Mirroring life !

There is always a bend on the path where one pauses to look back and feels that much of the life has been spent up in dreaming nonsense, doing nonsense and talking nonsense. It starts the day with a frustrating tone as dampened as a lonely umbrella left outside under a raining sky and fills the heart with a sense of utter dejection. Time is ruthless, so is life until we learn to obey its rule. One is extended with choices of either loving it living through or abhorring it dying through. But, one cannot deny of having opportunity of numerous turns and twists through the walking way. And, at certain point, maybe, at certain moment, one more turn reveals a different horizon and raises altogether a different feeling. It may not be a wise piece of thought, may not even be a sense of philosophic upliftment….and it may also be so; but irrespective of what it brings along it sets a different tune to the ears so accustomed to listen to a scheduled playlist….it may be worse or better, but something significantly unlike than the experiences of the past. It widens up the thoughts that it arouses as if evaporating somewhere never known, yet there is not much of passion left to hold them back or knit them in any defined texture. It may induce with a sense of losing identity or getting closure to it; it may be a song that sounds like a hymn or may also appear like a dirge; and, it may also infuse the core inside with an utter dilemma to discern about which is what. This turning point is just an inescapable certainty of life. The life flows like a river with vigour and vibrancy of youth through its initial exposure to the company of the time, with the rebellion  in defying the obstinacy of pebbles and stones and with the laughter in meandering through vales and hills; and farther it runs, it seeks to be kissed by gentle banks,  caressed by leisurely touches of fatigued oars and obsessed by the beauty of the setting sun upon its placid face. And, flowing on it once reaches somewhere, which it has never even dreamt of….the banks fading far into vacuity, islands surfacing like upturned boats, the horizon doesn’t anymore define the margin between possession and submission. It sea-saws between a complex state of attaining revelation and sacrificing wisdom, of having pleasure in losing identity and slipping into the agony of retaining it so long for not much of purpose. There is always such a phase in life when river sees its face upon its mirror and the life finds all peace to be blessed by the wishes of river finally.

Destiny !!

Destiny reigns; silent and ageless in the

Mortuary of passions and thoughts;

An indisputable certainty in the vacuity  

Of an eternal flow of senses—within and without,

For a deadened soul to reprieve and reproach.



Life denies life and death derides death;

Delight and sorrow walk away—hand in hand;

The proximity of the present erases the face

Of the past—the moments, hours and years;

Shrivelled eyes fail to mirror a path unbroken.



Time smudges the image of a decent moon

Painted upon a dark face of young night;

Jacob and Esau battles within her womb

With promises of two distinct futures;

Never knowing which will shine the dawn.



From the vacuity it rises and dies within;

The margin between the fortune and misfortune

Is wiped up in the hollowness of events;

Enduring a greater fall to attain a loftier ascent—

Oblivious of the certainty scripted for the End.



Destiny defines; the present is of sheer suspense

Secreted within the bankruptcy of a dead past,

And the prospects of an unborn future;

As night is stifled between the legacy of a day spent

And the certainty of a fresh dawn.

A journey within.....

Only roses know the best of love
And lips know the saddest lies
So do I of a weird dream
That bleeds but never dies

The temple bears the deeds and sins
And the rainbow bears the rays
So do I of an autumn morn
That shines but never stays

The faces hide the nicest soul
And wings hide a deadly flight
So do I of a fallen leaf
That severs but never loses delight

Only kids listen to unknown tales
And hearts listen to a sigh
So do I to the mourner's dirge
That surrounds but is never nigh

Trees whisper to new-born birds
And dews whisper to aging night
So do I to my own reasons
That revolt but never fight

The winter walks to season's seed
And the spring walks its green
So do I to the Holy Cross
That beckons but never lets me in

Love is a ticket to eternity !!

The life is an amazing experience. The amazement emerges from not from its uitility or futility; it simply finds itself in love that mesmerises the moments spent by. Love portrays itself in romance or in affection or in reverence or in trust or in understanding or in dreams; but it hides itself beneath images it paints upon the soul. Love is a self-validating ticket to eternity that blesses us with the birth of a soul and carries a license to free ride through the walks of life with a companion to explore one of such images it leaves at the show. It resides in those moments only--shorter or longer--for the ride together. The images changes with the company it keeps one for the ride. The portrait of a mother floats in the sense so long the warmth of her stays around. The journey does not demand the presence of the comapanion to feel the delight of the moments of love. The ticket grants the ride with someone, without someone, with memories of someone or with failing to remember someone and even with the company of a sense of being only--with someone incomprehensible or with nature or the just wholeness of spiritual contentment. The images of the first fits of romance or infatuation spread itself in moments of dilemma, trepidation and emotion for the soul that travels along. The images of confiding the triumphant delight of the first encounter of romance or of tearing apart--of great expectations or deadening despair--with a friend sketch the moments of togetherness with rich colours of confidence and trust in itself. Anything prior to e posterior to does not relate to the same set of imageries. Every image is differently associated to the moment of the journey. These portraits reveal itself within and are buried within. They remain only with the soul that carries the ticket and none can ever behold it beyond the self where they were born. Buried under they may fade away forever or may resurface on walk through the memories. But, whatever be the destiny of each such portraits fruits of love that glorifies the moments of riding together, for sometime, to an eternity never preconceived. It never stops blessing us with the sense of walking together till the senses are gone. It carries the mission of bringing joy within, treasuring the memories within and glorifying the moments of being together in the walk of life. It leads us from nowhere to nowhere ever brightening the sense of living with simple joy in between.

ভাবনা—কাঁথা

চাঁদের সাথে গল্প হ'ল না—

ফুলের সাথে মৌমাছিদের আড়ি,

বসন্ত-খাম ভুল ঠিকানায় পাড়ি,

স্বপ্ন মরে চৈত্র-হারা রাতে৷ 

Death….

Death! O the elusive darkness!
You can't flee me forever—
Our tryst is an inescapable certainty;
Only that fallen leaf knows
When she will convey me to you.

Couldn't.....

Couldn't ride that fast car
Couldn't be someone
Couldn't be a moon for you, mom

Couldn't be a sun for you, dad
Years smiled to let months grin
Moments sobbed to let days cry loud
Couldn't restrain leafs destined to fall
At the end of road, I stand alone
With just a lone rose for you