Fantasy

I write terminally ill verses

today

Incurable says the physicians

yet, the sickness persists passionately.

I crave for divinity

and keep slaughtering gods

everyday.

my whimper echoes

on the stone walls

of ten by twelve.

the folks smirk distantly

at the distorted verses,

I laugh in delirium

I laugh ecstatic,

i laugh in fantasy.

The Radiant one

The gift

Sari

Sari

On her wedding night the little girl

got fifty one saris

fiftyyyy one saris as her gift,

on the " ashtomangola "

( eighth day after )

she received six more..

So many , So many

she never saw so many saris

in her whole life.

On the top shelf of her cupboard

she kept all the sea green ones,

she embraced one and

said, " you are my deep blue sky"

On the second shelf

she kept all the Rosy ones,

she embraced one of them and said,

" You are my Passion"

For the whole year she just received

more....and more...and more

How is she going to wear all

these saris in one life time ?

But before the year passed

one evening the little girl went out

with her husband to buy

Chinese and chili chicken.

Three masked men stood on their way,

Thrust a twelve inch blade on the

husbands belly,

Upward , downward upward again,

smoking chinese kissed the pavement.

" This is Politics " The neighbours proclaimed.

On the wedding night

the little girl got fiftyyyyyone saris

six more on " Ashtomangola"

One day ,on one cruel mid afternoon

the girl threw her all the saris from

second floor balcony down on the

all tolarent earth ( ? )

The mother in law

dressed the little girl with a white

border less rough sari.

A nineteen year old girl

all alone.

But that meagre sari too was

snatched away from her one evening

near the corner shop by three youngsters,

One naked little widow

screamed , Save me, Save me....

Laughter followed her wherever she went,

Neighbours passive,

On her wedding night

a little girl got fifty one saris

on ashtomangola six more.

Recreated from Poet Subodh Sarkar.

( Ashtomongola... A married newly wed girl returns to

her father's House for a visit after eightdays just to

say " everything" to her mother ")

Omniscient Love

Irrelevant

Sometimes

irrelevant accidents happen,

yelling wheels of metro train...

underneath his torn body,

his mutilated emotion.

Meaningless salty tears mingle

with a lonely lake,

Depth....Depth

Some rainbow dreams jump

from aseventhfloor sky,

pavements underneath shrieks.

Poison fingers

touch the lemon lips

with hundred Valium,

pain sleeps for hundred years.

Dancing flames inside

the bolted door

kerosene smell and her jasmine scent,

Oh lord, another face in hell.

But Why ?

Why..???

Omniscient Love knows it all .

Tell Me

Tell me the colour of your desires

so that I can set my canvas and paint,

tell me the colour of your sidelong glance

so that i can tie up my turban

and sit by the ghat of Benares,

Tell me the colour of your

sleepless nights

so that I can mournfully play G minor

on the Harpsichord,

Tell me the colour of your tears

when i burn

so that the flames can dance like dervishes

holding your hands.

Vermilion

When you didnt come

on my way ,

everything was as

everything was,

The horizon was

as it was,

the way was like the way,

the wine glass

was like the wine glass.

you came....

The way, the wine glass

the grey sky, the horizon

All began to melt,

red , intimate

like vermilion heart.

@ amiyo

Inheritor Part 2

Among my 4 grand sons the third one is the most handsome

lovable, playful , inattentive.

His name is " Bhomku"

Bhomku is 8 and I think he is the most enigmatic of all the four.

He hates to eat by himself . That is a bit hard and unnecessary performance for him. At an age of nine he stll prefers someone just help him to eat. Of course I must add, it depends upon the quality of food.

If it is one of those junk food he grabs them and assaults the food in

beastly manner and consumes them before you say Jiffy.

But usual bengali khana of rice , dal or meat or chicken cooked at home is simply too unsophisticated for him .

Teachers at school often complain that he is inattentive , often doesnt know where he is, Questions from teachers are regularly answered

with wild guess as he never pays attention to the " Good for nothing Teachers".Bhomku amazes you. When it comes to school exams bhomku laughs the last. He comes home with a record card non chalantly, throws over your face silently saying " See, this is what I am" Proving every one in the family wrong. He is adorable lazy good for nothing lad. His father takes him to some kind of drama lesson and very naturally BHOMKU DOESNT REMEMBER WHAT exactly went on in the drama class.My room is of immense interest to him .He often trespass here and examines each article here with hundred question which he expects me to answer.

My last grandson is soft chubby, rabbit toothed, cuddly fun loving , sleep loving 6 year old MANTA or Mantaputu.

This one is just adorable to every one except to some extent to his mother. Before birth he was expected to be a Daughter but with our delight he appeared with his little willy which disappointed his mother

but enormously delighted us. Manta Eats alone and is independent in many respect . He doesnt care for others to feed him. He adores his father and his Pishi ( my daughter) Father to manta is close to his god.

In school he is almost a teachers pet and teachers from other classes just drop in to his class just to have a look and offer him a kiss being wildly attracted by his masculine magnetic personality . He hates outdoor games . He is happy with the regular mock fight in a celebrated manner.

He loves to paint and has done some really great surrealistic work in his sketch pad. He is a marvellous singer.

Now these for Grand sons assemble in my room otherwise peaceful. They evict me and yells at the top of their voices some fantastic stories in some fantastic language which an english language teacher have enormous difficulties to comprehend .

But I still believe there should have been a little lady to control these rowdies in the family.

The Inheritors !

By The Inheritors I mean some people who acquire the characteristics

of the predecessors . In this case It would be my four grand sons, and today I am going to write few words about them.

I have altogether four grandsons . Yes Four grand sons and pity no Grand daughter !! Pity because I love girls !!

Lets see:

The Top most one, the one that was much too expected as the first grand son in

the chatterjee family. So when he appeared he made it obvious to all concerned that " He is going to rule" and thats what does. He got and still gets the MAXIMUM attention .His paramount demand from his life was met without question and that thoroughly spoilt him. Now he is 17, a computer wizard, relishes all the attention for this marvellous achievement. He is , as almost all the boys of his age are , a gullible candidate of consumerism specially the Gadgets .Oh by the way his name is MOJA ( that name was given by me by the way.Moja stands for Fun in bengali . Any way as a ruler he rules over his three subjects and makes it obvious to them that he IS the ruler, the protector , provider of all those junkyard foods, punished often by some questionable methods .But overall their kingdom is stable a staus quo is maintained at all time except some occasional protest from the youngest one who is 6.But moja has

clever way of subduing the unruly subjects by providing some " goodies" under the table. Moja is ambitious, intelligent , hates literature, extremely good orator and debater, and extremely favourite pupil in his school. Moja hates Sabji, exercise, to be pushed aside and ignored. Now he trying to get a place in some American universities for his further studies.

The second one is a GENIUS. He is called BHOJA. Yes , again the name was given by me just a kindof Rhyming with Moja. He is 9.He is amiable and does not believe in authoritarianism.He is a social craftsman , believes in the rule of thumb even the most complicated theories of physics .

He desires to be a software engineer but he has aptitudes in art , or for any innovative subject for that matter. Bhoja is gentle , but when pushed he sulks like his grand pa. Last month he was elected as the captain of his house in his school so he uses the authority very appetizingly. Like his brother he is disinterested in english literature and thinks that subject is for some namby pamby . The item In the computer appeals to him the most is " How to make GUNS" . He checks the procedures in you tube and then sets about making all kinds of Guns and pistols with card boards , and glues etc. Being really a thorough crafts men , the end product is always very satisfactory and matters of pride.

Bhoja is a pet for his mother.Any smallest reprimand from any of his teachers in his school always appear to be an act of injustice , so the ball ends up in the Principal's office which then is settled in by the principal himself who ticks off the " Guilty" teacher. No amount of our protest to the mother about spoiling the boy so, helps . We always try to trim her claws lest there is a blood shed. Bhoja is brilliant in his school work and naturally well loved by his peer group and teachers. He is an ideal brother for the younger ones .

Moja and Bhoja are the sons of my daughter.

To continue for the other two grand son soon. COMING SOON !!!!

Paul Desmond plays "Emily" - Monterey Jazz festival 1975

Beautiful

Spectrum sunset

shepherds bush green,

green green

You on a bench exclaim

Beautiful!

Hyde park corner

serpentine lake ,

Maverick birds

You clap....clap

Beautiful !!

Almost solitary hampstead park,

Willows drooping

You close ....closer still

a whisper

" I am happy....happy"

Rain drenched Southampton road

Kardomah with coffee

spoon goes round and round,

raincoat passion for theatre

brollies guard two furtive kisses.

Itsssss so beautiful.

Gold leaves on embankment

River Thames sing lullaby

inside the Tate

behind the lovers I find you,

a blissful hug

You say moaning

" Beautiful, Its so beautiful"

Motorway, eighty ninety..

poetical hair dance

with the wind,

Back to the bedsitter

wild with newly learnt passion

on the road,

Exhausted

You whisper in my ear,

Oh ...oh ..oh Beautiful !!!

*************************************

**************************************

One fresh alive DEWDROP

carried by many many dead men

On the way to

the cemetery

thousand trees thousand leaves,

weeping willows bow,

generous turbulent sky

flocks of birds sing the

Mozart Requiem.....

" Beautiful ...you are beautiful,

in your laughter

in your weeping

in your life

in your nonlife

in your passion

in your stillness

in your light

in your darkness

in the silence

You are beautiful

in fullness

in emptiness....You are beautiful.

@ amiyo

I am O K

....HI, How are you ?

.... I am ok..

swallowing , evacuating

Egg roll, fish fry ,Coco cola ,white mischief,

continuous..

....Hmm ,you must be ok then

....That you can say.

receiving, evacuating ...cyclically..

urination, excretion....sleep and sleeplessness

Night , day , life death

Moving like a circle.

......Hmm Circle ? Whats inside then?

...... A grey emptiness.

.....living in emptiness with some meaningless

Shape of faces...Some social masturbation,

some dreamy intercourse,

living with impure divinity......

I AM OK....YOU ARE OK

......then ????

.......Then what ?

.......Then how do we exist, with what?

......Come my darling,let us shatter our

immortality, and keep the pieces framed.

.......THEN ????

.......Then to stay ok let us go You and I

to the meaningless market place

and buy and sell our dreary dreams.

@ amiyo

Jingoism

I am tired of Jingoism.

Like a tsunami its sweeping the whole

Nation , mistakenly called NATIONAL PRIDE .

All kinds of phrases , cliches are in the air.

I want to hear a sane voice to tell me

" please do not hesitate to congratulate the others"

The world does not consist of winners and losers only.

undermining the ones who have lost ( ? )

is Jingoism and a healthy society should avoid that.

Take me

For so many days so many months

we walked together

on the rain drenched streets

of our ancient city,

for so many days

we lived with so many

men women and children

only finally to bury them.

Please do not look now

somewhere else,

do not look at me and laugh,

Take me inside your cave

when the evening star sparkles,

and in the midnight bed

let your feet

touch my heart

almost bleeding

like the pavement stones.

vincent - michel sardou.avi

Death has no song

I removed the piece of cloth

on Tista's breast,

and there those two red lotuses

still,like the depth of time.

Time is as if some other lost river,

like that lost river

we are getting lost

one by one,

Our faces melting in the stream.

One such evening

one such face came out

from the depth and gazed

at me.

Today the river lost her name

time has lost its end

death has lost its song,

and the sunrise has lost its freedom.

Still there is love

Still you are

Still I am

we live in our maverick verses.

The Sufi Whirling Dervishes of Istanbul

Old Foetus

In this ancient foggy silence

I have to return

to a primitive ignorance.

I came to know so much,

so precious so far

became

so famous

so much applauded

so much encored.

You talked to me for the whole day

with a night long whirling body,

You made me "Grown up",

Yet I didnt know you,

The darkness

engulfed my enlightened face.

So pleasant this darkness is ,

so much intellectual ignorance

with so much echoed silence

I am a sleeping Foetus now.

A visit to a cinema

Few hours ago I saw a film called " Dhobi ghat"

A friend of mine appeared to be much impressed and thought

i must go and see the film.

The counters in the cinema hall looked almost deserted .

My instant reaction was " Oh god , another failed movie in our beloved city"

But If the display of panoramic inexplicity of modern man's mind

if the absence of trash like story line, If the background ghazals and some

classical ragas on Sarod playing , the spectacular and vibrant colours

on the screen tell you anything about a film , they just say that very reverentially and reverberantly

If a director understands the necessity of absolute silence in a film and

makes such a point clear then a film may not draw audience in the cinema counter as much as expected .

Love in this film has a meaning not commonly understood and the director made that point very clear by dialogues completely unknown to the ordinary cinema goer in

India .The most outstanding claim that the film can make is

that it is a success for not meeting the naive expectation of the audience.

In our ordinary Day to day life we are taught to expect knowing fully well that it is absurd to expect ANYTHING . The characters in the film time and time again made this point clear.

I loved this film as it speaks to my heart in an inexplicable language the true nature in a city, any city all over the world.

The rain

Incessant rain

this morning,

a morning you feel dismal,

a morning to bring

the memory of old faces,

a morning of some warm passion,

a morning of "Mia ki mallhar",

a little hope

and some trembling pain,

this is the morning

when one holds your face

in his palm and

puts his lips on yours

and say " I love you".

And You?

Rain outside

you sit by the window

gave leave to your mind,

The mind travels far and wide.

You made me lonely

in this dark cloudy morning,

incessant rain outside,

But dont you know my darling,

In such mornings,silent desires

flicker like the fire flies ?

all clear

When would the " All clear "come ?

Didnt somebody promise us an all clear

if we were good,and clean,and nice and were willing

to die for things,and believe in things,and agreed to do everything

right ? Where is OUR ALL CLEAR ?

How long? How tediously long would we have to be "Good"

Stick to despicable life where even suicide is an utopia.

Where freedom of individual choice has to be dumped

for getting an ALL CLEAR signal.

How long do we have to maintain the pseudo moral life

come whatever may.

I waited all this life pretending to be good assuming

someone would come and blow the signal of ALL CLEAR

as a justifiable reward.Ha Ha Ha