Sometimes

Sometimes you don’t like my words,
simply turn away;
Sometimes I cook great dishes but,
you don’t say;
And when the wind plays with you,
with your hair;
You just get upset with the music,
that’s not fair;
Maybe we will go to the end of the world,
after this June;
And then take a turn for the Uranus,
or maybe Neptune;
Maybe just cross them and head for space,
sans gravitation;
Check if my love is still strong enough,
as an application;
Maybe we do a waltz on the Milky Way,
with starry eyes;
Take a ride to past through black holes,
in some disguise;
Reach some planet where plastic is food,
the only food;
And where all the people stay mostly silent
to be in mood;
Where music is poison while ignorance,
makes one proud;
And the biggest crime is poetry,
reading it loud;
Punishment is sleep with alien girls
there’s no dearth;
Mostly abducted from a distant planet,
locally called earth;

Written on 17th Feb' 2009

Poetry

Now today I will share with you the secret of
writing poetry... its quite simple...

Poetry
--------

take a wide brimmed glass,
holding it in style
pour some twisted thoughts,
and shake it for a while..

a spoon full of words,
ripe and carefully selected-
mix them with a stirrer,
till both gets connected..

add a few drops of diction,
with pulse and expression,
mix it well with finesse,
and top it with elocution..

now feel up next quarter,
with deeply felt emotions,
be cautious about the meter!
the accent and modulations. .

mix it well once more,
while sprinkling some spice-
and a helping of pain-
pointless but precise..

the rest can be trash-
even upto the rim!
to fill up the space,
or maybe some colorful dream...

just do a spell check,
go over it twice!
add some abstract phrasing,
in wedge or in slice...

now ready to be served-
to thought and perception,
while you await -
praise and appreciation!

Written on 14th January' 2009

Kobita tomakey chuti dilam aaj

kobita tomakey chuti dilam aaj'
choley jao dur prantorey
prantor periye boro rashtay
choley jao
choley jao shimana chariye…
rastaa dupasher ghaas
shari shari gacheyder periye
digantey choley jao..
dana meley…
ghorey phera pakhider daley…
miley mishey choley jao…

kobita tomakey, chuti dilam aaj
choley jao borshar kalo meghey…
bhesey jao dur ajanay…
jhorey poro ajhorer sathey
jhorey poro bananir bhirey
duley otha sabujer nirey…
patay patay ghurey pouchey jeo
soda gondho bhora shikor samajey..
andho chaya andho aalo pothey
baas bon, jhop jhar pothey..
choley jao nadi parey…
kobita choley jao ujaner pothey..

tomakey chuti dilam aaj,
choley jao neel aaobhaney
choley jao naba abhijaney…
kobita tomakey chuti dilam aaj..
khata khola rekhey dilam aaj…
choley jao..
rule tana badha niyom cherey
choley jao..jetha jetey chao…

Wriutten and published on 3rd March' 2009

To hold you forever

you just want me
to hold you
to keep on holding you
so that you keep
my fingers locked
around you
never letting me go
of my fingers
to play with words
and write some lines
some sense
some cynical
some classic
some sad
and some stupid
and my thoughts
you smudge them
with deft ease
and i turn blind
to all that's floating
around me
the evening skirts
in shades of black
and bouncing babes
with gym-shaped legs
low-fat low-carb arms
and most of it
my fingers locked
around you
when all they want
is to hold
someone
someone - not you
someone close
and dance
to the slow beats
of a poison waltz
and whisper
sweet nonsense
make them blush
you keep
my fingers locked
when all they want
is to run across
smooth terrains
and soak up sweat
or play the drums
to a primitive beat
on lonely
moonless nights
you keep my fingers busy
always wraped around you
holding you
when all they want
is to hold a brush
and stroke
across a virgin canvas
with warm hues of red
and other shades
and paint a nude
seductive and wild
luring critics
waking up the saint
stirring the old
with throbbing pain
you just want me
to hold you
to hold you forever
my fingers locked
around you
to bring you to my lips
so that you flow
down my system
burning it
over and over
and then run
down my veins
spreading your bliss
all across
my existence..
Mojito
you are not too bad

Written on 5th feb ' 2009

Recipe for Lobster

Cooking has always been a fun to me :) and normally I cook with a Mojito on the table... here is a lobster recipe - enjoy!

Onions, garlic and ginger,
all in a smooth paste-
fried in white oil,
with some chili to taste..

A teasing turmeric massage,
then on the warm bed-
with a mask of coconut milk-
and a few bay leaves spread..

simmering in the sauna,
with only spices for cover-
with every touch she moaned...
tender and juicy all over!

And then she was ready..
spread on the plate,
we savored in blissful silence...
an ecstasy - beyond debate!

Written for my friend at Calcutta who loves prawns

Mojito and Music

In some people Mohito brings out the song !

The first shot of mojito
if it brings out a song...
we will sure dance,
for the whole night long...

And after the second shot,
if you start to rock !
we will join you and...
swing like a turkish cock

While u are on the third-
and if we listen to blue,
we will do some turns,
maybe like a bottle screw...

Careful with the fourth!
As it gives out trance...
with our both hands raised,
in meditation we shall dance...

The fifth is fun always,
As you will do the rap..
while we do the foxtrot,
jumping with every clap!

Dont ever do the sixth!!
if there's a wife and kid..
a midnight gazal at home...
only broomstick ! for such a did

January - 30' 2009

You bring out the bengali in me !

This is for all the the Bengalis - actually I came across a poem by Sandra Cisnero which prompted me to write this lines over a small shot of Mojito :) for school friends from South Point 78-80 batch. Enjoy...

You bring out the bengali in me
You bring out the poet in me
The musical mother tongue
The playing with words in me
The scholar in me,
The nerd in me
The accented english in me
The know-all attitude in me

You bring out the bengali in me
The road side debates in me
The aantel with side-bag in me
The coffee-house adda in me
The art critic in me
The babuana in me
The rainy-day saver in me
The bazaar-negotiator in me
The superiority complex in me
The steamed-rice lover in me
The soccer fan in me
The bandh and union-baji in me
The infinite appetite in me

The kal-bosekhi storm in me
The hemanta-manna-kishore in me
The victorian romance in me
The light house back-seat in me
The mystery of red-paar sari in me
The love of Tagore and Ray in me
The village folk-song in me
The bhatiali babu-ghat in me
The rains and wet-saree in me
The beats of saotali drums in me
The ranga-matir-poth in me

You bring out the bengali in me
The blood-red lal-polaash in me
The blue neel - digha in me
The green - moidan'er ghas in me
The yellow - ganda phul mala in me
The chill of darjeeling in me
The thrill of jhik-jhik train in me
The tales of naxal-period in me
The literate ancestors in me
The historical-mistakes in me
The 'dhoosh shala' in me
The wannabe intellectual in me

You bring out the bengali in me
The white-shirt school days
The fun and friendship in me
The holidays and sundays
Walking the rain-clogged streets
Feeding home-work to the strays
And grannies never-ending stories
The cautious dad and caring mom in me
The proud grand father in me

You bring out the bengali in me
The surprise of alu-bhaja on hot-rice in me
The shock of mustard on eilish in me
The sensation of green-peas in kachuri in me
The bite of dim-bhaja spread on kichuri in me
The chatni and sweet-sticky-fingers in me
The smoothness of mishti-doi in me

You bring out the bengali in me
The lal-paar shada-saree in me
The rini-jhini bangles in me
The black-kajal around the black-eyes in me
The humming tune in me
The scent of jui-chapa in me
The benarashi saree and sehnai in me
The shyness below the veil in me
The hidden secrets in me
The orgasm of phuchka in me
The raunchy kashundi sting in me
The red sindur in me
The suchitra-uttam matinee love in me

Come to me on a 'sundor sarnali sondhay'
We will do 'paye paye poth chola'
Below the 'neel aakasher nichey'
Talk about 'purono shei diner kotha'
Sit below the great banyan tree
Dodging the crowd at Esplanade

Lets do the flight of gangchil
With the crescendo of dhak
The smell of rain-soaked-soil
The shal-mohua forest
The black rocks at ghatshila
The shadow of debdaru lined roads
Bring out the bengali in me
The innocent smile of a kid in me
The noon-time orchard thief in me
The lover on full-moon nights in me...

Call me with your sweet 'ogo suncho'
Serve me the 'darun eei ranna'
Bring out the bengali in me
Tell me the 'please kortey nei'
Give me the look 'shobai ki bhabbey'
Bring out the dushtu-cheley in me
Dont give me just 'ushno balu'
Just come as ' teer bhanga dheu'
Ask me 'ke prothom kachey esheychi'
And .. at the banks of 'oh nadi rey'
Hug me in 'swopno modhur mohey'

You bring out the bengali in me
You bring out the love in me
You bring out the poet in me
Even if 'duti pakhi duti tirey'
But I sing 'abar ashbo phirey'
Shei bangali sojoner bhirey...
Evergreen shantir nirey!

Written and published on 19th Jan' 2009.

Poetry you go

Poetry u go
go – get me a mojito
with crushed ice
mint leaves
and a sliced chili
and a glass
a fresh glass
no lipstick marks
on the rim
I know its dark
its late…
everyone left
except you and me
go – get me a mojito
use your lines
to stir it up
and then
go outside
go – get me a girl
who speaks less
smiles a lot
no implants
get me natural
butts and boobs
et all..
not the ones
winking at street-side
or on the walk
check the windows
with lights
use your lines
once more
the soft lines
don't dare to tease
be polite
coz some are smart
u wouldn't know
bow down and kiss
their hand only…
and maybe
a few good words
don't flirt
as they can make out
don't get the ones
with brains
they have fat legs
and wear specs
and carry coiled whips
and play bad games
no blondes either
no shoes
with pointed heels
or ask the dark chika
at the pizza shop
whose bottom swings
with every move
no size zero
I need flesh
warm and soft
and smile
and long black hair
silky darkness
on my face…
and then you go
go – get a limousine
for me to ride
with my lady
I would prefer
a black one
with a beige inside
and a chauffer
who does not smells
of cheap vodka
and winks at my love
from the mirror
maybe an old chauffer
but no glasses
with enough gas
as my purse is empty
ask him to hold the door
while I move in
with my mojito
and my lady in red
or did I say black
it does not matter