in passing

life passes,

time passes, 

transient waves

ephemeral clouds

wandering winds

the moving earth

the elusive fire

... 

wisdom is to 

witness and behold, 

ignorance is to 

embrace and hold

the open book

the world, an open book
we are unable to read

the strange time

you can never be
at the wrong place
at the right time,
but you may be
at the right place
at the wrong time

you wait for the door
to open, but when it does
you realize it wasn't ever
closed for any of us

anything that is natural
is strange

out of the box

Throughout my life,
I have learned to build
walls, move and walk
like a flock of dead
thoughts,
now who is asking me
to ponder out of the box

the gate-crasher

the world is bombarded
by the educated wards,
men of letters.
not men of word,
whatever is worth
learning is a gate-crasher 

waking up

I learned a number
of words, I acquired
papers that brought 
me all the accolades,
but nothing could
wake me up from
my slumber until I 
heard a chirping bird
on my window sill 
that brought me the
news of the fresh breeze
from the nearby hills
to nourish the hanging
nests, the roots and the
branches of the trees.

whisper

I whisper nothing
into the breeze,
it whistles me back
a feeling perfectly
understood, words
from the mind, removed.

mindset

when the mind has a cataract
it cannot see the truth as a fact,
when the screen is removed
the scene is clearly understood

#mindset #knowledge #wisdom #knowingness #truth

Spirituality means taking responsibility

 

When you have shed your feathers
be unashamed,
say what you want to say,
spirituality is the only way;
let the intellectuals scorn at you,
let the atheists laugh at you,
let the theists, agnostics bully you,
let the fundamentalists be after you,
let them not listen to your point of view,
let none accept you in their fold
be unafraid, be bold,
say what you have to say,
spirituality is the only way.

By paying for everything
to get the work done is a
lazy thing, a heavy price we
have paid, and continue to pay
for the sake of fun, the same show 
is still going on, like puppets
on the stage, we are playing
high and low.

Science has made us indolent,
comfort-loving, opulent;
the frog in us is surely dying,
but we think we are swimming.

To save ourselves from extinction,
we need spirituality, not science,
our determined and guided
action will help,
no laziness or defiance.

We have seen how
science divides,
and how
spirituality unites.

We need to focus on the inside,
not get lost on the outside.
True, the fruits of science
are easy and attractive,
for attaining the benefits
of spirituality,
the labour is intensive,
for this reason alone, we
cannot throw the benefactor
from the throne.

Spirituality helps, it heals
science hurts, it kills, be bold
to embrace spirituality,
it means to take responsibility
for the entire world, make it
a fetish, for only then
can science be a boon,
not a bane.

Science without spirituality,
a boat without a rudder,
bondage sans liberty,
words without feelings,
let none put them asunder.

 #science  #spirituality  #mindset  #peace  #harmony  #responsibility  #world

The arrogance of science

The arrogance of science

has walked over spirituality

for long, merely because

it's not applicable for all, 

it discarded levitating, the

power to roam in one form

in multiple places at the same

time, the wisdom to leave the 

body as tricks, undermining 

them as black magic. 

True, it cannot be achieved 

by bribing anyone, for this

one has to sincerely practise

for days and for years;

in the ancient times, countless

rishis, men and women alike

had the know-how to engineer

their body and their mind. 

Science had delivered imbalanced 

growth, insane miseries and debacles, 

spirituality had empowered self with 

balance, with jaw dropping miracles. 

If only the science of spirituality

be understood and exercised, 

we'd restore our lost sanity, 

regain the power of our mind. 

Waste no more time, 

dear friends, sit and 

meditate, experience a 

blissful world for yourself. 

Let science and spirituality

walk hand in hand, 

let peace, prosperity for all 

be the law of the land.

নতুন ডাক

আমি যখন ছোট, তখন

দেখেছি, বাড়ির দরজার

সামনে চটি আর জুতোর

ভিড়, বাড়িটা গমগম করত। 

এখন কলিং বেলটা প্রায় 

অকেজো, ওটা বাজিয়ে যে

কোন কাজ হয়, চাবি খুলে

ঢুকতে ঢুকতে সেটা ভুলেই

গেছি। ওয়েলকাম লেখা 

পাপসটা ফ্যালফ্যাল করে

চেয়েই থাকে। 

এ একাকিত্বের প্যান্ডেমিক, 

ঘরে ঘরে ছড়িয়ে পড়ছে, 

সহজে সারবেনা, এই ভেবে

একটা ছোট্ট বাগান করলাম, 

আস্তে আস্তে নতুন অতিথিরা 

আসতে আরম্ভ করলো, আমার 

কলিং বেল-এর সুর পাল্টালো, 

রকমারি পাখির কিচিরমিচির

ত আছেই, তার সাথে

ম্যাঁও-ম্যাঁও, ভৌ-ভৌ, এমনকি 

হাম্বা-হাম্বাও আছে। 

না, এরা কেউ চটি-জুতো পড়ে 

আসেনা, খালি পায়ে আসে, 

তাই পাপসের ওপর না, মনের

মধ্যে একটা ছাপ রেখে যায়। 

the far end (three small poems)

the sea,
the sand, the waves
return to the moon,
the stars, and the sun,
nights and days
in the infinite space,
volumes of stories
rewritten, washed away

at the beach

friends, families
spending time for
thousands of years

…

the sea roars
from end to end,
it consumes
look-alike
nights and days
year after year,
each wave,
a calendar

…

three-fourth water?
one-fourth land?
I went deep inside
to see where the
waters stand,
this could resurrect
the geographical belief
I thought of Galileo,
I saw a child who could
see an old woman as his 
wife, I thought of Ian
Stevenson, what'd happen
to the history of beliefs,
I bemused;
woke up in disbelief,
and, in a minute, went
back to settle down on
the bed of the sea

 

The best of times

I wake up. O why do I see
this suffering, this lie,
I go to sleep with the hope
of a different world, free of
wounded words,
treacherous thoughts,
arrogant actions,
but invariably I wake up to
the same world, I go back
to sleep again; with an
indomitable hope, I wake
up again, nothing happens,
nothing changes, I look at the
morning sun, the moon at
night, the disillusioned stars
like me, they give their lights
nevertheless, I sleep as I walk
through my lines, I rewrite my
poems, my bedtime, the best
of times.

being in silence

if words hadn't

taught me reticence,

I'd die in the books

looking for love

in the insipid pages

if education didn't

preach me wisdom,

I'd bring to book

the innocent world, 

in chains, no freedom

if abundance didn't

guide me to kindness

I'd cook the books with

poverty, scarcity, 

a sordid space

if I hadn't learned the 

feeling behind the words, 

I'd break the globe into

pieces, lost worlds, 

worrying wars, weapons

if I hadn't developed

the appetite for silence, 

words would starve 

in the tonsured world

with cruelty, without love

Another honeymoon

In my dream
I woke up in a
garden and walked
into a painting,
silver, golden
flowers dancing in
the trees, varied colors
shapes; with gifted
powers I invoked a quiet
fragrance in the breeze, 
I placed the sun
on the topmost branch,
from the other side
the soft moon was oozing
juice that melted like honey,
everything looked small,
perfect, I was big enough
not to get in

I wondered why I
wouldn't fit in, I felt a
pain in the eyes
that sensed the death of
this strange world,
they had to open,
I'm alive why,
a voice whispered,
to die again in the
womb of another
honeymoon

the presence

when we leave, 

we leave behind

our memories, 

the stories hang 

around as reveries

in all the branches

of the tree from where

the leaves had dropped

in hope or in despair, 

we aren't there in the scene

anymore, but we're to be 

seen all the more, 

the absence is consumed

by the presence that

forever grows, blooms

A reminder

Oftentimes

it needs effort to see

what's closest, 

could be a friend, 

a soulmate, or

an opportunity;

everyone knows

where the nose 

is, but it invariably 

escapes our gaze, 

our eyes don't realise 

its presence until we 

focus to experience 

its existence. 

Being together

No, I don't want to take part in any
competition, I don't want to win
any prize, no recognition impresses
me, no, not anymore, I'm fairly sure,
I don't want to be the best, please go
ahead, I want to keep my kindness
intact, I don't want the rudeness of
being the best by stampeding all
the rest; right in the middle of
rewards and accolades, I'd be left
alone on the throne, being lonely
for me is way too costly. 

I know leaders have to be apart
from the crowd should they want
their precious crown, but I want
to be a follower, for I have seen
what leaders do, what winners win. 

Excellence? No, it doesn't come
from winning a battle, it comes
from being in the pride, or in the
cattle doing your best, not being
the best. Yearning to be the best
often makes you a beast
wanting to kill, waiting to feast. 

The real achievement for me
comes from the pleasure of
being and doing things together. 

Criminals

Hey guys, those killers
with guns and revolvers
are criminals, they're judged,
put behind the bars; but
what do you do with words? 

You hurt, hit, bleed, curse
others beyond repair,
yet hide behind your
your kind gesture,
your fragile body, a little
under the weather,
your innocuous gait,
hey there, everyone
can notice your crime,
but none can litigate. 

Wait a minute, you're
also punished, sometimes
with sleeplessness, at times
with other diseases,
but in your case,
you're always on the loose
to shoot whosoever
you so lovingly choose. 

Strange

everyday
words, thoughts
and actions
are used to
hurt others,
rarely to heal,
yet, with these
merciless maladies
I remain perpetually
in awe,
I am flawless is the
most indulgent flaw

facing the light

I have the face of
somebody else,
their words script
my looks, who I am
hides behind the sham 

... 

the searchlight
reduces to a torch,
to a fading candle,
to a feeble incense
stick,
it's a dark world
overexposed, the one
inside, that which could
reinstate the strength
lies unexplored 

...

I don't know why I
named these as facing
the light, can anyone
help in understanding
the logic, it's ridiculous,
but, wait a minute, it is
also pointless to look
for sanity when one tries
to see the sun with a
candle, or burn it with
the wand, an insane
stick, I have lost it,
I am in the dark,
I lost it

the empty mirror

 

the world

an empty mirror

troubled images

reflect, masked with 

colourful words, 

outstanding life

doesn't have the face

to look up to it, 

as a helpless habit, 

being there, hanging 

around, cracking sound

blurred light, broken air

On the safe side

The head and the horn,
the rose and the thorn,
disparate as day and night
for the herd flocking 
on the safe side; it's unable
to connect the two and unite,
to catch the unicorn, with
coke and popcorn is beyond
the scope of the throng. 

the lost scripts

I found the lost scripts
they had different notation;
varied words, but the gist 
was the same, for they all
meant, we win as one

...

in every leaf, there is life,
volumes written, stories told
some fall, don't get into the fold,
they nourish the tree as they lie

...

entertainment

in a world where
entertainers take
the lion's share of
the cake, real
pleasure is at stake

...

artists, players
give their best
to bring out the
hidden emotions of
their audiences, who
have an out-of-the-world
experience; but the moment
the entertainer exits,
merriment ceases to exist,
the stakeholders are thrown
back into their own
old worlds pining for more

...

entertainment is loud,
it hits you hard with
music, with words,
when the weed is gone,
you become vacant, forlorn
whining for more