Showing posts from October, 2015


'The last time we came to the place
they with curd and pickles us served
at the end ,when we're about to close
our little talks with a lot of faith,'
Sweta while chewing a cardamom seed, said,'The last time an afternoon it was
the road outside had fewer cars
and sitting beside the glass wall
we had had our moments just,'
Ornob recalled,somewhat lugubrious,Tomorrow would be the end
of the vacation and they would be
to their own respective worlds sent,
Sweta would be busy with her works
And Ornob too would forget the talks,'what would remain between us?'
Sweta suddenly asked
breaking the beauty of the pause
that kept the two in succulent thoughts,'all these perhaps, like postcards,
or sildes neatly preserved,'
Ornob replied, fully convinced
of how memory works, what it stores,
what it connotes, what it means,'ah! that's like we are then
two persons in a memory lane...'
Sweta heaved a half sigh
the other half not expressed,
Ornob just smile…

somewhere tucked away

About a decade and half
                         must have passed through in between
when one day the man
                          arrived at his town one wintry evening,
the bus stop where
                          he got down with his sack was not the same,
for he found there
                          no more that homegrown feel of a small town
the rows of deodars
                           were not there too and the road seemed full
of people not known
                           'where had that house gone to?' he thought
from the porch of which
                             there hung coils of ivy in poesy wrought,
thinking all these
                             the man walked the road till he stopped
in front of a little
                               cosy looking bustling coffeeshop,
at the counter
                            there was a man he thought did he know
for he had that cut
                           on his forehead just over his left brow,
'You have grown o…


কাশ শিউলির গন্ধ মেখে
শহর থেকে অনেক দূরে,শারদ সকাল কুয়াশা গায়ে
কোনও এক স্বপনপুরে,দেখেছিলাম হঠাৎ তারে
সদ্য জাগা গানের সুরে... (ফটোগ্রাফি : মৈনাকদও)

Song bird

Grant me that sweet perennial song
O bird of delightful autumn,
Now that the world is drenched
In tunes of your music sacred,
Grant me that beauty and grace
With which you make the world-
wonderful and enchanting place,
Grant me as the time flows by-
Your winged feathered heart,
Your limitless undaunted sky,
Grant me your songs that binds
The world in music and blessed lines.

Lease of a day

If I had the song to sing for the clime
I would've sung the beauty of a day,
Spent hearing the murmur of the river
Flowing unhindered as it may,It had been a serene lucid spot
Deodars and furs and pines where stood,
And white sculpted figures like dots
For ages where did upon human works brood,I saw the drops of dews gathered
On leaves, pebbles and stones like gems,
I heard the chant of gigantic bells
Calling forth Nature by numerous names,I felt the soothing calm of early morn
And the cold nip in the mild breeze that blew,
I took a splash into the lush green lawn
Where myrtles rose just beside the honeydew,I saw in splendid tender glow
Hills distant in foliage wrapped,
I saw how in glittering snow
Big mountains like sages sat,The smell of incense bearing trees
came to me with the call of the wild,
I thought I got another lease
To spend a day like a blessed child.