All related to Love*

1Seen him one horrendous rain filled night-
He was getting wet, alone,
I wanted to beckon him to my room
He reverted in brief - ' no!'
he had said,
Knowing the old man's unease, could not say more!The night how far kept him away could not make that out,
In the morn
Saw all those flowers of the  jasmine tree
Had fallen,
Like pain,
Had he been the soul of that immensely beautiful tree?From then on,
Every rainy night
I stay awake looking out
But he does not care to come,
Only that curious smell of jasmine-
Gradually enveloping me
And that white color of buds
Only tell upon me,
As if they ask me to dream
Without getting wet,
Without being burnt!2Have scraped all colors black and white from you
Scraped them out like dream
Then put colors more real
With green have I filled,
Wrapped from head to toe
And sent them away to the woods;
Now no amount of enmity would come betwixt us!Life would now largely become songs of afternoons,
Hearing the gongs of copper bells would y…

That path away from the ville *

That  path of red soil going away from the ville How mind mine with mirth doth seal, For whom do I stretch my hand For whom do I get away from the land; She how takes me away from home Pleading me to see her wealth awesome; How she takes me away To which heaven she for me shows the way; I know not in which twist and turn She would show me ( a splendid morn) Her beauty and her wealth, Where she hath forever dwelt; Where would the end touch With the beginning of which beauty such, Can never find that so, Which path away from ville she sows.
(*note : it is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, as can be found at page 421, poem/ song number 14, volume four, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি , Birth Centenary edition.  The painting attached for illustrative purpose is done by G.D. Arulraj. This transliteration is my humble   tribute to Tagore)


Child O my child
Playing with dust
How you spend
Your day without end;
I just smile
Seeing you thus
Playing with bunch of grass;And I remain how
With books and copies
My mind I rake
My soul I plough;
The copies I fill
With drawings and sketches
Moments of time I seal;Child O my child
Playing with dust
How have I forgotten
Many little things;
Where could I get
Toys , thinking about them
How I have lost in the game
How go I searching in vain
Gold and silver how I gather
False (thinking thy name);And You, the Child
How you do create
Whatever in hands thine
You with ease get,And I how spend time
Wishing to get
Which  is not in my fate;How do i go beyond
The implausible
How by that
Do i turn a song, (a fable,)
How do I on the river of dreams
Float my boat ( as it seems).{*note: it is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, titled 'নির্লিপ্ত ' ( Nirlipto) as can be found in ' শিশু' ( Shishu) section of Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, volume two, Birth …

The big friend*

Whence after writing
Losing myself in dreams
A bit of nostalgia whence
Wraps my mind like a comforter
How am I reminded of him
The 'Big Friend' , had been his nickname;He used to sit on high stool
Overlooking the reading hall
Grave looking faces with specs
Whence news on papers read,We just loitered around him,
' what do you want? Tintin?
Or Alistair Maclean?'
His eyes filled with humour
Filled our sunday morn's hour;How after so many days
Whence I feel lost  in dreams
How am I simply reminded of him.(*note: it is written on a special person who had been the librarian of a club called ' Sports Club'. He used to keep open the children's section of the library every Sunday without fail, just to supply us with books)

'বড়ো বন্ধু '*

অনেক লেখা লিখলেও
যখন লেখার রেশ
হারিয়ে খেই
হই নিরুদ্দেশ
ঠিক তখনই দেখেছি
তোমার কথা মনে পড়ে বেশ;রবিবারের আসর শেষ
রেডিওএ কুঈজ শো
স্পোর্টস্ ক্লাবের রিডিং রুম
চশমা চোখ পড়ে খবর টাটকা হাত গরম;আর তুমি হাই স্টুলে আসীন
আমাদের বড়ো বন্ধু
' কি চাই? টিনটিন?
না আলিস্টেয়ার মাক্লিন?'সহজ চোখে হাসির রেশ
তোমার কথা মনে পড়ে  বেশ,
বইয়ের থাক, সারি সারি প্রলোভন,
ঐ তো নতুন হোমস্, ঐ যে রবি ঠাকুর পুরাতন;অনেক লেখা লিখলেও
যখন লেখার রেশ
হারিয়ে খেই
হই নিরুদ্দেশ
ঠিক তখনই দেখেছি
তোমার কথা মনে পড়ে বেশ।(* বি:দ্র : ' বড়ো বন্ধু ' এই লেখাটা একজন বিশেষ মানুষকে নিয়ে লেখা যার আসল নামটি মনে নেই কারণ তিনি আমাদের কাছে 'বড়ো বন্ধু ' নামেই পরিচিত ছিলেন। উনি ছিলেন আমাদের এক ' স্পোর্টস্ ক্লাবের' লাইব্রেরিয়ান। প্রতি রবিবার ছোটদের জন্য উনি লাইব্রেরিতে থাকতেন শুধু ছোটদের হাতে বই তুলে দেবার জন্যে। আমাদের ছোটবেলার হরেক স্মৃতি তাই ওনাকে ঘিরে আজও অম্লান। )

If Thou hath reached the shore*

If thou hath reached the shore
Leave thy oar
Take my hands instead
For moments make me sit
By thy side ( for a treat)
For moments few
Make me sit
On the meadows (drenched by dew),
The night has  got blown away
By the waves, as arrives the day;Thou the Boatman,
If my home is not far away
If the tune of homecoming
Holds over me the sway,
With the arrival of the morn,
Just that music Thou play
Which upholds the song
Of the road at that root of the tree
( as my home do I see
Arriving at that step of door)Thou the Boatman
If Thou hath reached the shore
Leave thy oar
And take my hands instead.( *note: it is a transliteration of a poem/ song of Rabindranath Tagore, number 66, as can be found in page 429, volume two, Collected Works/ রবীন্দ্ররচনাবলি, Birth Centenary edition)

The river at dusk

The River which goes on flowing
Without hassles meandering
There  how I find it oft and true
The dusk painting her with hues
Wonderous and surely enchanting,
A blissful state of a blessed evening,
Colorful, joyous , sublime a song
How in her murmurs that is  kept for long,
How in her flowing never ending mirth
oft am I made to find happiness of earth,
How in her eternal poesy so wrought
Do I find what life for us always brought-
The beginning of civilisation, human race
And that soul immortal by which we are blessed.
( the painting attached for illustrative purpose is by David Lloyd Glover, titled ' the dusk river')

A few lines written on a brief sojourn to a village

Being confined in the city for long
Whence once I got the chance
To go away to a village
On a brief sojourn,
How had I been with warmth filled
Seeing the translucent curtain of mist
Over the benign earth,
The trees looked lovely and green
Fresh as if they had taken a bath
( and how I took a sabbatical), Being pent up in the city for long
Whence once I took the road
That went to a village sure
On a brief sojourn,
How had I heard the songs and chirps
Of birds welcoming the morn
As it arrives quiet on earth,
The day smelt of flowers and buds
Fresh as they woke up with me
( and what a sabbatical I took).

Ode to childhood

'The child is father of the man; 
And I could wish my days to be 
Bound each to each by natural piety. '
(Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up") There had been a time
Whence everything came with a shine,The river ( by which we spent most of our life both young  and new,)
The trees standing quiet ( like angels on two flanks of the avenue,)
The ponds ( where we spent many hours chasing tadpoles with sticks)
The playgrounds ( where we played  till our sweat with dirt got mixed,)They all came with wonders and awe
They all filled us  with joy for we gathered
Love and kindness from what we saw,We were then mere children left at the mercy of nature,
We lived neither in past nor in future,
We lived, ( as children were we) on the present,
We discovered how the flowers bloomed with scent
And how fruits hung from some trees in summer
How just at dusk, from fields with cows, returned the farmers,
How the lanterns ( made clean by mother) shone bright
How the candles made shadows on o…

My freedom lies in the lighted sky*

My freedom lies in the lighted sky My freedom doth in dust and grass lie; How I lose my self beyond  the body and mind
In songs my liberty how do I oft find;
My freedom , in the minds of all , lies
In works hard which dangers and plight trivialise; In the Lord's sacrificial fire how my self I free
As if in that self annihilation  I always find Thee.
(*note: this poem is a transliteration of a song/ poem of Rabindranath Tagore, a humble tribute to Tagore)