This is not a family

I was trying to paint
A picture perfect image
Of a family
With water colours
Under the rain.

Papa ploughing the field,
Playing catch catch
With the child
On the meadow
Mama standing by, at ease as she be
Affectionately holding the baby.
Watching as witness
Is the magical, miraculous sky.

My brush
Relentless and stubborn
Looking for the sun
Under the weeping sky,
Painting to fade
On the patient page.

The off-white leaf smirked
Wide and wild
Winked at the brush;
Determined, under no rush
The page dried
The sun showed,
Painter was cold
His hands couldn't hold
The three faded from the mind;
In time, the picture of their bonding
Went haywire, missing.

Blades disenchanted, disunited,
Still tried,
Colours hard as rocks
Now, refusing to melt
Somehow,
Uselessly lied.

Impression of a family
Painted under the rain, surfaced
Like a boat that sailed afloat
The sun smiled.
This is not a family,
Underneath the painting
The painter wrote.

Fading families

We like to watch stories
Of bonds and ties
Within families,
For in the modern world,
As we strive to survive
These are slowly
Disappearing from our lives;
To witness these
On the stage and on the screens
It enlivens our mental albums
Our frame of sweet memories.

Unwilling to unlearn

 Unwilling to unlearn

Lately, I'm constantly pushing
Away the masquerading Mars
An iconic scar
Of the medieval mindset.

Lately, I'm constantly throwing
Away the immortal Malthus
A treasured erudite
Reason for the
Horrendous Holocaust
His blessings
Wars as positive checks?
Still counting.
Costing.

Lately, I'm constantly rejecting
The deadly Darwin
The most read respected
Unnatural naturalist
His dark enlightenment
Has made mankind lose
Battles by winning
Many times over
With the fittest survivors
That went extinct
Keeping the so-called inhuman wars
Human, alive and distinct.

How can I blame Hitler
His predecessors
His followers
And other harbingers
Of holy wars
When I have Darwin
Malthus and Mars
As gallivanting ghosts
Of the universe?

Lately, I'm constantly
Pushing myself away
From the learned world
Which will continue
To slaughter, butcher
No matter what;
Licensed, endorsed
Permissive horrors
Of people killing people
Turn by turn!
Because of what we are:
'Unwilling to unlearn.'
We will continue to be thus
Write repetitive words
In the hackneyed human omnibus
Even hundreds of years later
Unable to survive without wars
Attacking our neighbors
For food and water for no good
Unable to survive without weapons
Flaunting yet of growth and development
Under the lying firmament.

It is thanks to the disastrous bane
The world is stillborn, insane.

অহরহ দিবানিশি

তোমার থেকে আর
কিছুই চাইবার নেই আমার
আমি যে এখন অহরহ
দিবানিশি কেবল তোমাকেই চাই,
আমার মন, প্রাণ, দেহ
তোমাকেই দিলাম তাই।

এস এবার তুমি যে রূপে চাও
তোমার সব সাজই অনুপম
আমার আঁধার ঘুচিয়ে দাও,
আমার যত মিথ্যা
কলহ, বেদনা, বিরহ
মিলিয়ে দাও, মুছিয়ে দাও
এ কুটির তোমার অনর্গল
আলোর ধারায়,
তোমার পবিত্র ছোঁয়ায়
হোক সদানন্দময়, হোক মনোরম!
হে সচ্চিদানন্দ, তোমার ছায়ার
তলায়, অনায়াসে কাটুক
সব ক্লান্ত, উদ্ভ্রান্ত বিকর্ম আমার।

তোমার থেকে আর
কিছুই চাইবার নেই আমার
আমি যে এখন অহরহ
দিবানিশি কেবল তোমাকেই চাই,
আমার মন, প্রাণ, দেহ
তোমাকেই দিলাম তাই। 

Paradise cries

Ailing world.
Wailing!
All its organs
Bruised relentlessly
With collective care, concern;
Poverty, pollution,
Weapons, wars
Divides and scars
Experienced everywhere.

With its waves
The world roars
Every moment
'You speak in so many tongues
I beg your pardon
My feelings unnoticed, my agonies unsung?
You're killing me, your own nest
It's a lose-lose game
Are you so dumb!'


With its clouds
The world roars and says
'I shed these clouds time and again
You get water, life-giving rain
You can't clear them from your head
You seem to melt them only into blood
Coagulate me with your scarlet flood
You're hurting me you're such a pain!
I'm boiling now, volcanoes inside
You don't count that you're committing suicide?'

Hell of a world
Howling.
All its parts
Ripped apart.
Golden garden
Weighed down
Perilously hanging on the edge
Tonnes of destructive, useless knowledge,
Selling a pack of insipid lies!

Full of hope, with dreamy eyes
The grounds screech of crises
Paradise cries. 

God is

God is power for me
God for eternity is bliss
God is love and purity
God is always at ease
God is light
A little beyond sight
God is infinite peace.

Without God
No battle is lost or won
There's no pain, no fun
Without God
I can't chant or talk
I can't sleep or walk
I can't eat or work;

Without God
I can't write or speak
I can't play hide and seek
I can't recite or sing
I can't think or run
God is my everything,
God is my everyone. 

That's not any sport

You remember Spartacus? He'd fight with the lions! Most of the time, the poor lions would die in front of the applauding audience. At other times, the slave would be killed in front of the entertained spectators. Imagine!
Every time, such killer sports would end in deaths, bloodshed. Then, in time, came these bull fights (they could be contemporary) where either the bull or the fighter would, if not die, would be brutally bruised and tortured.
Fortunately, when cruelty towards animals became a meaningful and global concern, we slowly saw such sports disappear. Not disappear actually, they reappeared in other forms, viz. cartoons, comics and so on.
It is sad that the habit of watching the slaves in dire consequences, has not left us yet. Thus we have human beings fighting human beings in sports such as wrestling, boxing, etc. What do they do? They fight with each other, sometimes to death or sometimes to inflicting permanent damages like loss of sight, hearing, breaking of bones and so on. What do we do as audience? We sit and enjoy the game! This has become so much ingrained into our belief system that it has become worse than a grass or any injurious addiction.

In an age where we have wars of every kind, when we are sincerely looking for global peace and harmony, do such sports, involving millions and millions of people help to bring about equanimity I wonder.

For the sake of peace, we need to innovate alternative sports for fun and entertainment.

Would you agree? 

I'm not alone

No, I am not alone.
My dreams, unfulfilled.
But I know for sure
They will appear as real
In my zealous zone.

No, they're not thrashed
In the obsolete trash
They're treasured as
Precious stones
In a place I call my own.

Yes, my dreams screech in the thorns
They also smile in the flowers
They're found in twilights, in dawns
They're there in the darkest of nights
They exist in the lightest of morns.

Yes, my dreams in the end will fulfill
Like streams they will come alive
My burns will cure, wounds will heal,
Beyond doubt, they'll arrive on time
From corners, known, unknown
To lovingly adorn my throne.

Until the time it is fulfilled
I will not accept defeat, not yield
I'm like a farmer ploughing the field;
With seeds of hope nurtured and sown
I'm a dreamer, I'm not alone. 

A while ago

He was falling
From the cliff.
No, it wasn't any sport
He saw the child
Running around...
His mom, with a handful
Of rice and daal,
Chasing him.

He is falling
Fast
Every moment
Seemed precious.

He could finally gather
The courage
To bid adieu
To the perpetually
Warring world.

Minutes before he could finally
Touch the ground
He saw his mom
Burnt alive,
His sister raped,
His father murdered,
By some innocent souls
Who followed the instruction
Of their ignorant leaders.

They had to survive
They wanted to survive
They deserved to survive.
And so they did.
His parents, his sister, his family
And now he himself
Not in this they.

He thanked God
Even after years of waiting
For justice,
When nothing came about,
He never became a criminal.

But
He couldn't forgive
The world where
He belonged
A while ago. 

A big relief

Nothing to do!
No work to look forward to
None to talk to!
Engaged only with my lines
My words, a pack of useless lies
This now my affair
A little unfair huh?
I think I must die
Ha ha ha
No courage to decide
To end my life, to commit suicide.

The woods are lovely dark and deep
I have no promises to keep
I beg your pardon Robert Frost
I borrowed your lines for I am lost.
Live for as long I need to live
It is never too late to turn a leaf.
But this fruit I throw up
Is a big relief.