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Posted in artistic spirit, Poetic philosophy

Inseparable

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Staying away from poetry

is like staying away from water.

This is no addiction

but is necessary to sustain life.

No matter how far you go

the thirst will eventually pull you through

as you find yourself

sipping at peace,

this immortal nectar of life.

Arijit Roy

Poem and photograph

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Posted in artistic spirit, eternity, remembrance

Vasant uncle: In memoriam

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It is believed that the best way to honour someone, especially the memory of someone dear is by realizing the ideals they lived by. And if those ideals are true, then by emulating them. Perhaps then the best way to honour Vasant uncle would be to not only remember him for the beautiful person that he was but also by “writing actively” about his sheer zest for life.

Vasant Uncle: Vasant Krishna Sharma was an iconic English literature professor at Delhi College of Arts and Commerce. He was a treasured friend and colleague of my father. He was also one of our most dear family friends and a guardian figure in my life.

 His passing away a week ago, left a huge void in my heart. No tears, no words can describe it .However; I choose to realize the lessons he taught me and will celebrate him for the very positive person that he was. For me he stands as a big inspiration.  As he had himself once said ”Things can often go wrong Laddoo but we must not lose heart, we have to fight”.

 And he did fight, he overcame a very serious illness. He had grown weak after undergoing the intensive operation but still he would make it a point to go to the park for his evening walks daily. He had problems getting up from the chair but he refused all the hands to assist him and got up every time on his own summoning all his strength and will power.

There are so many memories and so few words.  My parents always told me that in my very early days of childhood (which I obviously do not remember), I would go to Vasant uncle’s house (C-3 the house exactly a floor below us) and would perform all sorts of mischief there. I had once mixed up all the pulses, rice everything in their kitchen. I thought I would be scolded heavily but Vasant uncle simply laughed it all off and ate that ”Meetha khichdi”  for over a week. Uncle used to call me Laddo Lion and tell me many stories about various jungle animals. He was also loved by all the kids in my colony  for the various magic tricks he performed. Taking a coin out of our noses, we all as kids used to get amazed.

As a kid of I guess three or four years, I used to mimic my father’s snores  which Vasant uncle enjoyed heavily and used to ask me everytime to do it again. Uncle and my father shared a very special friendship. They were very dear to each other yet always used to pull each other’s leg.

 In one of the photographs attached above dear reader, you will find Vasant uncle, my father , me and my friend Harshit  enjoying a game of carrom (previous August) .  I  and baba were playing against uncle and Harshit. Vasant uncle had just recovered from  illness and was still very weak. Thus, he struck the striker  very feebly and the shot was a disaster for their team. My father looked up to him and exclaimed “Vasant ji! Aap ne aaj breakfast nehi kiya”. Everyone including Vasant uncle started laughing heavily.

 So many times, Vasant uncle had saved me from my  father’s scoldings . His voice still echoes in my ears  ”Chitto koi baat nhi, bachha toh shaitani karega heen”.   I wish if I could also write on paper  the laughter which slips off from my heart as I recall all these treasures of the past.  

Once on my way back home from school, I met Vasant uncle who gave me a diabetic toffee for my father and grandfather to taste. Those who know me well, have understood by now what my instant reaction is whenever I get a sweet in my hands. The Bengali sweet tooth you see.  So, I ate the toffee promised for my grandpa and  father, threw the wrapper and the responsibility (to convey to them about the toffee) both in the bin and went out to play.

Soon Vasant uncle came up and asked my grandpa “Father how did you find the toffee” (Vasant uncle too used to call my grandpa “father” akin to baba) to which my grandpa replied “Vasant what happened are you alright? which toffee”.

Roars of laughter followed as Vasant uncle told grandpa how he had trusted me with the responsibility of giving the toffees. My grandpa had replied “Oh dear Vasant! You don’t trust the cat to deliver the milk”. I had thought that day too that uncle would be angry from me but he again laughed it all off and encouraged me to be more mischievous.  

Another beautiful memory I share with uncle, is when I had accidentally broken a flower pot in uncle’s corridor with a football kick . The pot smashed to the ground with a huge noise as I saw uncle coming out of his house. I held both my ears with my hands to signal for an apology. Uncle looked at the broken pieces of the flower pot, then looked at me and started laughing and smiled conveying it’s alright, the best smile as only he could give.

My relationship with Vasant uncle grew more intense after the loss of my grandfather. Vasant uncle would message me every day, asking me how I was, sending me inspirational quotes. He was very happy to see that I too was interested in English literature and had applied for an undergraduate degree for the same in Delhi University.

After my grandfather’s demise (three years ago) my father was suffering from depression, various other illnesses also  plagued his health. Vasant uncle and Sarkar uncle(Debi Kaku) two of our dearest family friends  tried their best to help my father recover, both physically and emotionally.

Vasant uncle himself around this time was suffering from health issues. What inspires me the most is that I have always seen him smiling despite everything.. He used to often tell me that he kept himself busy, since activity is the road to recovery. He wrote actively and widely on all topics of national and social importance on his various social media accounts especially the one at facebook.

The most beautiful part of his writings was that not only did he express himself effectively but also that his approach was aimed at peace. It was not some sort of pacifism based on withdrawal and repressed anger but a pacifism which celebrated the harmonious amalgamation of difference in thought. He critiqued what was the root of trouble and sought to find solutions which would make life better for all. His writings would indeed  fill one with a sense of positivity and warmth.

Vasant uncle and I had our sunday routine of clearing Uncle’s phone and memory card. He would get so many messages that his phone would be full within a week.  Uncle had a huge network of social contacts which he maintained till the very end. Let me tell you a short episode about it.  

Uncle was admitted in AIIMS last june. I went to visit him one day and as soon I opened the door I found that uncle was being scolded. It was so since his phone had 1% charge left, he had connected the charger but was still using the phone constantly. The phone was hot as lava but uncle still had so many get well soon messages to reply to.

Uncle had of late developed a passion for photography. He would love especially  to click photographs of flowers. He would send them to all his contacts as goodmorning messages. Waking up every day to such a warm message would truly make me feel blessed.

For me Vasant uncle was always a father figure, a person for who I had a  deep veneration .  After my father’s demise, I used to go thrice or four times a week to check on uncle. Whenever I came across a beautiful flower somewhere, I photographed it and sent it uncle.

Two days before his demise, I got a text from uncle which read to come and visit him, he was feeling very unwell. It was an off day that day(DUTA strike), so I was at home and went immediately to uncle. He complained of breathing issues and weakness. He had an appointment for the same the next day.  I offered to take him in my car for convenience but uncle exclaimed that the appointment was at mid day, that he would manage. That was the last I saw of Vasant uncle.

Two days later, early morning when I heard the news, I was devastated. All those whom I held dear,  my grandfather, father, Vasant uncle they all were all going away. It is a void which still pierces me. But the ironic part is that when I went down and saw uncle, all that came to my mind were the beautiful memories and lessons he had left me with. Vasant uncle had indeed touched so many lives.

He was the best uncle I ever had. He was more like my friend.  To speak in English literature terms, he was Uncle Toby (Tristram Shandy-Sterne) for me. He demonstrated the same gentleness of heart that Uncle Toby had, when he had refused to hurt a fly and  had released it out the window  saying “Go! I will not hurt thee. The world is wide enough to hold both thee and me”

 But who was Vasant uncle exactly, let me answer that through another short narrative. When my grandfather passed away, we took him to Nigambodh ghat, the same place where my father and uncle too were cremated. The Nigambodh ghat is located between Kasmiri gate and Shastri park. The Yamuna river is at it’s banks. Metro pillars built on the river. If not for death, it would have been a very joyous site for photography.

Back then, it was the first time I had seen death so closely, I was unnerved.. Many people came and offered me words of consolation to nurse my heart. I accepted them and thanked them for their gesture. But  pain and sorrow still got the better of me.

 I was sitting there, crying in one corner when Vasant uncle came and sat beside me. No pat on the head, no big words of consolation. He just sat there and pointed to the far way horizon, where below a cloudy yet sun kissed sky and above the shimmering waves of the Yamuna, two metro trains were crossing each other. He looked at it and said “See Laddoo, such a beautiful site” and then he went and sat with my father. To remember this all over again, brings tears to my eyes.  Vasant uncle was such a beautiful soul.

When I went to Nigambodh ghat for uncle’s cremation, I looked up to the sky and saw through dry tree branches, a huge flock of white geese flying  unbound freely through the sky. It was such a beautiful site, oh it was such a beautiful site.

Your “Laddoo Lion” did his best to serve you uncle.

Wherever you are , I pray to God that may you rest in eternal peace.

Dearest Vasant uncle, You will always be missed.

 

Love and Respect as always

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Posted in artistic spirit, love, Lunar eclipse

Luminous

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“Go watch the moon” she says

“What’s special tonight” I ask

“It’s the lunar eclipse” she replies

“the moon hides behind a mask”.

 

I refuse to go, so she says to me

“It won’t happen again anytime soon”

How could I tell her

that for me,  she was the only moon.

 

Photograph-Indu Kriti

Poem –Arijit Roy

 

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Posted in artistic spirit, Life, Self and Peace.

Sweater

 

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Your sweater fits me perfectly.

If you would have been alive

you would have scolded me

for stealing your clothes

but you also would have been happy

knowing; that I am growing up.

 

It fits me perfectly, father

it fits me perfectly

we share the same height, you see

slightly loose on the breadth though

but it fits me perfectly.

The colour too looks good on me

perhaps more than you, perhaps not

but it is and will always be yours, so will I.

 

But that is not what I wanted to say, father

that is not what intrigues me .

What fills my heart with a very difficult emotion

that which is hardest to describe

that which is truest to the core

that which is  neither joy nor sadness

that, yes that which is everything

is the sense of your presence

as the sweater carries your smell

which makes me remember

and makes me believe

that you are and here.

 

It fills me with pride to wear you father

the heart swells with pride, believe me .

I walk unafraid as you surround me

just like that little kid who felt safe in your arms.

 

Your smell, your smell

it brings you back , it brings back me

it brings back all those memories

all those days , years, summers, winters

all those moments of life , which remain, still.

 

All of it father, I want all of it

everything back again .

I clutch the sweater close to my face

letting not even an ounce of your smell fade away

all of it father, all of it

I want to be with you again.

Drunk with your smell

I run as a musk deer runs

mad with the smell of its own scent

as the eyes search for you everywhere

but the heart knows, you are in me.

 

The song of life is forward

Yes, I am aware of it.

The sweater will soon be washed

and I will lose your smell forever

just like I lost you , father

but the heart knows

that you live through me

and I live through you

and that ours is a different forever.

One with a sunny sky, green grass

where you taught me the game

or one enmeshed in those hours of poetry

where you “commanded me to sing

and my heart would break with pride”

as tears of joy would choke the voice

or one where you taught me to never despair

or one, or one , or one

 

 

You are now in forever, father

you are now a forever

and we will always stay together … always

 

 

Arijit Roy

 ( Poem and photograph)

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted in artistic spirit, Death, Indomitable spirit

Death be not proud

Inspired by John Donne’s Sonnet 10 “Death be not proud”

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Death be not proud

for all men must die

making you not a solitary throne

but a common destination.

Unwelcome you are, in every house you visit

Death, have you no home?

friendless you always are,

sitting on the greatest curse.

Hearts brought together under the stars and moon

strengthened by the sun and earth

are separated only at your call

Have you no heart, mighty death?

Have you never lived and loved?

For those who do, live forever

and death then dies an utter death

at the hands of love and mercy.

Everyone goes through you, fearful king

Oh! Death be not proud

you are only a part of life .

 

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

 

 

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Posted in artistic spirit, god, Harmony

Resplendent

 

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Grant me thy light O lord!

Give me thy flame

Let not the wind blow away

this candle of thy name.

Bless me with thy fire

and the strength to overcome all strife

Greet me not in death O lord!

greet me in life.

Promise my heart faith O father!

may it forget about all fear

let the belief triumph in the end O lord!

that thou art always so near.

Thou singest with the birds

and movest with the tree

liveth thou in all

but blesseth only the free.

Make me strong like the first ray of the sun

for I am the boat challenging the sea

I seek thy courage, O father mine

I know thou art in me.

 

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

 

 

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Posted in Uncategorized

Writer’s block 

Oh! What an anguish 

I am not able to write today 

It seems as if 

my words are all on a holiday

they have left me here and gone

somewhere far away.


 Oh! What an anguish 

I am not able to write today

It seems as if 

my muse has nothing more to say

has abandoned me but surely will

return to me someday.  


Oh! What an anguish 

I am not able to write today 

It seems as if 

my inspiration has slowly turned grey 

and to find my rhymes back 

I will have to start to pray .


Oh! What an anguish 

I am not able to write today .

                                    

                                          

                                             Arijit Roy      

              ( Poem and photograph) 

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Posted in love, Uncategorized

Forever 

Someone asked me 

why I never completed

the poem about her.

I smiled and said 

” I never ended that poem

for that was the greatest way

to complete it”. 


                                           Arijit Roy

                           ( Poem and photograph

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Posted in love, Uncategorized

Warmth

Love is the sun of my sky

but a cloud comes between us.

Oh ! Dear cloud

Float away, float along .

Come not between us

play with the wind, Go! Drift away

for I do not want your shade.

I want to feel the strong rays of love

even if, they burn my skin.

For I desire more heat, more love.
Arijit Roy

( Poem and photograph)

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Posted in Uncategorized

On Nothing

To do nothing is a grave sin

to be nothing, a damnation.

Nothing has always been our punching bag

our very own black sheep.

But tell me, tell me honestly

can nothing ever be wounded?

can nothing ever be destroyed?

No! Nothing can hurt nothing

Why then all this hate, for nothing

We are nothing and we will go to nothing

Why then, loath to be nothing.

Nothing is everything

and everything is nothing.

Nothing is not the blank page

that stares at our face,

nothing is the inability to write

because there is too much to say.

Arijit Roy

 

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Posted in love

Settle Softly

Like a butterfly, sitting slowly

carefully upon a green leaf

love came and sat

upon my tender heart. 

Bewildered with joy and amazement 

I jumped and sang to the clouds 

like a child unable to contain

the music within. 

Arijit Roy

( Poem and photograph)

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Posted in artistic spirit, eternity, flight

Dance of the wings

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Above this giant lake

with its shimmering waves

you fly as if you have nothing to lose.

 

You fly fast, you turn swift

as if the sky is where you were born.

No more death for you, my friend

for somewhere near the shore

you have dropped your fear of falling

and now in every flap of your wing

you are born again,

infinite like your sky.

 

Oh! my little friend

how simply you fly

without a thought

without a cry

as if all this sky were your playground.

Be the wind gentle , be the wind harsh

you always make a brother of him

and fly

fly as if this were some deep meditation.

The spark in your flight

ignites the nomad in me

who is always on the look

for a journey without an end.

 

You fly, you turn, you twist, you swerve

Oh! You fly again

as if testing the very limits of your freedom.

 

I listen, as you say

that if anywhere peace resides

you have found it in your sky.

You soar, you rise

as if every step forward

is a revelation of a higher truth

as if there in the arms of the sky

you find yourself again

as if by being there, by only being there

you feel one with god.

 

Oh! my little friend

If I were just a little bit like you

how eternal I would be

If I had the courage

to throw myself to the sky

without a thought or cry

how eternal I would be

and if I had the strength

to let my heart fly

and realize itself at every end

like your twists and turns

how eternal I would be

 

But here, now

sitting in front of a beautiful view

watching you fly by

seeing the sunkissed waves

seeing the mountain capes

feeling the wind

and the soft murmur of leaves

I know that I am

and by being here by only being here

I too am a part of your flight.

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

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Posted in eternity, love, Uncategorized

Floating

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It is always so hard to open up

it is always so hard to cry

yet the heart which is firm like a brick

melts like colours in a sunset sky.

The truth we see as a monster

the truth we curse and harp 

is small and beautiful like a butterfly

that, which eludes our grasp.

Somewhere from behind the clouds I know

you watch me and you smile

somewhere inside the heart I know

you are there all the while.

So I sing to your blue sky

and write about the love which always grew

for somewhere I also know 

that my words will reach you.

 

Arijit Roy

(Poems and photograph)

 

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Posted in artistic spirit, Death, Life

Truth

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O sweet one!

What is it that you ask

Why day and night you hide behind a mask

Why hug the sorrow, why forget the joy

Why abandon your spirit like a broken toy.

The truth you search for

grows in your heart

as every season plays a part.

In darkness you die, in light you are born

like a rose, blooming around many a thorn.

Life and its joys overlooking death

rose and its beauty within a shadowy breath .

The red flower which loves

is also the red which inspires

a will to overcome sadness

Come fate! Come fire!

But its beauty withers away

and thorns which go on to stay

do say in many a way

that in sorrow too lies beauty

and in beauty too lies sorrow

life and death move hand in hand

between yesterday and tomorrow.

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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Posted in nature, Self and Peace.

Shiuli

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The mornings are a bit colder now

as a slight chill greets us everyday.

Whatever remains of our oneness with nature

the instinct of it, never fails us to tell

that the direction of winds have changed.

Summer mornings are brighter, warmer

but this is a dryer, whiter hue.

A sense of truth prevails in the air

as it announces someone’s arrival

someone whom we know very dearly

someone who would soon come and bless us 

and when she leaves, would take with her this season

letting the winter wave its wand.

The sun is truly golden now

shining just like a king

its rays are strong

but somewhere they have the touch 

of a tender warmness 

just enough, to keep the fire glowing.

 

A strange stillness rests in the air

as empty playgrounds and lonely terraces; the treasures of this season

sing this secret hymn, joyfully

under a blue sky and many a white clouds.

 

A peaceful silence with an ardent restlessness is the beauty of this season.

So still yet so alive.

 I feel the very conflict of my being

ushered in by the breeze

which carries with it the sweet faint smell of Shiuli

which touches some deep cord of my heart.

I stand  and think and philosophise

 “Oh! What is it that is happening to me?”

 It is as if my soul has found some deeper level of peace

and yet at some other deeper level it is searching for an unknown truth.

A struggle rests in the air

glorious,  golden just like the sun,

 for there is something that pulls me here

 in empty places in golden afternoons

 so peaceful and wise

What is this poem that my soul yearns to write?

Between summer and autumn

 between peace and doubt

here, this season is when I’m truly alive

 afraid yet fearless, scattered yet contained,

glorious yet imperfect, imperfect thus glorious

 both in spirit and in heart.

here, this season, this time of the year, always.

It does not have a name, this season

 neither does my soul.

 It may not even be a season

 but this is surely an emotion

 closer to my heart and closest to my being.

 What is the full meaning, I do not know

 but know , that it changes and with time.

The days are becoming shorter now

and the evenings are different yet familiar.

 Familiar in spirit but different in voice.

A new season ushers in and brings with it a new spirit.

The old heart keeps on beating, fervently.

Arijit Roy

( Poem and Photograph)

                                                                                       

 

 

 

 

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Posted in heartbreak, love

Eluded

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O love!  Thou wicked conjurer

thou hast trickest me again

thou has made my heart burn

by me very hands, in thy illusion.

 

O cursed be thy soul

for thou makest me revel in dreams , not my own

and makest me

flow like a leaf in the air , tossing me

whichever way thou chooses.

 

O love!  Thou art a villain.

Thou villainous dog

tell me , tell me honestly

Did I ever, ever foul thee?

Hoh! Henceforth I refuse to sing thy praises

and to let my soul dance

to the cadence of thy songs,

for thou art a thief,

thou hast robst me in daylight  O lord!

thou hast robst me of my joy

and left me alone in this barren land

sans water, hope , everything.

 

It is not grief that causeth the trouble

but it is the hope of thy arrival

for I wait and hope and hope and wait

but forget, that thou art treacherous.

 

Promise me O love!  Promise me thou cruel deity

that one day thou willst bless me

bless me with all the joy in my share

bless me by this earth, by this light

Oh! bless me for heaven’s sake

 

Why?  Why O love!

I came to thee with a golden heart

and thou spat on it, relentlessly.

Thou has come to those unworthy of thee

thou has blest those, unaware of thy shine

yet thou always refused to shake me hand

tell me O love!  Answer me!

Am I such a damned soul?

 

O love!  Thou art a pest

Thou has spread thy roots deep in my heart

and I know,  anon

I will again dance to thy tunes

and sing thy praises like a minstrel

for I am a man; limited

but thou art infinite.

O love!  Come!  Come!

set me free,  let me taste the stars

O love!  Teach me thy eternal poem

remind me that it is not betrayal or pain

or suffering or wounds that is thy call

these, the notions of the vain;  I care not for

for I know,  it is only thou

who gives the courage to fight all fear

and the strength to overcome all sadness.

 

Come then O love, sweet love

Come, Come in all thy form

O merciful!  I beg you

Come in all thy regal splendour

and show all,  thy true heart

else may there be a plague

on thy house .

 

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted in love, Self and Peace., Tagore

This is my delight

Inspired from Gitanjali

Poem – Aamar ei poth chava tai aanondo

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This is my delight, thus to wait

and to wail at the moon,

remembering thy face.

Gentle breeze blows slowly

spreading the perfume of thy smile.

Stars, near or far

twinkle with all their might

yet they lack the luster

born in thine eyes.

Together, we sit in the arms of the dusk

like long lost friends

taking joy at the hope of thy arrival.

 

In the meanwhile, I smile and sing

with them yet all alone

In the meanwhile

the moon hides behind a cloud.

 

 

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

Featured
Posted in love, Uncategorized

Keep Reading!!

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Your eyes are like a sonnet

they may shrink as you laugh

but their light it never dims .

 

Your nose, just like a novel

long indeed but interesting.

 

Your chin like a short story

a thousand  words, a thousand  praises

yet precise.

 

Your teeth, like free verse

irregular in metre

but powerful in shine .

And your lips, just like a play

like dialogues they stay together till the end

yet are never divided by any act.

Together, they help in writing

the finest literature in the world

your smile,

most fulfilling, most soulful.

 

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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Posted in love, Unquiet Mind

At the tip

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It has rained heavily

and everything through the window seems clean .

Trees , plants ,shrubs

all are rich again , back in the colour of youth.

 

A little raindrop somewhere

is dangling at the end of a shoot ,

determined to let go of the plant

yet not ready to embrace the soil .

 

It reminds me of me

for I too ,

am dangling at the end of a shoot

determined to fall in love

yet not ready to face the fears .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

Featured
Posted in Self and Peace.

Add life to your days

 

 

 

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Every night I strive for life

more and more life

whatever it takes

I just , just don’t want to sleep

for sleep , it is just like death

sweet , soothing yes

but once it sets in

you can’t remember a word

as all becomes  nothing

but life aah !  it is so opposite

tough , turbulent yes

but once it sets in

you remember that you are and  alive

as nothing becomes everything .

 

It astonishes me how

I am fully alive

in the dead hours of the night

as I become me

and you become you

only in the end of the journey ,  why ?

Perhaps it is so , for we know

that there is no more time to waste

that death and sleep are fast catching up

that whatever it is  that we are ,

we are and now .

 

For life was always poor in maths ,

it only knows addition .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

 

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Posted in Self and Peace., Uncategorized

Away

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Away is also a way.

How can you ever be free?

If you do not give yourself,

the permission to walk away

from whatever it is , that enslaves your spirit

chains your being .

Not running away but moving away

knowing that all battles cannot be fought

and the best battle is the one which is avoided.

Choosing to speak your mind

and not conform .

Trusting what your energies say

for sometimes , moving away

is the wisest possible way .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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She

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She will wait

                               but never leave

she will hate

                                       yet hold your hands

she might be furious

                                       but will keep you close

she might be curious

                        but she understands .

 

You don’t miss her

                                    but she always does

you don’t kiss her

                   still she cares

you can fool everyone

              but never her

your secret confessions

                 she never shares.

 

You don’t love her

                      she knows that

but you value her high

                   she is aware

she may not be the queen

                        you are looking for

but in her own way

                            she is very rare .

 

You curse your heart

                                     Why couldn’t you  love her

You curse your heart

                            When she goes away

You will never love her

                           you know that part

The silence kills

                                                   when you have so much to say

 

She knows the words

                         you try to hide

she smiles as the cupid

                                 misses the arrow .

she is sad you’re stupid

                      she is happy you’re honest

her soul is lighter than the sparrow .

 

          She is the morning moon

                                      who waited all night

I , the early sun

                          who wants to rise high

love didn’t happen , sadly true

but for a brief time

                                 we did share the sky .

 

                                                           Arijit Roy

                                                             (Poem and photograph)

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Light the fire

 

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I carry the pain at heart

like a smoker carries his cigarettes

for when the night falls &  my feet are tired

I rest my back against an old tree

and think , of all the good times

that seem to have flown by .

I fix my eyes at some far point in the sky

like a smoker stares somewhere in the horizon

and I cry , a tear or two

he smokes , a puff or two

both soothe the nerves .

Once the heart is light , I wipe my tears

like he crushes the cigarette beneath his feet

a moment of sudden peace arrives

as the mind stands still

until we both look away & decide

it is best to move on .

 

A little chunk of our heart decides to stay

as if , it was its destiny

the tear-drop which  moisted the soil  soon dries

and the wind spreads the cigarette ash .

                                                                   Arijit Roy

                                                                 (Poem and Photograph)

 

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Dip In !

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Love is like that biscuit

dipped in a hot cup of tea ,

take too much time to open your heart

& oops  !   the biscuit melts down   , sorry

but , if you take too little a time

haste haste and all goes waste

as the biscuit and your love

both remain bland

for they never really got the time

to absorb all those tender aromas and flavours

of the tea and of the heart .

& so I say my friends

love is indeed magical

for just like magic  , everything here

is about timing.

                                                                                  Arijit Roy (Poem)

                                                                          Shahshwat Tyagi (Photograph)

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Unafraid

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Once the fear is confronted

how simple it all appears ,

as if , it were all lilies

swaying their head to a rich gush of wind .

 

No more are the feet lost

no more do the roads seem a stranger .

The timid heart , which used to peep

through the closet

and collect the crumbled auburn autumn leaves

now beats to the rhythm of all seasons .

 

And the little boy who was afraid of ghosts

now sleeps with faith at heart

for he knows

that a night without the moon

does not mean a sky without stars.

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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Growth

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Today I swallowed a seed unmindfully .

I remember ,

how once as a kid , I had done the same

and how afraid I was , lest the seed

should grow into a tree in my belly .

 

Huh ! Those days are now long gone behind

those fears and those joys

that came from nothing but became our everything .

 

For who would know ,

that it would be the seed of life

which would grow into a tree ,

rich with experiences inside us

and there’s one more special thing in this tree

no matter which season

it is always laden with  fruits

fruits of good memories that nurse the tender heart .

also  to remind you ,

no fruit here is forbidden .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

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Nothing to say

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There are silences between our breaths

silences so long and deep

that even the soul if it so wished

could easily drown in them .

How were they made and why are they there

I know yet I know not

but know , that they strangle the heart

which yearns to be heard .

 

It was not the same before

earlier it was the sea

now it is a desert , a dried depth

stretching till the end of time .

Fortunately there also exist a few oasis

those little moments of sheer life and hope

that remind us that not all is gone

for just when it seems that nothing remains

there is this something that always lives up

as our hearts start talking to each other

they talk as if they breathe , easy , in and out peacefully

they talk as if nothing was ever gone

they talk as if tomorrow and yesterday were mere words

far too little to be given so much power .

 

It is then that I realise

that even the desert -vastest of all

somewhere has to , has to end .

For sand even if it is much

will soon ,  surely slip by

and give way to a new time

which brings with it a new sky .

                                                                                                      Arijit Roy (Poem)

                                                                                                            Photograph taken from net .

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And I have been a fool

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And I have been a fool

for I never felt the fire

that gave warmth to the heart

with many a mellow desire .

 

The wind tried to teach me

but I refused to hear his call

to open myself like the leaves

that kiss the soil at fall

 

If you were there , you would have laughed  at me

or cried  softly  and held  my head

for  time that goes by  never does return

just like the wise man had once said .

 

So if you meet my heart , down some dusty road

be sure to convey my regards

and tell him that the fool has learnt

to live  life like a game of cards .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

 

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Reverie

daydreaming

I will try to resist

to the best as long as I can .

I will push myself

give in everything I have , lest  I fall asleep .

 

Oh sweet sleep , be not angry with me my lady

but yes , what they say is true

I cannot deny , even though I try

that I have found someone

whose voice is sweeter than your blessing

and thoughts deeper than your dreams .

 

It is this dream now , her dream

which I live every minute with open eyes

not tonight sleep , not tonight

for a lover laughs and a lover cries .

 

Cast not your spell oh sleep

let me live this dream , let me stay awake

Cast not your spell oh sleep

If you ever loved , then for your lover’s sake .

 

Your sleep is soothing , yes

but it is a rare peace which  I now feel

I will try , I will resist

lest anyone this moment should steal .

 

For tomorrow scares me a little

and I solemnly refuse to look behind

then if this dream is all that I have

let me live it  till the end of time .

Arijit Roy (Poem)

Photograph taken from Google Images

 

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Birth

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To the light that shines in the night

and falls through my window

Oh ! blessed  blessed  light

Many a nights have I spent by your side

Many a nights have I written

my heart on a piece of paper

and set it to rhyme in your light .

Many a nights I have

laughed , wept , dreamt , loved

all in your light , tender tender light .

For whenever I felt lonely in the arms of the night

you reminded always

that I , have a friend

Oh blessed be the night

when I saw you for the first time

for I saw myself then in a new light .

Perhaps then for the first time

it felt like dawn at midnight .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and Photograph)

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Tiny Truth

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It is dusk .

I lie in the field , lost .

A group of ants walk past my feet

they tell me , I have stopped .

I see , they carry the wounded on their shoulders

not their pain .

They tell me  “Brother ! Drop the pain

carry yourself forward” .

I rise .

Arijit Roy

 (Poem and photograph)

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Deep Breaths

Breaths are closing down,  you say

is it death or  love , I wonder

which is better which is worse

to answer , I am torn asunder .

Both free you from life , yes

both come , at their own call

both may lift you to the greatest heights

both may ,  lead to your fall .

Whose day it is , I do not know

but some footsteps can be heard

for both of them scream in silence

and make no use of any word .

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                                                                                                                                        Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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Aati – mango seed in Bangla

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In days , which I now realise were free

but were then , as turbulent as today

I along with the old king , one summer

had planted a mango seed

in a specially ordered pot , just outside our home .

The old king , I remember would often tell

how he , when he was my age

had planted a similar (mango) seed

which now has grown into a seventy year old tree

rich with fruits , foliage and everything else .

The tree still , stands tall in our native village

but it’s father has gone home , a long time ago .

It was the same wind that spread his ashes

which now moves the leaves , one way to another .

The seed we planted here , did grow into a sapling

but the sapling now has dried away

not only the plant , but also the human sapling

whom he loved a bit too dearly .

A good soil , a little water and

a bit of sunlight might restore them both

for they have to , have to grow into a tree 

full of life  ,  rich with fruits , foliage

and everything else .

Arijit Roy

(Poem and photograph)

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Close your eyes

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A  billet doux  (love letter)

or will a bullet do

both take away lives .

Not one

but many ,

many die as the trigger of the heart is pulled .

Boom ! the noise ,

all is silence

and all  ,  is silenced .

                                                                                         Arijit Roy

                                                                                      (Poem and photograph)

Posted in artistic spirit, eternity, Harmony

Celebration of life

Trying to tap into the soul

of that rare magic, which

surrounds us everywhere

but is everpresent here

in these walls, in these trees

in these smiles, in these streets.

Being one with that joy

which cannot be named

living in that hour of bliss

which cannot be tamed.

Being freer than all the birds

and majestic like the sun

expressing that inner poem

and realising, we’ve won.

Arijit Roy

Poem and photograph