Posted in artistic spirit, Life, Self and Peace.






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)






Posted in heartbreak, love, Self and Peace.


woe pic.jpg

You cry, for love left you

I cry, for it never came

broken hearts are like seasons

different yet all the same.

Perhaps that is why

tears do not have any colour.


Arijit Roy

Poem and photograph

Posted in Harmony, Self and Peace.


Let me revel to the rhythms 

of the music inside

for the heart sings with boundless joy

as everything else fades away 

into a sweet coexistence with peace,

resolving all that is inconstant 

into one sublime melody . 


                                                Arijit Roy

                      ( Poem and photograph) 

Posted in Self and Peace., Uncategorized


What fear it is, that strangles my heart 
and breathes into my soul
the rusted smell of despair. 
O thou master of skies 
touch me by thy immortal hand
and make my spirit fearless
fearless like a tree in storm 
unmoved; come ruin or rapture.
Bless me my eternal father 
for I do not wish to be akin
to the leaf which was torn asunder. 

                                                Arijit Roy 
                         (Poem and photograph)

Posted in nature, Self and Peace.



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)






Posted in love, Self and Peace., Tagore

This is my delight

Inspired from Gitanjali

Poem – Aamar ei poth chava tai aanondo

this is my delight pic.jpg


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)

Posted in Self and Peace.

Add life to your days





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)