Dur

nyaka kanna amar janyo noy;
onek kichu na peye, hariye nijeke peyechi
ek samay bhabtam tora bujhbi amay
ek samay to onek okarone mar-o kheyechi!
                     
                                    kintu aj?

chokher samne, dure, bohu dure, kichu dure
dekhte pai amar lakkhya cheye ache amar pane
kono thama, kono porajoy aj swikar korbe na se,
Pabitra shikkhai sojjito amader setu, bisram dondito hobe.


Thaklo tomar katha, besh to aj thakuk
Ekdin naki theme jetei hobe?
Ami to thamte janina, jamon onek kichui janina
Kintu tumi to jano, ami notun kichu tamon korina
Tai thama tao notun amar kache, dourate dao
10 minute e hnapate dakho, 20 bochore thami ni.

Katha

Katha aj-o onek ache, klanti nei
Muhurto prochur, tao naki samay nei
Tui utola hoye porish, bhoy pai ami
emnitei ajana poth, bojha hoyni kichui.

kotobar toke bolte giye atke niyechi
jokhon bolte cheyechi, hnochot kheyechi
tao dakh, katha thik cholei ashe
Nihshabder samudrer, sugothito setu hoye.

A Good Sleep.

We rise, each day with hopes of crossing a new mountain and then we fall by the sunset along the shores of struggle. Someday we ask ourselves, is it worth it? Deep down we know it is, since otherwise we wouldn't be living.

Strike 1: Insomnia

Another night, a few more bytes and an image
A laptop, a wooden chair and a mahogany table
A near full water bottle stands alone like a candle
Streetlamps smile in the glory of their shadows.

At the stroke of midnight I woke up, realizing the air was too cold. Anticipations for a smiling princess lead me to break my sacred vow.

Strike 2: Sleep

A soft bed with a silk cover, a tough pillow;
Eyelids closed, dreams arrive and disappear
How time zones dictate the worlds, far and near!
 One for the records is becoming crystal-clear!

Strike 3: Waking up

Restless arms of time sound the alarm;
The frozen eyes sniff the familiar room:
Rotating blades and illuminated windows
Wake up, they say, the bus is here.

A Night Diary.

Nights paint in silence,
They paint in the gloom of sepia
They speak of hidden colours,
Hidden, deliberately within dark lanes.

A night deals in shadows,
It plays in the presence of past and future
The silence reeks of miscalculations
The ghosts roam in the winds of desire.

 

A River Tale.

A river flows by my garden. A not so famous river, it still holds its place where it should. It doesn't get visitors from all corners of the world but I do pay my visit everyday. I grew up under its tenderness. But so did several others. I wonder where they are! They must be quite busy. In a way I like it. May be the river misses them all but I cannot account for everyone.
The mysteries of nature have such deep philosophies imprinted on them. What is there that I can do for this river which always provides me with so much? I don't feel helpless. I have learned my limitations.

Some people can just give so much to you that whatever you do for them, you'll never feel that you've done enough. It's not your fault. It's just their greatness. The best you can do is never leaving their side.

So my river and me stare at each other. The only sound comes from the flowing water.

Finding Neverland

Don't we all have our own Neverlands?


Snow flakes gather on my feet
As I stand on the border of Neverland
My skin, torn and dry still fights
I see no one around but a window, broken.

I peek through it, warmth I seek,
All I receive in response is darkness
Should I break through as a burglar would?
Should I remain calm and hold my ground?

The fast approaching evening haunts
I need to start a fire, this numbness taunts
The woods nearby have started the chorus
 Should I still wait or own the mystery-house?

Goodbye Sky.

A carnival of clouds makes way
For the monsoon child
As my window panes bathe
In an invisible sunrise;
Singing my own song
In a restless paradise
I hum your name, once again
Mesmerized by Anuva's Sky.

In a life sewed with scattered smiles
Cautious dreams look for light;
Measured silence weighs heavy at times
And emotions dissolve in a lake of wine.
Reasons succumb to soul-searching eyes
A few more words might ruin the night.

The Darkest Hour

Give me wings,Lord
So that they would burn
And ashes would decorate
Your sky, living a black death
For the horns of morality
Have blown and long been silenced.

There are flag bearers in a world
Where ethics protect the unethical,
One of your worlds, dear Lord-
A network of pipelines of mistrust.

But a few can hear the cold sirens
The gift, you bestowed them with
So that you could be summoned;
So as the courtrooms turn into pyres
A call sets out in your search,
The darkest hour weighs heavy on us.

Uttam- Madhyam?

Sedin Poltu dar bari te adda besh jome uthechilo. Anyo weekend er tulonay attendance beshii chilo- Ami, Amit, Rajeeb da, Subhadeep, Nirmal r sayang Poltu da.  Cha r cigarette er dhoyar majhkhane ki bhabe Satyajit Ray chole elen thik kheyal nei. Ami r Rajeeb da amader chatro der niye ki ekta alochona korchilam, hothat dekhi Nirmal chnechiye Subha ke bolche, "Rakh tor Mrinal Sen! Byatar antlamor camouflage chara kissu nei." Subha o temni uttejito hoye swabhab krome hat chure hnak dilo," Bal bujhis tui! Dekhechis ektao cinema or?"
Poltu da ektu bhoye bhoye bole uthlo, "aha! tora jhogra korchis kano? esob niye torko ki ar amader manay? " tarpor ektu heshe, "Para mathay tulbi mone hocche."
Nirmal hnapate hnapate bollo, "Dekhun to Poltu da, kono mane hoy? Maal ta boleche Nayak e naki Uttam Kumar ke cast kora Satyajit er bhul! Boro bal! Nije baniyeche oi stature er ektao chobi?"
Plotu da abar ektu heshe bollo, " tumi to ektao cinema dekhoni Sen er. Na dekhe ki kore bichaar korcho?"
Subha bijoyeer moto bole uthlo,  "setai to! Tachara ami bujhi na manush nijer mot debe ki anyer mot bhebe?"
Ami chaye chumuk diye Nirmal kei jiggesh korlam, "Byapar ta ki bol to? Hothat filmalochona? tao abar Mrinal- Manik?"
Nirmal notun ekta cigarette dhoriye bollo, "Interview beriyeche patrikay! Babur kichu ukti khubi biroktikor. Eke to boleche Uttam Kumar khete khaoa r Soumitro beshi talented. Sathe montobyo je Nayak e Uttam er choice ta Satyajit kano korlo o bojheni. Bujhle to byata tui i Nayak banati."
Amit moja nicchilo. Ebar ektu khnochalo, "Hya re Nirmal tui bujhechis naki kano Uttam ke niyechilo?"
Nirmal byango ta bujheo uttejona atkate parlo na, "Albat! R keu chilo naki oi role ta korar moto!"
Rajeeb da bhaloi bujhte parchilen sobai Nirmal ke chepe dhorche. Uni borabor i Nirmal ke sneho koren. (ekbar bolechilen, "Nirmal er parts ache. Abeg ache, dhoirjo nei. Tobe sesob kotojoner i ba ache ajkal?").
Rajeeb da guni manush. Katha bollei bojha jay. Jemon physics e dokhol, temni cinema, boi, gan, natok e.
Shei muhurte equlibrium feranor janyo takei proyojon chilo. Uni Poltu da ke bollen, "Hya re Poltu mone ache ekbar baba r kaku o ei eki torke mete uthechilen. Sudhu bodhoi hata hati baki chilo."
Poltu abar mridu hasi niye bollen, "tokhon theke oi ghotonai to bhebe jacchi! ki tumul jhogra! Mash dui kathao boleni tarpor."
Rajeeb da fnaka chayer cup ta table e rakhte rakhte bollen, "etai Bangali der samasya bujhecho! Arts er torke keu harte pochondo kore na. Hoy ei torko gulo marpit e sesh hoy noyto ek pakhyo emon byango kore kichu katha bole je apor pakhya shei level ta chute pare na bole chup kore jay."
Subha ektu birokti sohokare bollo, "Accha Rajeeb da, ekjon manush tar nijer views diyechen. Freedom of speech! Keu to kauke mante badhyo korche na. Derogatory comment to na korleo chole."
Nirmal sathe sathe bole, "Intellectual bhabeo derogatory hoa jay! Mrinal Sen shetai korechen."
Rajeeb da chair ta tene tate aram kore boshen. Tarpor Nirmal r Subhar dike takiye bolen, "Kathar anek mane hoy Nirmal. Hoyto tomar mane thik ba hoyto adou tini bujhte paren ni. Uni shei interview tei Mithun Chakravarty keo ashadharon abineta bolechen. Boltei paren. Kintu sekhanei abar Utaam Kumar ke khete-khaoa bolechen. Ete uttejito hoar kichui nei. Sob manusher i bias thake. Tobe Soumitra je 2 lakhyo taka peyeche bole ekta award function e gechilo eta disclose na korleo parten. Boyesh hoyeche to. Ekdin amadero hobe."
Ami Rajeeb da ke prosno na kore parlam na, "Nayak e ki ar kaukei manato? Hya hoyto amar samne ekta image ache tai bujhte parchi na. Kintu setai to Uttam Kumar er credit! He made it his own!"
Rajeeb da haste haste matha nere uttor dilen, "dekho, shei samay keu parto ki na ta to amra janbo na. Jini janten tini baniyechilen. Chobi ta jar mathay eshechilo shei to protagonist ke chinbe! Aj keu Soumitra ke Felu dar janyo fit na bolle ki sheta mana shambhab? Jini likhechilen uni i to chinhito korechen actor ke! Otoeb eshob katha torko i koray. kono direction day bole mone hoyna."
Hothat excited hoye chair theke uthe bollen, "Ei to Boudi! Arek cup cha khaoan na!"
Sreetama di halka heshe bollen, "asche. Ektu age ja shuru korechilen apnara! Mone hocchilo mathay chatt bhenge porbe!"
Rajeeb da ekta cigarette ber korte korte bollen, " Boudi, apnar matha fatay kar saddhi? Cholun cha ta niye ashi niche theke."

The invisible projection

I love your legs more than your eyes

But I dream of your eyes nevertheless

Hot legs, long legs, waxed and shiny-

Who has the time to look at anything else?

I have decided to push the line of vulgarity

I refuse to accept the rules imposed on beauty

I dare ask you to reveal a little more of yourself

Let out what’s hidden, what’s being suffocated!

I would prefer to be blunt and

Give my imaginations a break

If the dress doesn’t seem to fit

It would only a few more retakes.

Worshiping the brilliance of man

One finds you in every aspect :

Each inspiration, each central pillar

Proves your worth, your presence!

"Vision planted in his head, still remains!"

The famous writers (can't use their names to publicize my words) are not my role-models. So, I don't give a shit about lecturing on principles, duties or ways of life. I write to bring out my frustrations- about women, men, men with women, women with men, the notion of love, the practice of hate- more or less anything that is pro/anti-life.
There is a world that I see, with my eyes. My vision makes me talk and my voice creates your noise.
I'm the actual guilty and I seek forgiveness for your sins those you're unaware of.
Okay, that's it. 
Anyway, there is a purpose for this post. Let me, then switch to my world.
The purpose is to blast a comment (made by a revered Film-maker on a Film-star).
What have I done in my life? How much of the language of films do I understand? Well, yes, the answer to both the questions is probably "nothing".
I might just not understand your language but I do understand your bias. I haven't seen your films, so I can't comment on them.
But there is one other film maker whom I never dare question. There is a film of his I never dare raise a finger at. .. And the film stars a man, who blessed the Bengali film industry with his presence.
Your statement that he lacked intellectual depth makes me question your depth as a film-maker.  I find it blasphemous even that you said he shouldn't have been cast in a specific role, which by far was his best performance!
At the end of the interview, you said that you wonder what people's reaction would be to your films and you when you won't be here. I ask you Sir, why does it matter? Why does it matter what people say even now? They might praise you, disagree with you, but is it more important than your own world that you have created for all this time?

"But my words, like silent raindrops fell "

Yes, Sir, there is the Sound of Silence. You should start searching from now on.

## Okay, readers! Thank you for being with my article till now. No, I am not going to reveal any name. But since you gave your valuable time to my words, you need to be awarded.
Here's your present :

The poem below.