When the Book Speaks

With the words that were destined

To fill every corner and every nook

But these words really never belonged

How much ever you look

Frazzled and dusty, I lay

In the corner that every eye can reach

But no hands ever extend to turn the pages

Or glance at the words that enlivened them each

There are stories in me

That you may never understand 

Even if you read them

For a thousand nights

For they are from the between-the-lines land

Where every plot offers never-seen-before sights

Still forgiving, I will always hold tales

That would make you whole

Even when termites of being jilted

Has left holes in my soul

Until my pages are tattered 

And the warming words in me

Have faded into nonbeing

I will always be there

As an empathic listener

That would cater to your well-being. 

/ 24

: 141 (145)

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

ଟିକିଏ କାନିକା ପରି

ପଚାରିଲେ ଜନନୀ ମୋ'ର, "କ'ଣ ଖାଇଛୁ ଆଜି ମା?"

ମୁଁ କହିଲି, "କିଛି ନାହିଁ।"
ସେ କହିଲେ (ବ୍ଯଙ୍ଗରେ),"ଖାଲି ପବନ ଖାଇଛୁ ତା'ହେଲେ।"
ମୁଁ କି ଏ ସୁଯୋଗ ଛାଡିବା ଲୋକ। ମୁଁ ମଧ୍ୟ କହିଲି,

"ଖାଲି ପବନ ନୁହେଁ ...
ଟିକିଏ ପବନ, ସେଥିରେ (ଗଛ ପତ୍ରର) ବର୍ଷା ପାଣି କଲି ମିଶ୍ରଣ ।
ଛିଡେଇ ଆଣି ଭସା ବାଦଲ ରୁ ଖଣ୍ଡେ,
ସଜେଇ ରଖିଲି ସେଥିରେ, ପୁଣି କହୁଛି ଶୁଣ...
ସଜ ଫୁଟା ଫୁଲର ମହକ ଟିକିଏ ଆଣି,
ତା' ଉପରେ ଛିଞ୍ଚି ଦେଲି ହାଲକା ହାଲକା ପୁଣି।"

ଏହା ଶୁଣି କହିଲେ ସେ, "ଆରେ ବାଃ ! ବଢିଆ କବିତା। "

"କବିତା ? ଏ କି କବିତା ? ଇଏ କ'ଣ କବିତା !?," ବୋଲି କହିଲି ମୁଁ।

ଆପଣ ମାନେ କୁହନ୍ତୁ ତ...


ଓଡ଼ିଆ ଖାଦ୍ୟରେ ଭାତ ର ମହତ୍ତ୍ୱର ସରି,
ଜନନୀ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୋ'ର ଠିକ ସେମିତି
ଟିକିଏ କାନିକା ପରି...

କାନିକାର ମିଠା ମିଠା ସ୍ବାଦ ଭଳି,
ମିଠା କଥା ଥା'ନ୍ତି ସେ କହି ।
ପୁଣି କେବେ ଅଳେଇଚ, ଡାଲଚିନି ମସଲା ଭଳି,
ବ୍ଯଙ୍ଗଭରା କଥାର ଛୁଙ୍କ ମଧ୍ଯ ଥାଏ ତହିଁ ।
ଦେଶି ଘିଅ ଭଳି ଥାଏ ଯତ୍ନ ଓ ପୋଷଣ
ପ୍ରଭୁ ପାଦେ କରିଥାନ୍ତି ସେ ସର୍ବଦା ଜଣାଣ।

ଓଡ଼ିଆ ଖାଦ୍ୟରେ ଭାତ ର ମହତ୍ତ୍ୱର ସରି,
ଜନନୀ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୋ'ର ଠିକ ସେମିତି
ଟିକିଏ କାନିକା ପରି...

/25

: 146

==============================

A Little Something:

The conversation mentioned here happened as it is... exactly as mentioned. So, permission and consent has been taken accordingly.

The last 12 lines may come as a surprise for her.

==============================

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Love Like Hers

Like the ferocious storm
That could capsize entire oceans
Like the exquisite redolence
Of the pristine flower from heavens

Like the astute philosopher
Perceiving an entire cosmos in thoughts
Like the whimsical butterfly
Gliding by, radiating rapture beyond noughts

Like the refreshing zephyr
Of the summer moon
Like the warm sunshine
Of the winter noon
Like the peachy glimmer
During the birth of dawn
Like the purple shimmer
The silken gloaming has spawn

How could mere words be ever enough?
Even imagining a Love like hers is beyond tough.

For when she loves
She is born
For when she loves
Eternity has her heart adorn
For when she loves
She is earth's profound emotion
For when she loves
She has the sky in motion

She loves like the fiery passion in heart's heart
She loves like the dreamy calmness in ethereal art
She loves like Time has never been born
She loves like Space is still in the cosmic churn

Yet she stands as if she is
Of an inconsequential presence
It would need gems for eyes
To comprehend her divine essence

How could mere words be ever enough?
Even imagining a Love like hers is beyond tough.

/36

: 198

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

A Quiet Note to Her

The clean crisp soft notes

Of the Dressroom scents
And the remnant hints that
The seldom-used peppermint oil presents

Just the kind of unusual harmony
She walks on
That no one else would expect
But I know how she finds it just perfect

She would stare at me
For what could be seconds or hours
The next moment

She would be in those pages
Or humming about

Blue galaxies or flowers

That's just her version
Of quotidian aspects she lives by
That no one else would have to wonder
But I know how frustrating it feels
When she gawks at an invisible sky
And would ponder

All said and done,
As her pillow
I wish I could tell her things
That I would be there
Through the weary winters
And sparkling springs

/ 26

: 132

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

I would not be still

I have seen the rains,
The silver drops speaking with the terrains.
I have basked in the sun too,
The golden shine humming as the bees flew.

The winters too were never that tough,
For spring has always pampered life enough.

Oh! The days I have seen,
And the nights, 

When the moon set the scene.
Sometimes it would be
A tad gloomy and dreary,
But the wheels moved and
The next moment would be hunky-dory.

But there were times
When I was shook to my foundation
I bled too,
As I witnessed the agony in creation
Some parts healed,

But my tips never went further from the scabs
(The tips bled through the scabs,

The frequency ? No one kept tabs.)
For they witnessed desperation the most, 

And the treacherous stabs.

I wished, I hoped, I begged, and even cried,
But the animosity among these creatures...
Never died!
I was a bystander
To their cruel destructions as I grieved,
My bleeding tip witnessed them
Building graves upon heart of the bereaved.

Being stationed as high could be heart-wrenching
With none seeing the worse,
You bear the most, silently, with jaws clenching.

I wish the wheels turn again,
And a hill like me...

Could be at peace then.
Until then, I would try with all my wit and will
Even though I can't move, I would not be still.

/ 36 +2

: 216 +12

==============================

A Little Something:

The prompt was "My bleeding tip". However, to write about the pen didn't quite feel fine. It just didn't click. Additionally, I already have a piece on a similar theme.

So, the next thoughts were considered. Among a couple of ideas, I decided to go with the soliloquy (sort of) of a hill and how its peak (or tip) bleeds observing the spiraling events and incidents happening around. (Wherever 'tip' appears in this piece, it refers to the top of the hill or the peak.) 

Being at an advantageous position (here the height or tallness of the tip/peak, as compared to the rest parts of the hill) is not as beneficial as it seems. Grass is greener on the other side.

==============================

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

The Lavender Box

The travel-memory boxes glanced

From the glass shelves like every other day. 

Calling out to me with their ounce of hope,

As if they have lot to say.

I picked up the one covered with lavender satin.

It was from the summer of 2017.

The inner fabric was still bright

But the exteriors had faded, 

From the sun's golden light.

The box had a receipt of the cafe

The one with the dartboard from across the street

The printed letters had ashened

But the handwritten message on it

Still smelled sweet. 

A letter, a ribbon, few bills,

And that leaf from the park,

Some muted, some still same, 

And few with some marks,

Chronicled the anecdotes, the conversations, 

And the stories,

Like they would never let go

Of those days of glories.

The faded fabric and the marks

Didn't matter anymore,

When the travel-memory box

Brought its core to the fore.

Aren't memories too, mysteriously alike? 

We think they have faded into oblivion,

But a trifling touch paints everything radiant 

Within a second's strike.

/ 30

: 174

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

Nothing

In the beginning of beginnings,

If there ever was a 'time',
Where there was "Nothing"
And everything seemed to have
Neither reason or rhyme.

That is when the "Formless" played
Sans any perception,
Consciousness was "made".
And then anything that could become,
Became.

There was concept,
Yet there was none.
Every 'probable' universe,
The mind could have churned,
Existed, when existence
Came into being.
But in what dimensions,
When even Space and Time
Aren't even a thing?

And now, (even when there's no now)
They question Dream
And dissociate it from Reality
As if it's an ongoing theme.
But if Reality would be "real",
'Form' could be conceived in mind,
And wouldn't that be surreal?

For if it is the conscious mind,
Where probabilities are birthed,
Is it not where multiverses are "earthed"?
But then again,
It was Nothing
That became everything.
And the conscious mind
Is just every form
That it could become
In the multiverses of 'being'.
That which can, becomes,
If that is what one is seeing.

/ 38

: 165 +5

==============================

A Little Something:

This piece sounds insane, probably. That's imminent, when you are passionate about Multiverses, Quantum Mechanics, Cosmology, and anything that is associated with these fields. You have loads to say, (you probably could go on for days or months), but could only say words that are numbered, and hence everything you say (or write) seems insane, just like this piece.

Having said that, if you find yourself interested in any of these fields and actually read the entire piece (you are already a hero!), we could discuss it further, in a few more words. What say?

==============================

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

A Cup of...

The ever blissful bright mornings

Come often to sprinkle the fairy dust,
Laced with essences of arete and hope.
There are mornings too,
When the sheen's subtle and
The glistening glimmer got not a clue.

On beginnings like these,
Where wishes sparkle,
But moxie's on a reel...
You come to me
Like a fragrant cup of Lavender Love
The folds of your eyelids,
As you glance with a lazy warmth,
Are the tranquil waters on the edge of Dawn
That gives me poise and makes me go on.

There too are balmy evenings,
That welcome the ivory night,
But sometimes seem to carry,
The day's worth of plight.
On moments like these,
You come to me
Like a cup of Ginger Goodness.
The serene smile,
As you speak of mundane things,
Is the potent elixir that the twilight brings.
It eases my strain off, even if the day was tough.

Then there are the velvety nights
Where the stars twinkle,
And enigmatic tales
The mysteries of the mind sprinkle.
But when the moon takes a rain check,
From the dance of dreams,
Eclipses unfold with dour themes.
During spells like these,
You come to me
Like a cup of Chamomile Charm.
The aurora in your voice,
As you beam with your starry-eyed adore,
Is the Forever that destinies desire

And wishes wish for.
It soothes my soul and heals my heart to the core.

You are the Dream of dreams,
The Love of Wishes,
A promise of eternity
Until (and beyond) the Sun gleams.

/ 45

: 254 +2

Copyright © 2025 One Life To Live. All Rights Reserved

हैं खानाबदोश वो

टिमटिमाती तारों की
उन रोशनी की हर रेशे से पुछो,

या लहराती हुई हवा की
खुसबू में छिपे हर नज़्म से पुछो,

हैं किस्से कई जगहों के
हर मोड में शामिल मगर,

हैं खानाबदोश वो, उन किस्सों की
मंजिल का पता ना उनसे पुछो ।

                  कहीं सपनें नींदों में छुपती हैं,
                  पर बादल अपने सपने
                  अपनी आवाज में लिये चलते हैं,

                  कहीं आशाएँ मंजिलों में तय रह जाती हैं,
                  पर लहरें अपनी आशाएँ
                  अपनी रूह में बसाये चलती हैं,

                  हैं रास्तें कई, दिशायें कई,
                  बिन ठीकानों के मंजर कई मगर,

                  हैं खानाबदोश वो, वह अपना घर
                  अपने दिल में लिये चलते हैं ।

उनकी ज़िक्र में थोड़ी आशाएँ
हमने भी रूह में बसा ली,

उनकी निगाहों के उजालों में थोड़े सपने
हमने भी गीतों में बुन ली,

उनकी खुशबू की लहरों में
एक-आध पंक्तियां हमने भी चुन ली,

उन मुस्काती नज़ाकत में थोड़ी रोशनी
हमने भी रेशों में पिरो ली।

हैं खानाबदोश वो, कुछ बात तो है उन राहों में,
हमने भी खानाबदोशी से दोस्ती कर ली ।

/ 28

: 165

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