Saturday, May 30, 2020

Five Poems

Social distancing got me scrolling through my old diary of poems from high school and college days. I think teenager me would high-five grown-up me for digitalizing these amateur writings! It feels amazing that some of these feelings from the early 2000s are still relevant and relatable today! But most importantly, it's a sheer nostalgia to revisit the poems, like listening to an old song that brings an exact moment from the past. Be it from a college canteen, classroom, or hostel, for a split second, I could feel the presence of my younger version and the instantaneous thought process going behind the lines. Without any further digression, here are five poems in chronological order, among which two of them (4th and 5th) were written in classroom backbenches 🙈🙈🙈

A page from the diary of poems!





āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦāĻ•াāĻĒ āĻ•্āϰিāĻ•েāϟ ⧍ā§Ļā§Ļā§Š (2003)

āφāĻĢ্āϰিāĻ•াāϰ āϤিāύāϟি āĻĻেāĻļেāϰ āύাāĻŽীāĻĻাāĻŽী āĻļāĻšāϰ
āϏেāĻ–াāύেāχ āĻŦāϏেāĻ›িāϞ āĻāĻŦাāϰ āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦāĻ•াāĻĒেāϰ āφāϏāϰ
āĻ…ংāĻļ āύি⧟েāĻ›িāϞ āĻŽোāϟ āϚোāĻĻ্āĻĻāϟি āĻĻেāĻļ
āϤাāχāϤো āĻ–েāϞাāĻ—ুāϞো āϜāĻŽেāĻ›িāϞো āĻŦেāĻļ
āϞাāϰাāϰ āĻĻাāĻĒāϟে āĻšāϞো āĻ–েāϞাāϰ āωāĻĻ্āĻŦোāϧāύ
āĻĻ্āĻŦিāϤী⧟ āĻŽ্āϝাāϚে āĻšেāϰে āĻ­াāϰāϤ āĻ•āϰāϞো āĻ›āύ্āĻĻāĻĒāϤāύ
āĻ•েāύি⧟া āϚāĻŽāĻ•āĻĒ্āϰāĻĻ āĻ•াāϜāĻ–াāύি āĻ•āϰে
āĻĒোāϞāĻ•āϰা āϏāϟাāύ āĻĒ্āϰāĻĨāĻŽ āϰাāωāύ্āĻĄেāχ āϏāϰে
āĻŦিāϧ্āĻŦংāϏী McGrath Leeāϰা āĻ•āϰে āϰাāϜāϤ্āĻŦ
āĻĒাāĻ•িāϏ্āϤাāύেāϰ āĻšাāϰ āĻšā§Ÿ āĻ­াāϰāϤ āĻĒ্āϰāĻĻāϤ্āϤ
āχāϤিāĻšাāϏ āĻ—ā§œāϞো āϏāϚিāύেāϰ ā§¯ā§Ž
āĻ›āϟি āĻĻেāĻļ āĻŦ⧟ে āϚāϞāϞো Super Six āĻāϰ āĻŽāχ
āĻ…āĻŦāĻļেāώে āĻāϞো āϏেāχāĻĻিāύ āĻŽাāϰ্āϚ ā§¨ā§Š āĻļে
āĻĒāύ্āϟিং āĻ•āϰāϞেāύ āϜাāĻšিāϰāĻĻেāϰ āĻ–ুāύ āϏāĻŽ্āϰাāϟেāϰ āĻŦেāĻļে
āϏেāύাāĻĒāϤি āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ•াāϜ āĻ­াāϰী āϜāĻŽাāϞেāύ āĻŽাāϰ্āϟিāύ
āĻļāϤāĻ•োāϟিāϰ āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻি⧟ে āϞীāύ
ā§§ā§¯ā§Žā§Šāϰ āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦāϜ⧟ āĻŽāύে āĻĒ⧜āϞো
āĻ­াāϰāϤী⧟ āĻ…āĻļ্āϰুāϧাāϰা āĻ­ূāĻĒāϤিāϤ āĻšāϞ
āĻŽিāĻļ্āϰ āĻ…āύুāĻ­ূāϤিāϤে āĻŦিāĻĻা⧟ āϜাāύাāϞো āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦāĻ•াāĻĒেāϰ āĻšাāϤ
⧍ā§Ļā§Ļā§­ āĻ āĻ“ā§ŸেāϏ্āϟ āχāύ্āĻĄিāϜ āĻ āĻĢেāϰ āĻšāĻŦে āϏাāĻ•্āώাā§Ž

āϘূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻĒাāĻ• (2003)

āϏ্āύিāĻ—্āϧ āĻŦাāϤাāϏ āĻŦ⧟েāĻ›ে āϝে āϚāϞে
āĻŽাāύুāώāϜāύ āϘāϰāĻŦা⧜ি āϏāĻ•āϞāĻ•ে āĻāχ āĻŦāϞে
āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟ে āϜাāĻ—ি⧟ে āĻ…āĻĻ্āĻ­ুāϤ āĻ…āύুāĻ­ূāϤি
āĻŽাāύāϏিāĻ•āϤাāϰ āϘāϟি⧟ে āϚāĻž্āϚāϞ āϚ্āϝুāϤি
āϏুāĻĻূāϰ āχāϰাāĻ• āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻāϏেāĻ›ে āϝে āĻŦাāĻŖী
āĻĒৌঁāĻ›ে āĻĻেāĻŦে āĻ•ে āĻāχ āĻŦাāϰ্āϤাāĻ–াāύি
āϏাāĻŽ্āĻĒ্āϰāĻĻা⧟িāĻ•āϤা⧟ āφāĻ•্āϰাāύ্āϤ āĻŽোāϰা āϏāĻŦ āϜাāϤ
āφāĻŽāϰাāχ āϘāϟাāϚ্āĻ›ি āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖেāϰ āϝāĻŦāύিāĻ•াāĻĒাāϤ
āĻŦ⧟ে āϚāϞে āĻĒāĻŦāύ āĻ…āϤীāϤāĻ•ে āϘিāϰে
āĻŦিāĻŦāϰ্āϤāύ āĻĒ্āϰāĻļ্āύ āĻ•āϰে āĻ–ুāĻŦāχ āϧীāϰে āϧীāϰে
āĻŦিāϜ্āĻžাāύেāϰ āωāύ্āύāϤি āϚুāĻĒি āĻĻে⧟ āωঁāĻ•ি
āφāϧুāύিāĻ•āϤা āφāĻŦাāϰ āύে⧟āύি āĻ•োāύো āĻুঁāĻ•ি
āϤাāχ āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻšাāϏেāύ āĻĻেāĻŦāϤা āĻ•āϞ্āĻ•ি
'āĻ•েāĻŽāύ āĻĻেāĻ–াāĻ›ি āφāĻŽি āϝুāĻ—েāϰ āĻ­েāϞ্āĻ•ি?'
āĻŽāύāĻŽā§œা āĻŦাāϤাāϏেāϰ āφāϰ āĻ াঁāχ āύাāχ
āϘূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻĒাāĻ•ে āĻĒাāĻ• āĻĻি⧟ে āϚ⧜াāχ āĻ‰ā§Žāϰাāχ
'āϝāĻĻি āĻĒাāϰিāϰে āϏ্āĻŦāϞ্āĻĒ āĻŦাāϰ্āϤা āĻļোāύাāϤে
āϐāĻ•্āϝ āϝāĻĻি āφāύāϤে āĻĒাāϰি āĻŦিāĻŦিāϧ āϜাāϤে
āĻĒাāϰি āϝāĻĻি āφāύāϤে āĻŽāĻšাāĻĒুāϰুāώāĻ•ে
āĻĻিāϤে āφāĻŽি āϰāĻ•্āϤ āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦেāϰ āĻĢুāϏāĻĢুāϏāĻ•ে
āϝāĻĻি āĻĒাāϰি āĻĨাāĻŽাāϤে āύāϰāĻŽেāϧ āĻŦāϞি
āĻļাāύ্āϤিāĻ•ে āϏāĻ™্āĻ—ে āύি⧟ে āĻŽৃāĻĻুāĻŽāύ্āĻĻ āϚāϞি
āĻšāχ āĻĻিāĻļেāĻšাāϰা āϜ⧜ āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāĻ•ে āĻĒেāϞে
āϘূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻĒাāĻ•ে āϏ্āĻŦāϏ্āϤি āĻĒাāχ āĻে⧜ে āĻŽুāĻ›ে āĻĢেāϞে'


āĻ…āύ্āϤāϰāύ (2004)

āĻ•্āϝাāύ্āϟিāύ āĻāϰ āĻ—āϰāĻŽ āĻ•āĻĢিāϰ āϧোঁ⧟া⧟
āϞুāϚি āĻ›েঁ⧜াāϰ āφāĻ™্āĻ—ুāϞ āĻŽাāĻে
āϚāĻļāĻŽাāϚোāĻ–েāϰ āύিāĻŦি⧜āϤāϞে
āĻ•াঁāĻ াāϞāĻ—াāĻ›েāϰ āϏāĻŦুāϜ āĻŦুāĻ•ে
āĻŦাāϤা⧟āύেāϰ āĻ“āχ āĻĒাāϰে
āĻাāĻĒāϏা āĻ›āĻŦি āĻĢুāϟে āĻ“āĻ ে
āϚোāĻ–েāϰ āĻ­াāώা⧟ āύীāϰāĻŦāϤা⧟
āϏুāĻĒ্āϤ āχāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻ“āχ āĻĻেāĻ–া āϝা⧟
āĻ‰ā§œাāύ āϘু⧜িāϰ āĻĒ⧜াāϰ āϭ⧟ে
āύাāĻ—āϰāĻĻোāϞাāϰ āϘূāϰ্āĻŖিāĻĒাāĻ•ে
āύāĻĻীāϰ āϏ্āϰোāϤে āĻ“āχ āĻ­েāϏে āϝা⧟
āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āϤাāϤে āĻŦাāύ  āφāϏে
āĻ•াāϰ āĻ•ি āĻŦা āϝা⧟ āφāϏে!
āϘু⧜ি āϤāĻŦু āĻ‰ā§œāϤে āĻĨাāĻ•ে
āφāĻ™্āĻ—ুāϞ āϞুāϚি āĻ›িāύ্āύ āĻ•āϰে
āϧোঁ⧟াāϰ āφঁāϚ āĻ•āĻŽāϤে āĻĨাāĻ•ে
āϚোāĻ–েāϰ āĻ­াāώা āύীāϰāĻŦāχ āĻĨাāĻ•ে
āĻ•াāϰ āĻ•ি āĻŦা āϝা⧟ āφāϏে!


āĻ…āĻŦāϰোāϧ (2005)

āĻ•াāύ্āύাāĻ­েāϜা āϚোāĻ–েāϰ āϚাāĻšāύি
āĻŦুāĻ• āϚেāĻĒে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āφāϰ্āϤāύাāĻĻ
āύিāĻŦেāĻĻিāϤ āĻ…āĻĒāϞāĻ• āĻĻৃāώ্āϟি
āĻāϏāĻŦেāϰāχ āϘāύ āϘāύ āĻāϞāĻ•াāύি
āϤāĻŦু āĻ•োāĻĨাāĻ•াāϰ āĻāĻ• āĻŦাঁāĻļāĻŦāύ
āφঁāĻ•া āĻŦাঁāĻ•া āφāĻ™িāύা
āϘুāϰে āφāϏে āĻĢিāϰে āφāϏে āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āϜাāύিāύা
āϏাāĻŽāύে āĻ—āĻŖিāϤ āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻ…āĻ—āĻŖিāϤ
āϏংāĻ–্āϝাāϰ āĻ…āĻŦাāϧ āĻŦিāϚāϰāĻŖ
āĻŽিāϞি⧟ে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻŦিāĻ•েāϞāĻŦেāϞা⧟
āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖ āĻĄাāĻ•ে āĻ†ā§Ÿ
āϤāĻŦু āĻĨāĻŽāĻ•ে āĻĨাāĻ•ে āĻĒা, āϤাāχ āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āĻĨাāĻ•ি...


āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ (2005)

āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ
āϝেāĻĻিāύ āύিāĻ­ে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āϏূāϰ্āϝ
āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϰ āϏāĻŦ āφāϞো āĻĢিāϰে āĻĒাāĻŦে āĻŦāϞে

āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ
āϝেāĻĻিāύ āϏেāχ āύāĻŦাāύ্āύেāϰ āϘ্āϰাāĻŖ
āĻ—্āϰাāĻŽেāϰ āĻĒāĻĨে āĻĒāĻĨে āϏুāĻŦাāϏ āĻ›ā§œাāĻŦে āĻŦāϞে

āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ
āϝেāĻĻিāύ āϏৃāώ্āϟিāϰ āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা
āĻĻ্āĻŦেāώ āύ⧟ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽ āĻŽāύে āĻšāĻŦে āĻŦāϞে

āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ
āϝেāĻĻিāύ āϚেāϤāύাāϰ āĻŦāϞ⧟েāϰ āύিāϜāĻ—ুāύে
āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻ…āύāĻŦāύāĻŽāύে āĻĒৌঁāĻ›ে āϝাāĻŦে āĻŦāϞে

āφāϜো āĻŽাāύুāώ āĻŦেঁāϚে āφāĻ›ে
āφāϜো āĻŽাāύুāώ āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ āĻĻেāĻ–ে
āφāϜো āϏেāχ āϜীāĻŦāύāĻ•āĻŦিāϰ āĻ­াāĻŦāύা āĻŦাāϰāĻŦাāϰ āϘুāϰে āφāϏে
āφāϜো āϤাāχ āĻ•েāω āĻ•েāω āĻ•āĻŦি āĻšāϤে āϚা⧟
āφāϜো āϤাāχ āĻ•েāω āĻ•েāω āĻ•āĻŦিāϤা āϞেāĻ–ে




Monday, April 20, 2020

Endless

Finally, it's time for the second poem of the year. The title is inspired by the 2009 Bengali movie of the same name "Antaheen...". Metaphorically, the central idea is similar to someone in lockdown, going through endless mixed emotions in the landscape of the past, present, and future while embracing the uncertainty of life. I am thankful to the readers of my previous poem who encouraged me to write more. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome. Please continue to stay safe and healthy everyone!


Frantically running downtown
Dodging a thousand bullets
Infinite second chances 
A million stumbles later
I walked up the vanishing path
Catching my breath letting it all go

Staring through a series of flashbacks
My mind travels backward
Countless narrow escapes
Untold comebacks later
My racing heart nears a vantage
Bursting into tears letting it all flow

Fast forward to a frozen wish
I wake up numb at a question mark
My scattered words
Fighting an awkward wind
My empty brain cries out a shout
On a wild day letting it all blow

Back to the present day 

Hitting an old dusty trail
Making a way through the wilderness 
I meet your ocean eyes 
My reckless soul stands still 
With a dazzling sunrise letting it all glow


P.S. The overall narrative of the first two stanzas is inspired by a 2018 Bollywood song sequence from the movie "Blackmail", especially the last 2 minutes or so that elevates to a surreal level of ecstasy matching the heartbeat of a broken heart and the insanity of a devastated soul all captured beautifully in a short sequence of distraught run.



Wednesday, January 22, 2020

Na Hanyate (It Does Not Die)

After 8 long years, it's time to get back on the horse. The title of this amateur poem is inspired by the famous 1974 novel of the same name by Maitreyi Devi. This is also my very first attempt at writing poetry in English. I want to thank everyone who provided early feedback on the initial version which is very much appreciated. Without further ado, here goes the poem 'Na Hanyate'.

Love is often contradictory in nature as the saying goes
'Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur'.
Thanks to a friend for this one.

Let's not ignore the red flags anymore

                    For heaven's sake - for our own sake - let's not make it a chore

I mean this was a long time coming
                    You know it deep down 'coz you're strong and wise
As much as I'd like to believe we can restore our fate
                    Let's not gamble anymore and absolutely not roll the dice

Do we owe each other an apology? May be but who cares?

                    Let's not lose ourselves in quest of a closure
Some things in life are too good to be true
                    Let's not play the blame game 'coz there is never a winner

Let's not avoid the warnings any longer

                    For heaven's sake - for our own sake - let's not make it a daily banter

As ironic as it may sound the onus is on me for letting you down
                    I've always learned the hard way now I know love doesn't conquer
I must admit the heartbreaks caught me completely off guard
                    I can't promise to heal your wounds but I truly wish you recover

For one, we could not afford happiness among other earthly treasures
                    Let's agree to disagree but not at the expense of each other
I feel sick to my stomach taking a stroll down the memory lane
                    My future is uncertain but I'm certain we're never getting back together

Let’s not take each other for granted - not even a tiny bit

                    For heaven's sake - for our own sake - let’s not make it a habit

We have come a long way through dust and darkness
                    Little did we know we were headed for a miserable fall
Two drowning people can only drag each other down
                    Let's not be vulnerable and let's not sympathize at all

I low-key hope that we will together go miles in our next life

                    With a much better version of us meant to be together
I hope you won’t mind if I finally win you over
                    Let's then be madly in love - made and mad for each other

Until then, let’s not neglect our total failure as a pair

                    For heaven's sake - for our own sake - let’s not pretend we have a future

It must feel good to dream of an alternate reality full of hopes

                    'Coz love makes you strong and unrequited love stronger
Sometimes, I am left shivering thinking of our happy times
                    But hey, we had a good run and nothing great lasts forever

I get to write this now without any regrets

  'Coz you were unapologetically you in pulling the trigger
Don't get me wrong it's a dream come true to be a part of your life
                    We crushed our dreams but let's not crush each other

Let’s not be held at gunpoint as a begging gesture

                    For heaven's sake - for our own sake - let's not make it an everyday affair

A scene from the movie Fanaa (2006).
We failed as a couple, let's not fail as a solo traveler in this journey called life.

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Hunger Strike!

After a long long time, I am posting something here. This was written on the occasion of a friend's birthday back in 2004. I was so 'full' of happiness that I realized that I am not even feeling hungry as I am 'fully loaded' with joy. No wonder, I celebrated the occasion with a poem by succumbing to an intentional hunger strike. The festive mood formed the basis of this amateur writing :)              


                                    

āĻ…āύāĻļāύ 

āωāĻĒোāĻļ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āφāĻŽি 
āĻš্āϝা , āφāĻŽি āωāĻĒোāĻļ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āφāϜ !

āφāĻ•াāĻļāĻ•োāϞে āĻŽেāϘāĻŦাāϞিāĻ•াāϰা āφāϜ 
āĻĒাāĻ—āϞ āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āϤীāĻŦ্āϰ āĻĒ্āϰেāĻŽেāϰ āĻ­াāώা⧟
āϰāύ্āϧ্āϰে āϰāύ্āϧ্āϰে āĻ“āĻĻেāϰ āĻ›ā§œাāϚ্āĻ›ে āφāĻŦেāĻļ 
āϰোāĻĻāĻŦাāϞāĻ•েāϰ āϤāϰে āĻŽিāϞāύেāϰ āφāĻļা⧟ 

āωāĻĢ! āĻ•ি āĻ•্āώুāϧাāϰ্āϤ āύা āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āφāϜ 
āϏ্āĻŦāĻĒ্āύ-āχāϚ্āĻ›ে-āωāώ্āĻŖāϤাāĻ•ে āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻĒেāϤে āϚা⧟ 
āĻŽৃāĻĻু āϟোāĻ•া⧟ āĻিāĻŽি⧟ে āĻĒāϰা āϞāϜ্āϜাāĻŦāϤী 
āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖāĻĒুāϰুāώেāϰ āϏ্āĻĒāϰ্āĻļে āϜেāĻ—ে āϝেāϤে āϚা⧟ 

āφāĻļ্āϚāϰ্āϝ! āĻ“āϰা āĻŽুāĻĻে āϝা⧟ āύা āφāϰ !
āύা, āĻ“āϰা āĻŽুāĻĻে āϝা⧟ āύা āφāϰ !

āĻ…āĻŽাāĻŦāϏ্āϝাāĻ­āϰা āϰাāϤেāϰ āϤিāĻŽিāϰে āφāϜ 
āĻĻিāĻļেāĻšাāϰা āϤাāϰাāĻ—ুāϞো āύিāĻ­āϤে āύাāϰাāϜ
āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖāĻŽāύে āφāύāĻŽāύে āĻ“āϰা āĻĒাāĻ• āĻ–া⧟ 
āĻŦিāύ্āĻĻুāϏāĻ™্āĻ—āĻŽে āĻĒৌāĻ›ে āϝেāϤে āϚা⧟ 

āωāĻĢ! āĻ•ি āĻ…āĻŦুāĻ āύা āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āφāϜ 
āύিāϜেāĻ•ে āϏāĻĒেāĻ›ে āφāĻĻāϰেāϰ āĻ—āĻ­ীāϰāϤা⧟ 
āφāĻšা! āĻ•āĻŦে āĻ•ে āĻ•োāĻĨা⧟ āĻĒে⧟েāĻ›ে āĻāĻŽāύ āĻĢুāϞāĻļāϝ্āϝাāϰ āϏাāϜ 
āĻĒ্āϰি⧟āϜāύেāϰ āύেāĻļা⧟ āĻŽাāϤাāϞ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ›ে⧜েāĻ›ে āϏāϰ্āĻŦāϞাāϜ 

āĻŦিāύ্āĻĻুāĻŽাāϤ্āϰ āφāĻĒোāϏ āĻ•āϰেāύি āφāϜ !
āύা, āĻ“āϰা āφāĻĒোāϏ āĻ•āϰেāύি āφāϜ !

āωāĻĒোāĻļ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āφāĻŽি 
āĻš্āϝা āφāĻŽি āωāĻĒোāĻļ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āφāϜ!

Sunday, October 7, 2012

A Momentary Moment

                                
Sometimes some unexpected phenomenon happens that changes our mood completely for good or bad. In my case, it was for good. It was a pleasant afternoon when a commonplace yet extraordinary, momentary yet ecstatic, regular yet exciting moment happened and the aftereffect was the following :)

āĻ•্āώāĻŖিāĻ•া

āĻāĻ•াāĻ•ী āĻĻাঁ⧜ি⧟ে āĻ›িāϞাāĻŽ āϚৌāϰাāϏ্āϤাāϰ āĻŽো⧜ে
āφāĻ•াāĻļেāϰ āĻŽেāϘāĻ—ুāϞো āϏāĻŦ āϝাāϚ্āĻ›িāϞ āϏāϰে āϏāϰে
āĻŦিāĻ•েāϞেāϰ āĻŽৃāĻĻু āĻšাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻŦāχāĻ›িāϞ āϧীāϰে
āϏāĻšāϏা āĻ•ি āĻĻেāĻ–িāϞাāĻŽ āĻ“āχ āĻŽাāύāĻŦীāϰে
āĻ—ā§œি⧟াāϰ āĻŽো⧜ āĻšāϤে āφāϏিāϤেāĻ›িāϞ āĻšাঁāϟি
āĻ­াāĻŦিāϞাāĻŽ āĻĻিāύ āĻŦুāĻি āĻšāχāϞো āύা āĻŽাāϟি
āĻ•ি āĻ­āϰ āĻ•āϰিāϞ āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āĻŽāύেāϤে
āĻĻুāϜāύে āĻĒাāĻļাāĻĒাāĻļি āϚāϞিāϞাāĻŽ āĻĒāĻĨেāϤে
āĻ āĻ•েāĻŽāύ āϰূāĻĒāϏী āĻāĻŽāύ āĻĒāϰিāĻĒাāϟি
āĻ•োāύো āĻ•āĻĨা āĻšāχāϞো āύা āĻ•েāĻŦāϞ āϤাāĻ•াāϤাāĻ•ি
āĻāĻŽāύ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āĻĒāĻĨ āĻŦুāĻি āĻĢুāϰাāχāϞ āφāϏি
āĻĻিāĻ—āύ্āϤে āĻĻিāĻŦাāĻ•āϰ āĻ…āϏ্āϤ āĻ—েāϞ āĻšাāϏি
āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒāĻĨ āϧāϰিāϞ āύা, āϚāϞে āĻĒāĻĨাāύ্āϤāϰে
āφāϰ āĻĻেāĻ–া āĻšāχāϞো āύা āϚিāϰāĻ•াāϞাāύ্āϤāϰে |

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Chlorophyl




Chlorophyl



āĻŽāύāĻ•েāĻŽāύেāϰ āϰং āύাāĻ•ি āϏāĻŦুāϜ
āĻ“āϰ āĻ—োāϟা āĻļāϰীāϰ āϜুāĻĄ়ে āϤীāĻŦ্āϰ āϜāϞোāϚ্āĻ›াāϏেāϰ āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻ
āφāϰ্āϤāύাāĻĻেāϰ āĻ•াāϞো āϰং āĻ“ āĻŽাāĻĄ়িāϝ়েāĻ›ে āĻ…āύাāϝ়াāϏে
āĻāĻŦāĻĄ়ো āĻ–েāĻŦāĻĄ়ো āĻĒāĻĨেāϰ āĻšāĻĻিāϏ āĻ“ āϜাāύে
āϤাāχ āĻšাāϜাāϰ āĻŦāĻ›āϰেāϰ āϰāĻ•্āϤাāĻ•্āϤ āĻĒāĻĨ āĻĒেāϰিāϝ়ে
āĻŦāϜ্āϰāĻ•āĻ িāύ āύি:āϏ্āϤāĻŦ্āϧāϤাāĻ•েāχ āφঁāĻ•āĻĄ়ে āϧāϰেāĻ›ে āĻĒ্āϰাāĻŖāĻĒāύে |

āĻŽāύāĻ•েāĻŽāύেāϰ āϰং āĻŦুāĻি āϏāĻŦুāϜ
āĻāĻ•āĻŦুāĻ• āĻ…āĻ­িāĻŽাāύেāϰ āύীāϞ āĻ“āϰ āϰāύ্āϧ্āϰে āϰāύ্āϧ্āϰে
āĻŦিāώাāĻ•্āϤ āĻŽাāϝ়াāĻ•াāύ্āύা āĻ“āϰ āĻ—āĻš্āĻŦāϰে āĻ—āĻš্āĻŦāϰে
āϞুāĻ•োāϚুāϰিāϰ āφāĻĻৌāĻĒাāύ্āϤ āĻ“ āϜাāύে
āϤাāχ āύৃāĻļংāϏ āωāώ্āĻŖāϤাāϰ āĻ­াāώা āĻāĻĄ়িāϝ়ে
āĻļাāύ্āϤāĻļীāϤāϞ āύীāϰāĻŦāϤাāĻ•েāχ āĻŦāύ্āϧু āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ে āĻ—োāĻĒāύে |

āĻŽāύāĻ•েāĻŽāύেāϰ āϰং āĻšāϝ়āϤো āϏāĻŦুāϜ
āĻ–াāĻĻেāϰ āĻ•িāύাāϰাāϰ āϧূāϏāϰ āĻ“āϰ āύাāĻ•ে āĻŽুāĻ–ে
āύিāϰ্āϞāϜ্āϜ āϚাāĻ“āϝ়া āĻĒাāĻ“āϝ়া āĻ“āϰ āĻ…āϤীāϤে āĻ…āϤীāϤে
āĻļূāύ্āϝāϤাāϰ āĻšাāϤāĻ›াāύি āĻ“ āϜাāύে
āϤাāχ āϏāĻŦ āĻĻীāϰ্āϘāĻļ্āĻŦাāϏেāϰ āĻĒāϰ, āϏāĻŦ āĻ…āύ্āϧāĻ•াāϰ āĻĒেāϰিāϝ়ে
āĻ•্āϞাāύ্āϤ āύাāĻŦিāĻ•েāϰ āĻŽāϤ āĻĒাāĻĄ়ি āĻĻিāϝ়েāĻ›ে āφāϞোāϰ āϏāύ্āϧাāύে |

āĻŽāύāĻ•েāĻŽāύেāϰ āϰং āĻšāϞ āϏāĻŦুāϜ
āĻāĻ•āĻĻāϞ chlorophyl āĻ“āϰ āύিāϰ্āϝাāϏ!
āĻŽৃāĻĻুāĻŽāύ্āĻĻ āĻŦাāϤাāϏেāϰ āĻļিāĻšāϰāύ āĻ“āϰ āϜāĻ āϰে
āφāĻ•াāĻļ āĻ“āϰ āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻ•āĻĨা āϜাāύে
āϤাāχ āĻ…āĻ­াāĻ—া āĻļিāĻļুāϰ āĻŽāϤ āĻāĻ• āĻ…āϏāĻšাāϝ় āĻŦিāĻ•েāϞে
āϘāύ āϏāĻŦুāϜ āĻ—াāĻ›েāϰ āĻ›াāϝ়াāϝ় āĻŽাāϝ়েāϰ āĻ•োāϞ āĻ–ুঁāϜেāĻ›ে āϏāĻŽাāύে |




Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Poetic Expressions from My Days in Birmingham





In case, you are unable to decipher the inner meaning of this poetry, the above saying by Rocky Balboa should make 'poetic justice' to this poem! :)


āχāϚ্āĻ›েāĻŦāϞি

āφāĻŽি āφāĻ—াāĻŽ āĻĒāĻĨ āϚāϞেāĻ›ি āĻĻুāϰ্āĻ—āĻŽ āĻ…āĻ­িāϝাāύে
āĻāĻ•āĻাঁāĻ• āϏāĻŽā§Ÿেāϰ āĻ…āϏāĻŽ āĻŦ্āϝāĻŦāϧাāύে |
āϘুāĻŽ āĻ­েāĻ™্āĻ—েāĻ›ে āφāĻŽাāϰ, āĻā§œেāϰ āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŦাāĻ­াāϏে
āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟ āύিং⧜েāĻ›ি, āĻāĻ• āĻ…āύাāĻŦিāϞ āĻŦিāĻļ্āĻŦাāϏে |
āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻ āĻ–ুঁāϜে āĻĒাāχāύি āφāĻŽি, āĻšাāϰি⧟ে āĻ—েāĻ›ি āĻ…āĻ­িāϧাāύে
āϜ⧜ো āĻšā§ŸেāĻ›ে āĻāϰাāĻĒাāϤাāϰা, āϏা⧜া āĻĒা⧟āύি āφāĻšāĻŦাāύে |

āφāĻŽি āϏুāϰ āĻŦেঁāϧেāĻ›ি āφāϰ্āϤāύাāĻĻে, āĻ—াāύ āĻ—েāϝ়েāĻ›ি āĻŦিāĻ­ীāώিāĻ•াāϝ়
āĻ›েঁāĻĄ়া āĻĒাāϞāĻ•ে āĻ­āϰ āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি, āĻŽিāϞি⧟ে āĻ—েāĻ›ি āĻŽāϰীāϚিāĻ•াāϝ় |
āĻ­াāϏাāύ āĻšāϝ়েāĻ›ি āϜāϞোāϚ্āĻ›াāϏে, āϚোāϰাāĻ—āϞিāϰ āĻĒাāĻ—āϞāĻĒাāĻĄ়াāϝ়
āϰোāĻĻে āĻĒুāĻĄ়েāĻ›ি āĻŦৃāώ্āϟিāĻ­āϝ়ে, āĻ•্āϞাāύ্āϤ āφāĻŽি āĻ•োāĻĨাāϝ় āĻšাāϰাāχ !
āϏ্āĻĒāϰ্āĻļ āĻ–ুঁāϜে āĻĒাāχāύি āφāĻŽি, āĻ­েāϏ্āϤে āĻ—েāĻ›ি āφāϝ়োāϜāύে
āϜ⧜ো āĻ•āϰেāĻ›ি āĻĒাāύ্āĻĄুāϞিāĻĒি, āϏাāĻĄ়া āĻĒাāχāύি āĻĒ্āϰāϝ়োāϜāύে |

āϚোāϰাāϏ্āϰোāϤে āϘāϰ āĻŦেঁāϧেāĻ›ি, āĻšোāĻ• āύা āϝāϤāχ āĻĒ্āϰāϤিāĻ•ূāϞ
āĻĢিāϰে āĻĒেāϝ়েāĻ›ি āχāϚ্āĻ›ে āĻ•িāĻ›ু, āĻšাāϰ āĻŽেāύেāĻ›ে āĻŦāĻĻ্āϧāĻŽূāϞ |
āĻšাāϤ āϧāϰেāĻ›ে āϏোāĻšাāĻ—েāϰা āφāϜ, āĻŦিāϞীāύ āĻšāϝ়েāĻ›ে āĻĒিāĻ›ুāϟাāύ,
āϚোāϰাāĻŦাāϞি āĻĒāĻĨ āĻšাāϰাāϞে, āĻ­াāϞāĻŦাāϏাāϰা āĻ—াāχāĻŦে āĻ—াāύ |
āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖ āĻšāϞো āϜীāĻŦāύāĻĒাāϤ্āϰ, āĻ āĻ•োāύ āϏāĻž্āϜীāĻŦāύী āĻŽāύ্āϤ্āϰে !
āϜ⧜ো āĻšāϝ়েāĻ›ে āχāϚ্āĻ›েāĻ—ুāϞো, āĻŽāϰেāύি āώāĻĄ়āϝāύ্āϤ্āϰে....