"kolkata" poems
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
The last time I saw you sipping time on his rooftop, your wounds were smaller and my heart bigger than it ever would be. I had learnt to love you despite the smell of wild daffodils on your breath, and the look of expensive pride in your eyes - things you were willing to give up when you first hugged me with the surprising confidence of an old world pilgrim hugging the shores of new America and bringing with it the hopes and bitterness of the transatlantic blues.
The last time I saw you sipping time on his rooftop, the neighbours said that if I had arrived a bit earlier, I would have heard the sound of his sandy boots crashing against your rotten hardwood flooring, drowning your cries for constant help. His clenched fists might have broken your apartment window, But you begged me to give him the benefit of the doubt - maybe unlike me, he had never fallen for a wild daffodil before.
The last time I saw you sipping time on his rooftop, I remember confessing how you weren't truly my first love - that honour instead belonged to a monsoon paperboat that hado shown up at my flooded doorstep when I hadnt yet crossed the ripe old age of five.
Looking back - you told me, those were probably my golden years of romantic maturity.
The last time I saw you sipping time on his rooftop, you failed to realize why men kept falling over their swords to win the curled up furball crying in my arms, wearing an unasked crown of broken hearts. I wish you had remembered what i had said.
People loved you not because your face shone the brightest or you looked more beautiful than every damsel dancing in the ghostly courts of a dying town. Instead people kept coming back to you because you were Kolkata, you were literally this city.
The last time I saw you, we were sitting on the edges of a different city i had chosen to call my own. But I wish you had realized what I meant.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 12:14 PM UTC
Whenever I get on the NH1 Grand Trunk Road,
I feel the pride of it being the oldest highway,
Built even before the documentation period.
King Ashoka got it built in the 3rd century B.C.,
Emperor Sher Shah got it repaired in the 17'th,
The British Company utilized it in 1857 1st war.
It was then gotten repaired only a bit by them,
Repairing such a long highway isn't easy at all,
It runs from Kabul up to Kolkata and to Dhaka.
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
'Kabali' and 'Badlapur' actor Radhika Apte will be the show-stopper in the upcoming Lakme Fashion Week in the ‘Gulzar’ collections of a prominent Kolkata-based fashion designer.
“We have been working with Radhika since 'Majhi the Mountain Man' days (2015) and she will be flaunting our fabrics as show-stopper in India’s premier fashion show which is keenly followed by Bollywood," the well-known city-based woman fashion designer told media after a fashion show in a city hotel last Friday night.
The Lakme Fashion Week is a bi-annual fashion event with the summer-resort show taking place in April while the winter-festive show is held in August.
This year the winter-festive show will be held from August 24 to 28.
Radhika will be wearing bright-colored lehenga since the show will be focused on beautiful India, it’s colours and contours, choreographed with the poetry of nature by Amir Khusro, the designer said.
“It can also be termed our tribute to a great name like Gulzar saab who has brought our lyrics and poems to a new level,” the designer Saroj Jalan said.
The signature style of the designer, whose works adorn Bollywood actors like Radhika beside well known models Lisa Sharma and former Miss Universe India winner Ushoshi Sengupta, is delicate floral patterns along with the use of Zardozi and array of hand-woven tusser silk and velvet enhancing the experience of the garments and “we will project the same in the Lakme week where the accent is on ethnicity,” designer Saroj Jalan said.
Supermodel Ushoshi, having recently debuted in the Bengali film 'Egoler Chokh', said “Lakme show reflects the different tastes of all leading Indian fashion designers who are still rooted to Indian heritage.”Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
In tropical, moody Kolkata,
Autumn doesn't arrive
In a flurry of red leaves
Strewn to the winds
It arrives silently,
With hushed whispers
of wind into our ears
Slowly, the fallen leaves
Turn yellow
The warm, balmy breeze
Develops a bite to it
Secretly, some trees shed
Their clothes completely
In preparation for the chilled
Caresses of Winter
Mittens and monkey caps
Appear amongst the morning
Walkers and newspaper boys
The sun becomes lazy, reminiscent
in it's behavior, rising later and later
Each day, until 6 o'clock is a stretch
of Imagination
Autumn comes with muted footsteps
Hardly any time to appreciate it
Before it's gone and Winter sets in
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 4:53 AM UTC
Standing at the crossroad of life
sad and lonely
storm clouds gather around you
at the crossroad of life......
raining now, dreams vanished
feet are so tired, brain is so wired
clouds weeping
death is not the end, at the crossroad
stranger called I......
(C) asoke kumar mitra,March 16, 2015,:23.00,India,Kolkata
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 2:16 PM 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
I get you,
I get your fragrance, in my body
where are you?
where are you?
a mad man runs after fragrance,
where it is?
is it you ?
(C) Asoke Kumar Mitra, march,18, 2015, 18:04,India,Kolkata
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 8:35 AM UTC
untold words, mind's untold words,
turned to song and paintings,
never knew when...
no one will understand, none
except she
wanted to say,
unsaid words
in blue pale light of midnight
I know,
only she
(C) Asoke Kumar Mitra ,March,18, 2015 :18:15, India,Kolkata
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 8:42 AM UTC
O Ganga!
You flow
Across the mighty
Mountains
O your youthful
Playful force
Making its way
Through the
Ancient boulders
Stream after stream
Joins you
To find its destiny
Happily
In your depths
To make you
O the vast Ganga we know
The Aryans found their
Abode on your banks
You saw the rise of Jainism
And Buddhism
O civilization
Not only flourished
But flowered
On your banks!
You've seen it all!
You travel down the Tehri dam
Across Rishikesh
And Haridwar
From the cow's mouth
O the Gomukh
Where your mother
Glacier Gangotri rests!
You enter the plains
Having crisscrossed
Roads many
And lives
Of many a being
Who consider you
As mother
Worship you
You bear their brunt also
Carrying heaps of
Garbage
You flow Kanpur
You see tanneries
And many more
You nourish them
Keep them running
But they end up
Slowing your run
You reach Allahabad
What's in a name
A tryst of cultures
O you have the
Gangs Jamuni doab
And Gangs jamuni tehzeeb!
Your sisters join you
And here at Prayag
You have Yamuna with you
O a mythical sister
Saraswati does find here way to you
They say
Life goes on on your ghats
As usual
People washing clothes
Themselves
And people offering
Flowers and performing
Rituals on your banks
O all but consider you
As an earthly mother
A heavenly gift
Just like Saraswati
You have your place in the scriptures as well!
You also
Flow out of mythology
Into our minds
O the mighty Shiva
Took you
In his mighty curls
Of hair
To allay your spirit
As you descended
Onto the Earth
To purge peoples
Lives
The Bhagiratha's
Penance you saw then
He got back his wish
Thousand brothers
They say
O you but still see
The Kumbh Mela(fair)
So many souls
You see the serenity
Of Varanasi
The beautiful spirituality
Of its
Ghats
O young wrestlers
Massaging before
The day's fight
Alongside
Seers in
Deep meditation
On your banks
O you have settled
This city
You flow across
Patna
The ancient
Pataliputra
Seen many imperial
Rise and falls
History echoes in you
You enter Bengal
The fertile
Gangetic plains
Bear testimony
To your gifts
With their lush green
And swaying fields
The Farakka barrage
Sees you in one of your
Giant avatars
You irrigate
And touch people!
You flow as the Padma in
Bangladesh
O you know
Two lands separated
By political shadows
You flow
As Bhagirathi
Hooghly
In Bengal
The rice bowl!
O your Ilish(Hilda)
People do relish
You flow graciously
Through
Flat extensive plains
Past Kolkata
The city of joy
And into the sea
At Gangasagar
Taking with you
So many memories
And promising
The continuity
Of your divine
Grace
O dear river,
You are Ganga!
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:57 AM UTC
Big Brother's are there
Elder ones also
But,Dada is one & only
The Prince of Calcutta(now Kolkata)
" heart throb of every cricket lover
" proud of Bengali's
He's a nation's leader
Also renowned as Maharaj
But,in true sense
He's the Royal Bengal Tiger
The one & only across the Universe
He's none but our beloved
Pride of Nation
Sourav Ganguly
The ultimate Warrior Prince-Written on 01.10.2012
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
I saw a Bengal tiger
in Eureka, California
Sadly, they had not “found it.”
In a place kept afloat by something ephemeral as ***** smoke
A cage, not more than twenty feet long
by twelve feet wide
Held power in check
But a few steps away
He or she
they did not say
played with a round pillow in front of us
crushed it with a mighty paw
like one of our skulls might be
If we came upon her
a frightened ape
in the steaming green jungles
of the part of the world
Where Kolkata rests
on Kali’s Ghat
The city of creative Destruction
Where millions eat
sleep and **** in polluted air
and brush their teeth with their fingers
at the gushing water
of a communal fountain
Where milky sweet chai
in a small clay cup
costs two cents
provided with a smile
and allows the man to turn a profit
In a way, I understand why we did it.
It is great to see such a grand thing so close
Orange fur and black stripes
beauty clothing strength
And the fear of it.
Without metal bars
vertical iron rods of power
I would be nothing but a warm
squishy snack
My head as useless as a coconut
Skull only a shell for the meat inside
My legs, fast as they are,
Would amount to only drumsticks
Yet is it not best
to leave such powerful beauty be?
It is a great arrogance that chains
such a powerful thing
For the benefit of ****** poets,
old couples, and howling children
Selling the soul of a wild beast
Second by second
glimpse by glimpse
for the price
of a fairground ticket.
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
I hear the sounds of the city I the distance.
Cars, truck and auto rickshaws screaming for space on the bypass.
Far from my terrace they seem to be
Yet they are close to enough that the breeze brings their fumes.
A shawl is spread beneath me
To keep my clothes from the dust that is not washed away up here.
Up here, where my eyes can barely see the treetops.
Up here, where the sun is strong and browning my fair skin.
Up here, where I am exposed and unseen.
The worries of all my differences are erased when I alight the steps to my rooftop.
It doesn't matter that I don't speak Bengali .
It doesn't matter that I'm sick of Dal and the Baigan Bharta is too spicy.
It doesn't matter that I am a foreigner and always will be.
I am celebrated by the the crows and mosquitos that find solace above Kolkata.
In turn, I can celebrate the fact that I've found a corner where my foreignness is not offensive nor inviting.
It just is, and I'm just me; far above the dusty streets and the stray dogs that keep me up a night with their howls.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
Can not escape myself from this place
because of twilight
There is something strange about.......
your absence......
Dark comes in
grows around me
The void
in my heart says you are absent
Where did you go?
in this late-winter early spring, evening
Wanted to say goodbye
many a times
I
surrender
walking
towards nowhere again.........
Your body, your mind, your lips
gave me shelter......
Parting kiss
every night
Many a times tried.... but....
can not escape myself
As she loved the twilight
(C)asoke kumar mitra.full moon night,
march 05-2015:00:01,India,Kolkata
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:34 PM UTC
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Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
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Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
Big Brother's are there
Elder ones also
But,Dada is one & only
The Prince of Calcutta(now Kolkata)
" heart throb of every cricket lover
" proud of Bengali's
He's a nation's leader
Also renowned as Maharaj
But,in true sense
He's the Royal Bengal Tiger
The one & only across the Universe
He's none but our beloved
Pride of Nation
Sourav Ganguly
The ultimate Warrior Prince-Written on 01.10.2012
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
touch me
explore me softly
with your naked hand....................
your oceanic eyes, deep infinite
in you.............
breathing on the back of my neck
in this dead hour of night
fugitive moon pours through the blinds....
missing me?
in my silence missing you too
I am writing the last line
I feel so good to have you
your wild fragrance.....
(C)asoke kumar mitra, march 9.2015:19:48,India,Kolkata
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
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Promotions or willful marriage. Lottary & lucky number +91-9878-192648
To make your or your partner’s parents to Love Marriage
get your love back by black magic vashikaran mantra for love +91-98781-92648
Phone: +9197801-41423 +9198781-92648
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
my voice tries
to find your songs....
I am absent in your lips
I am in exile
I ask freedom
tortured me in my dreams.......
Wind ties knot in your long hair
tonight my voice will sing your song
wounded, drunken city again made me a man alone
I am turning to moon and rain again and again
moon gave me shelter
rain touched my eyes
I ask freedom
I
am
a stranger
to one
and all...........
(C)asoke kumar mitra, march 8.2015...21:40 ,India,Kolkata
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 12:13 PM UTC