Poetry

By Prasun Mukherjee কান্না হাসি অনেক হলো থাকবো এবার নির্জনে যেমন করে বীজের শিশু নতুন পাতার দিন গোনে। পথ ভোলানো পথটা আবার তেমনি হবে উঁচু নীচু  ভুলেই যাবো নবসজ্জায় আগের দিনের সবকিছু। বন্ধু স্বজন ভালোবাসা কড়া ও মিঠে রোদ্দুরে আসবো এবার নতুন রূপে ছায়ায় ঘেরা প্রান্তরে। নতুন ডালে নতুন পাতায় আগের ছোঁয়া নেই মনে শিকড় জুড়ে থাকবে বেঁচে ঘটেছে যা সেইদিনে। ঝড় বাতাসে রোদ বর্ষায় খেলবে পাতা হাসবে ফুল দেখবো খরা ডুববো জলে পথ চলতে করবো ভুল। এমনি করেই বইবে জীবন ফুটবো পাহাড় সাগরে সবার যো

By Prasun Mukherjee তোমার দুচোখে শৈল শহরে  স্বর্গের লুকোচুরি। তোমার দুচোখে অবিরাম ঢেউ  জীবনের ফুলঝুড়ি। তোমার দুচোখে নেই ঘুম রাতে  স্বপ্নের ঘোর নামা। তোমার দুচোখে আলেয়ার টানে চুপি চুপি এসে থামা। তোমার দুচোখে পথ হারানোর  গভীর মায়াবী নেশা। তোমার দুচোখে আগমনী গান শরতের মেঘে ভাসা। তোমার দুচোখে নিশীথের ডাক  ঝিঁঝিঁ জোনাকির মেলা। তোমার দুচোখে ঝুমুরের বোল পঞ্চমে সুর তোলা। তোমার দুচোখে স্নিগ্ধ ছায়ায় নবীন পাখির বাসা। তোমার দুচোখে ঝড়ের মলাটে সাতরঙা ভালবাসা।           __ By Prasun M

By Prasun Mukherjee বাসের জানলা দিয়ে কলকাতার পথে কতবার দেখেছি। সারি সারি তালগাছ দক্ষিণে রেখে ঘাসের লম্বা গালিচায় সাদা সিঁথির মত সরু মাটির পথ। দূরের গ্রামটা ডাক দিত আমায়। দূর সম্পর্কের এক  পিসি থাকতেন ঐ গ্রামে। স্নিগ্ধ দীঘির মত চোখ দুটো ছিল তাঁর। কতবার বলেছিলেন শীতের ছুটিতে কটা দিন কাটিয়ে যেতে। বড় সুন্দর লাগে গ্রামটা তখন।  উৎসব ও হয় অনেক। জীবনের নানান ঝড় ঝাপটায়  অনেকবার ভেবেছি যাব সামনের শীতে। হয়নি যাওয়া। সেই যেবার ভাগ চাষি মাগা দিদি  চোখ বড় বড়করে বলেছিল নিজেদের জমি

By Astha The journey was terra incognita — charted in the hemisphere of love. There lay the continent of heart, surrounded by the ocean of reality, yet bound to the world by the isthmus of fantasy. Mountains of duty rose solemn and steep, their summits crowned with piety. The great rivers of distance were bridged by metros and your XUV. The lake of difference quietly reconciled through mutual respect. The sea of prejudice was surfed through the strait of intimacy, and waves o

By Astha The universe seems to strengthen, or perhaps it’s gravitation playing its role. The pull is magnetic, attraction at its zenith we are aligned, like opposite poles. You bring mean to my extreme, oscillating between peace and chaos, splitting seven colours from a single pulse two prisms juxtaposed in contrast. Our compression and rarefaction, our crest and trough we return like waves rebounding, amplitude, frequency, wavelength - to and fro. No rust to form, no corrosi

By Astha You are a gypsy soul, As you claim. I am a bohemian. In my veins, flows Florence: Her art, her Renaissance. My eyes glitter With Parisian lights. I long to waltz In the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. To walk upon The cobblestone streets of Rome Baby, not alone. I want to take you To Beatrice’s tomb, Where poets, artists, and novelists go To seek inspiration from their muse. I want to take you To Palazzo Medici Riccardi and La Duomo, To see Botticelli’s grace At the U

By Astha Her fortress was built of literature and art, An army of words, and weapons of craft. He whispered in her ear, “You belong to me,” And laid his siege upon her unyielding heart. “Princess, having you captive is an honour; I am yours—sword and soul—your loyal soldier. You are my home; I long for thee. You need not extract an oath from me,” he told her. Her beauty had been kept under twenty locks in the past, Yet love breaks through and picks them at last. They do not m

By Astha What happens to the story If the writer grows too tired to write? Will there be colours left to linger, Or will it fade to black and white? Can we truly stop the slipping sand, Even if we clutch our fists tight? The flame gives both warmth and burns  Should we fear or find delight? What is done in love, with love  Can that ever be justified? In every form of art, perhaps, Violence has been glorified. A poet’s licence embraces all, Their words may be exaggerated, neve

By Astha They say romance is dead, But what about the romantic scenarios in my head? To paint somebody’s white shirt crimson red, “Don’t be a fool, it’ll be a heartbreak,” they said. So I brewed coffee at half past two, and began to write a story that felt achingly true. In a world of billions, there must be someone to hold me close—my man, my Mr. Grey, my Mr. Right, my one. Because I believe romance is alive, I’ve read about it too many times. How can they lie in words that

By Astha Sometimes you are the someone, Someone who could be the one. Someone who makes me his Madonna as well as his Maiden, Someone who’s warm and constant like the sun. Someone who remembers me in the lyrics of his all-time favourite song, Someone who will notice me even when I’m long gone. Someone who thinks of me when I haven’t answered in a while, Someone who can do anything just to make me smile. Someone who loves in the way we read about, Someone with whom I’d really

By Astha भाग्य ने क्या षड्यंत्र रचाया होगा?जब वैराग्य प्रेम में आया होगा। जब मेहँदी रचे हाथों ने,कैलाश का द्वार खटखटाया होगा। तप में लीन शिव का ध्यान,दक्ष कन्या ने भटकाया होगा। शमशान के स्वामी के मन में भला क्या भाव आया होगा? जब ऐश्वर्य त्याग,सती ने,रुद्राक्ष को श्रृंगार बनाया होगा। और भस्म से लिपटे शिव ने,सती का स्पर्श पाया होगा| क्या राजकुमारी के संकल्प ने उनका हिम-हृदय पिघलाया होगा? क्या प्रेम में हृदय हार,त्रिलोचन भी मुस्काया होगा? जब इस संगम से शून्य ने संपूर्णता का रूप

By Astha Thinking about you while doing श्रृंगार, शास्त्रों में लिखा है — it’s all written in the stars. I ask God to bless you as I put on my attire, Remembering the vows encircling the altar fire. On my head, माँगटीका I place, May God bless you with a smile on your face. May the flowers in my hair awaken your senses, May the बिंदी help you focus your lenses. May the काजल protect you from the evil eye, May the झुमका bring you joy and pride. May the नथ bless you with prosperi

By Rhea Madhikar We wore the same clothes, shoes and socks laughed over silly jokes, cried for marks. Took turns, somedays went with fight searching for a new quote, for the blackboard, every night. Morning prayers that the choir sung national pledge on every tongue. Everyday complaint about the legs being sore but its assembly guys. be it hot or cold. The joy on our faces, as the bell rang a cliche tradition of punishment- Sit and Stand. For on that we'd hate the time. and f

By Rhea Madhikar Bewildered, as she seemed having no clue what she was gonna be nothing less like a hemlock tree, was this world, she never dreamed. She once walked with her head low, shadows big, steps so slow, With steady hands and kinder heart, she gave herself a brand new start. My dear, the world might have forgotten to all the agony that it gave her, fearless she has now become, aint' no one stopping her- that a warrior she has now become. Broken girls can rise again, f

By Rhea Madhikar Battles entitled, graves embraced yet, for the time is now bygone a battalion into a legal maze. Blood, sweat and tears indeed a witness within mizzles could be seen- a prosperous world therein whispers of dreams that were once their own, yet, for the time is now bygone noble shall be there souls buried deep in. Combatants though they were, were someone's dear-never feared be on ridge, or on barren their menage beseeches for their hearts- hearts of essence. M

By Rhea Madhikar While surroundings did blemish the scene never had I made an effort to notice apart.. an emotion silenced, yet so unclear only if we knew of the kindred hearts.. For all what I know were those- misty rains, drenched thoughts summer waves and love droughts. Victory once conquered, felt just a game once played well, once we failed. realized world doesn't just sweet talk holds secrets, hides flaws. At times it rages, at times beholds far from seeking resilience,

By Rhea Madhikar I howled, unaware of what's beneath searched, every conscience underneath I prayed, for him to lead the way faith, I must say. Hurdles all along, even the ones yet to come felt like very own, endless trials have been walked unseen, fiercely I pick myself, paving the path, rampaging through the storms that rage between. I carry the weight, yet I still breathe stitched every inch, yet it still bleeds. Desired to rise, feared the fall with silent hope, dreams st

By Rushin Gandhi The mind has become its own place, for it Has become a hell, slaughtering all the peace For every answer, it produces a question For every solution, a problem. Welcomes everything strange and terrible It is quick to empathise, slow to reason, Comfort it tends dislike. Tranquillity? A capital act of treason. It thirsts for problems it cannot solve Always around worldly issues it has to revolve. I They shared the same bed. Even slept Through the same bedtime st

By Prakash Dubey सुनो एक अजन्मी बच्ची की ये पुकार  आखिर क्यों नहीं करता उसे ये समाज स्वीकार अभी तो माँ की कोख में ली ही थी अंगड़ाई  फिर किस गुनाह के खातिर है मेरी बली चढ़ाई  पूजती है हर घर में देवियों को जो दुनिया  फिर क्यूँ दिखती है इन्हें हम नन्ही सी जान में कमियां  अरे धरा पर जिन बेटियों का समाज करता है बलात्कार  फिर कैसे सुनाई देगा उन्हें हम मासूम बच्चियों की चीख पुकार  कोख में हम नन्ही जानों की हत्या देख जब ना हो एक माँ का कलेजा तार तार  फिर क्यूँ ना हो ऐसी ममता पर हमें

By Tanishka Oh Lord ! Don’t let the water,  Gushing from the rivers, Spoil off the ground, Don’t let the water, Kill every sound, By Tanishka