Punye kon paap?

Aj ekla boro kobi

sobhyota gaye lagche na

soundarjo mekhe nite chay

shorir er protiti kona-y

uttap chhorate chay shantir bashay.

Bichaar korte chute elo ei sobai

Kobir ki shei adeem nesha chai?

toyakka nei; toke chay pranpone

keno chaibe na? kobi ki poshu noy?

Dupurer grihodahe toke chay

Raatrer sheetolotay toke chay

R(h)arer nasokotay toke chay

Snigdho chumbone toke chay

Rokter agnisrote toke chay

Deergho alingone toke chay

Osther barnanay toke chay

Tor premiker thoke jaoyay toke chay.

Sarboshantoh hoye ja ei kobibakhye

Lutiye de aboshisto naritwer sambal

Kiser tor laj? Kor churno mithya saj

Paaper chorom ponthe hok na punyo aj.

Anarchy's message

Listen, listen to the whispering wind
Streets are about to burn, they say
Remember the pages you once tore apart
The liquid walls are giving away.

Set your clocks for the sunset alarms
Covers are flying away never to return
Peacocks are celebrating the first fire,
The painted world and its golden sepulchre.

And yet, you scream on about your wishes
Wish you were aware of life's disguises.
Alike we are, yet you were too busy to see
Anarchy calls me now, is it the time to leave?

Shei sabdo ra...apatoto

Notun kichui kokhono bolar thakena
Ja chilo, ta thakar ageo jeno chilo
Achomka paoya asroy alga hashe
Jeno ghum bhangiye majhrate ulka-brishti.

Ami duto katha boli, duto lukiye rakhi
Nidrar obhabe bujhi jwala ek matro sakkhir
Ajosro odorkari sabde tader mukti di
Bartaman bhorche sudhu kichu itihasher chobi.

Tukro sabdo gulo tukro bhalobashar motoi hariyeche
Khnujte chaina r, dorkar o nei; biporit srote bheseche
Haate ajo agunti rekha dekha jay sudhu, proticchobi nei
Sedin o chilo na, jedin kopal chapre hatu jole hnetechi.

School palano baccha chele lukiye thake
Ei bodhoy meye tir chokhe pore galo she
Ice cream gole jay, kothin protikkha roj
Ek jholok dekhbe, keu jante parbe na.
Se kichui chaite sekheni, sarolyer tej chokhe
Ei prithibi sudhui tar, ek jon kei ta deoya jay.

In the mood?

Hoods and cloaks protect the neck
As bullets fly to equate payback
In the mood for love, you say
Having lost my leg, I could care less.

Stories, ringtones, pills and mistakes
Drifting in a space without a face
Counting backwards, time dilutes pain
Save your truth, strike another day.

The Phase Space

Hyperbolas near an unstable fixed point (FP) are super awesome! For an observer, the phase space cannot look anymore beautiful. They provide no bounds and stretch to infinities on all quadrants. But the poor, untrained physical world loves ellipses.  Small, closed objects with limited scope, these ellipses just end up constraining the philosophical output. Yet, the Royal Society has such an elliptic foundation that infinities, although powerful, are yet struggling to find admirers.

A few days ago, the unstable FP was sitting happily in his static position while a particle rolled towards it from the second quadrant. The particle, being close to its minimum, didn't want to move any further. The FP liked the fact that he had someone to meet after a long time. But he has seen many a particle along the same trajectory. They come, they leave. Nature's laws don't change. But unusually, this particle wasn't showing any intention of leaving. The FP knew that someone must have tampered with the action. The FP was now angry. No one messes with his phase space.

The mathematician looked at the screen with a cunning smile on his lips. Watching the changing phase structures with each change of parameters gave him a super-human happiness. He looked at his finger tips. He felt powerful. He peered into the screen. The equations have changed. The point has been tamed. An ellipse has locked it in.

Yellow Roses

The petals are the same,
But colours matter, you said
If there was a green Sunset,
Yellow roses would have a lot to say.

Residue drops

The final few drops get ready
To leave the broken ceiling
One by one, like clockwork
Reality settles over dust, humiliates.

The poet is dead, his study's awake
Literate paintings await footsteps;
It rained last night while the scotch ran out
Empty fireplace, sandalwood's costly.

Winter's paradise, a promised land;
The land that never existed; thus
A promise that never was kept
Fragrance yawns through the fields.

And yet, a few drops remain
They see the shining Sun while falling:
Evaporation, another daily process
And they fall with a wry grin.

Pay a Visit, don't Stay

It's easy to run for a while,
Easy to trust another smile
To speak the truth while lying,
Curse the accused for your crime.
But for the patient wrath of time
By the Godfather's words, I live, I die.

Papers and dust lie on the wood
Each waiting only to be removed
Belittled is his presence today,
For his memories have turned grey
A silent knife seeks blood, sniffs prey
Thirsty dead winds howl over a grave.

Kill me twice, let's taste the sour grapes
Kill me in the name of your helplessness.
For I am unbreakable, I'm invincible;

Are two different coins, life and death
I will belong to only one like I always have
The other is welcome to visit but not to stay.

Thank You, Breaking Bad

All good things come to an end, they say. But this was Bad, and it wasn't just good - it was the absolute Best!
4th July, better known as the American Independence Day would be much more significant in my life, for this is the day I started watching Breaking Bad. Today's date is July 24th. In a matter of 20 days, this 'fiction' has turned my life upside down. For a guy who had forgotten to live for himself, this series has been a new lease of life. Words will always fall short to convey the feelings hidden in the tears running over my cheekbones.

Who is Walter White, exactly? Is he among everyone of us? No, he isn't! He is present in a select few in today's world.  Wodehouse once wrote, 'The Right triumphs in this world much more often than we realize.' It is funny that in our world that stands on foundations of modern twisted logic, we say right and wrong are relative. May be a little introspection will always tell us the absolute difference!
In this bullshit civilization, sacrifice has to hide in love, honesty is met with ridicule, morality is questioned by the immoral.

Have you ever asked yourself what you're really good at? You must have, haven't you? Well, if not then better quit reading this article and fuck off.
So what are you good at? Take a moment. Yes, Now! A little thinking does no harm.
Are you then spending most of your time doing what you just thought about? If you are, I envy you. In case you are like me - doing something you can manage, say in an above average way, are you happy?
Here's a free question : If you're doing something you love with your life, would you ever be able to give it up? When have you felt that you can do something better than anyone else?
 As Walter says, it is rare! If you feel you're the best at something would anyone else asking you to shut your operations matter at all?

I, for one have found a reason to celebrate my life. Yes, I was living my life holed up in a pit, chained with a thousand misgivings. After 20 days, Mr. White has let me drive through the closed gates. No, he hasn't taught me to live his life. Never once has he asked me to be him. He has gifted me a freedom and taught me to value it for the rest of my life.
Being a murderer isn't that bad a thing. It was important to kill my fear.

I am not Walter White. I can never be. I can only learn from him. I am the one who wouldn't listen to him and yet he would persist with me. I hate him for thousands of reasons. Yet I love him without an idea why. At the end, when well wishers fail to rescue me, he always turns up. He will save millions like me, silently and yet he will be prosecuted for being on the Nazi team. Yes, the world will prefer to call him Heisenberg. And I will prefer to call this world a Bitch!

So who am I? I'm everyone who was born Post WW2. I am anyone born with a freedom a few great men thought I deserved but didn't win for myself. It somehow perfectly makes sense now. True, Heisenberg was never in danger, he was the danger! Danger to the danger.

I'll knock when the curtains forget to roll
I'll take my caravan on a desert stroll
Dealers of death will buy what they sell
Crystals will come alive in a reclusive blue
I'll teach you how to love, kill and count
My days are numbered yet my life is new
I'll leave behind a legacy while you're asleep
I opened the cage for the bird that flew.

Dedicated to the loving memory of Walter Hartwell White

Raat

Nijhum raat night-lamp jwele boshe ache
Koto kichu bolar ache tar, sobai ghumonto
Se likhte chay kintu muchtei pare sudhu
Chonder shoshane akkhhor er ahuti bartaman!

Jodi keu jagto tar sathe ki hoto?
Ei bhebe raat ektu dukkho pay;
Keu to karor janyo kore na kichu-
Raat jane, kintu shabdo korte pare na!

Alo raat ke mukhchora bhabe
Raat naki spontaneous noy tar moto -
Kintu se ar ki jane, Bharat barshe
First Order transition physically unacceptable.

Tai raat kauke kichu bole na
Khola janlay proticchobi dyakhe
Samay er katha bhabte shuru kore
Sudhu samay i jane tar gopon sob kichu.

X,Y... A

Wish I had a learner's license
And my sins would be forgotten!

I write and erase my lines. Rarely for the erased lines do I feel sorry. I wonder why people blame the creator when they are hurt. The Creator simply does not have the luxury to care about all His subjects.

You speak of broken dreams
While buying love for a dime
The world swims into your grip,
Few birds are not born to fly.

I don't have much to say today. It's an usual morning with a tinge of unusual. The very fact that I'm writing at 7 a.m. is not such a common phenomenon at MSA II. Well, seasons change in a cycle and so does life. If only our so called love lives followed a similar circle! ;)

The goal keeper is the only one who loves the football. While everyone's desire is to put it in the net, it's the keeper who stands against all in order to prevent the trapping. The football doesn't do anything at all. Yet, it keeps you alive, inside the net or not.

I can only smile to myself,
Conclusions are always hard to find.