Destination

Destination

I was looking for ways
To reach the destination,
Knowing not what it was;
When I did know,
It found me the ways.

Souls

Souls

Souls are source to the Source,Purity is clean, clear,
Without wasted thoughts,
Unpolluted truth washes away,
All that we hold in the world as true,
Truce of truth, unending,
Inexhaustible, undivided.

Search

Search

I was looking for love
In my lover,
Who left me with the love I had;
I became joyous to be a loser,
I came closer to love.

Age-old guest

Age-old guest

Age is my new guest,
Seated around the carpet I painted
With borrowed colours,
I know; in time;
The honoured visitor will leave
The lying colours behind.

String of thoughts in triplets

Sudden freshness

Return from office
Crowded bus honks smells of sweat
Fresh wind gushes in

Storming away

Clouds sail across sky
Targets inside the brain float
Winds storm away stress

Winter

Tree shivers lightly
Old woman wraps in her quilt
Cold enters through holes

Gazing at grazing

Cows are grazing wide
Boy looks out of the window
Class is going on

Unmask

Hands with gloves covered
Elections thick with people
Unmask the finger

Withdrawn strength

Withdrawn strength

If I had the power to withdraw
Like the tortoise,
I would bathe in that oblivion bliss,
I love this place with my entire claw,
Despite the hiss and the weight of the feet,
I’d like to win my renounced defeat.

Tortoise o tortoise you show me the way,

Harmony my agony is but a step away,
If winning is so great and quite truly so,
I’d love to lose for the friendship to flow,
Tortoise o tortoise you show me the way,
My remotest retreat is building its way.

I’d wait for people to work not to win,

Peace as the driver is about to begin.

In the making

In the making

She tells me a lot of bitter sweet things,

Our likes, dislikes have cut the strings,
Calls me names, in most of her games,
The knot loosens to crack the frames.

It’s so wholesome this mouthful act,

Feeling still this lovely weight,
Words make up, no time to wait,
Wit is jammed in the traffic of fact.

In ways that look for a place to rest,

Let us will this warm release,
Good and bad please stand at ease,
Days are here with wings to nest.

moving

moving

I am moving forward to the days that went,
A little while ago as done and spent,
Deeper the night closer is the day,
What is ahead was following the way,
Eager to appear as fresh unknown,
Eyes do not look for the scene that was shown.

O my name!

Ever since I shifted from my hometown Kolkata, in 2003, I realized how difficult it was to write or pronounce my name!

Back in Kolkata, it was easy because the word has a bengaliness to it. Besides, ‘su’ means good, and ‘pratik’ means symbol. So I thought I was a good symbol until I went to Kerala. From Sabarnika to Sampritik to Supratick to Sampriya it has travelled a lot with variations like Sputnik, Samptik in Chennai, Banglaore, to some shockers like Mrs. Supratika, Suptratik Ma’am in Hyderabad.  

It was just at a time when I was beginning to generalize this as a South-Indian challenge that the real shocker came to me from Delhi. I went there with my colleague to give a two-day training on marketing skills to a group of workforce of my client organization. My colleague handed me the hotel bill and said, with a grin, Supratik, I think it’s for you! I saw my name spelt as Suprabrick, and this was their second attempt you know…the first one, the one I saw with a scratch had a ‘d’ in place of ‘br’!

For my friends, this is Supratik with which you may or may not add a Mr.!

Cheers!

The car always stops to flirt

The car always stops to flirt

Whenever the car sees a lady crossing the road,

Irrespective of her age, the busy ness,

It stops.

Watches the lady cross with a frown or a grin,

With a renewed gas, it starts sometimes honks imagine!

When a beggar is crossing the road,

The car stops and lets the beggar pass,

Sometimes it begs and drags him into the class,

A broad smile a sexy invite, come aboard,

He sits relaxed; the car gets its alms of sin

With a renewed gas, it starts sometimes honks imagine!

I drive my car without a car,

Where I flirt with not a bar,

The car always loses in race,

Withdraws within, without a trace!


There is so much one can do with what one has or hasn't...where is the time to fight...just planting a thought.