" There is mystery in the night air "
**- said the Moon
while little stars upon me
began to stare
at the black kitten
catching leaves
scattered in the Old Autumn Wind...

I've had this candy before.

It wasn't the hard kind,
With even flavor all the way.
It wasn't the nutty kind,
Playfully changing from tongue to teeth.

This kind had a shell.

The outside is its only defense.
Hard, but fragile. A desperate defiance.
Inside is private, intense,
A dark, bottomless surrender.
Too much;
                    but also,
                                   Everything.

I trembled, full of anxiety.
What if I broke my teeth on the shell?
What if that hidden center
                                              were poisoned.
What if it numbed me
                                        like ice
After all I had tasted one like this before,
And it bit.
Like a fire ball with too much spice.

I was taking a chance,
                                       but I knew
Nothing else was possible.
I had to begin!
So I bit into the soft center,
                                                with all my heart.
                                                once again.

If you often feel
Helpless,
Then try a bit more
Imagination.
Possibilities are
Limitless.
The only limit
Comesfromyou.

If you're ever on the riverside
where the sun beats your head
you would see the old man
selling hats of palm leaf
but you care not to notice him
having already smelled the sea
and too keen to cross the river
travel southward on the island
till the saline wind scalds your eyes
your skins itch to jump into the waves
yet the man with the palm leaf hats
would not cease to tell you
how burning would be the sun on the sands
and so badly you need to protect the head
by parting bucks that mean nothing to you
but a world to the mouths he feeds
and before you stamp on him a final no
she has one atop her hair
beneath which her eyes flutter like butterflies
her sun rouged cheeks untimely blush
and two born anew lovers
merrily head for the sea
having bought romance
for forty bucks.

In the twilight hour
We reached the watch tower

The swinging trunks had got our smell
And one could tell
They weren't pleased

We had just intruded into their dust bath
Post the shower at the pool
Between us the distance
Was one of studied silence
Till one's trumpet froze me to the ground

From among the trees
Big little mud hills surrounded the space

Our clicking lens
Wore out their patience
And we were just nuts
Before that large herd

Some more were coming up the river
We heard someone whisper
And I thought of rebellious elephants
Fighting for territory once their own
Against an invader that spares none

What if this dwindling day hour
They crush the watch tower!

Rising spectacularly on the top of the small hill
With the climbs zigzag and the railings nil
Breathtaking sharper view of downtown penetrating
The old temple ascending with the winding roads painstaking
Supine and sated stretched shapely with pillars majestic
Several deities residing in the sanctum appealing with magic
The idol of kali all in black, Shimmering and scintillating in Radiant red embroidered silk
Ornamented with a swirl and swish of jewelry in pink
Sindoor applied on her parting of the hair
All the scenes makes me bow, with cupped hands standing in the row, I slurp down the sacred water offered
And pour coins in the plate praying for my fate

Silently the lonely river flows
Reflection of radiant sun on it falls and glows
Snow around the bed thaws and dissolves
Shadows of birds  hang in vibrant and resolve
River gushes against sturdy rocks
Wrencher desires of mountains mock
Breeze blowing hugs the river quietly
Butterflies Imprisoned under sun move softly
Glorious sight, magnificent glimpse turn the saga of vision vast

After fifty years
I slipped into the school.

Madame Bela was visibly pleased
The classroom was too empty
Now I've one to do maths with

No less happy was Auntie Aloka
My favorite student is back
She lifted me up and said with a kiss
So vacant felt my class of English
Without a boy from olden times
Sweetly singing nursery rhymes

My eyes searched her and before long
Miss Jaya spoke in her softest tongue
I'm so glad to see his face
Sans him Bengali class was all emptiness

And there he was the only Sir
Amiyo Baboo the sports teacher
Isn't this the boy never won my trust
For always being in every race last

Fifty years haven't changed a bit
Either their age or their spirit
And surely the fun was doubly more
When I stood before the school mirror.