather would be cutting through us
And we would be right there at the stop for the bus
Luke would take a swig and check on the camping gear
The mountain stream would be running close and near
Colored colony of trouts and shells
Would be visible through the greenish blue water without fail
And Luke would make a stick a fishing rod
And we would be catching more than we would've thought
And then we would grill them
And sprinkle salt 
Making a feast of what we would've got
It would be a good ol' hiking for a day
Luke,me and a fair weather of May.

(Photo: 'Painted', )

Wednesday, July 29, 2015


That's the way the night
grew upon us with
meteor shower,
we stood side by side,

You told me how you loved
nights of torrential rains
Flooding the town,
how water wrote rivulets
all over you
Till they reached your feet,

I told you how nights
made sleeping morns
And morns woke blossoms

The meteorites fell
like little sparks
And flinty we became.

Monday, July 27, 2015

There's something about you

There's something about you
I forgot to tell you

Nascent like that faint smell
Of lavender
Of jasmine
And roses too...

A garden of Paradise
In short,
That I meant.