Tuesday, January 31, 2012

feb 1

the passed time
as a shiver
runs through me
one year
in one second
the same year
several times
several shivers.


through me again
flows all
the smiles, the laughs, the tears, the love
and all of the all
...and it stays there
with me



Monday, January 30, 2012

ON A LIGHTER NOTE

there were no paperweights
and everything was on a lighter note.
all flew away
--
except love .
it still remained.
either love has lost its wings
or it likes it here, this way.
because, there were no paperweights
and everything was on a lighter note.

lets not smile together anymore

lets not smile together anymore
one day
you will go too far away
and  i will come back here again
i will see our smiles
lying strewn on the old path
and i will cry


or
lets be brave
and smile together some more
later 
when you have gone too far away
i can cry
now
let us just smile some more

Sunday, January 29, 2012

monalisa

i offer the pouring rain to you
and a bottle of mineral water
the choice is yours i say
you refuse both
and contemplate
whether to hold my hand 
or burn the trash
both are the same you say
i smile
and tell you
anyways its not humanly possible
to love anymore
(trying to over stretch
has always been your bad habit !)
you light your cigar
i again offer the pouring rain 
and a bottle of mineral water





river's

the water
it flows through the hills and the valleys
nameless and famous villages
through times and minds
and yet,
is called the river's...
the water

Friday, January 27, 2012

daily routine

love
wakes up as a smile
spends the day in sighs
and with memories, goes to sleep
in-between
we do not talk with each other...

Monday, January 23, 2012

refusal/arrival

you refused to come.
the whole world became you
and came to me !

when i wake up in the summer afternoon

the hysterical minutes stand still
with hunger, deliberately.
they stick to the mango tree
in the balmy summer afternoon.
ripe though they are
they refuse to fall off.
they keep hanging
steadfast, deliberately.
the breeze blows away the summer dream
the crow caws loud
naps are broken
the sky remains the same,
the clouds change shape.
and all the time,
the hysterical minutes..
they stand still
silently, deliberately



Saturday, January 21, 2012

we

in those morning hours
when you are still a boy
and i am still a girl
and each other's love and life,
not just strangers
i beckon you
to come with me
and stroll by the green
together we take out the blue
and return it to the sky
and then we return home
to each other
...
in those morning hours
when we belong to each other
we give away the blue to the sky
and return home
...to each other,
till we wake up...
after that
we become strangers
after that
the empty house awaits us the whole long day

title less 3

puhor'or faakere andhaar xoroke
aaru
gos'or tolot bohi
mon'e ondhokaar butole
xeibur jaapi loi nijor bukut,
tothapiu, sokure puhor jilike...
..
eiya khel puhor aaru tomosaa'r
mon haare aaru mon'ei jiike
biyoni bon'or maajot bohi
ukhaah bur ujaagor'e thaake

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

banjar

teri raahon se mitaata chala
apni kadmo ki nishaan main
ki kabhi chalo baagiya banane waha toh
ye na lage ki banzar waha se gujri hain


Monday, January 16, 2012

gohari

maani loisu
bohutu kothai osleel
puhor'or botor'ot
endhaar'or kotha osleel
milon por'ot, biroh'or kotha osleel
xeujiya monot, neela kotha osleel
junak bonot, dawor'or kotha osleel


maani loisu
bohutu kothai osleel...
haanhi'r rul'ot, sokupaani osleel
aaxa'r bisoron'ot, niraaxa osleel
borokhun'or botor'ot, xukaan kotha osleel
nirob'otaar porot, xokolu kothai osleel


maani loisu,
bohutu kothai osleel
maathu nokoba, prem maane osleel

Friday, January 13, 2012

....


Time is like a river. The stork stands by it; on one leg. It is winter. It sees the river flowing and changing its colour. Sometime the river is violet, sometime it is murky green, sometime blue and sometime yellow. Red sometime. When the sun is on the sky, the river is orange. When the moon is on the sky, it is translucent white. All the time, the stork remains standing; on one leg.
Its favourite colour has passed by but the stork does not fly away. It still stands by this river, which once has flown in its favourite colour. The river had been green then; from start till end. Just that the stork knows that the river does not end. Like time, the river is endless. The stork remains standing on one foot, by the side of endlessness. Time gives the illusion of passing away; river gives the illusion of flowing away. But actually all keeps waiting; by each other’s side. And by the side of endlessness. Colour keeps changing.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

chup chap, nange pao

nange pao
chup chap
chali aati hai ye yaadein
kitna bhi daaman churau
lag jaati hai ye gale
beh jaati hai aankhon se
chuv jaati hai seene mein
chup chap
nange pao .
jaise ki tere milne aana
par baarish ka shor aisa
ki baatein toh hui bohot
par sunai kuch na dena
baatein chali jaati hai
yaadon ki gehrai mein
chup chap
nange pao
yaadein khadi rehti hai
saason se lipat ke
chup chap
nange pao

beraah

hazaaro raahein 
tumhe le jaati hai mujhse dur
bohot dur...


isliye beraah ho gaye hai hum


Monday, January 9, 2012

title less 1

kuch bhool gaya lautane tu
kuch tune wapas chuka diya,
aur main khud hu tujhse itna bhara
ki jo lautaya bhi tune...
II wo na mujhse sameta gaya II



Sunday, January 8, 2012

ON A LIGHTER NOTE: The need of masculinist




These foreigners! They come to India and like acting like Indians; in their own strange ways. If you go to places like Janpath in Delhi or Church Street in Bangalore or Kamakhya Temple in Guwahati (or any other places where these foreigners throng); you will feel that they all- especially the girls, are born with the sole aim of wearing “Indian” clothes. Also, you will notice that irrespective of caste, creed and nationality, the favourite colour of all these foreign ladies is the “sanyasan” orange. However, this is irrelevant.

Now, if you go to any place in India which is thronged by Indian girls, you will find most of the Indian girls dressed in a desperate attempt to look as these above mentioned foreigners would look in their native places. In fact, now that I think, I have met no girl (including myself) who likes looking like herself. We the girls always know what exactly need to be changed in us (and believe me, it’s always a long list). Some of us wants to grow taller (not possible after a certain age, but this remains in our wish list till we die), some of us want a different eye colour (not possible at any age, but we have the cosmetic lens to help us out), some of us are not happy about our nose (but then, our solace is that Voldemort does not even have a nose; we at least have one to fret about), some of us want a fairer complexion (the sole reason Fair & Lovely sells like hot cake), and so goes on the list. In case you are wondering why losing weight is not a part of the list; let me make it very clear. Losing weight is not a part of any list. For a girl, it’s a part of her life. Period. However, this is irrelevant too.

So, as I was saying, no girl likes looking like herself. Except may be Rekha or Marilyn Monroe. But then, who knows!
Boys, on the other hand, do not much mind how they look. Or so they pretend! But because their clothes have been supremely ignored by the fashion gurus and the fashion houses alike, they do not have much choice. (Let’s not go into the zone of cosmetics; we all loved Shah Rukh Khan in Mohabbatein but we could never forgive him for the shades of lipstick he borrowed from Aishwarya Rai in that movie). So, as I was saying, boys do not have much choice when it comes to clothes. When it comes to exercising their imagination, all the fashion giants have single mindedly exercised it for the benefits of the girls.

And the boys have been stupid at it too, if I must say. I mean, look at the girls. Everywhere they go, they buy clothes. Who would not want to design clothes for them? Who would not want to invest for their clothes? And look at the Indian girls. They grab every opportunity they get to crib about what a hassle a saree is. But have they totally forsaken it? Not at all. Come a marriage in the family and they will forget all their earlier complaints, loosen the string of their purses and spend an obscene load of money to buy the saree of their choice. Complaining about what a nuisance a saree is just the foreplay.

Now look at the boys. They too had some good option in the past: the dhotis and the lungis. Now they are almost a thing of the past. Yes, you can still sometime catch a glimpse of these grabs. We still see the dhoti clumsily clad around a boy when he is getting married or doing some ritual. They will buy the cheapest one available and put it off the moment the priest allows them to. No fun, frolicking and money spent around it. That’s it about the dhotis nowadays. And the lungis, yes! You still see a lot of them if you happen to be in Assam. But they come wrapped around these illegal immigrants and if you ask me, it is not a very pleasant sight to come across.
The point is that girls do not like looking like themselves and they do everything they can to take care of it. The boys too would have surely liked to look like someone else but having no choice, they hide behind the façade of boys being boys.

Now let’s come to the main point. Look around. Most social activists are females. (Or is it that the female activists get better media coverage than their male counterparts?) Also, most of them are feminists. See, it’s easy to be a feminist. And sometime, it is necessary too. We need those kinds. But since there are so many of them and since no man seem upto it, can some female activists please abstain from being a feminist and be a masculinist instead, with specialization in wardrobe management or something to that effect.  If not society, history demands it. Otherwise thousand years down the line, while reading about this generation, students will read: Indian females of the 21st century had various options to dress themselves. They wore stuff like jeans, trousers, corduroy, t-shirts, shirts, skirts, shorts, wraps, sarees, kurtis, patiyalas, harem pants, hot pants, dungarees, capris, tube tops, etc, etc. Amongst these, they generously lent their male counterparts the following to wear: jeans, trousers, shirts, t-shirts and shorts. And the males of the society never had the courage to revolt for more; that’s how suppressed they were.

So, hope the point is made. We need some masculinists urgently who can do the noble deed. As I said, let’s do it; if not for society, for history.

mukto akaakh aaru mur prokriti prem

ejon prokriti premi'r
odhikaar xabyaasto kori
aaji moi ekhon
mukto akaakh
daabi korisu
...
jodi ekhon mukto akaakh'ei nathake
lakh lakh toka 
khoros kori bonuwa
jet-aeroplane bur 
kot uribo !

haemocyanin

xeujiyabur naasuriba
tumar nokh dighol
aane nedekhileo moi janu
xeyehe koisu
xeujiya bur naasuriba - 
tej ulaabo
aaru tumi misatei sok khaba
karon mur tej'or rong neela...


#"neel rong chilo bhison priyo
tai sob kichu neeliye diyo"

bhaar

imaan prem
imaan bedona
mon mur godhur
bedona baaru nalage
tumar julunga't
mur prem emuthi bhorai luwa
- mon mur paatol hobo

Friday, January 6, 2012

saa

teo'r kolijaa't jui jolisile
taare saai khini
aajiu teo'r sokut jiliki aase
xeyehe teo'r sokur moni iman kola,
juikura'r taap khini
aajiu teo'r soudikhe 
bisoron kori aase
xeyehe teo'r porox'ot 
imaan uttaap.
teo xopun'or xokolu xos
ughaali pelaisie
tothapiu
edaal dudaal mora xipa
korobaat keneba koi roi gol
xeyehe teo'r aanguli'r aagere
aajiu xeujiya thenguliye
mur daangi sai,
teo'r hridoyor nodi
ketiyabai xukaise
pise xei nodi'r smriti aajiu ogroxor
xeyehe teo'r sokupani'u dharaxaar!

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

aahat

tum naa aaye
patte jharne ki aahat
dil ko behla gaye

eternity

Eternity is god's time
where people never meet and never part
we have always been together there
its on earth that we meet and separate
so that we can meet again
sometime later, in eternity

forever

words written in window panes
blown away by the next gush of mist
etched forever in mind

attic

i see the rainbow
and think of the stairs 
at your house
leading to the attic.


the attic
full of your childhood and beyond
days you cried
days you smiled
days you refused to sleep
though mama sang all the lullabies.
the day you first cried
the day you first smiled
the day you first refused to sleep
the day mama sang you your first lullaby
and the day you first dreamt
...of chocolates, trains, toys and then girls
the day you had your first heartbreak
and oh yes, in between
you lost your first tooth
and cried till mama told you about tooth fairy
and also the day you
stopped believing in all fairies
(that happened in this childhood attic too, i guess)
and everything in-between
schools, college
your first smoke
your last drink
your last break up
and
all the time i had never been there
the stairs to the  attic
lead me to them.
when i see the rainbow
i think of the stairs
to the attic.
I see the birds flying to their nests
over the rainbow
i see you sitting on your desk
thinking and not thinking of me.
2/1/12

EDITED ON 4TH JAN AS:
i see the rainbow
and think of the stairs 
at your house
leading to the attic.
.....

the attic
full of your childhood and beyond...
days you cried
days you smiled
days you refused to sleep
though mama sang all the lullabies.
the day you first cried
the day you first smiled
the day you first refused to sleep
the day mama sang you your first lullaby.
and the day you first dreamt
and the day you had your first heartbreak.
and oh yes, in between
you lost your first tooth
and cried till mama told you about tooth fairy.
and also the day you
stopped believing in all fairies
(that remains stored in this attic too, i guess)
and everything in-between...
the stairs to the attic
lead me to them.

.....
when i see the rainbow
i think of the stairs
to the attic.
when i go up there
i often see you talking
to the mirror
that lies hidden behind the cobwebs
of days gone past by.

...
the cigarette burns out
the coffee gets cold
you remain talking...
i keep on climbing,
each day...