2025: One Life To Live

Wednesday, April 23, 2025

ମୁଁ ମଧ୍ୟ ନୁହେଁ ମୋ'ର

ଦେଖିଛି ତା' ଖୁସି ଜହ୍ନ ଭିଜା ନିଶାରେ

କଲ୍ଲୋଳିତ ତା' ହସ ମଧୁରୀମା ପ୍ରାତଃରେ

କିନ୍ତୁ କହେନା ସେ ମନ ଖୋଲି ମନ କଥା ମୋତେ

ଅଜଣା କି ମୁଁ ଏବେ ବି, ଥାଇ ସର୍ବଦା ତା' ପାଖରେ ?

ଦିନ ଆସେ ଦିନ ଯାଏ, ନିରନ୍ତର ସେ ବହି ଥାଏ

କୁଟା କାଠି ଝଡା ପତ୍ର, ସ୍ରୋତେ ତା'ର ବାହି ନିଏ

ବାହି ନିଏ ସେ ଅଝଟ ପ୍ରାର୍ଥନା, ପୁଣି ପଥିକର କ୍ଳାନ୍ତ ସ୍ମୃତି

ଅଲୋଡ଼ା କବିର କବିତାରେ କେବେକେବେ ପ୍ରେମର ଆବୃତ୍ତି

ମନେ ପଡି ଯାଏ ମୁଁ ଅକସ୍ମାତ ବୋଧେ... ମୋ ବକ୍ଷେ ଛାଡ଼ି ଯାଏ

କେବେ କିଛି ବସ୍ତୁ, କେବେ କିଛି ଅଖୋଜା କାହାଣୀର ଇତି ବୃତ୍ତି

(ତଥାପି କହେନା ସେ ମନ ଖୋଲି ମନ କଥା ତା'ର

ବେଳେବେଳେ ବାହି ନିଏ ସେ ସ୍ମୃତି ମଧ୍ୟୁ ସ୍ମୃତି ମଧ୍ୟ କିଛି)

କେବେ ପୁଣି ଆସେ ଆଷାଢ଼ର ସେ ଘନ ମେଘମାଳ,

ଝୁମି ଝୁମି ନାଚି ଉଠେ ଶୁଣି ଆକାଶର ମୃଦୁ ତାଳ

ଶ୍ରାବଣର ଧାରେ ପୁଣି କେବେ ହୁଏ ଭାବବିହ୍ବଳ

ଅଣାୟତ୍ତ ହୋଇ ଲଙ୍ଘିଯାଏ ମୋତେ, ଭସାଏ ସେ ସ୍ଥଳ

ରୋକିବାକୁ ଚାହିଁ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୁଁ କେବେ ବା ରୋକି ପାରିଛି

ଅପେକ୍ଷାରତ ଥାଇ ମଧ୍ୟ ସେ ମୋ ଅପେକ୍ଷା ବା କେବେ ବୁଝି ପାରିଛି

ତା' ଭାବରେ ଅସ୍ତିତ୍ୱରୁ କିଛି ତା' ଜଳେ ଜଳମଗ୍ନ କରିଛି

ଅବିରତ ତା' ଝଲକ ପାଇଁ ସମୁଦ୍ର ପାଖେ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୁଁ ବସା ବାନ୍ଧିଛି

(ତା' କୂଳ ମୁଁ, ସର୍ବଦା ନଦୀ ପାଇଁ ଚିହ୍ନିତ

ମୋ ନାଁ ରେ କ'ଣ କେବେ ନଦୀ ଚିହ୍ନା ପାଇଛି?)

ମନ କଥା ତା'କୁ କେବେ କେବେ କହିଛି

କିଛି କଥା ଏବେ ବି ଅକୁହା ରହି ଯାଇଛି

ତା' ଖୁସିରେ ଖୁସି ହୋଇ ଆପଣେଇଛି ମୋହ କୁ

ତା' ଦୁଃଖ ଦେଖି ରୋକିବି କେତେ ଅବା କୋହ କୁ

ମୋ ଖୁସି, ଦୁଃଖ, କୋହ, ମୋହ ତା' ପାଇଁ ଓ ତା'ର

ନିମିତ୍ତ ମୁଁ, ତା' ନାମେ ନାମିତ, ମୁଁ ମଧ୍ୟ ନୁହେଁ ମୋ'ର

/ 28

: 486

Monday, April 21, 2025

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)

Monday, April 14, 2025

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.

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

Sunday, April 13, 2025

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

Saturday, April 12, 2025

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

Thursday, April 10, 2025

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.

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

Wednesday, April 9, 2025

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

Tuesday, April 8, 2025

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?

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

Monday, April 7, 2025

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

Sunday, April 6, 2025

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

Saturday, April 5, 2025

ଅଭିଯାନ

ଚିରଦିନୁ ଆଶ୍ରିତା ସେ ମହା ଦ୍ରୁମ ଛାୟାରେ,

ନିରାପଦେ ବଢିଛି ସେ ସୁରକ୍ଷିତ କାୟାରେ ।

ଦୁନିଆର ରୀତି ନୀତି କି ଅବା ସେ ଜାଣିଛି,

ଆଲୋକର ମିଠା ମଧୁ କେବେ ବା ସେ ଚାଖିଛି !

ନିତି ଦେଖେ ଗୁଣ୍ଡୁଚିଙ୍କ କୌତୁହଳ, ପିମ୍ପୁଡ଼ିଙ୍କ ମେଲଣ,

ନିତି ଶୁଣେ କିଚିମିଚି ପକ୍ଷୀ ଗୀତ, ସାଧୁଙ୍କର ଜଣାଣ ।

କିନ୍ତୁ ଦେଖିନି ସେ ନୀଳବର୍ଣ୍ଣ ଆକାଶରେ ମେଘମାଳା ଶ୍ବେତ,

ଶୁଣିନି ସେ ଚପଳାର ମୃଦୁ ଧ୍ବନି ଅବା ସକାଳର ସ୍ବର୍ଣ୍ଣ ଗୀତ ।

ଭାବେ ବସି ବିଦେଶିନୀ ପବନର ସ୍ରୋତ କଥା,

କାହା ଗାଥା ଗାଏ ସେ ଯେ ଲାଗେ କିଛି ଅଧା ଅଧା?

ମହକେ ସେ ଅଜଣା ଏକ ପୁଲକିତ ବାସ୍ନାରେ,

ଅଛି କି ଏକ ଦୁନିଆ ତା' ଦୁନିଆ ବାହାରେ !?

ଦେଖେ ସିଏ ନିତି ଏବେ, ଏକ ଅଭାବନୀୟ ସପନ,

ଭାବେ ବସି ଅକଳ୍ପନୀୟ ଗାଥାରେ ଲୁଚିଥିବା ଗହନ ।

'ଅଭିଯାନ ଯେ ଅପରିହାର୍ଯ୍ୟ', ଶୁଣିଛି ସେ ଜୀବନେ,

ଅଜଣା ଅନ୍ଧକାରେ ସେ ଯିବ ଏବେ - ଆଲୋକର ସନ୍ଧାନେ ।

/ 16

: 108

Wednesday, April 2, 2025

ଐକାନ୍ତିକ

ଅସରନ୍ତି କୁହେଳିକା ସେ ଚକ୍ଷୁ ଯହିଁ ଚାହେଁ

ଚାହୁଁ ଚାହୁଁ ଗୋଲାପ ସ୍ବର୍ଣ୍ଣ ତହିଁ ବିଦ୍ୟମାନ ହୁଏ

ହେବ ହେବ ବୋଲି ଦ୍ବିଜ ସ୍ବର ପୁଣି ଶୁଭେ

ଶୁଭ ଶୁଭ୍ର ଉର୍ମି ବକ୍ଷେ ଆଭା ମୋକ୍ଷ ଲଭେ

ଏଭଳି ଦୃଶ୍ୟର ଦୃଷ୍ଟାନ୍ତ ବା କାହିଁ

ସବୁଠି ଥାଏ କିନ୍ତୁ ଦୃଶ୍ୟ ହୁଏ ନାହିଁ

ଜୀବନ ଭଳି ମନେହୁଏ ଅବା ତାହା ହିଁ ଜୀବନ

ମନ ମଧ୍ୟେ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନ ଅସୁମାରି ହୁଏ ଉଦ୍ଭାବନ

ଅନନ୍ତ ଶିଖା ଭଳି ଜଳେ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନ ଏଠି

କେଉଁ ରାଜ୍ୟେ ଖୋଜିବୁଲେ, ଉତ୍ତର ଅଛି ଅବା ସେଠି?

ଆଖି ଦେଖେ ଯାହା ଏଠି, ଭ୍ରମ ତହିଁ ବିଦ୍ୟମାନ

ସ୍ବପ୍ନେ ସତ୍ଯ ଉଭା ହୁଏ, କେବେ କରେ କି ସନ୍ଧାନ ?

ମରୁ ମଧ୍ୟେ ଉଦଧି ଥିଲା, ବୋଧ ହୁଏ କେବେ

ରତ୍ନ ତହିଁ ସାଉଁଟିଲେ, ମିଳିବ କି ଏବେ?

କିମ୍ବଦନ୍ତୀ କୋଳେ, ଅସ୍ପଷ୍ଟ ସେ ତାରାଦୀପ୍ତି ମେଳେ,

ପ୍ରହେଳିକା ଅନେକ ।

ମନ କିନ୍ତୁ ପ୍ରଭାମୟୀ, ଚିତ୍ତ ଦ୍ଯୁତିମୟୀ

ସମାଧାନ ତହିଁ ଐକାନ୍ତିକ ।

/ 18

: 108

Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Dancing Star

"Man muss noch Chaos in sich haben, um einen tanzenden Stern gebären zu können."
(You must have chaos within you to give birth to a dancing star.)

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

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

Calmness of the breeze whispered to the waves wild,
Could you stay still, perhaps for a little while?
'cause I have miles to go and lives to change,
Charm a smitten heart with tales from lands strange.

Crisp cosmic voice of the waves spoke,
Candor in her stance a muted innocence did invoke.

Could you move, as you stay where you are?
Could you live, when the zeal is further from far?
Could Big Bang be birthed from a state of calm?
Could a poet compose without a few qualms in her palm?

Curiousness in her eyes, the breeze listened with a fervor keen,
Calmness too needs chaos, she knew now as the waves set the scene.

Entropy is the provenance, of the cosmos and all at par,
For you need chaos within, to give birth to a dancing star.

/ 14

: 140

====================================
A Little Something:

Inspired by the quote from one of my favourite books by Friedrich Nietzsche (Thus Spoke Zarathustra), and a response to the poetry prompt "Chaos", this piece is a part/snippet of one of the write-ups that belong to the lengthier side of my writings.

Though it has multiple patterns and few poetic devices, the one I would like to highlight here is the first letter of the first 12 lines (the lines that make up the conversation) in this 14-line piece. It is in line with the beginning letter of the prompt: "Chaos".

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

Friday, March 14, 2025

Probably Inexpressible

Call me weird, or "different", if you are in the polite spectrum, or may be nothing at all (it's nothing new, anyway); but I will always continue to be enamored by the magic of numbers and patterns.

It is not like I always want to (or maybe I do, I am possibly not that self-aware), but somehow the patterns and the numbers find me. It has puzzled me, believe you me. Just like they found me this year, on this very day too.

Anybody who remotely knows me, knows my affinity towards pi. I have been vocal about it, very vocal. However, this year I made up my mind to keep my distance, intentionally, just to try something new. I tried to even forget the date, if I could.

However, if you try hard to forget something, you will most probably remember it better than before. So, naturally I was very aware about today's date. I even went out abruptly, like most of my outings, with my father to visit a temple... just to take my mind off of it. It didn't help; the thought was constantly there.

I didn't check the time on my phone too, but but but... accidentally (or was it?) my phone lit up and I happened to notice the time (and the temperature). I stared at it for a few seconds, figuring out what to make of the situation. And I took a screenshot, I still don't know why. What are the odds (easily calculable, but let's not bother) that it would be 3.14 PM and the temperature too would read 36 degrees celsius?! Is it magic or destiny? (That was a rhetorical question.)

So, since it is what it is, and it has been what it has been, I think I should now let the news be known. It is not a news per se but just something I want to share only because I have to give credit to a few people. And what better day to do it?

It happened almost 3 years back, though I got to know about it a little later. In the world ranking of pi-masters, my name too is listed for remembering and reciting 306 digits of it. I chose that number of digits intentionally (now today's temperature too must make some sense). Last time I checked, it was 1200 digits that I remembered of it.

To the people who helped me in making to that list... I will forever have gratitude in my heart for you. Roshan sir, Chetana ma'am, and S. Prabhu sir, thank you so much.

Despite being so busy, you agreed to be there so promptly. You showed me immense support. How would I ever be able to convey what that meant for me! You three were the only people who I had informed of this; and I had always intended it to be that way. But your contribution must also be known and hence this, in this small possible way, I express my gratitude. Eternal gratitude.

Tuesday, March 11, 2025

What were his thoughts?

I began listing out things that I could do just to get a glance of her, once more. I realized I could do anything, everything. The very next moment told me that I could do absolutely nothing, nothing at all.

I kept on dwindling between these two states, every other second. And that dwindling was not sinusoidal in nature. It had extreme peaks, spikes of an infinite positive and negative in a vast time axis with minuscule divisions.

Time was a blip, sometimes... and an eternal lonesome love song awaiting the end of forever, the next second.

I could have given up everything just to see her one more time. But if I give up everything, will I be that "I" that has always loved her? Will there ever be remains of the "me" that she has loved?

Would I be making a selfish decision to give up myself? For it was not just me in that "myself"... it has moments of everything and everyone that made me "me". It has her, it has my creators too, and every emotion that I had felt and some... that had been left unfelt.

I could do everything and nothing for that glance. And once this feeling made itself felt, every ounce of my existence felt unsettling, almost warning me of its fragility, of its volatility. I did not matter anymore.

Friday, February 14, 2025

Forever

Dear Forever,

Thursday, February 13, 2025

tomorroW

Dear tomorroW,

Hope tells me I will find you there,

Where wishes fly and dreams dance,

Where the soft hues of sunrays prance, and

Where chirping birds put melodies

To vibe in a dreamy trance.

So, I await to witness the vow of words

I await here, where the moonbeams kiss the sea

I await here to meet You there

Where the Dawn kisses the air with glee

Love,

Wednesday, February 12, 2025

toDay

Dear toDay,

With pulsating moments of memories,

And with a sanguine world to come

you are a melange of warmth and glory

The "now" of time

That shapes every event, every story

In an embrace like no other

You nestle me in your fervor and hope

Encompassed in resplendent idea of joys

My heart shimmers - becomes spring in poise.

Love,

Tuesday, February 11, 2025

Mystical Moments

Dear Mystical Moments,

The velvet of the night

Whispered to the empyrean sky

With a cursory glance of adore

Pursed his lips

But the indigo eyes did defy

The stars feigned indifference

But eavesdropped through the cloud

They twinkled in hiding

As words in silence he avowed

With Love,

Monday, February 10, 2025

Winds of Memory

Dear Winds of Memory,

In ways the freshness in your traces (tresses)

Caresses the heart and soul

In ways the softness of your balmy laughter

Envelopes hope and makes it whole

A sense of wonder and adore ensues

Sometimes finer than silk

Or eclectic than filk

Like dreamy plushies that beam and gleam

Your charm is as easy as a summer daydream

Love,

Sunday, February 9, 2025

Daylight of Mysteries

Dear Daylight of Mysteries,

In the unabridged memoirs of alluring enigma,

You hold the place of Desire's wish,

Known to many, just a few could feel,

Like the conundrums of chocolate-y bliss.

Tales do whisper their shushed stories,

In the folds of the blanketed nights...

But there are thoughts of silken depths,

Only esoteric souls sense,

That the glorious sunlight writes.

Love,

Saturday, February 8, 2025

Dear Universes of Being

Dear Universes of Being,

I, a mere speck of dust, in your immenseness,

Has been a seeker of things infinitesimal,

That rapture in the shine of morning dew,

Or the reflection of its worlds in a different hue.

The dew drop here and another across the seas

Have destinies interlaced,

But commune only through the breeze.

When the starlight in them wish an eternal tryst,

Will the celestial providence assist?

Love,

Friday, February 7, 2025

Dear Inception of Fragrances

Dear Inception of Fragrances,

I remember that day of the Sun,

When like every other day,

Numerous dreams were sown.

When the weather smelled the morning breeze,

And whispered sweet nothings across the seas.

The magic transcended realms,

One could have ever felt or seen.

When we met, as the serendipitous moments chose,

In the swaying fragrance - of the quaint rose.

Love,

Saturday, January 18, 2025

C'est la Vie ! : କଳ୍ପନାର ହିମଦେଶ

ତୁଷାରିତ ହିମଗିରି ଶିଖର କୋଳେ,

ସ୍ବର୍ଣ୍ଣାଭ କିରଣ ର କଲ୍ଲୋଳିତ ତାଳେ,

ପ୍ରସ୍ଫୁଟିତ ହୀରାକଣି ପୁଷ୍ପ ହସେ,

ଜୀବନ ସେଠି ଜୀବନର ରହସ୍ଯ ଭାଷେ ।

ହିମଗୌର ଆଲୋକରେ ପ୍ରଜ୍ବଳିତ ଶିଖା,

ଚପଳ ଜୋଛନା ସେଠି ଆଙ୍କେ ଚିତ୍ରଲେଖା,

ମନୋମୟ କାହାଣୀରେ କାଦମ୍ବିନୀ ହଜେ,

ମନ ସେଠି ମନର ଗୀତିକାର ସାଜେ ।

ନଭଶ୍ଚୁମ୍ବୀ ସେ, ଧରିତ୍ରୀର ଶ୍ରେଷ୍ଠ ଚୂଡ଼ାମଣି,

ମିଞ୍ଜିମିଞ୍ଜି ତାରାପୁଞ୍ଜ ତହିଁ ସ୍ବପ୍ନ ଯାଏ ବୁଣି,

ମୃଦୁ ହସେ ମନ୍ଦାକିନୀ ଉତଫୁଲ୍ଲିତ ହୋଇ,

କଳ୍ପନା ସେଠି କଳ୍ପନାର ସ୍ମାରକ ଗଢ଼ଇ ।

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

A Loose Translation:

(January 22, 2025, 8:16 PM)

That's Life! : A Snowy Land (Himalayas) of Imagination

In the lap of the snowy peaks,

With the astoundingly delightful rhythm of the golden rays,

The blooming diamond flowers beam with delight,

And Life... whispers the mystery of Life there.

The peak (1*) glistens in the auroral frosted snow,

As the fickle moonbeam paints a celestial portrait,

The ethereal clouds immerse themselves in fantasies,

And Mind... adorns itself with ariose ballads of Mind.

Kissing the skies, it is a treasure sans pareil,

Where the shimmering stars sow and plant dreams.

The exultant "Mandakini" (2*) smiles gently,

And Imagination... builds a monument of Imagination there.

(1*) the mountain peak and the flame : are spelt same in Odia. An ornamentation technique is used called "Jamaka Alankara" has been used here.

(2*) Mandakini is a tributary river of Ganga. Additionally, the cosmic river or the Milky way galaxy is also referred to as Mandakini. Again, "Jamaka Alankara" is used here.

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

Thursday, January 16, 2025

Raahi Chaand

महकी हुई सन्नाटों में वो चाँद आहें भरता है आज भी

महफ़िलों के उन चँद रंगों को वो निहारता है आज भी

हैं ये दिन हसीन और शामें जवाँ अब भी मगर

नर्म मुस्कानों में वह बातें याद करता है आज भी

थे कुछ अनकहे से लफ्ज़ अब भी बाकी शायद

उन लफ्ज़ों की शिकायत निगाहों से करता है आज भी

नज़र की नज़ाकत चाहे पलकों से घिरे रहें मगर

तारों को रोशनी के किस्से बेबाकी से सुनाता है आज भी

किस्तों में बादलों से मिलना होता है कभी कभी मगर

उनसे समंदर का हाल-ए-दिल वो पूछ लेता है आज भी

वह लहरें जो बेक़रारी में क़रार ढूँढती थीं तब

उनके शिकवे में दास्तानों की गूँज सुनता है आज भी

कुछ कहानीयों में राहों का आगाज़ रहता होगा शायद

हर कहानी के मोड़ में जाने क्या राह तलाशता है आज भी

रास्तों मे अक्सर भटकते होंगे राही मगर

पर क्या भटका राही मंजिलो से ख़फ़ा रहता है आज भी?

Pages

Wednesday, April 23, 2025

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Thursday, April 10, 2025

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Wednesday, April 2, 2025

Tuesday, April 1, 2025

Friday, March 14, 2025

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Friday, February 7, 2025

Saturday, January 18, 2025

Thursday, January 16, 2025

About Me