Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Amit Shroff Dec 2014
Lie beneath the galaxy in a cathedral silence,
Stay up till the moon dives behind the beige mountains.
Rest on your beast, let the valves take a break,
Treat yourself with a feast, its the only time in your fate.
Slithering into my sack I rest under the canvas,
How peaceful it is far away from all the ruckus.

The monk's prayers bid me with good luck,
I'm off riding in the sparse cold desert.
I stop with the view of a disputed lake,
Miles long the jade blue reflects the golden tops.
In refuge at a monastery, fuel is a luxury,
I'd give up everything for a piece of this little heaven.
Snigdha Banerjee May 2016
Seventeen I Was ! Much  Stupid To Be Called Sane ! Yes like every other girl I too had a dream world where I was “Marzi Ki Mallika” the very thought of being matured haunted me & being a teenager you just can’t avoid the driving crazy adrenaline rush that you get when you fantasise stuff of being in love. My fantasies resulted in prettily adorable pieces of poems and bits of stories where A Boy fell in love with A Girl. I had dated my dreams since forever & it was amazing & what justifies this statement of mine is that they never disappoint ! talking to people knowing stories making new friends and sharing memories with old one’s that was indeed perfect to me ! I always tried to describe that perfectly adorable moment of falling in love in the best possible way I could fantasise ! Not too soon I realized that moment cannot be emphasised !

THAT MOMENT IS A CAPTURED MEMORY

Turned 23 Yay ! Loads Of Birthday Presents ! Wishes ! Hearty Felicitations ! etc etc 6 years passed since then & I remained the same still much stupid to be called sane ! Maa smiles while she still wakes me up in the morning saying Kobe Boro Hobi (when will you grow up). I giggle and hug her knowing not when !! I see the beautiful stock of my soft toys which helped me remain childish when suddenly my mirror reported about how messy my hair was ! OH GAWED maaa… my instant reaction was !

I was told love happens when matured ! I herd the same but fortunately dared not to believe ! Th0 I knowingly knew that dating a girl like me a guy will have to fall in love with my messed up stuff he needs to constantly date my love for 3a.m coffee & my craziness for maggi accompanied with coke ! My idiotic obsessions with vampire & songs of Nusrat & Kishore & perhaps tolerate the constant humming of those part of songs which I loved ! Questioned my self quiet frequently about will my love accompany me while I trek through the mighty mountains will he accompany me in my best moments of life will he even accept me the way I am !?? such questions did nothing but made me fall asleep which ended up in GOOD MORNINGS with Bournvita !

Usual mornings and unusual days thereafter ! mobile rings I ran to pick up the call it was none other than my beloved going to be husband AASHIQ

Good morning ! come lets plan out something crazy  ! Adrenaline rush  What About A Trek At Ladakh ! Readily agreeing to the proposal I said yes ! We drove together as I discovered his playlist matched mine ! with each passing moment I got the answers to much awaited stupid questions ! while I was unanswerable to his lone question why I had smiled while he drove ! We got down  amidst green surroundings   he picked up a piece of sugarcane and nervously began to chew on it as he was humming one of my favourite songs, He looked at me like I was the only **** thing that’ll ever matter to him looking constantly into my eyes he blurred out ILOVEYOU&WANTTOMARRYYOU;

I always valued crazy memories but this was the craziest one perhaps ! I started laughing unwantedly pointing at his face ! His front tooth had broken! He had been trying to be a stud only to impress me he tried to peel the sugarcane with his teeth & somehow ended up loosing the bottom part of his front incisor !

I Blushed later ! My face betrayed two expressions – Amusement & Shyness !

I Fell In Love Unknowingly Without A Parachute ! much madness was added when I couldn’t resist saying ILOVEYOU

His eyes met mine with a sparkle of mischief  AKHO AKHO ME PYAR HOGAYA

Committed !  Not Confused !

Start Of A New Journey Hands In Hands We Start Our Trek ! !
Bits Of Crazy Life
~
April 2024
HP Poet: Pradip Chattopadhyay
Age: 63
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Pradip. Please tell us about your background?

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "After graduating with honours in Geology, I worked in various sectors including railway, banking, teaching, accounts and audit, consultancy and advertising. I feel working in diverse fields have helped me to come across people and characters of many shades and hues. This probably broadened my perspectives and laid the foundation for my poetic creativity. I have a wife of 40 years, and we together have raised a family almost from scratch. We have our son, daughter in law and a granddaughter 5 years old. They have been a source of many of my work."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "I have been writing poems since I was in 8th standard. Initially I wrote in my vernacular Bengali before experimenting with writing in English from the early nineties. There was a hiatus of nearly two decades when I didn't feel like writing. From early 2011, I have been among words regularly snatching time for creative pursuit from my work in advertising. The ***** went up till 2018, my most prolific period, before the curve went down. I admit I'm not writing as much as I would have loved to. Arrival of my granddaughter in early 2019 both added and eroded my urge to write. Most of my time was for her. I started with posting my work on Poem Hunter before coming to Hello Poetry on March 22, 2013 where my first post was 'My Name is Bond'. I post on no other site."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "The spark that begets a poem is hard to explain. For me, it can be a momentary emotion, an impulse that's too compelling to ignore, a character or relationship, intimate or distant, an event or incident that might appear mundane on the surface, even a sight fleetingly seen. I have been an avid traveller, and moments with my wife during such excursions have produced many of my poems. The river has always been an inseparable part of my life possibly due to my growing up and living in the riverine areas. So the river silted or flowing has been a constant inspiration for my work. There are also other places for my poems. The daily market, slum, a pavement dweller, a daily wager, a salesman, religious beliefs and practices, faith, a journey, ruins, fairytale and so on. I place no limits on subjects; love, relationship, humour, horror, mystery, memories. Often they take the form of storytelling through a blending of experience and imagination. All said, what satisfies me immensely is to be able to write poems for children. I have tried a few trying to fit into a child's mind, a difficult process. Most of the poems rise and sink in my mind. Only a few see the light of ink and paper. Of late I've been a little lazy or maybe a little too busy for retrieving the ones that float for only a while."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "For me, poetry is painting collages of life from within and without. The stimuli arise from the interaction between the external and the inner world. It is not to preach but to present what is seen and perceived by the poet, and leave the rest to the reader. You get down at the wrong station and see a reflection that you never thought existed within you. It becomes a poem. For me, poetry is touching upon the entire gamut of human emotions culling them from the simple happenings around us. Bringing out the hidden "more" than what meets the eye. Poetry is making meaningful an apparently simple happening. Even a mundane occurrence may contain the seed of a deeper realisation. For me, poetry happens for all that happens in our surroundings, be they conspicuously visible or not. The poet is an explorer and discoverer."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "Rabindranath Tagore occupies a pedestal. He is universal in his dealing of all aspects of humanity. I also love to read Wordsworth, Shelley, Frost, Macleish and Neruda. I am not very familiar with contemporary poets in English language."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "I love travelling and take interest in photography. Mountains attract me more than the sea. I have been to the higher altitudes of the Himalayas including Ladakh and Sikkim. Once I was a good reader but now I have fallen out of that habit."


Carlo C. Gomez: “Thank you so much for allowing us this opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet, Pradip! We are honored to include you in this ongoing series!”

Pradip Chattopadhyay: "I am thankful to Carlo for providing the opportunity to talk about myself and share my views with my poet friends on this site. The Spotlight on Poets is a greatly admirable effort to showcase the work of the many great poets here. Thanks to Carlo again for this truly encouraging initiative."



Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Pradip a little bit better. I surely did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #15 in May!

~
Daphisha Khapiah Feb 2019
An insatiable wanderlust I wish to be,
Beyond the horizon I ought to see.
The land, the sea and many places,
To meet and greet those beautiful faces.

I wish to visit the spectacular Angkor Wat in Cambodia,
Or tripping on a bumpy Leh-Ladakh Road ride in India.
To swim among the tropical fishes in the Maldives,
Or sitting at the edge of the Kalaupapa Peninsular Cliffs

I wish to meditate at the peak of the Himalaya,
Or adore the fascinating Great Wall of China.
To romance at the Oia- Santorini in Greece,
Or party at the Belearic Islands till the day ceased.

I wish to watch the sunset illuminates the Pyramid of Giza,
Or a calm sunbathe in the magical islands of Bora Bora.
To get awed by the grandeur beauty of the Amazon,
Or simply a Gandola ride in Venice like a Vagabond.

I wish to sip the finest Bordeaux Wine in France,
Or get drown in the madness of “Tomorrow land”.
To visit the isolated Chile Easter Island,
Or brave the arduous climb to the top of Fuji mountain.

I wish to embark on a panoramic train ride to Machu Picchu,
Or immersed on remnants of the mythical history of Peru.
To witness the Aurora Borealis in Norway,
Or the divine old city of Jerusalem is a must visit someday.

I will travel through the land and the ocean,
Could be a random plan without a direction.
But I will travel far and I will travel near,
And I will keep my feet rolling every where.
Àŧùl Apr 7
And he had said,
"Ladakh is a barren piece of land,
Let the Chinese have it,
Nothing grows over there,
And it's a useless piece of territory,
The lesser the liabilities for my government,
The better."

And the Chinese still sit in Aksai Chin,
That part he called barren,
It's our lost land that China usurped,
Yes, the expansionist China,
And how shamelessly he escaped his duty,
His responsibility to maintain the integrity,
Of our nation he ought've known the nitty-gritty.

But now we face an uphill task,
That Hindi-Cheeni Bhai-Bhai,
It's now a laughing stock,
Yes, sir, people laugh at it,
Albeit less than they do at your scion,
The same scion who has nil experience,
And simply a negative IQ, perhaps.

But that was just one of your mistakes, sir,
How can we forget your ambition to be the Prime,
Even at the cost of the national integrity,
You let them unleash a rein of terror,
Both the sides suffered civilian casualties,
Not just the dead I refer to,
I also refer to the ***** and mutilated.

You behaved so power-hungry,
So irresponsible and immature,
So ignorant and inexperienced,
So unwise and unintelligent,
Of that post, oh sir,
That position that you won by your clout,
You knew that Bhai made a better choice.

Yet you felt entitled to the post,
By the mere virtue of your birth,
Born with a silver spoon in your mouth,
Linen sheets underneath your body,
Much like your dumb scion,
Yes, the very same one who fumbles.

He fumbles in his speech,
And in his lack of preparation,
The Grand Old Party, it trembles,
Trembling under the unwanted burden,
Voices of dissent grow louder,
The Party you usurped is slipping away,
Drifting further everyday.
My HP Poem #1962
©Atul Kaushal

— The End —