alor mukhomukhi ....!!

"jodi thake pore thakbe temon kichu noe
duto bondhur .........duto guitar "
- kabir suman & anjan dutta


ankte ankte britto ta boro hoe choleche ......
tar karon ki ???? tara dujone tenechi tar dag dudik die
boro .....kromoshoi boro hoei cholche, jar ses dekha jachhena
tobuo ek diker asha ei britter ekdik ses hobe joye's pub e gie

mora agun e hather kalo foska pora r ekta rong
sudhu kore choleche take anusaran
ondhokarer gobhirotae koreche dikhondito sottar anusandhan
khujte khujte peyeche ekta aeyna !!

ei aena tar mahatto ki jano ???? jei darak protibimbo hoeto ektai
ei aenatar r nei kono dikhondito sotta, ache sudhu mounomukhorota......

my kolkata blues ........

"wherever you see colours , think of madness..........."


wen rain hits d city i get depressed. d neon lights get hazzled in d rain n things get blurred . my eyes become bloodshot wid a mad drink . i walk up 2 my terrace n observe my city's unbreakable motion for lomg hrs . i love this place . this city . my city

sometimes......well most of the times i 'm nostalgic 'bout the city i live in. i m illusioned by the neon lights on its streets 'n' wander lyk strangers inside the trance producd by endless emotions of the megapolis. somhow living in the past, somtyms tryin 2 embrace the ruined granduer of its history. n the idea of how this old capital adorns herself 2 fit in2 the westernization on its 300th anniversary still terrifis me. i can hear it moaning and screaming .but somhow manages to feed in the "numerous" callin it home.......a beggar,a poet or a shop owner ...politician or an actor...policeman or a doctor. washerman ,cobbler,barber, a degreed literati hack..or those have left homes n building roadside shacks....

today the saree goes down n down under the navel , under the brick to the grass. burns with it the culture of a newly married girl n the bride's carcass.the touch of oblivion caressing those sleeping on the pavement,n bathing daily in sewage excrement.the city of "babughat" gets it's banks washed by all waters from home n abroad.
the boy with the spiked hairs walks along to attend cleavage showing miss teen. wen suddenly a disgusting odour makes the curtains descend 4 me. a social worker or a proffessional clown ?? may b i dunno or may b a bull tat can suddenly shut the traffic down ?? or rather payin d toll of subscribing to ideas contradicitng d old ???

its a gigantic maze of 300 yrs ,a great mega maze...still in here ,i find myslf tethered to the place. emotions !!!!

"this city knws abt all of my "first tyms",,hard to fly as i may try....it follows me 4m behind" . gasps, pants n puffs to rant the tale of all orders........
somtyms the clouds dons anklets 2 dance ...or miss a beat perchance .sometyms it pledges greenery but at tyms deluges unnecessery. listening 2 d golden tinking of the ragas of d old. sometyms leaves behind out-of-tune sorrows untold .

but i havnt heard d song till now. yet i knw it for "my heart will go on ".its wind plays around me.piercing through the perched soil its thistles sway with risen heads.nights drowning in its plentiful waves.the morning song now cascades.i hav turned tat way to say to keep me in cleanliness .sumday all blemishes will wash out .all animal marks dissolved . n a new human name will emerge. n till tat day i ll continue 2 b in love with living .n dream sumday the odds wll b sorted .n ppl sumday will dream n love. till den i wud wrap my arms to hug my love n chase d dreams of changing tyms 4 till den my dreams will refuse 2 decline . n i hope sumday will emerge d "chansonnier"... n sing to me the song i havent heard yet, n i ll love 2 hear .

a thought

after a heavy day a little nap before dinner was all i wanted . but they were denied .some uncanny thoughts occupied the otherwise busy brain and started multiplying like the bacterias inside a symbioatic intestine .

i stood in the desert with no one anywhere near or far .the horizon far away melting with the bleaching heat of the sun.the wayward winds hushing some accolades in my ears.i stood with a heart content with the feeling of being a survivor against every odds of life. yeah i was invincible.

but was it a crime to be invincible ?? was it a crime that i rose to the heights to feel things which cannot be touched .to speak words that were unputdownable.was it a crime that i was different ??

i am invinsible to the eyes of hatred .i am alien to those who dont know me .they ignore me and so do i. no one is friendly.

but i watch them fall. divided they fall. together they die. but i still stand to watch them cry until the end of time.
as they kneel and beg with no mercy shown, i watch them die.

so here i stand until the time .was it a crime to live my life ?? was it a crime to want to survive being original to the human mind ??.

no one would answer.so i will wait until the end of time.


the dreams was gone .the feeling of a pin prick still remained. i took my dinner and again proceeded with my schedule for survival.

my angel

Days were really dark for me
And you inspired me to paint colours
When I was stroking some portrays
You spilt the rainbow on the grays

You spoke to me like a fairy
With a healing wand..you caressed
Blushed to be called an angel though
Tried to ease me again………..


Visiting over the windows
You made me worth your praises
Some silent words u spoke in my cold ears
And dug me out of my grave


With least an expectation to gain
With a heart to share the pain
Blushed to be called an angel though
You made me try again………………

my love writes

There was a dream and some broken strings . Some echoes of love and life quite close to each other but somehow not attached to be fulfilling for a life time ......

an erotic green mountain through my window . i used to wake up in the morning and sit by to observe the emotions of this old mammoth as the day progressed . sometimes a tender and affectionate cloud used to embrace it with love and hide it from the world . some wet days followed.......

Again there was an exhuberant evening . By the lake we sat for a long time with my finger tightly held by him and my head over his shouldersand the champagne bottle lying somewhere almost empty.We were counting the stars . A soft feeling touched me and wet his collars with two drops...

There was a winter night. Outside it was cold and blue. He returned home shivering. His cheeks red and pale. A long time passed by after that and i found myself embraced by him completely hidden with the bonds so strong and warm that a thin quilt was all that we needed ...

On the visit to the love memorial the monsson hit us with the droplets of the first showers. He pulled mey handto take shelter under the tree. The warm breathe from his mostrils came closer to my face . I could feel the scent of his colonge in my body. And there was a gentle hug and a soft pin on my lips ...

Then there was a day when he took me to the maidan. Under the big old tree we sat. For long hours he discussed of stories and books and read me a novel . But by the time he finished i was resting my head on his shoulders when suddenly the soft pain on my lips came back . he kissed me ...

Till someday "he" was nowhere. Though i continued dreaming. Now it seems that the world is in endeavour to help me realise my dream. When i thought of love i thought of falling in love . But he came into my life , tied all the broken strings and tought me to rise in love . Made me literate and raised me to a height to be lovable , to be adored and to be everything i am now .....


this is the content of some pages from the diary of the person who will love me .this would be the dreams of my lover . and these will be the dreams which i would realize for her and make an affair of a lifetime.............