Afternoon Ramblings of A Poet

Afternoon nostalgias gathered on the storm clouds over the horizon…

The burnt rays of the sun painting the skies a colour of turmoil as I let the cool breeze wash over my senses,

The swinging pendulum of the mind trying to encapsulate a thousand different thoughts,

A thousand different memories of a thousand different lives that could have been,

Myriad colours of myriad images of memories flashing before my eyes as I stand still,

Taking a deep breath to calm the turmoil within…

An unknown pain fills my heart tonight,

A longing,

For homes never had,

And places never visited.

Faint rustlings of wanderlust,

Echoing deep within my very bones,

An urge to take wings,

To leave it all behind,

In a quest for something more…

A nameless face haunts me,

Like a faint perfume,

Pervading my senses…

A fire burning in my soul,

A tremulous desire for closeness mingles with the delicious intangibility of my emotions….

And the cool breeze blows on,

As the knot ebbs and flows by turns,

A fervent desire,

to write you into my forever burns high,

As I burst into a song.

Letting the melifluous notes unravel my heart,

As yet another day slips into the oblivion of night…..

– Debdip Maitra


Raastaar Gaan

Buker bhitor onnyo karur gaan,

Cholchey shurey paal tuley ujaan.

Roopshayorer shyamla nodir tirey

cchutir raater neel jochonar bhirey,

hariye jawa rokto joba rode

lukiye pitch er rastaa gulo rnodey,

amaar paaye rokto jobar bheer

chhutchey gaari korno tuner tir.

Jaachey bheshey jonakir ek shaari

Hoyeto ekta chotto dokan baari

Aalor malaye shajiye debey boley

shonaar horin shongshaar gorey toley.

Taito taara laal alotey stobdho,

shaada kaalo haater kaachey jobdo.

Ghurni jhorer monoroma taaley

shaada kaaloo rasta ta posh maaney.

Haater cchowaye gayok jorey thont

baastob boley ebar jege oth.

Khuchro kotha, ticketolar bag-ey

Rokto joba paan er pick er daagey

Raamdhanu hoye manushgulor shor

shophed aaloye dicchey shilmohor.

Roopkathar alaoye holo phanki

shohor er aaj golpo howa baaki.

Gaaner shurey shopno hoye cchilish,

Aaj nishithey poroma hoye milish?

– Shakya Bose


Our first vernacular contribution.

Sorry Songs

When it ends,
Like all my poems,
My ashes
Would blow in the wind.
Drifting aimlessly-
They might meet your skin,
Like a discarded letter;
And you might never know.

All our hate would have been gone,
Maybe our love too-
If ever
They were not the same.
All you would have,
Are ashen memories.
All i would have,
Are letters on your skin…

There’s nothing to say…
No morality in the third act,
No epiphanies from the pyre.
Just this:
May life bring us peace
That death never will.

– Shakya Bose