#kolkata
Nature is your mother
Love is your flavour
You're the city of joy
You're the only
Whom I love
My beloved Kolkata -Written on 03.09.2012,Monday
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 12:29 AM UTC
‘Tis your pennies that make me pound,
Like a shepherd mourning his fallen hound ,
Such is the death of my drunken pride ,
That makes winter , a poet’s bride .
‘Tis your comfort , I wish to skin,
And the game of chance , that scripted your win,
Such is the shine of a tanner’s hide,
That make’s winter , a poet’s bride .
‘Twas your charity that made me wait,
On the doorsteps of your divine’s hate ,
Such are the Churches I laid aside ,
To make winter, the Poet’s bride .
Realization Strikes
I can’t rhyme my way to the kingdom of warmth
But I can roam the streets ,
Like I always did ,
In search of warmth
And Roam I did
I roamed that Street ,
Where the City pretends to be what its not .
I roamed those Hearts who call that Street,
Home of their Christmas thought .
I roamed it all ,
Till the fairy lights were there to help me see ,
But Alas ,
I found no warmth where they promised it would always be ,
But Instead ,
Not Far away from the echoes of the city making merry .
I found an abandoned cemetery,
And in the Sea of unmarked graves,
I heard the voices of forgotten braves;
And So,
I learnt the art , Of braving the Chill,
Without a survivor’s iron will .
I learnt to sleep without a care ,
And immune I became to winter’s nightmare .
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 11:39 AM UTC
I miss the Norwesters
I miss the heavy rains
I miss hurrying to catch a bus
Completely drenched
Oh Kolkata!
Without you I am
Like a fish out of water
I miss the olden buildings
I miss the bustling streets
I miss riding the tramway
With a song playing on repeat
Oh Kolkata!
Without you I am
But a fish out of water
I miss the winter sunsets
I miss evenings by the lake
I miss Maharaja's kachoris
And jalebis on a steel plate
Oh Kolkata!
Without you I am
Just a fish out of water
I miss the yellow taxis
I miss the hawkers' stalls
I miss the political graffiti
Adorning the walls
Oh Kolkata!
Without you I am
Still a fish out of water
Now I'm so far
But yet so near
My heart can't shelter
These hopes and fears
Rejection, reduction
I feel choked once again
Within your walls of nostalgia
Maybe I'll be safe
Oh Kolkata!
Show me a way
To return to the water
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 7:19 AM UTC
I'll tell you Minaz's story.
1. I know a girl from Kolkata,
But lo! She is a stock for laughing.
She is such a big klutz,
She messes up everything.
2. Once she wants to be a singer,
But lo! She can't actually sing.
She tries her best to be melodic,
But is far away from melody.
3. Again she hopes to be a painter,
But lo! She can't actually paint.
She tries her best to be artistic,
But what she draws is far from art.
4. She now takes up cookery classes,
But lo! She can't actually cook.
She tries her best to bake a cake,
But blows apart the oven for the bake.
5. Then she hopes to be a dancer,
But lo! She can't actually dance.
She tries her best to be elegant,
But what she does is more of a prance.
6. Fed up, she tries to be a gardener,
But lo! She can't actually tend to any.
She tries her best to sculpt the hedge,
But what becomes of hedge is only shorter.
7. She goes to a monk in Darjeeling,
Seeking some advice & tells him all.
The monk is a smart one and says,
"Get married to a martial artist and tend to your child."
Now Minaz is happy and is no longer 'The Ultimate Klutz From Kolkata'.
The martial artist husband helped her attain control over herself.
Coming of a child into her world was life transforming for her.
Just a bit of love can work wonders for the life of anyone & everybody.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
My city spews poetry like smoke,
In vicious columns of abstracts,
Of unspilled blood, untold hurts,
Unsung love and unrestrained joy.
Neck of an old refill snapped
absent-mindedly,
Sploshes a tiny blob of red ink,
On the table cloth,
And so flows musings and rants.
Smell of twilight rain mingles with
Incense fragrance of evening prayers
Triggering a burst of longing and love.
Electric bulbs and rainbows coexist
And emit more than just light.
My city breeds more poets than
The Lakes ever did.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC