It’s not about that,
But something else.
Something you don’t know;
Something deeper, yet not quite;
Something closer than you think;
Something right under that beautiful nose ring:
Something above your imperfect lips;
Something on your freckled cheeks;
Something under your shy belly button;
Something just beside your smelly genitals;
And in the retreat of your hair.

It’s there in your sanctuaried dreams;
It’s In your secret loves of men and women;
And of things, known and unknown..
Its hidden in your messy room;
In your solitary tears for the innocent death-
And in your ignorance of guilt;
It’s in your acceptance of reality;
In your yearn for a better;
It’s in your hope for a light,
During a worldwide power cut!

It’s in your smelly armpits;
It’s in your messy habits;
It’s in your naked truths;
And your veiled beliefs
It’s in your nightly masturbations;
It’s in your real dreams-
The wet and the sweet;
It’s in your fetishes and perversions;
But also in your passions;
It’s in your unacknowledged beauty-
And your hideous humanity;
It’s in your forsaken family;
And your adored alone

It’s in the mirror,

And your stolen heart….

-Shakya Bose


Love in The Time of Stars

Star filled nights, convulsed streams of time,
Soft twilight, and memories that chime,
Adventure beckons, that flighty temptress,
A cold wind blows, unearthing tempests…

And on I walk, as the sands shift beneath,
Feeling sighs repressed, as the cosmos breathes,
Reality fades, as the shadows warp & blur,
The edges of the memories, time does deburr…

The stars and the moon are all lovers, lost…
My loneliness will be love’s labour cost
And on I trample, the paradigm shifts,
And the heart pumps on, as time warps & rifts…

I walk and run amidst cosmic debris!
I walk towards light, I walk on to see….
The rise of empires, and the subsequent fall,
And amidst the chaos, I see love stand tall…

The bricks are of kisses, and the mortar of love-
A building of blessings stolen from above!
And the stardust shines, in the moonlit sky,
Moments of tranquility, as galaxies rush by…

Subliminal me in a maximilian sky-
Of questions unwanted and unanswered whys…
Of insomniac nights, as the questions toss & turn,
And I burn on, as the pyres of passion burn…

And I soar and I fly and I fly and I soar-
With the space and the dark not worrying anymore!.
And I fly, through the tunnels silent,
On I fly, in search of a dawn so vibrant….

When I find it someday, I will tell you the tale-
A tale to discover, a tale to regale!
Till then I’ll fly, fly on into the night,
And in the darkest moment, my love will burn bright…..

-Debdip Maitra (with intermittent interruptions by one Shakya Bose)

Human First

There are stories of personal kinds;
Hidden in the depths of age-
That flourish with sumptuous rage,
Inside such beautiful minds!

They died with stories untold,
Written in blood splattered pages.
Carved in the history of ages-
Will the inhuman reign unfold.

The blood was ours, that spilled.
A wound on humanity’s skin-
Another scar drawn, unseen.
It was the soul that those bullets killed…



– Shakya Bose

A tribute to the child victims of Peshawar.

Peddler of Memories

On the other side of a darkened street
A man sells forgotten memories.
He is small and old and shy,
With a smile runaway with a wind;
He hawks like an expert,
Of memories; rain and shine,
Of ages past on a warm old day-
Of rainy monsoon cries.
The icy winds of a new heartbreak;
The warm touch of a smile;
The wetness born off a cheerful say,
The dryness born of a die.
Peddles his memories to strangers and me,
His memories of life and of death.
His memories are soft and forgotten, today!
His memories are all that is left.
I buy a memory of a morose smile-
He returns with a morose grin.
An alien memory feels up my mind;
A memory of other’s past!
A memory or a dream of a sunset one day,
A winter in spring’s own heart!
A memory of a sorrow on land of the strange-
A dream of a raindrop lost.
A memory of a smile runaway in a maze-
Of life’s little game of dice.
I am lost in the life of a strange old time-
I am lost in the life of a pain.
A life that I have never lived in-
And will never live in again!
I live a memory of a Sunday morning-
In a cottage by the lake.
A young man stands lonesome indeed,
He smiles of moist nostalgia,
Of a winter morning before:
‘A young boy sits on a special chair,
His right leg, plastered white.
He looks away at his sister’s play,
Wanting, in vain, for the ball.
He imagines a visit with a healed little leg-
He imagines his shot, and a GOAL.
He imagines him grown up and standing away-
By the lake house on one, winter’s own.
That young man imagines a future for him-
A future of dancing delights!
A future of heartbreaks, and heartbreaking songs;
A future of heart warming cries…
A drive in a car, a wife on the bed,
A penny for each day’s worth-
A kiss of good luck on reality’s skin-
A hope on the shores of a dream!’
I live a life of forgotten woes;
Forgetting who I am now!
The knowledge of past has melted away-
Leaving a new one in trust….


– Shakya Bose

The Moth ©

Velvety fur, soft and smooth,

Brown wings, of hope and truth;

Its hirsute body, of ice and dust,

Inching closer and closer..

Wings of lust and fire-

An evanescent memory of the moth

Is drawn to the fire….

As I am drawn to you.

The mischievous proboscis; feeling the unfelt,

Myriad compound eyes; watching you with all its warmth;

The opulent display on its wings, naked thoughts,

I watch the creature as it circles its death;

Its tiny body throwing a penumbra against the fire,

The moth is drawn to fire, as I am drawn to you.

– Biswadeep Ghosh Hazra


Piko’s Pretty Faery Story

The Faery queen said:

Write me something light and fluffy,
golden like a chick.
Write me something bright and funny,
like a rainbow candy stick.

The Puck replied:

Write you something candy floss;
Write you something on the way-
Write you something dental floss;
Wanting you to come and say!

‘Write me something not so deadly,
Write me something of the wind-
Write me something calm and sadly-
Write me something pop and mint…’

And the Bard smiled:

Sing to me a song,
A soothing lullaby,
Make me feel like I belong,
As the night goes by & by

The Puck winked:

I will sing you a song-
A lullaby of night!
I will sing you the craziness-
Of heavenly delight!

Oh, old Bard:

And the stars will shine bright,
The moonbeams light your dance,
Twinkling in delight,
As you twirl & swirl & prance…

Tiny Puck:

And the rainbow is a highway,
And the moonbeam is a song.
The elves have come to stay-
Nothing can go wrong…

Faery chimed in:

The pot of gold is virgin yet,
Crowned by the silver leaves.
Washed in moonlight,touched with love-
Protected by the breeze..

The Bard replied:

So let the fires roar,
Turn the music high,
Come lady, Do soar,
On santa’s sleigh come fly…

Faery smiled:

Red and gold and green and white
Hogwarts spirit mixed tonight
A glass of eggnog here and there
Gingerbread and pumpkin pie


The leaves of  silver horses run;
Her hooves a special golden rong-
Of similes, smiles and silly puns,
and long forgotten elvish songs…


A pointed ear around a hedge-
A flat-foot goblin smiles in haste;
Secretly pulling on wings of silk-
A gift from the midnight weaver’s nest…

The Bard:

Tippity tappity, Twirl & whirl,
Weaving dreams in santa’s layer,
Dance oh lady, shake those curls,
This is the time for answers to prayers…


The pot of gold in castle black;
Dark Dark woods with centaur names;
Passing is a deadly task-
Ruling just a friendly game!

The Bard:

But oh lady, you need not fear,
Friends await, do come near,
Goofy in valour, oh so dear,
Your prince charming, he too’s here…


A ball that smells of cut-grass fresh
And songs hummed forever tuneless-
crystal gifts that sparkle so,
the dancer dazzles the falling snow…

The Bard:

The moonlight shines,
Tonight so pure,
Sing the lines,
Feel their allure


Satin capes of pure azure-
Sun-kissed curls that fall in whorls.
An apple blush, a cherry smile-
The coquetry and guile of yore..


Come on rumpel, come to us!
Let me sing you fear’s old song.
Come on rumpel not a fuss!
Come and then nothing is wrong…

The Bard:

For granny’s here,
With the cake,
Come oh dear,
Sit by the lake…


A salad garden fresh and green,
A riding cape so bold and red,
A dancing slipper, fragile and blue,
The first kiss, a love that’s true.

The Bard:

A love so true,
A passion pure,
Vibrant hue,
Peaceful azure


A wolf whistling fervently;
An Ivan, on his daily grind!
Baba yaga instantly,
Erases all of his mind!


Houses of cake and poison fruit.
Made pure by that love so true,
A friend on four, and a friend on two-
Legs matter not in true love’s brew


Dwarves and elves and unicorn,
Rainbow, snow and lovely dawn-
Mermaid with her lovely moon,
Princess on her javelin run…


Shakya with a raven head;
Debdip with a mighty tread;
Piko with her long-lost brain-
Write this fable for no gain.

Debdip, the bard:

Come ye one, and come ye all,
Come tonight, and sing a song,
Come along, come dance this ball,
Make this night so warm & long…

Shakya, the Puck:

This a poem for one and all-
Join in all ye, don’t be shy!
All ye dead, move off the pall!
Don’t lie dead and wonder why…

Piko, the Faery queen:

Make new room for friendships new;
Stories, dreams and hopes renewed-
Clear a space for hugs and love,
For chocolate cakes and apple tarts!

-Upasruti Biswas, Debdip Maitra, Shakya Bose

Decadence and Desire

I like a melting ice cream…
Vanilla and chocolate running in streams
The goose bumps on my tongue-
And the warm aroma enthralling my lung!
Drops sliding down my fingers…
The runaway moans, as on them my tongue lingers.
A bite, small and sharp, begins…

In face of such beauty, patience wears thin

The tastes ruin the perfect sunshine…

Of seas, beaches and sun, and acid smell of brine…
Forgetting the remembered, leaving all that was mine?
Down this road I go, forgetting scripted lines.
My taste buds are lost, in memorial vines…

Of smug evenings spent, with a glass of vintage wine.
The chocochip’s crunch, sends a delightful shiver
The sand, on my hand, is asleep with a fever
The warm smell of cocoa, and the cold winter breeze
My ice melts away, my lonesome increase…
And the warmth seeps in, colouring me in love
The spark of the sun, from heavens above…
And all around me, the world bursts in colour

Ignited thus far, in hellish blue valour..

Purging the heat of love, out of me, unseem

And the gooey chocolate sauce, fueling fiery dreams

I will swim on the juices of sinful delight…
As my cravings, take off in flight
There’s blood in the chocolate and love in the ice.
And at the perfume’s fragrance, the whole city cries
The melting chocolate of vaguely veiled vice…
The waves of sensations, sanity’s circuit it fries
I am never sure, why I float in despair
Thus on this wintry morn, Iay my whims bare
I will worry for that ice cream that dances in the juice…
Whirling, swirling, twirling, as my whole world comes loose

When the bell tolls for my sinful desire…
She walks down the road, setting the very ice to fire…
She melts it today, my beloved ice cream…

my sinful desire; let’s meet in my dream…   – Shakya Bose, Debdip Maitra