Friday, December 30, 2016

Into the abyss



Into the abyss where darkness fades 
I leave behind my wealth of words
For you to read, learn and never forget
Some to love, some to hate.

Alas, Mortality will take all this with me.
But I think Death should be very smart
Too much knowledge, ideas and whims
Scattered and nurtured in colossal of dreams.

The rue of hope paints the color blue
Life is a moment filled with a soloist's song.

Ample dark and the nectar's smell
Adores my heart as I take the leap
In the morbid land of lecherous shades
Where truths are lied in words of wise.

The treacherous sins are buried deep
As bodies float on sticks and strings
Marionettes of a Sailor's tale
Swim the lands on broken loops.

Today as my body burns
In the shallow world of a Mariner's song
The Paradise sings the words of life
As I dive in the Mariana Trench

The Artist



The skinny scalps of a deluded window
Hopped on a rickety lull of naked whims
Busty chests baked on crescent smiles
Made vultures craft the rustic lore of lies.

Dungeons deep in his pristine white
Slivered in a brute’s obvious choice
A paranoia chord of existing nerves
Screamed a romantic’s psychedelic tale

Sculptured masks were taunted green.
As sprays were rolled to rosy skies
A butterfly squalled with a sliced throat;
Failing to grasp the octaves of Gabriel

Gory nails brushed a mustered skin
Scarping through the dermal into bones
Knives sharpened in ripen red gives me joy
To wield my body into its many forms

                                                                     Anindya Ganguly  © 2016 all rights reserved

Friday, December 23, 2016

When Tarushi wanted a poem on Hope

https://www.facebook.com/tarushi.meghlaan?fref=ufi&rc=pHope is merely a four letter word.
Like Love, Hate and Life.
The only difference 

between them and Hope is

These states dwell
around present and past
Time immemorial,
Only hope lets us strive
For a 'better' Future.

Bhakto ki bhakti (on Demonetisation)

Bhakto ki bhakti apram par
Kya Modi, Kya Hazaar
Andhe bane fire sb unke piche
Japnam kare sare upar niche
Tark unse bhala ab kaun kare
Jhoot aj Satya ke pare
Ye nayi asha kya layega ujala?
Yea desh main barega dhan kala?

Jaane khuda, Jaane gyaani
Hum naa jaane yaar.
Jaanta mare bazaarro main
Netaji ki leela apram paar.


https://www.facebook.com/arpan.w.mitra/posts/1249803985092634?comment_id=1249815601758139

To Sarabjit :)

Nautanki karne gaayi Videsh
Leelavati iss kalyug ki
Phailaye jhooti affvaye
Aur Aap ko mili jhooti badnaami
Ae Veer tu hai uss roshni ki tarah
Jise Andheera mita nahi sakta

Apne naam ke maafik
Sare Duniya main tera Vijay zaroor ho ga..

Introduction to BBRW :D

Hi guys, I am Anindya Ganguly, a writer, a poet and a blogger. I write as my tentative mood drives me to draft and craft. Some days I just watch and eat on manga. But, mostly emotions, varied and vivid amuses me as I croon on a callous tune, done for the day, as I say, Mischief managed, I mutter.

On Big Butts (Devi Di Guira's post)

Well, for all the pretty celestial beings (read women) curves are as essential to attract the awestruck males as Lady Venus spinning the Opposite way just to attract the Warrior Mars towards herself. Butts do matter. Depending on the owner's physical traits, but definitely adds the extra sugary coat to an existing charm. :D

It was a trap

Under those sessions of tea-samosas
Big talks of revolution churned.
Soon, liberty and love for poetry were lost forever.
Sadly, it was a trap.

Chotto jibon

Chotto jibon, smritir pahar
Protidini barche akaar.
Somoi tobu aankche prachir
Jontronateo Benche thakar 

Sabdo kosher stobdo katha
Bolche boshe nirobota
Aleek kusum andho deshe
Chorai chori choddobeshe

Churui daake baanser bone
Ami thaki ghorer kone
Chotto balish, choto hari
Eka ekai khunti nari
Manik amar firbe kobe
Mayer kache, desher bari

Kalponaro kolpotoru
Dake amai ghono ghono
Chotto jibon, smritir pahar
Protidini barche akaar.

A soloist's song

Alas, Mortality will take all this with it.
But I think Death should be very smart
Too much knowledge, ideas and whims
Scattered and nurtured in colossal of dreams. 

The rue of hope paints the colour blue
Life is a moment filled with a soloist's song.

Ample dark and the nectar's smell
Adores my heart as I take the leap
In the morbid land of lecherous shades
Where truths are lied in words of wise.

The treacherous sins are buried deep
As bodies float on sticks and strings
Marionettes of a Sailor's tale
Swim the lands on broken loops.

Today as my body burns
In the shallow world of a Mariner's song
The cuckoo sing the words of life
As I dive in the Mariana Trench.
Sometimes, life enters a rabbit hole, from the under-land and he imagines he is the only savior who has been destined to kill the Jabberwocky. 

At the end after the vicious war he had slain the monster and he stood drenched in blood. Alas, the memories of those sweet victories never last forever and the jinx breaks; Life pendulates on.

Just

Just hold me in your arms
And wrap me in your eyes
As our hearts beat in tune

Under the shades of love

The Sparrows


It rained

Image may contain: text

Never Regret



One day your lady luck will shine my friend
Don't worry life will give another chance again

Be optimistic with whatever happens in life
Live it full, don't let relations be your only strife

Conquer the constraints that regresses your shine
Sparkle in the shadows filled with winter's wine

Read, love and fall in love tomorrow
Nothing should hold you in a rabbit's burrow

And soon, when the next day awakes
You will find yourself holding newer stakes

And fly high into the solemn of symphonic clouds
Where we all shall be your guest; Happy and proud

For your success, health and all the wealth you get
Remember friend, in this journey you should never regret.

Pandemic in a Paradise


Today we have self-propagated ourselves as modern
I write these lines as defiance to the norms of a satanic society
The Devil sows its festering lies upon our children.
Yet, it in itself feasts with the mutilated lives of the people concerned.
In the last few years I had the opportunity to meet intellects of all sorts.
None support any brutality in the name of God.
Because life is a gift to be served and cherished like a cuisine
Made of sliced capsicum, cucumber, tomato and onion,
Baked in the oven of touch, sight, smell and words.
The greatest gift of being alive is the spirituality we imbibe,
By exploring self, consciousness and emotions.
Illuminating us off doubts and vindicating rationality.
I am talking about the genital surgeries carried on without expertise
Its been hitting me hard for several years since I read about it
I won't spark debates diving in religious notions, but I have doubts
We live in a paradise full of dreams. Everyone has their own desires
Why rape a life for the sake of temporary pleasure and no regrets?
Doesn't it make you lesser of kind, judging others for their attires?
We talk and debate things pertained to one’s own choice. Why?
If one finds pleasure in something or loves living in a box. Let them.
Why be the judge of individuals of whom we are not aware of?
Yet, mutilating one's physical trait is unholy, God has said it.
Why do pertain by doing it ourselves, not allowing one to choose?
It's their body, their choice. Why violate someone's privacy?
I have often come across these ideas not affecting me personally
Still I don't to know I read about how lives are slaughtered
And society compares youth as volatile and women as flowers
I feel shocked and start enduring an existential crisis of how to live
Along with these beasts who justifies encroachment into other's life
We as a society must rise. Yes we are not all equal.
Some inherit riches, some are born poor. And our society is fragile
It lives on a lingering line of sketchy rules and fetid regulations
Based on what we say, how we represent we are sorted out.
Misrepresentations are mere forms of deficit of urge to rise.
What is the point for these moments of peace then?
When the world we represent is burning?

You walked away


It's been for a while now
I have moved on as you walked away
With out loads of pride and no tears
Staring at my fuming joints.

The stashes of Marijuana
Fills up my room full of space, nowadays
Yet at night it misses some traces you
The smell of your ravishing skin and more.

I didn't chase after you, nor did I beg
I should have at least given Us a last try
I smashed into vape smoke for days
For men don't cry. That's the rule.

You don't call me anymore.
But I will ring you once in a while
Getting all high in depression and tears.
Do you wait for those late night calls?

It's been for a while now
I have moved on as you walked away
Time heals everything. Pundits say
There is only pun in Time, nothing more.

The forest of Cannabis

Last summer, I was caught in a blizzard
In the mountains while driving through the curves
The moon was flinching in and out in the heaps of light
The silence of a panoramic hue was breath-taking and weird
I was coughed up  by echoes of brilliant words
Lyrics softly stitched by the phantoms of Phoebe
Its plumage softly wrapping me
Like a wasp cocooned inside a Bohemian beehive
The age old terrain of overlapping waves succumbed me
In the poetic verse of lucid letters
Dressed in a coat of black and white I stared
Into the sacred acrimonious rituals of toxic vibes
The forest of cannabis they called it.
Projected by the whims of lass I decided to carve myself
Into an image of mad grief, with voids and fissures
Trying to run away from the sucking mob
Yet I too became a sheepish man,
With no desires to conquer the legions of Illuminati.

The forest of Cannabis


A room of books


Castle of Sand


Under the shades of the awakening night
When the Sun drowns under the cupids in sky
I stare upon an estranged 'marriage'
Which fell apart like a castle of sand.
Many Summers ago when we first met
Two hands clasped together we walked
In the golden sand, diving into each other
Like an addict madly entangled by lust.
The world and it's rules didn't exist
As we broke and invaded societal norms
Fiery frown failed to bound
Yet, soon emotions began to change.
The clock ticking moments slowly ceased
And transformed into a ritual to act.
Diplomacy became a hard-hitting truth
As we realized that there was no love anymore.
We parted ways, taking strolls in Lost lands
He became something that was alien to the man I loved
And I adopted a self inflicted mirror deceit and lies
Today each has achieved everything perhaps, except Peace.

Love


Rinsing my fingers in the bowl of colors
I brushed my nails on her naked sculpture
Her frivolous lips smiled in crimson hue
As they met with mine, softly.
Our bodies wrapped in an intangible hymn
For moments to hours for centuries
Cognated to the mirrors on ancient caves
Celebrating each others co-existence.
My woe and worries were slowly ebbed
As I drowned within her omni-existence
The darkness in her greenish eyes
Loved me more than I loved myself.

Fanatic flaws


The messiah softly spoke his words to atone me at last
Naked as I strolled on the Autumn's garden of Peace
Smelled the noiseless flowers bathing in Summer's Sun 
A tinge of flawless joy brushed its endless paint on me.
Was this the beginning of an end or an endless journey?
The mountain of snow reminded me of my holy land
Where I used to tread on many sandy roads trading blood
I was a slave to heinous crimes yet felt no shame
What drove me to commit and justify those acts, I don't know.
I felt I was doing them in God's name, but I was wrong.
The jury that stood before my numerous sins wept with pain
I was no more a man. Just a shadow of the soul they once sow
They have never urged a man to kill but the Satan twisted me
Instead of praying to our God, I prayed to devil, unknowingly
As the war will cease some day, I will wake up to be man again.

Drops of Fire (Droplets)


As the thunders hailed for a glorious downpour
The clouds cloistered in the small loops of light
Moistened by the calmness of a havoc roar
Sparkling shapes of majestic forms came marching
As beads of pearl quenched the thirst of the lands
Monsoon came a bit too early.
Taking a dip on the tips of withered leaves
Or the brink of the musty canisters hanging from walls
The freshly wet grass called upon all to smell them
Adding spices of a sensual aroma to our 'sense'
Tempting us to sit on the softness of the muddy floor
to gaze upon the gloomy sky and feast on nostalgia all day.
The droplets carry an immense joy with vacuumed promises,
Filling to the brim cusped with empty voices and a lover's kiss
Tagging us like children in different shades of gray
Since we are all puppets in the name of the God,
In the travesty of life to which we are all vested upon
Only the potent lie of different extant makes us different.

I wish


A princess's tale


Miles away in some wonderland
Trapped in a closet of cluttered chaos
Lived a princess with million dreams
With wishes to fly into the deep blue sky.
People flinched when she would spread her wings
Doubtful eyes preying to judge her all the while
Broken chords of insipid minds fainted in grief
If she ever wished to leap beyond the horizon
Her prince was busy to conquer hall of fame
Leaving her lost with fractured hopes
Yet she fought against all through her odds
To build a world full of feathers and winds
With flow of time into the mist of adolescent youth
The princess would freed the chains of sadness
And migrate to a land where Life always smiles
And sing the hymns of love, laughter and Peace.

Dasvadaniya (Goodbye in English)


Alvida woh alfaz hai jo dil ko bikhair deta hai
Fatim ko jannat ka koi thikana nahi rehta
Wajood jo tha unka mere zahain ke panno main
Woh kahin door gehraiyoon main kho gaya aj
Fateh kar liya hai humne nusrate jahan ko
Lekin woh chale jane se zindagi ka koi matlab nahi rehta
Hum toh bss unhi ke hai, sirf unke
Lekin kambaqt waqt ko iss ka ittela kaun kare?
Raeth ke aangan main jab koi phool khilta ho
Tab use kudrat ka karishma kehte hai
Unki aankhon main hum ne woh karishma dekha
Uss noor ko jahan koi aj chupaye
Kuch aur pal agar hume woh de jate
Toh humari zindagi ki saare murade poori jaati
Bss baki reh jati hai woh chand sapne yadon ki
Bholi si, bikhri si, ayno ke parchaiyon ke beech main.

A Toad under a canopy


Somewhere in the meadows of a chanting gloom
A toad just croaked under an enchant of mushrooms
The toad tried to budge the canopy of hazel hues
The squalid floor failed to aid, showered in battered blues
“Should I try to fence the yelling sky?”
The toad thought for a while
“And face the storm with an armored chest
Puffed up neck, wearing a greenish vest
Or step out loud in the roaring rants,
And croak along like a careless infant?”
The sordid source of a morbid life
Strives for more under the scanted light
Making the toad to glimpse back his own trail
As to how he was caught under the gaze of this gale.
But defeated by spirit, the toad would cry to the bleeding sky
In some solemn chores, wishing to concoct an alibi
Yet somehow the thunder struck, and agony comes on board
Finally sucking the life off; a lonely, rugged toad.

The Book that I live in


I have walked for miles inside the memoirs of my book
Scripted novel notions with the paints of plastered pleasures
My body has been scarred by the Bohemian blasphemy
Of her teasing thoughts. Yes, she is the book that I live in
I have no soul left within me since I have devoted myself to her
And as I trace the tranquil quilts of the condescending chaos
Which evades my life daily under the pleasant pains of loneliness
Waiting for her to look back and look for me in the Sea of Souls
Time, yes Time immemorial has been a wait, an undulating wait
For her to glance back, to glimpse inside me, beyond the cloak
Read me, as I read her, words after after, moments after moments
And endure the feelings that I imbibe whenever I see her.
In the dusking dawns of every daunting day I dive into her extant
Wishing all the while that Time would pause leaving Us alone.
I would slowly approach her with a beating heart and confess
Of my boundless love and with bent knees ask for her consent.
But as the Book I breathe within doesn't even know that I exist
I have often been left alone in my memories of culminating castles
Where I wish to enchant my empress in the bubbles of my dreams
And make her the prisoner of the same Book that I live within.

I wish there is an Afterlife


I didn't believe in fate, I still don't do
But I wish there is an afterlife.
Where I can bend down on my knees
And seek the consent to hold your hand
And step out after that into a never ending walk
Leaping up into the origins of the stars
That breeds the wanderlust in the roots of Nirvana
Sowing the seeds of love, laughter and lust, which I feel for you.
Yes, I feel everything for you. All these tedious emotions
Yet somewhere inside me I hate you too for not loving me back
Not checking me out as I stride with pride across the corridors
Of your heart. Why do you always have to do that? Why?
I know I am not as beautiful a creature that you wish to possess
But I too have a golden heart to share all my emotions to you
I exist because of your existence, yet you decided to walk away.
I do not believe in after life, but I wish there was a life after You.

Tidbits of a Toddler


When I am bored and find nothing new
Open up my laptop as an usual chore
Words are befuddled in a tranquil quill
And gibberish chords are brewed often.
Do not testify my unmotivated talks
Since I am no master of crafty words
I just brew what boils in my brains
Random yet legit deficits.
Often I am jealous, mostly carefree
Like a musical chair my thoughts flow by
Symmetry gives me endless joy
While shades of life fails to amuse me.
The brutish dogs bog on a shore
Racism cries in some far away land
Futility farce of melancholic hues
Tides me up in a fatal fate of dullness.

Where love happens

At a coffee shop lost in the wilderness
I sipped my cup of tea and gazed upon broken blue
The books lay screwed on my tangled bed
My lap was strewed with her lipstick stain.
The myriad mumbling of a deceitful rain
Poured fetishism onto my palish nails
As I drowned into her wilder gloom with a moan
She softly fumbled me with her youthful charm.
The menacing melodies Of my dangled desires
Called peace upon my aging heart
Sixty two have floated by in my palate of dwam
When I was closeted within a diam of lies
.
Today I dared to freed these rusting chains
Those bind me to the societal norms of hypocrisy.
I leap over fake annuitant who tear my life to fly
Into the perpetual paradise; where love happens.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

This is exactly what happens in a socialist democracy where liberty is buried in the name of development. Won't Indian Govt. learn from the Econ 101 or Class X economic course (CBSE), that the greatest corruption in India lies in the Public Sector, which is featured by it's inadequate efficiency and enormous amount of lack of transparency. I am not an Economics Graduate, but an ardent reader and I assure you 1976 Emergency, The economic breakdown post Nehru's death were all because the Govt. was concentrating a lot on the Public Sector. The 91 Economic reform brought back India to the mainstream after a decade of experimentation. Stop experimenting on Indian economy. We are human beings, not guinea pigs of some economic experiments.

Only if


The whispering wind urges me to spread my whiskered wings
And rise above the trivial tresses into an hopeless horizon
Where breeds no blasphemy of despair, duplicity and deceit.
But swims a sacrosanct symphony of sanctitude and serenity.
Yes like the Bohemian butterflies smoothly sailing on the witty winds
I too plunge into a playful prune of libidinous lust for lexical liberties.
Skeptical minds frown and fret as I wield into a wilderness of words
Exhibiting emotions of eloquent epiphany inside an endless Elysium
Those who justifiably judge me for what I am or who I may be
I can callously be candid to their veracious verdicts.
But as I possess a delicacy of a dogmatic desire in expressing my etiquette
For all the ethereal elements of an emphatic and enigmatic elegance
I will urge all the delinquent doubtful to step away into some beatnik blues.
Where exists only monotonous mural of mnemonic melancholy.
We are not the images of liberal lies and reciprocate rationality.
In remains of a relentless rhapsody reigned by rotten routs we defy
 I wish to take a walk into a wilderness of hallucinating hell
And dive with a deciduous drive into that holy hole
Where my poignant psyche may prevail it's pious Peace
For today, tomorrow and all of my after life, but Only if.

Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Castles in a bubble


With pastel stained hands as I sat with my drawing sheet
I loved to dream about my tandem of random floating fleets.
The felicity of daydreams flew me down the memory lane
The crowd of chaotic hymns dissipated in the cocoons of rain.
In the oasis of love, where the Sun is beaming bright
I scribbled down my emotions with a witty sensical rite.
Leaving behind the shackles that made me go insane
With memories of Beatles in mind I removed the silly idioms of pain.

Honeydew dipped flowers floated like snows hanging on trees
I heard the bees humming ripe with an entrancing lullaby!!
Stepping into the gantlet of numerous crazy thoughts
My heart felt soothed under the wrappers of a wasp
From there as I edged into the strands of an endless sea,
The mists quintessentially evaporated into a promised felony
I breathe out with laughter under the bubbles of my mighty castle
Where my eyes failed to venture behind the clouts of mystic veils.
Tonight as I conquer the graveyards and bury my worries deep
I call out to all my fellows not to fear any more; shout out loud and live.
Cause life is one and troubles too many to foresee
Moments shall be beaded in these stories of castles, wasps and bees.

Monday, December 19, 2016

Never Regret




One day your lady luck will shine my friend
Don't worry life will give another chance again


Be optimistic with whatever happens in life
Live it full, don't let relations be your only strife


Conquer the constraints that regresses your shine
Sparkle in the shadows filled with winter's wine


Read, love and fall in love tomorrow
Nothing should hold you in a rabbit's burrow


And soon, when the next day awakes
You will find yourself holding newer stakes


And fly high into the solemn of symphonic clouds
Where we all shall be your guest; Happy and proud


For your success, health and all the wealth you get

Remember brother, in this journey you should never regret.

Saturday, December 17, 2016

The crazy Affair


As I contemplated with a musing violin
The corollary world has squeamishly vanished
Into an exquisite loss of divine creativity
I am finally vanquished in a pensive prune.
The other me went berserk out of the blue
Getting the chance to beat me at last
The twirling twin inside my rounded head
Tried to cessate me with his falsifying offers.
"Am I a broken chord of tactless life?" I pondered
"Or was I a captive bound with honest hope."
Within the larcenous lacuna of my boogied mind
Casket of crazy affairs pranced with happy highs.
"But who cares?" I said out loud
Deluding my smarter self to hug my shadow
Since I love myself more than anything else
I threw him inside his interluding high pitched noise.

Aleppo


Sinister-Revisted


"Cutlery with words", The butler thought
To the waitress with the croaky chin
A wallowed man took a limping stroll
Mustered with smokes and gin
Under flickering lights of winter's dim
Clamped inside the cracks of a jar.
Tenants would seek to live on whims
Bedding on lies at his broken bar.
The butler mused on peppy talks
With beady eyes filled with greed
Sliced upon the beads full of shards
His appetite would aptly feed.
Miles away, in some distant lore
The widow screeched a seaborne wail
The sails tied to the hollow noose
Echoed thoughts of silent gales.
Burning the whispers of a sailor's dream.
Into the dungeons of a ghastly doom
The twilight opened with greeted arms
The madness cloaked in dusky gloom
The butler sighed with a sinister smile
Towards the crockery of his words
Pen had dried as the paper choked
As he painted his bar in red.

Friday, December 16, 2016

On Demonetisation

The silent monk spoke at last, but too late
12 years of slave to Nepotism- Fact Check
The Prince chants NaMo NaMo in his mind
A nation craves for a gray-hay note in slumber
As Rich enjoy subsidiaries, Poor dies in sleep.
Welcome to Republic of India 2.0, Experts say
Here, Demonetization defeats Democracy.

The Evening's Song


Sitting on the edge of a lake,
I started scribbling down some letters
Of a taro and tarot's thought
Crooning off a swallow's mutter.
With a broken pen yellowed blue
Mused on a piece of paper.
I frowned and fawned friskily
Staring at the palish water.
The sky seemed moist
 Though my eyes were dry
Almost after quite a while
Life felt live, yet wry.
Paddling through a morose dream
Seemed liked a girl once loved.
Drifting on a tangent stream
Mellowed words of fun and laugh.
"Brother O Brother", As I cried
Loud and wild; Meant for none special
The sparrow from a tree nearby
Peeped and stared like a witty squirrel.
Dip and drops of a wimpy hop
Wished that I draft a doodle
Dripping dews warmed the dusk's dawn
As I tootle a lullaby for my poodle.
The melody of a Cuckoo's song
Felt like a peaceful llama's cringe
Beating along the curious crafts
Nadir felt numbed, swallowed by a ridge.
Tinkers tried to string the beads of night
As the paths got lost in day and dreams
Weary soldiers rest from a long night's fight
To willow the wallaby's whisper to the bees.
Waqt ke meethas ne hume woh saahil bana diya
Pyaar ke do alfazo me dil main unhi ko bss shamil kiya
Lamho ne jaise dil main boondo ki baarish jala dali
Ashiquii naa thi uun ke ankhon main, bss sannata tha.
Fir bhi dil ki duyawo ne hume unke kaabil bana diya.
Jamal ae illahi, Jamil ae karam
Dushman kaun? kaun Dillagi?
Tanhaiyi ke mausam ne hume majboor bana diya
Gujre huye kal ke Dard ne jo khafa ke khat likhe the
Woh mano aj bebuniyad se lagne lage.
Kamil toh hum na baan paayen kabhi unke
Phir bhi khuda ne hume unke kaabil bana diya
Duniya ka nasehaat nahi kabool mujhe,
kyun ki woh log hume nahi jaante.
jo kabhi gujre na ho jalti unn andheri gaaliyon se
Woh kya jaane roshni main kitna andhera hai?
Hume na toloh apni jhoote zasbato se
Thak jaoge, par hume na samaj paonge.
Chalo, rehne do, aj ke liye bss itna hi
Raeth ka woh seesh mahal jo bachpan main dekha tha
Woh kya aj bhi intezar main hai uss leher ka
jisne kabhi, yunhi laut ke ka wada kiya tha.
Gujar jayoge tum bhi kabhi uss dhhondh ki tarah
Jo baarish main dhalti huyi dhoop ko saenk ta hai.
Yaad rakh na bss mujhe,
Apni aankhon mein, meri inn choti-moti lafzon se.

Dilemma


The childless mother soaked upon
The pity of an eternal loss
People say to move on with life
But when life is gone, what to mourn?
The crowd kept watch like hyening prey
In cahoot to the foolishness of a parody.
The lady tied to a tree, stripped forever
Of her ego, essence and existence
None had doubt that she was witch
Yet no one saw her cast the spell
A proud woman was made a hollow self
No one cared to question why?
A blind man from far wide North
in his melancholy dreams had a thought
For the sake of wealth a woman is toyed
Is money more bigger than a human life?
Laws are framed, years go by
Still the pain cedes never to end

The callous dreams of a foolish world
Never realizes it's dilemma to exist.

Just a Trip


On a curvy road to a bumpy wild
We all take the 'trip' frosty and foiled
With big dreams and hope of evergreen
We take a stand with mighty screams
As our bodies lie to its barest form
To be stared and judged is a weird norm
The joke of existence begins post this show
"The trip of a lifetime"- Its called you know.
We doze and laugh as ignorant fools
Picked and paused like bots and tools
Taught a faith, given a name to sport off
Treated like a little doll, who can burble and talk
Time ages us, as the "trip kicks off."
Mixed with peanut butter, jelly and sauce.
Meadows are towed as mountains are crossed
Retardation happens as innocence is lost
As screams of jobs takes the marching toll
The soldier within struggles to walk alone.
Like a banyan tree, we slowly age
Consumed by lust, loved and being caged.
Nothing to regret, nothing to hold on.
It's just a journey, to learn and move on.

Anindya Ganguly ðŸŒ¹(c) 2016, all rights reserved

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

A Christmas's Delight




In the early 19th century when Europe was at caught in the blitz of Wars and Revolution, it was a fine Christmas evening for Daniel Trevor and his family. It has been a tough time for the Trevor family. His wife's mother Muriel has come to visit their Stone-clad villa located at Plaghmoth, Austria for Christmas. She lived in London and inherited a Scottish ancestry. She orchestrated a perfect fusion of several cultures and heritage. Her steak of golden-white hair echoed her Scandinavian connections, her witty eyes and soft spoken manner reflected how well a Londoner she was and her modest and simple dressing style showered her Irish Scottish origin.


Daniel was half Irish and half Austrian unlike his wife Mary whose father, Charles was a British trader based in China.


Few months ago while his visit to India for his business Charles came across Miss Florentine, a Victorian doll at an auction in Calcutta which resembled to his mother, arbitrarily.


Muriel was surprised to find the beautiful doll and immediately without waiting for her husband's consent packed it in the bags for her granddaughter, Isabelle. She was travelling to her daughter next week via Vienna and the trip would take her six weeks.


She was very eager for the trip and has been planning what to give to whom for quite a bit of time. For his eldest grandson, John who loved to travel she has bought a sailor's uniform and small models of train and car. For her younger grandson, Henry who loved to write it was a Book called Magic of Christmas tales that she had bought as a gift.

Today morning was not as good as Daniel has anticipated. There has been floating news of an upcoming war up in the North and Trevor owned a bunch of factories there. On top of that Mary had a small argument in the brink of breakfast. She wants Daniel to sell his factories and start afresh in Asia since her father is willing to help them settle there. But Daniel doesn’t want to leave his homeland, his soil. He shares boxes and chests of memories which render warmth and happiness which are essential ingredients to life. The children have also been fighting for silly things like toys and gifts when the Daniel feels doubtful if this is their last peace raven Christmas before the Devil is let loose from the North. He felt tired and needed to escape these worries. So, he stepped out. Time ticked on, and before he would realise it was already ten past four in the afternoon. Daniel headed back with a red rose hidden under his big cloak, a gift for Mary, his love.

Flaunting a jumper inscribed with Moose and flaky snow all over the place, Henry paced towards her Granny with his big book of Delight. It was around five in the evening as Mary was busy in the kitchen preparing a massive dinner for the family.  “Danny is late for dinner.” Mary signed and kept on going with her usual cooking chores in the kitchen. The kids have gathered around Muriel shrouded by the warmth of a blinking fire place.

Snow has started to clutter at the door step when Daniel returned to his house with a late gift for Mary. He quietly entered through the rear door and tiptoed to the kitchen. Barney, their dog raised a lazy head to check the familiar smell and returned his daily schedule of two hours nap in the evening. And today it was warmer, the people and the scintillating warmth from the burning hearth made him lazy for even to bark at Daniel. But something else was churning in the room. A pair of curious eyes has been staring at the three children and their old baby-sitter for a couple of moments. Daniel felt glad to witness the scene. His children, who would usually quarrel for toys, food and many silly tantrums, today looked quite curious, happy and lost in their worlds of imagination under the care of their grandmother. He had never witness John to be so much involved while playing with his toys or Henry intently grasping every word Muriel was uttering. Isabelle was smiling with delight clasping to her grandmother’s gift with care. Daniel had to chuckle and he slowly edged towards the kitchen and tapped Mary’s shoulder silently. As Mary turned in response, Daniel launched a soft smooch to her lips and handed her the rose while planting a soft kiss on her palish fingers. Mary had already forgiven but still she loved Daniel for his comforting gestures like these. They had been married for over nine years but Daniel has not stopped to delight and surprise her even still.

Daniel signalled Mary to follow him towards the Hallway which sported a massive Fir tree. Mary frowned for a while but didn’t deter to her husband’s wish. After entering the room, she gasped in delight. Her three devils were quietly busy in their own lands of curious hymns. Mary almost cried in delight and thanked her mother for this feat. It was definitely a Christmas to remember.

P.S. The war soon broke out in Europe and the Trevor family had to move to US where they are settled now.



Claustrophilia


Living inside my worm hole of peace,
Confined by a parch of white
I seek no sympathy from the trailing world
That judges and doubts every existing thought
In the dilemma of dreams that they fail to possess.
My life is a shadowed misanthrope in tomb of desires
Painted by the whims of eternally glory
As I flinch and faint inside a cluttered cube
With nothing to regret to get me worried in the insipid world.
The nature pressingly clamps it's loving hands
Whenever I feel the urge to fly into the bunny's hole
If something wrong goes in my superficial existence
The cuckoo croons its melody with tear-stained eyes.
I play with words in my broken town made of alphabetic walls
Scrambling in the pandemic shawls of a psychedelic's paradise
Moments are stagnated within the paradigms of black and white
Whispering in a soft voices of grief, tampering with my mind.
This box is my home and my notions are set with straight curves
Never dithered by the lame withering apolitical views
People who don't live it shouldn't care any less or more
Since my life is a paradox of non-nonsensical symphonies.