Snow

Out there in the depth of the night,
Along the snow washed city streets
Resides a cello, amidst fiery winds
A new dawn awaits, cold and burning.

I write for the thousands of hands
Within each of us, writhing in pain
And suffering from mutation; psychotic
Violins hysteric in lost words; unsympathetic.

And the letters will tumble upon you
As the Sun rises to shine on the golden Earth
Future and its toys are waiting ...
The prison keys are dinging; blood symphonies.

White reflects your need and your sorry deeds
Flakes defy only to match steps to gravity
Runs the blade through my soul, Holy Trinity
Purged of and in my sins, I wake to chastity.

The notes are high again
The drums are keeping up
Sirens run through four strings
In each submits the other three.

Cookie

Do you want a cookie, my friend?
A soft, juicy one to fill your mouth
I still have one left in my pocket
My cookie is cute, alone it lies.

FUck off.
It's mine.

A Toast to Amsterdam!

Singing to you for just another bite
Another rainy afternoon, another Amstel
Another Ouderkerk, another tart-de-apple
Another Rumbaba snack, another bike ride.

Another windmill, another fight
Another two-Euros show, another night
Another wrong left, another missed right
Another waffle,  yet another red light.

Another flea market , another green field
Another story-telling, another 'American dream'
Another Tropen, another Apotheek,
Another Flixbus, another Sloterdijk.

Another Travis shot, another red Berlin Sky
Another John Mayer, another Laser Night
Another Czesc, Another Canal, Ethiopian style
Another -8400, another Burgerij.

Another breakfast, another green parantha
Another scolding, another smoking Salmon
Another slow tram, another Science Park
Another Harem, another length-over-breadth.

I know you're tired of my anothers
But not just another 29/01, each in fact ...
Unique in its staging of diversity
May everyday shine your Amsterdam.



p.s. May be next time, I Amsterdam

Irodion, Tiramisu and David : And a fabric

What does a good piece of art actually do? Apart from completing the hyperspace puzzle, it lends us hints for further pieces. We, the artists, the puzzle solvers let our fingers dive into the labyrinth. This is one such moment. I am experiencing immense power. I know I'm about to write something powerful. I also know that I have no idea about the content.
I have travelling for the last one month and finally at this hour of the night the calling has come. I now realize that I have travelled a lot recently. Dresden, Amsterdam, Berlin and now Tel Aviv. If that's not enough, I will be at Jerusalem tomorrow. Each place has enriched my experience in its own way. Sadly, experience kicks out innocence. But well, I still am innocent as far as being street smart is concerned. Anyway, this post is not about my experiences or experiments. It is solely about a new form of art that has engulfed me from every dimension. My first tryst with this friend was in a restaurant named Irodion Pallas. Now I'm infatuated by its intoxication. The friend is Greek music. A simple fish salad, ouzo and the music. It is quite a place to be in. The next meeting was in the same place when we had gone to try a slice of Tiramisu. Again, that Greece and Italy go hand in hand was brilliantly experienced!
Cut to three weeks later.
Tel Aviv ( a solid place!) : Prof. David Andelman decides to take us out for dinner. His treat, his choice of restaurant; a Kosher restaurant that serves fish. He surely is a man of resources, David. The restaurant, Meatos has two branches side by side. One serves only two kinds of fish courses along with a variety of Kosher food. The other branch not only serves fish but also plays 'loud' Greek music on Monday nights! This loudness made David take us to the other branch. It was exquisite, the place!
In a restaurant all you need is a good staff and great food. It was more than great on both fronts. An after dinner trip to the other branch finally inserted Greek music into me.
There is sensuality written in every note. Ancient to new, the thread is too long to talk about now.
It is in these varieties of art that we find parts of ourselves. There floats somewhere in the fabric of abstracts a detached soul that looks back at us, smiles and turns away. We recognise the missing part, the past that left us when we grew up. In each jumps of growing up, we released certain energies. There still remains an unexplained connection with us which, we will always be chasing.

Sona ma

I question myself often why I write my blog. The most common answer is that it helps me connect my present with past. On a bigger scale, this means that I write for myself. This post for sure is for myself only. My aunt passed away today. 4th of February, 2016. I don't remember when was the last time that I had talked to her. I never had a fight with her. I 'm sure in my heart that she would have wanted only happiness for me. But alas! Such are human relations and the cobwebs which fabric them are too thick for me to dilute. I wish life was simple. I wish people could forgive easily. I wish we all understood that smiling and letting go is the best and the easiest thing to do. Life is difficult by its choice but it has also given us the freedom to make our own choices.

Tumi chole gele
Hoyto bohu dure
Shoto samudrer pare
ei samudra ki kore peroi?

I have very few memories of my childhood. I do not remember her scolding me much. The strange thing is I failed to know you as a person. I started becoming my own person after I left Balurghat. But even since leaving Balurghat, I do not remember interacting with her. Nine years. I grew up in this nine years. I developed my own thinking in these nine years. I stayed away from her during this time. As a person, she thus will remain unknown to me forever. I do not know how my sister is doing right now. For her, her parents are everything. I know I will always be there for her. But will she ever be able to come to me given the screwed up family we share?

I am sitting in Germany doing nothing while my family bleeds today. What achievements do we brag about? What are the gains in our lives? I grew up in her arms and then I didn't talk to her during her final years. May be I am right in not making close interactions with anyone. It is may be better to remain aloof. It is better to not let people know that you do not care. In my heart, the truth lies.
To remind me of you, I will be eating fish during the next ten days. If the customs are there to respect our loved ones, these customs should be individualistic. I loved you. You will always be my family.

Deep