in between

In between

in between
a mom's lullaby
and the world's goodbye

lies one's life,
the chariot unable
to be subdued
in a line

it slips, it falls, it trips,
it drops, it hops, it flops

much before it's over
one wakes up
from sleep to discover

the game wasn't
a cakewalk,
a sleepwalker's
nightmare

in between
hope and despair

 

entre la vie 

entre la berceuse
d’une mère
et l’adieu du monde, 

se tient la vie de chacun
ce char, impossible
à réduire à une ligne, 

glisse, trébuche,
tombe, se trompe,
chute, puis saute. 

bien avant que
tout ne soit fini,

on se réveille d’un
sommeil — et l’on découvre
que le jeu n’était pas
un divertissement,
mais le cauchemar
d’un somnambule. 

entre l’espoir
et le désespoir

জীবনের মধ্যে 

মায়ের ঘুমপাড়ানি গান
আর পৃথিবীর বিদায়ের মাঝে 

চলে জীবনের পথ,
একটি বাধ্য লাইনে
সীমাবদ্ধ থাকার রথ
সে নয়

পিছলে পড়ে, আঁছড়ে পড়ে,
হামলে পড়ে, ঝাঁপিয়ে পড়ে,
উল্টে পাল্টে যায়, হোঁচট খায়

শেষ হবার আগেই বুঝতে পারে
সে নিদ্রাচ্ছন্ন বিভীষিকার
স্বপ্নের থেকে জেগে 

যে সে খেলা নিছক সহজ ছিল না 

সে বোঝে যে ঘুরপাক খাচ্ছিল সে

আশা এবং নিরাশার মধ্যে  

End of Sufferings

turn inward,
not to the page of thought,
but to the still white silence
behind the thought—
suffering fades
like stars at dawn

not conquered,
not destroyed—
only seen for what it is:
a mist of dreams,
drifting over a sea
that’s unmoving, at ease

the body aches,
the mind stirs,
the world arrives in a
thousand disguises
to tempt, to frighten, to bind—
but these are only waves
on the surface of the
unbroken mirror
that you are

you are not the body,
you never were
though you dwell in its house
you are not the mind,
though it weaves the
illusion of you
you are awareness itself—
clear, formless, unborn

the moment you forget this,
you wander—
into time, into fear,
into stories that break
your heart and remake it,
only to break it again

this is samsara—
the spinning wheel
of names and forms,
of endless becoming,
tireless transactions
with no arrival, no departure

but pause
be still
let the noise pass.

sink into that which notices
the seer, the witness
not what is seen,
but the seeing
not the thought,
but the space it rises from
not even the breath,
but the stillness in which it moves

and here what you hear—
there is no suffering
no you to suffer
only the vast,
infinite,
freedom
of being

let the world whirl
you have remembered
you have returned
from the face in the glass
to your loving trace
by the shining light
an incessant grace

Bodhamātra (awareness alone)

In the dim glow of the theater,
the screen flickers, shadows dance—
a play unfolds, or perhaps a film,
and you, the audience, sit in silence,
watching lives unravel, dreams collide,
yet you remain untouched, an observer

the world spins on, scenes painted in anguish,
joy, laughter, and the weight of despair,
but amidst the chaos, you breathe,
an unseen spirit,
unraveled from the story,
held aloft by awareness,
which knows no binds

the mind is a tangled web,
clutching at threads of desire,
woven with fear and longing,
grasping tightly to moments,
yet losing sight of the ceaseless flow,
while awareness floats,
a silent spectator,
a still pond reflecting the stars,
unmoved by the storm

consider the mother, the newborn
cradled in dreams,
lost in the soft embrace of slumber,
her heart wide, yet her eyes closed,
detached in the sweetest reverie,
holding love without possession,
understanding without grasping

in this great production of lives and times,
you are a single gaze,
perhaps teary or joyful,
but never entwined in the narrative,
a distant star watching,
illuminating the path for
those caught in the fray
let the story unfold, let the
actors embrace their fate,
for in their struggle, you find
the mirror of your soul,
fragile yet fierce, alive yet apart
and as the curtain falls,
remember, it was never about
being in the scene,
but in knowing the dance,
the gentle ebb and flow of existence,
the essence of being—
always observing, always aware,
free in the joy of detachment

you are only awareness
alone,
you are neither the mind,
nor are you mind and
awareness, you cannot
be a horse and a donkey,
an orange and an apple,
you are only the apple,
the apple alone  

In a World Where

in a world where shadows
stretch and bend, 
we gather treasures,
thinking they’ll never end 
fingers clutch at memories,
hearts held tight, 
yet the whispers of time
scatter them like light

we grasp at the moments,
the laughter, the pain, 
a tapestry woven of
sunshine and rain
but each thread we cherish,
each photograph framed, 
is a fleeting reminder that
nothing’s the same. 

we hold on to dreams
like fragile glass wings, 
hoping their beauty will
soften life’s stings
like autumn leaves in
the chill of the breeze, 
they flutter away, with
such effortless ease 

things do not linger
as we wish them to, 
they’re transient echoes
in a world askew
a promise, a trinket,
a love letter's kiss, 
are tokens of time,
reminding us: this, 

is the nature of life,
a relentless retreat, 
where we chase after shadows,
but never complete. 
so we hold on to things,
though they slip
through our hands, 
in the dance of existence,
it’s the moment that stands 

let us find solace, not in
the things, in the laughter
and joy each new day brings 
for while treasures may fade
like the stars in the dawn, 
the heart learns to cherish
what lingers—what's gone   

 

The Lie We Follow

stop searching
the garden is not beyond the gate—
it grows quietly beneath your ribs

stop chasing the mind
its feet are quicksand,
its roads circle back to the place
you began to forget yourself

stop following thoughts
they bloom and wither
in the same breath—
mirages of meaning
in the drought of stillness

that feed on a lie
that there is something
to become
someone to arrive at
a summit to conquer

but you were never a seeker
only the silence,
watching itself wander
let the mind seek
you witness from behind

be the stone unmoved
beneath the river's song
the open sky
through which clouds pass,
but never stay

return to the breath
to the pause between names
to the place
where you do not need to look

because you are
what you were chasing
all along, nowhere to go,
nothing to achieve, nothing
to lose for nothing is lost

The Loafer and the Leaf

The Loafer and the Leaf

I watched a loafer by the river lie,
A loaf of bread beneath a weeping sky.
A single leaf danced in the wind's soft sigh,
It seemed to fly, then fall, then kiss goodbye.

His eyes held feeling, raw and undefined,
A fragile hope within a foul-stained mind.
The world to him was false, yet strangely kind,
Where dreams fail, but some still feel inclined.

He spoke: “My heart is frail, yet oddly full,
Of songs unsung, of longings beautiful.
I tried to fill the gaps, to fulfil grace,
But wore the wrong skin in the rightful place.”

He showed me pages from a battered file,
Each line a wound, each word a buried mile.
“Some lines lie,” he said, “we live just to believe,
To fuel our hope, or simply not to grieve.”

A fowl took flight across the evening's hue,
Its wings beat truths the heart already knew.
“To feel is risk,” he whispered. “Still, we try—
To fall, to rise, to breathe, to love, to die.”

So there he lay, a poet, lost in strife—
A loafer maybe, but a lover of life.

 
------

Le Rêveur et la Feuille

Je vis un rêveur couché près d’un fil,
Un pain rassis pour seul festin tranquille.
Une feuille d’or tournoyait dans l’air doux,
Puis fit sa chute au bord du monde flou.

Ses yeux portaient des fils d’émotion ténue,
Un cœur si fragile, d’ombres méconnues.
La vie pour lui n’était qu’une fausse voie,
Où l’on peut faillir, même dans la foi.

Il dit : « Mon âme est frêle, à peine en vie,
Mais pleine encor d’un souffle qui défie.
J’ai voulu remplir les creux de l’absence,
Mais j’ai porté le masque de l’errance. »

Il montra les feuilles d’un vieux dossier,
Chaque ligne un cri, un pas oublié.
« On vit parfois des mensonges trop beaux,
Pour nourrir l’espoir, pour fuir les tombeaux. »

Un oiseau gris fendit le ciel du soir,
Ses ailes battaient un vieux chant d’espoir.
« Ressentir, dit-il, c’est prendre un pari —
Chuter, s’élever, aimer, fuir l’oubli. »

Il s’endormit, au bord de son mensonge,
Un rêveur, peut-être — mais dont l’âme prolonge
La douce vie que le monde oublie,
Un feuilleton d’ombre et de poésie.

wandering in wonder

 

entry in between
the show is on

different rooms
disparate voices
diverse roles
discrepant costumes

who is it
who is in
who is out

a sudden exit
a moment falls
nothing halts

 

Beyond the Cosmic Veil

Beyond the Cosmic Veil

The odyssey of the spirit takes flight, 
casting aside the universe's whispered guise, 
a fleeting illusion, like the hues of the only sky, 
like stars that dance to the symphony of dusk, 
each shimmer and fade, a fleeting charade

not a drop of this cosmic tapestry is real; 
the mirage of the desert taunts my arid heart, 
yet I shall unveil the serpent in the shadows, 
a ropy truth that slithers into the light

as the tides of perception recede, 
what is genuine shall rise from the depths, 
the singular consciousness, a timeless thread, 
woven through the fabric of this sacred journey, 
will surface, shattering the veil of senses— 
a luminous essence, ever-present, a prayer
awakening in the heart of the seeker.

------

Au-delà du voile cosmique

L’odyssée de l’esprit prend
son envol,
écartant le murmure travesti
de l’univers,
illusion fugace, comme
les teintes d’unique ciel,
comme les étoiles qui dansent
à la symphonie du crépuscule,

chaque éclat, chaque pâleur —
une mascarade éphémère
pas une goutte de cette tapisserie
cosmique n’est réelle ;
le mirage du désert nargue
mon cœur desséché,
et pourtant, je dévoilerai
le serpent dans l’ombre,
cette vérité sinueuse rampant
vers la lumière

quand les marées de la
perception se retirent,
ce qui est vrai surgira
des profondeurs :
la conscience unique, fil intemporel,
tissée dans la trame
de ce voyage sacré,
émergera, brisant le voile des sens —
essence lumineuse, toujours
présente, prière
éveillée au cœur
du chercheur.

Where Is Intimacy?

I can’t find you anymore, intimacy —
where are you, my intense simplicity?

In the secret garden of our thoughts,
Beneath the stars, where souls are tied,
Intimacy weaves itself, a gentle golden thread,
Between tender whispers and glances shared.

It hides in a breath, in a tremble,
In bursts of laughter and the shadow of a shiver,
It’s a refuge, a cocoon, a cherished bond,
Where hearts open, unveiling their vows.

In the warmth of an embrace,
In the silence where all leaves its trace,
Intimacy is a journey, a dance,
Where we discover together love’s innocence.

It’s in words whispered softly in the ear,
In secrets shared, in wonders clear,
Far from the chaos, in a quiet place,
Intimacy is where love takes flight with grace.

So let’s search together, in this crazy world,
For those precious moments when it’s just us two,
For intimacy is more than just a space —
It’s a state of soul, a radiant sky that appears blue.

---

L’intimité est où ?

Je ne te trouve plus, l’intimité, t’es où
l’intimité, ma tendre simplicité ?

Dans le jardin secret de nos pensées,
Sous les étoiles, là où les âmes sont liées,
L’intimité se tisse, un doux fil doré,
Entre murmures tendres et regards échangés.

Elle se cache dans un souffle, une caresse,
Dans les éclats de rire et l’ombre qui nous presse,
C’est un refuge, un cocon, un lien précieux,
Là où les cœurs s’ouvrent, dévoilant leurs vœux.

Dans la chaleur d’une étreinte,
Dans le silence, où tout s’empreinte,
L’intimité est un voyage, une danse,
Où l’on découvre ensemble la douce innocence.

Elle est dans les mots murmurés à l’oreille,
Dans les secrets partagés, dans les merveilles,
Loin du tumulte, dans un coin reculé,
L’intimité, c’est là où l’amour sait s’envoler.

Alors cherchons ensemble, dans ce monde fou,
Ces instants précieux où l'on est tous les deux,
Car l’intimité, c’est plus qu’un simple lieu,
C’est un état d’âme, un ciel radieux qui paraît bleu.

The intrinsic

The intrinsic

I'm as limitless as the sky
as detached as the wind
as static as the mountain
as timeless as the ocean
as placeless as the space

clouds cannot touch
the vast blue
the blue, as much a lie
as it is not true
I'm the one in you
I'm the one in you

You the sentient beings
the wood in the table
the mud in the pot
the gold in the ornament
the screen on which the
scenes play out
to the point that there's
only me that lies in
the beings,
the tables,
the pots, the films
and in the ornaments

I'm the only one that is,
rest don’t simply exist
thus say the sages
and the wise
ignorance that this knowledge
alone can erase
worth the birth on
a hitherto unknown earth,
an intrinsic paradise  

L’Intrinsèque

Je suis aussi illimité que le ciel,
aussi détaché que le vent,
aussi immobile que la montagne,
aussi intemporel que l’océan,
aussi sans lieu que l’espace

les nuages ne peuvent toucher
l’immensité du bleu,
ce bleu — aussi bien mensonge
que vérité insaisissable.

je suis celui qui est en toi,
je suis celui qui est en toi.

toi, l’être sensible,
le bois dans la table,
la boue dans le pot,
l’écran sur lequel
se déroulent les scenes
l’or dans l’ornement —
jusqu’au point où il n’y a
que moi qui reside
dans les êtres,
les tables,
les pots, les films
et dans les ornements.

je suis le seul qui soit ;
le reste, simplement, n’est pas
ainsi parlent les sages
et les éveillés.
l’ignorance que seule
cette connaissance peut
dissiper —

elle vaut à elle seule
la naissance sur
une terre encore inconnue,
un paradis intrinsèque.

some small poems

 

some small poems
good and bad
happy, sad
thoughts aligned
outlined, some out of line
moments of nature
nurture and torture
…
golden rays emerge, 
kissing the sleeping
earth with warm light, 
dreams dawn in
the awakening
…
green leaper on
reeds, 
rippling ponds
in evening light, 
nature's quiet song
…
sparrows dust wash
calling the clouds
earth's bath to start
soon
…
redolence of the
petrichor
tender pitter-patter
hope in the minds
of the farmers
smiles 
…
kolkata
a city of violation
a garb, a garment
in the guise of a
city of joy
girls, ladies, older
women, none escape
the male guage, their
ruthless, sponsored,
indulgent rage
---

দুঃখের সাথে যুদ্ধ কর

জেনো সবার কাছেই আছে
কান্না দুঃখ ভুরি ভুরি
আমরা সবাই কম বেশি ভাই
দুঃখ নিয়েই ঘুরি ফিরি 

বেকার থাকার দুঃখ যেমন
অপিসেতেও দুঃখ তেমন
সবার সঙ্গে মারামারি
জেতা হারার মহামারী
মনটা যে তাই বিষন্নতায়
দিনে রাতে কেঁদে কাটায়

আবার দেখো যেমন কারুর
একা থাকার দুঃখ বেজায়
সবার মাঝে থাকে যে জন
সেও দুঃখেই সময় কাটায় 

ধনী গরিব হও না যতই 
জয়ী কিংবা পরাজয়ী
দুঃখের থেকে ছাড়া পায়না
এদের সবার মধ্যে কেউই

তাই দুঃখ দুঃখ করে তোমরা
বৃথাই জীবন নষ্ট কর
সবাই আমরা দুঃখেই আছি
এর থেকে নাই সত্য বড়

   একটু দূরে সরে যদি
জীবনটাকে দেখতে পার
আনন্দে মন উঠবে ভরে
দুঃখের সাথে যুদ্ধ করে

সকাল সন্ধ্যা প্রাতে ভোরে
আলোয় রাতের অন্ধকারে
দুঃখের সাথে যুদ্ধ কর
দুঃখের সাথে যুদ্ধ কর