Paint your love Nov 5, 2009 2:15 am Mood: calm, 118 Views Paint your love. Ever tried to paint love? If not, Try it once. It’s like painting your own girl; The girl you ever dreamt of. First, draw the outlines, As nicely as her curves. Give her the desired shapes With full bloomed breasts, The naval and the attractive thighs. Paint them in your colour of passion. Give her the silky hair, And a pair of luscious lips, Just above her chin and Below her pointed nose. And maybe a mole in between As if it symbolises your own self. Make her as nicer as you can But beware! Be cautious before painting her eyes! Don’t ever give her an eye ball. Never do this mistake again. If you do..... Then you must know for sure- That she would look at you first With her first smile. And then she would turn to her back And leave you forever. Deserting her own creator. Only because you just have Enlivened her……… Given her eyes, her life. Now she doesn’t need you anymore....... 0 Comments

Home, so sweet. Nov 1, 2009 3:06 am Mood: apathetic, 179 Views Home, so sweet. Amidst the jungle of concrete, At the crowd of the skyscrapers, We seek our own home, sweet. We crave for a heavenly abode. Sometimes life becomes so ruthless And a home, own is never built. Rarely life becomes so benevolent That a home is so dearly made. Some become happily content With a home, own and so sweet. Some even aspire for more Want a palace or castle gigantic. They flap their wings for more Aspiring the more they need, Deserting their own home, sweet They fly for a destination adrift. The home deserted sighs behind, Wishes them to turn back and return; Never have they cared for their own shelter. Never have they stopped aspiring for more. In this vicious cycle of desire, We often forget to read the writing At the canvas of life, wide- That, nothing ever remains there, forever, Be it the palace or the castle in the air Or the maybe the deserted home, Still so beloved, so adorably sweet. ......... 2 Comments

Happy Birth Day to the Last Emperor of India. Oct 11, 2009 3:49 am Mood: cheerful, 441 Views Happy Birth Day to the Last Emperor of India. Who cares for what age you turned, As it’s just immaterial for what you are. You defeated the age in your own style, And remained as the brightest star in our sky. You became the legend of youth and vigour; None can ever match you now and forever. You are truly the last emperor of India. We admire you for your unparalleled persona. The Big B and the real Big Boss of our time, You took the world right in your own stride. So many times you found your back at the wall, But you just broke the barrier and became the winner. Let me salute you, my idol, my lord of the rings, Let me feel blessed to have you in me and my dreams. 2 Comments

The volcano and the wind Oct 11, 2009 3:46 am Mood: calm, 409 Views The volcano and the wind It was a volcano, barren and dormant, Standing atop the mountain, distant; Having kept all the fires in it, within, Opting for the silence to talk for it. With all its anger, love and sorrows It waited for a wind to touch it soft. There came a wind like a cool breeze And uncovered the lid of soil over it. Never had the wind known what was inside. Unaware of the outcome dug it wide. An ocean of treasures filled within, The volcano got explored by the calm wind. Surprised, was the wind, unable to fathom How deep it would be there to explore. Unknowingly it went deeper and deeper And soon found itself dragged towards An ocean of love and unending bliss. Cried the wind drowning into it. Never had it known what to do with The unknown turn of life, unexpected mirth. Before it could gasp for a breath Found itself drowned deep at the niche. The volcano then erupted with all its might And the wind concealed itself into the ocean, wide. 0 Comments

Me and my wishes....... Oct 3, 2009 12:23 pm Mood: calm, 515 Views Me and my wishes..... I wish, if my wishes had wings. I wish if they could fly, Up above the sky. Never to fall on earth. Never to knock on anybody’s mind. Never to reach anywhere. Not to convey, my heartiest greetings To anyone, on any precious moment, Like a celebration of birth and joy. Where me and my wishes May be uncalled for…….. Inauspicious they are. And so am I. Unwarranted and never awaited, Like a thunderstorm in the darkest night; Always to be cursed upon; Always to be hated of. Ever untouchable, ever forgotten Me and my wishes may Be left to be flown away Up above the sky to go away. Should they never return, Should never be cared for their own emotions. Should never be conveyed to anyone That, I wish, and heartily wish ‘Many very happy returns of the day’. When and where me and my wishes Should never make it as A melancholy evening of a morose autumn. Rather let me and my wishes Be as dejected as they are Amidst any unending flow of Love and happiness spread all over. 4 Comments

Gandhi and his family Oct 2, 2009 11:14 am Mood: calm, 523 Views Gandhi and his family : Let’s have a look on Gandhi and his family, where we can find almost everyone were a rebel about his way to the truth. And there were lack of confidence among them either..... Let’s take these references to know them better: Sometimes Gandhi made waspish references about his wife Kasturba. In one letter he complained to Kallenbach: “She is the most venomous woman I have ever met. She never forgets and never forgives. If she could overcome the strong desire to live with me, she would have left me long ago.” Harilal Gandhi (1888-1948 ), Gandhi’s eldest son to his father : “You must know – all your greatness has been possible due to my mother Ba”. Let’s know Gandhi’s sons a bit closer ......... Harilal Gandhi (1888-1948 ) rebelled most strongly. He renounced all family ties in 1911 and embarked upon a tragic, lifelong path of self-destruction. He became a Muslim convert, an alcoholic, an embezzler; accounts of his arrests, public drunkenness, and destitution became commonplace. "I was a slave of my passions when Harilal was conceived," said Mohandas. Harilal appeared at his father's funeral in such derelict condition that few recognized him. He died in a tuberculosis sanitarium two months later. Manilal Gandhi (1892-1956) was in disgrace in 1916 after he lent his elder brother some money. Mohandas sent him to South Africa, where he edited an Indian newspaper. Later he spent a brief period in India, bitterly astonished at the Mahatma's genial, old-age mellowness. Ramdas Gandhi (1898-1969) had no taste for asceticism, yet participated in the grueling civil protests of the 1930s. Numerous jailings wrecked his health. Born and raised in South Africa, he never adjusted to the idealistic poverty imposed by his father. Mohandas acted as midwife at the delivery of his youngest son, Devadas Gandhi (1900-1957). Alone of all the sons, Devadas stayed near his father, sometimes being granted the privilege of serving as his secretary. But the most astonishing fact was Gandhi’s dissemblance about his wife Kasturba, who merely sacrificed her own life for the sake of his ideology and principles. Behind every successful man there is a woman telling him how he is always wrong! Hopefully Gandhi was successful in his own way....... But do we ever care to know – behind every unsuccessful man, there is ...........????? 2 Comments

Someone somewhere Sep 24, 2009 4:09 am Mood: calm, 591 Views Someone somewhere He has grown a habit of it for long- To start his mornings, touching the keyboard; When a face familiar appears smiling On his monitor, as if sitting in front. Many a times he looks on that smiling face Of someone, who gifted him this life, Uncompassionate and filled with tears and sorrows. When there may be another morning- Somewhere down the earth, when someone Is brightening it with a simile to the Sun, To make it ever brightened with cheers. The Sun then takes his own course, When the day proceeds to a morose afternoon. As lonely, as he is always, takes his music box And listens the tunes that have been sung Ages before, proclaimed to be just for him. Somewhere down the earth again, Someone must still be singing those Very same tunes for someone, To fill his days with lovely Notions of love and adoration. Somewhere someone must be singing The very same tunes already sung. The day then crawls towards the night. A lone soul takes his slowest leaps, Towards a home known, yet unknown, Where there is none to knock at his door, And ask him if he was there as always. Instead he sits quietly, in front of the Same keyboard to touch it softly, To bring the same smiling face again in front. When at the same night somewhere Down the earth, when someone Is lighting the glow of love, On her lovely abode, for someone; Who must be flourishing her ecstatic nights With unbound joy, and unending love. On his lonely nights, when he Keeps on fighting with his tears, Along with his words shaped like Useless verses like this one, Someone somewhere down the earth, Must be garlanding someone With thoughts of love and affection Through her poems with euphoric expressions. Someone somewhere down the earth Must be writing a poem for someone. 2 Comments

To my dear clone. Sep 23, 2009 4:47 am Mood: gloomy, 679 Views To my dear clone. You are often speculative, About the outcome of the tryst, That we met and found us As clones to each other. I term it as an incident; But you speculate it as an accident. You often cautiously fear, About the unknown turn, When life may take us To a point of no return. Then we shall search in vain Each other, and feel the pain. Should we then repent and say That we shouldn’t have met anyway? No dear, it’s not just like that. Don’t you fear for that accident, That I may crush following it Or even may cease to exist. If you are or your guard thinking so, Then it’s an idea you need to forgo. Tell me, how much you can pain me, Try as much as you wish to hurt me. That won’t even be the smallest bit Of what I am going through these days. That sheer pain that I feel at my heart, Is lethal enough to make me crushed, What more can you harm me dear? My inner soul, now I cease to fear. You wish to wipe my tears out. Wish me to be strong and aroused. I am grateful to you for what you did But pain is my destiny, have to live with it. Let us lend our shoulders to feel the pain together Let us cry for ourselves, just for each other. 4 Comments

Durga Puja – as I see ....... (3) Sep 17, 2009 3:10 am Mood: anxious, 849 Views Durga Puja – as I see ....... (3) Yesterday some boys from the local club approached me for Durga Puja donations. They also gave me a beautiful card as for the invitation to their Puja. I was astonished to see the card so beautifully written with poetic verses. On enquiring I found it was designed and written by a local boy who aspired to become a poet. But he was forced to stop expressing his thoughts by some miscreants who never intended to get exposed against whom he knew many a things. He was threatened of dire consequences should he continue to write anymore. Now this boy writes commercial posters and leaflets for Durga Puja and prays to God that one day his words may be listened to. The fearful poet. There used to be a time, divine! When verses gave birth to verses, wise. Verses enamoured themselves into poems And poems gave birth to poets. Poets who helped souls unite, Oh! When there used to be a time, divine! But again there were few followers; Few appreciators, less takers. Yet, it was a time of divinity. Yet, it was a time for creativity. Yet, it was a time for intellect to shine. Oh! When there used to be a time divine! The divinity soon got overshadowed, By the evil-sense with mal-intentions. Real people with their real lives took a back seat, And creation was soon to go adrift. Appreciations vanished, threats surfaced; Constant insult to the humanity prevailed. The truth was nullified and evil was believed; Dangling humiliations had become a routine. Words were stopped, so were the verses; So many been spoken, so many still left. So many stories made, so many remain untold A poet was forced to shun his words, bold. His verses were threatened to be kept within. ‘Never should he flap his wings again’ - Was all he was asked to oblige And succumb to the ideas, unwise. Now he isn’t allowed to write poems; Not even look at other’s verses. Instead he writes leaflets and posters Of Puja and other social affairs. He takes it as his service to the God, Wishes if He could unmask the frauds. He prays for the day to come when, The untold stories would surface. Every Puja he prays for the ultimate day; When silence would end and truth have a say. 6 Comments

Durga Puja – as I see ....... (2) Sep 14, 2009 8:59 am Mood: calm, 804 Views Durga Puja – as I see ....... (2) Durga Puja in a Bengali community is basically a five day affair. It starts with Maha-Shashthi when Goddess Durga is enlivened by giving her eyes and welcomed with evening rituals. Then follows three days of worshiping, Maha-Saptami, Mahashtami and Maha-Navami. Finally on the day of Maha-Dashami or Dashera, the idol of Mother Durga is immersed in rivers ending the biggest festival. It’s a story of those days last year when a young boy, a student of Engineering met a girl once and fell in love.... Till then he is waiting and waiting .......... Those hazel eyes. He cannot just forget those hazel eyes ever.... When first time he saw them there, At the Puja pandal on that evening, dark With the beating of drums on Mahashashti last year. He saw her and felt an instant crush On those hazel eyes of that unknown girl. Standing at the corner, she was looking At the Goddess, being enliven by painting Her eyes, along with the chanting Of mantras, by the priest, worshipping. He kept on watching her with stealthy gaze. But never could he master the courage To go near and tell her his true feelings Of love that made him skip his heart beats. Actually she came here for Puja days only. Her father has his native home in this colony. He works in a far off place where she stays With her parents in another city and studies. But alas! He couldn’t ever go near. Even for once for three days together. Came Dashami, when at the river near Mother Durga was being immersed. Suddenly he found himself nearer To his love just for moment once. “Can we meet somewhere?” -was all he could speak, Mastering the courage enough and with a dream. Smiled she and replied- “Why not, sure dear, Same place, same time, next year.” Telling this, she turned at her back Leaving him in his dreams kept at stake. Since then he lost his peace of mind, Thinking of her every day and night. It’s almost a year he has been waiting, Only to get a glimpse of those eyes again. So many nights he spent sleepless, Since when the countdown for Puja started. Will she come here this year too And look at him with feelings new? Whenever he sees any girl with hazel eyes His heart fills with a feeling so nice. Can’t he wait anymore for the Puja to come this year. Will she once smile at him to be his love forever? 4 Comments

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