An Achievement

In shades of brown and hanging tongue,
He waited his turn amid human swarm,
scared,yet solemn,calm and composed,
The puppy waited to cross the road.

Tyres and legs too many; vehicles abound,
he dodged and shrieked, yet stood his ground,
Alone, the tiny-tot's gaze puzzled in the din,
sandwiched he crawled with Giant's around.

And then , the moment of Glory arrived,
when traffic, to the red light slowed,
He flapped ears,wagged furious,
eyes sparked with possible hope.
,he marched along
with little steps, brave and bold
And then,
the little puppy crossed the road..

Indrajit Ghosal.
O Santa !

To the homes that know no Christmas,
To the ruffians , that know no Home,
To every lonely breath beneath the flyovers,
Santa, you remain a myth, an elusive clone.

To the riches and well-heeled you grace,
in real, with gifts and mischief-ladened face,
to the blessed ones, with fortunes you bless,
and jive with carols and bells to showcase.

O santa, don't you see in those dingy lanes,
Poverty dwells in monstrous shame,
Married with agony , marred by fate,
bereaved of the taste of Christmas cake .

Santa, please show up at every other door,
let them all peek into your gift's galore,
The myth be abandoned, for once let them say,
"Yes, Santa came here in a one horse open sleigh."

Indrajit ghosal
Copyright(c)reserved 2007
a song for me-

A song for me i heard, far away it seemed,
While in your wombs mother, soft blessed hymn,
A naive desire for unborn glory,your chords echoed,
A prayer for an unripe story, silkened and slowed.

Mother once more-May I hear the voice pristine?
wombs beckon mother, bring me home, to your aureolar sheen..

A song for me I heard,A lullaby from a nearby land,
Granny cradled me, the soothened touch of her hand.
Entwined her fingers in mine, shadowed the kins of sorrows,
weaved dreams for her son's brightened, clear morrows.

Sit by me, May I rest my head holding your apron strings?
And I sleep with my fairy's sight,as sonatas of my bliss she sings..
granny once more,show me the brightest star yonder-
Where you promised one day, shiningly you would appear..

Indrajit ghosal
A Child-Widow.

Draped in colors of sombre white,
Sits clueless the small widow-child.
Losing her colors with one oldie's death,
maneless , a childhood maimed by fate.

"A Widow is a sinner, A sinner" said the Men,
versed in vedas, Brahmins the most sane-
"rip her from masses, a bad omen she is
Let the outcast dwell in widow's shanties"
"Worse than Death, a cursed shadow on the human clan,
Or die sati purified,and pray to be born again as A man"

"With the patters of rain, her legs shan't thrill to dance.
And she be fed twice, a spartan meals glance"
they said, "with His death , her desires must die,
half dead ye, talk in hushed tone , thou mustn't forget".

She would learn soon, when she would grow,
she's dwarfed forever, by men and their feigned show.
The norms denies a widow to love or emote-
tainted life , a forced loser, lifeless her thirsty soul floats.

Playground that's devoid of rainbow hues and greens,
For she wears the color of decayed and pitied weans,
one color unbetrayed remains the orange sun's flashes,
unrealized songs manyflew off in red with the ashes.

Indrajit Ghosal
Copyright(c)indrajitghosal 2007
A wait for his Lollipop Lady

( A lollipop-lady is a person whose job is to help children/child , cross a busy road, on their
way to and fro from school, by holding up a sign on a stick telling traffic to "Stop").

Come soon please, O lollipop lady!
one toddler waits for guide,
worried eyes stared at the busy paths,
while cabs ,whooshed alongside.

blank-stared child lost his way,
stood lonely in shivers of dismay,
scared he felt to venture alone,
to reach home, amid lanes unknown.

little boy turned to gloom,
gloomy looked the dusk around,
others all paced to reach home,
pearls of tears to his eyes surround.

"God, send her please"-so the child prayed,
granny waited at home with many foods laid
the buzzing noise and crowded dins, "Oh,how long to wait?'
and the eyes looked faraway, from where the twilights fade.

I apologise for the abrupt ending here.

Indrajit ghosal
Smile-- A Nonet

Lit the faint feel in twilights mellow,
Wade past all glooms in dazzling show,
Spring forever ripens heart,
golden moments behold,
everlasting glow,
radiance unfolds,
once more,

Tears--A Nonet

"Where thou lost O elusive? Appear.
ye dried or shying to sear,
Hear thy plea, O please let go,
Heavy heart ,seeketh thy flow,
Chastise, unburden,
sorrows, pent-ups,
I command

A nonet is never done to bring out the contrasts of emotions.These are two different Nonets.

A nonet has nine lines. The first line has 9 syllables, the second line 8 syllables, the third line 7 syllables, etc... until line nine finishes with 1 syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.
Syllable Counting of the Write;-
line 1 - 9 syllables Where/ thou/ lost/ O/e/lu/sive/ Ap/pear.
line 2 - 8 syllables Ye/ dried/ or /shy/ing /to/ se/ar
line 3 - 7 syllables Hear/ my/ plea, O /please /let/ go
line 4 - 6 syllables Heavy /heart ,seek/eth /thy /flow
line 5 - 5 syllables Chas/tise un/bur/den
line 6 - 4 syllables so/rrows/ pent/ups,
line 7 - 3 syllables I/ com/mand
line 8 - 2 syllables te/ars
line 9 - 1 syllable Flow.

Indrajit ghosal
To The Holy Mother -A Nonet


Autumn's Chariot heralds Mother,
Spirits arise, gusto in air,
returns Home damsel Divine,
Bright hearts, festive sublime,
Wait for a year ends,
Joyous abounds,


Grief-struck children, offer last prayers,
sweet sorrow of parting lingers,
Four days festive galore, ends,
emptiness, unheard sighs,
Reddened face, moist eyes,
Dawning Depart,
Sunken heart,

Indrajit Ghosal

P.S-- "Reddened face" is referred to the smearing of vermillon on the last day of celebration
by the women-folk.

NONET: A nonet has nine lines. The first line has 9 syllables, the second line 8 syllables, the third line 7 syllables, etc... until line nine finishes with 1 syllable. It can be on any subject and rhyming is optional.

Syllable Counting of the Write;-

line 1 - 9 syllables Au/tumn's Cha/ri/ot he/ralds Mo/ther
line 2 - 8 syllables Spi/rits a/rise, gus/to /in /air
line 3 - 7 syllables re/turns Home dam/sel Di/vine
line 4 - 6 syllables Bright /hearts, fes/tive sub/lime
line 5 - 5 syllables Wait/ for/ a /year/ ends
line 6 - 4 syllables jo/yous/ a/bounds
line 7 - 3 syllables Home/coming
line 8 - 2 syllables wel/come
line 9 - 1 syllable Maa
My 1 year of Blogging
A Thanksgiving Note..

One year ago, when I sheepishly forayed with my first baby steps into the huge world of Blogging, little did I know that one day I would sit to spare some time in glorifying and thanking all those beautiful souls, who became my readers, enduring my work and also opinionating on them, by spending their precious time.

This is my token of gratitude for all splendid people , that include my School friends, my Blogger/orkut friends, acquaintances and others who could not comment or went away after a sneak-peek to the blog.I had never imagined Ever that I would get such overwhelming support from talents all across.And from people who are Masters in their own domain.
I am highly obliged and humbled for all their encouragement and for making my 1st year of blogging eventful.
A note of heartfelt thankfulness to
My School Friends---
Krishnendu (Nenu, aka mindspaceblogger)one of my few treasures , my sole partner in the murky rainy football field in school. He's a good writer himself.

Joyaditya(Lomri) whenever We meet , he would always say“Indro, lekhata charish Na, ar jai kor”(Don’t stop writing, whatever You do)Well, he is way ahead than me in his penmanship and humour. Those long, long walks with you I would always cherish boy.
Abhishek ( Odo)—his Blog inspired me to make one of my own. One of my appreciator.
i would also like to thank Sammy, Sandip(Rugo), Sandip B(Chorbi), Somnath M(Le!#ti)Somnath( Batli), Abhijit(Pahari baba).
me thank orkut to get them back esp to get back some dearest friends for life.

Now I take the opportunity to thank my orkut/blogger pals who have always been my regular readers and constant supporters.

Rashi Mam—One of the 1st lady blogger to comment on my post.
Shivraj( Shiv)—the 1st orkut friend to read my post.Also, a genius mind and an unconventional poet.I adapted his “Copyright©” to proclaim ownership.
Swatimala---a poet with an amazing sense of humour. Read her Posts to be in splits.
Shal---A Sufi poet and a virtuous lady.
Jean Pierre— a poet from Brazil and a wonderful person.
Thank u all. I am humbled and honored.Also I would include some more names like
Negi sir,.little writer,Punita, Akanksha,Vyas, Scribbler,AJ,Rya,Kalyan, Invincible,Stand by mind, Still searching, Priyanka, Poppinzz,Matangey Mawley, Arpit, Priyanka K ,Sridari ,Ankur, Tushit, Shivnita and many others who had ever visited my blog.

Your comments have always made my day and I felt a sense of gratefulness for All the praises.I couldn't have asked for more.I wish your Godspeed and may God bless you all.
Thank You so much.
And Thank you God.

Indrajit Ghosal.
Goodbye Bob.....

(For Mr Woolmer,a south african , and Pak coach, who died under mysterious circumstances during the World cup '07)

The bells that chime in twilights mellow,
proclaimed a depart,bading the last show,
sojourn, so long, harked with the last beat,
flew the soul miles, life's sun to horizon meet.

Of bouquets, and stress of mundane bustles,
of brutal tides and bonds: of daily rattles,
of glories to Nations to the peaks atop,
of losses, of lashes by the fickled crop.

A life that spelt many a sporting boon,
vacates, with a void tune of sorrow to croon.
Peace at last, the Coach left for a New life,
in Eternity, to breathe Bliss, away from mortal's strife.

Indrajit Ghosal

A Pimpled Story.

Ushered earlier than one could imagine,
the first tryst found in springs of a fluffy skin.
A saga of cheeks, in blood and bruise and a scratchy Rebel's gory,
One tiny here, a bombastic there, his life married one Pimpled story.

Glared in unison, of varied sizes , in vivid constellations-
Pimples two or more bonded, shaping scary proportions.

The prints that soaked- red pillows those days bore,
Spoke untold grimace , in silence the child endured.
In grief, he vexed and complained the Uprisings,
Faced the jabbering jerks queer silly rantings.

Pampered the pimples with potions to heal in early days,
Stubborn they rose from death, to scribe the untouched mazes.
From cheeks to back, treading the innmost of the 'Lost' eyes.
He lived pimpled batterings,in agony ,in anguishes and sighs.

Seldom they frequent with time now, yet the scars remain,
Time will not heal them-the scars seemed to tell the tale.

"Lost" eyes is referred to a prominent wandering, searching trait that is
so much in the eyes of the character described..
Indrajit Ghosal.
Colours of Red.

Red bedecked all corners,
with celebratious grandeurs.
Red were the cheeks blushing,
clad in sparkling red attire.
The palms reddened display,
forthcoming joys to surmount.
Red went the moist eyes sudden,
when the bygone days I recount.

Red were my doll's eyes,
to every bruises I would inflict -
red screamed the bonny cheeks
of the pains my hand would indict.
Red my eyes then,I thought, I deftly hide,
Red I blushed , when she nabbed at first sight.

Red ,those fingers little,
I once, holded in childish gaze,
I hold a red bangled hand now,
guiding her through the crowded maze.

Baptism rounds in vermillion holy,
witnessed the world and the red fire.
Empty howled my mind's house,
soon would die my teasing desires.

A part of me would empty lie,
yearning all the blabbers and smiles.
Heart will sing the paeans of past,
When she would have gone miles.

Indrajit Ghosal.


My "Writer's Block" Phase

(Muse-is referred to a guiding spirit or a source of inspiration for any creation.
Words- This term is referred to the Expressions of our thoughts.)

Dusting the clutters of mind aside,
Despairing soul stutters to find-
words a few with one my Muse
in papers with Pen gliding loose.

Come on fast O Words and befriend,
My many thoughts,O where they went?
Searching Me in the words kind grace,
I falter- the Muse nowhere to trace.

All bottled feels, failing to pen,
I waited to catch the thoughts again.
Thirsty spirit, stirred to near insane,
efforts drained to stroll in Muse's lane.

Hopping aimless,with no words to choose,
In silence I wait to find Me with my Muse.

indrajit Ghosal

A Rose-seller Girl

As the windows rolled down,
there beamed a rusty girl,
With hair braided in filths of Time,
selling roses in innocent swirl.

To every window sprinted the girl,
with the lights turned colour red,

dishing roses red and bright,
a life in grey and piteous sight.

Dusty dins were the jewels she wore,
hatred-spites the little mermaid bore-
from the snobs and honoured Human folks
Clogged at traffic and worries to the core.

A bangled hand cursed with roses,
A frock in green torn in places,
feet burned by sun's wrath on road,
and soul briused by cursive disgraces.

Indrajit Ghosal
My Utopia- 1
( A world that waits to unfold)

Where men and women are admired akin,
And no bias on race and skin,
Where no foetuses ever burn,
and no girls fear the lurking unseen.

Where exists no religion,
where one bond of love reigns
Where no child is fate's cursed,
No elders to Old-age homes dispersed.

Where food of all colors,
are laid in lavish means,
where rich and poor none exist,
and all embrace the joyous dins.

Where past is not far away,
where one can repose in those lanes,
and come back from the sepia-times,
to Now and shape the morrow's miles.

Where Santa carries gifts for all,
where music speaks the mind sublime-
Where the kins are never parted
to be memories in the heart forlorn

Indrajit Ghosal.
Recollections--A Teen's Crush.

The untamed heart pranced in silhouettes of satin,
Opened the eyes with dreams floating in primeval preen-
Flied the real dins,peeped the Surreal, with his first muse,
A teeny-soul shrieked in whispers,sniffing love:fancied and footloose.

World and her morons faded miles in eternal oblivion,
For flawed springs of love entwined itself to it's new Scion,
He framed pictures in hazy happiness, and flickered in restless flame,
Nights forlorn witnessed innocent's jives, winds rustled praises for his Dame.

A castle he carved in the Sonatas of Time, in skies' of blue lagoon,
floating in oceans of Life,and cuddling with the half-buried moon.
No words the Scion uttered, the Heart had the many ripples to say,
He remorsed as the day of parting neared to his dismay.

Till one day, he faded with many words unsaid,
His little pieces of shattered heart met the fate,
Time stole the child away with his docile heart,
and a crush of a kid, later became a chuckle of a Bard.

Indrajit ghosal

And he bade me Goodbye....

"Farewell, my Master and my good Friend,
from all weathers fair and unfair-
My last breath would sniff the air soon,
Friend, to your sight, the droopy eyes stare.

Together we grew, in health and happiness,
Together, you said, we'd surpass horizons yonder-
I wagged my mushy tail, I approved you dear,
Now, I gasp for last breath, why aren't you near?

You feeded me buttered-bread and biscuits,
we shared tiffins together, you remember,
On your way to school in dark winter morns,
I saw you off to bus stand, and waited there Master.

You gazed at the window, waving me goodbye,
and I , with my open tongue, gaped with wonder.
evenings saw us amid greens of life in the field.
You bashed as i licked your cheeks all asunder.

We giggled and sat with splendid silence abound,
you screamed , I barked when rays of joy bloomed around.
Two plumps lazed and walked basking thw winter sun,
and racing home in twilights to your Nanny's call was all fun !

Saved from those Dogs, when you , my Kid, armed with stones
your little hands shooed them and showered me chicken and bones
save me in your embrace Now , my Growing Brother,
as I wait for the Unknown, hopelessly in tetters.

Chum, my weak body and spirits dimmed to flounder,
Gone you are today far, the soul still sees you near,
I lay waiting for you to sprint and outrun death,
and holding my flimsy body, help me with my last Breath.

O ! once more can I live those days, wagging my tail again?
come soon, let's share those forgotten joys and ushering pain-
and tears of parting I vision-I see a horizon anew-
I must trudge alone , for the first time Sir, without You.

The sun sets in far, distant horizon with orange platter,
where my eyes seem to meet and my Beat goes slower ..
with your sight and memories , I fail to bark a pleasing sigh,
with the last huff for life, your Doggie bades you Goodbye."

someone writes a song.

when the torrid winds ruffle your silken black hair,
when their blows dismantle your life to utter uncare,
and the blaze of The Fiend and her ilks rips your calm,
when the dusts of mundane trivias does your soul harm,
someone ,somewhere plays one tune churning all goodness,
Away from humans and you, in the orange sun's harness,
someone, writes a song for You..

When you wake in nightmares, fear writ on thy Hallowed face,
and beads of worryand diving despairs, to yopur way they race.
when gloomy clouds, follies those black eyes,in the dark you grope,
when days beckon to empty lands of trepids and no high hope,
you know, one soul, churns a tune of your enlightened life,
in solitude ,in the soothing sun,he sings to embrace your strife,
and he writes one song for You.

when you leave the childhood haven, with dripping sadnes and sighs,
and you feel pale and low, and your heart , not the Eye cries
when you scatter trail of unseen tears, and the Unspokens none hear,
when the cheers surpass the bride's deafening silence, allied with fear,

you know one soul tunes a trail of delights of many blesses and rainbow hue
all aloof, passing with the last faint of dusk, He's written his song for You.

Indrajit Ghosal

copyright(c)2007 indrajitghosal
The 72 hours
(of fears and prayers)

Dimmed lit her candle of life,
Dimming with every dying second,slow paced.
Where every breathe is a prayer for life,
wishing to be heard,from all the souls dazed.

Dimmed hover the spirits of her kins,
and dim lay silence with His pale face reels.
Lay two newborn in clinical sheets, quiantly unaware,
from the torn world outside, from Destiny's maneouvre.

One ,uncelebrated lump of flesh, newly born , in colours of peaches,
one, newly born mother, in long sleep, poised in life and Death's reaches.
One's arrival proclaiming doom for the other Born,
who hangs between impending doom and One Bright morn.

"Hope she breathes the next 72 hours, even may be the chances though,
prayer and faith for mortals now,Let the might of a Man in pains not forgo"

The world stood there, and so stood the time still,
sat the shaken, sunken Father,dying with a gripping feel.
Carols crooned in a far Chapel, on the eve of Christ's Born,
Subdued he sits, insecure, Can she breathe in the next Dawn?

she clinged back to life,nearer and near,With every passing hour,
Prayers , spoken and unspoken were answered by the Holy One's shower.
two day's from Christ's birth, the Mother rose to the foggy , piercing light,
Her lump of flesh, was thrown to her.A homecoming of a beautiful sight.
And so lived the mother , her kins and the father, in the ray of Bliss.
As Guardian Angel kissed away the tears, leading to the Doors of Becoming peace.

Indrajit Ghosal
copyright(c)2007 indrajitghosal
The Maniac.

Frantic blood waded past the vein,
in despairing rage, streamed abrupt to the head.
trembling he fell,sinking, shaking and slowly,
in overpowered blackout, the eyes seemed to met.

crumpling he foraged to unleash his magical sword,
with shaking hands and torrid beats , he struggle,
What doomed on the Maniac sudden! what he's bent upon,
rummaging his rainbow dreams, which the Heavens still prattle!

Dunking the hot- head in water, cold, as cold one can feel,
the heat of psyche's boiled the water, as the moron lay still
parted lips hung dried, broods from blue the Madness,
madness-the paper absorbing composed self to numbness.

lay the maniac pinioned by evils of rage,
inscribing words on the wall for his epitaph's essence.
where desires lay to see the sun before
the lunatic passes quietly, melting with the darkness..

Indrajit Ghosal.

My first lyric--(i think so.)

here i am, today so far you are,
lies life bleak in vapid bizarre,
Eyes still vision the holy figure,
In melees, in melanges,In far and near.
miles gone for eternal sabbatical- the sleep-
reminiscences only remain deeper and deep...

The hallowed face,for a second even,
stays in eyes alive,amid the brazen(s).
passes wearied days and nights though,
The big life denies to drag, ,to forgo.
cannot utter the pithies and pangs,unseen-
such hapless and hopeless, i had never been..

silence speaks, as red eyes from all I hide,
aeons and ages gone, that I laughed hard,
Tales of spring days, I still sight,
tales of tears i weave, night after night.

copyright(c)indrajitghosal 2007
Heartbreak !!

Sauntering in the solitude, befuddled I was to see,
A damsel, beckoning me to splendid charm, to break free-
From-the bustling life, it's aspersions and out of Hoi-pollois,
hiding myself, somewhere beneath those soothing eyes.

I sawlife, in all hues, in myriad hopes umpteen,
I build a castle there, serene, and with all sheen,
Distancing from all, basked i in those alluring Eyes,
Hoping to see life there, out of it's ugly sighs..

dashed were my dreams, for how an idiot was I !
the eyes turned the other way, leaving me Dry,
Fool I may have been, slighted I am,
To fall for deceit ,admiring eyes of sham.
Reverie broke and i woke with a lesson worse,
To avert the eyes, beneath which
lay long passages of Curse...

Indrajit Ghosal.

copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
Saved Wishes for My Daughter...

One dream, I still Dream,
for you, my sweet daughter.
That you grow , and grow Mighty,
Beyond the Sublime zenith yonder..

Hold my Hands feeble, and here we go,
to the seas, to mountains, to the Springs and more,
To the rains , to the valleys of green,
together, to our delights , we'll explore..

I'll ride you to my secret world,
Which is for The special few
Where I dwell with memories of yore,
This time, -I'll visit with You.
There are pains , there are joys,
There are pathos profound,
In my world, there's also sweetness with You
also, there's memories Divine and Sound..
One Dream, I still Dream,
For you, My sweet daughter.....

Hide and seek ,we'll play,
I won't know the Places you hide,,
Every game you Win, mate.
let me cherish your joyous Sight.
We'll slide pass most beautiful books, and
dunk on best foods, with gifts regale,
On our way, we'll pack some
for them: On the Roadside They Dwell.
One Dream, I still, Dream,
With You.............My Dear Daughter..

We'll pray to our God,
To The God, whom No one else pray,
we'll swim in muds and ponds,
Care not we, wht the Onlookers Say.
We'll make our rules and we'll do break,
We'll smell the morning mist
and howl at the Loudest beat,
Dinner plates wd scatter to pieces around,
and then , we'd feel sorry,
regretting the "Rebel" Deed.
one Dream , I still Dream for You,
For You, my chweet Daughter..

I'll grace you conducts and manners,
and rules to abide by,
"Such Saintly this li'l angel"
your grooming evoking awe to passers-by.
I'll make new rhymes, and sing for you, Lullabies,
Crooning Life-lessons to your ear,
While you sleep, as I caress your mane,
Painting GoodNIght Kiss on the Cheeks there..

Will you sing lullabies, sweetheart?
when , my journey, will meet the end,,
Remember me, will you?, as a friend and a Father,
Everynight, Your "GoodNight Kiss", wherever i be,
, please Do Send

One Dream I still Dream
where are you , my daughter.............................?

Indrajit Ghosal
A Dream of a 24 yr old Mortal that he had visioned when he was 19yrs,
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
in the dark..

'twas pitch dark, when lights went off,
Blackness swallowed guts, in tones of scoff.
I shiver, crumble, Night turned so eerie-
The soul strangulated, in Dark room scary.

They saw me-The dirty dark deadly Devils,
Alone i tremble, groping for Unknown evils.
Where to hide, where to seek the Light ?
To shrug the scare, to dance to life's Delight..

In one deep corner, to hide,shivering I ran
Fear, perspire reigned on the Fractured state's clan.
There they come! hark! I hear them all---
Trumpeting on my Breathing Corpse ,hurrying for Burial..

I feel choked, Am I Dying?
I gasp for air,I am Crying !

now ,Who the Hell, jives on my plight??
Playing tune familiar -to this pityful sight...!
Oh It's Morn, My evergreen nemesis chimes along.
Yes, I am Alive ! waking up to nature's song.
That was a dream, .or no that was not.
I remain in dreams awake.
So where was i caught??

Indrajit ghosal..
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
That One Drop Of Tear.....

Barren lies the road, empty, solitary; so lies one Soul Accursed,
Silence adorns miles and miles, Longer breathes the Lonely Sighs,
Forgets the fickle world Me , you and all:when the stage is dispersed,
For whom, then O, peevish Loner, your sunken pair of eye Cries..

Sunburnt roads , burning the soul, charring the Dreams to despair,
Wretched soul looks around, Hapless, Even His Shadow's not Near !
Betrayed Bliss lost, lost to the land where reposes the Serene, and tranquil,
The Time, when the Sunburnt grass's touch made many an agony Heal--

Then sorrows were there-Even now the sorrowful sonatas sniff the Soul they bear,
Even now, the crude crasiness of destiny plays foul guiding to lands of Quagmire,
BUT TheN-the sunburnt grasses had sketches and mirages of the figures Drawn for A loner,
Gone they are-the Angels and the Guardians ,in" flowing tears of past "they seem to Disappear..

The Road today is barren , gust of winds burns the pain entwined in every Vein,
Rusty, dishevelled walks the Loner, bearing scars of The abrupt Weather's Bane..
Freting with thirst, maimed by life's loathe, He waits for The First Drop of Rain,,
It'll come--he knows. he soaks in this hope, in sun's scorching rays of Disdain..

Yes, He'll see them, and his shadow will be back, and the soul once again Breathe to Life..
But 'The One Drop Of Tear', he's kept safe, perhaps....would loose by then in the "Huge Strife."

Indrajit Ghosal.
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
'Rudalis'--- The Desert Mourners.
sitting in circles,
wrapping garments stale and plain,
Six shrills of sombre, echoes
beastly grim of pain..
Breezing dust , warm sands, carry
poignant cries of refrain.
to far and near, heralding
gloom and doom from the Bereaving Lane..
Hands thump the Breasts, hard as
hitting diabolic clamps of nail..
And cries and bursts of loss,
leaves dark clouds in it's trail.
Sun turns shadowy,with deafening
mourns in crannies prevail.
A Blue Blood's Death, whimpered
by six she-folks avail...
Ghostly , haunting turns the cry,
hands ramming the breats peak.
"Royales ,Thou shall not shed tears'"
so for penny trifles , mourners they seek..
As dark looms , shrugging every vein,
the cacophony halts, from veiled faces..
numbness of eternal loss seeps in,,
with burning moonlight in ragged palaces.
Rudalis went away,, deserting the Grieving Royales,
leaving resonating whimpers, amid faint dying walls.
indrajit ghosal
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
Open The Door , MaMa--

Open the door, Mama, your son is back home,
After aeons of nights, after many places he roam..
here he is, wearied of roads, turvy and wicked--
Back home,to where he belongs, -
to his Mama's bosom sacred.

Open the door Mama, to see your son has grown,
quiter, richer,he's become.seldom he'd frown.
colours of love , wisdom--your clown has gain.
your whimsy rebel, is today becomingly Sane..

Open the doors , Mama, check your gifts, wont you?
Your Moron waits to see, adore and look into The Eyes too.
Patient I become, groping for your gifts,
Mama, it took time...
Undiluted love is there Mama, so what if it
costs only a dime !!

Open the door Mama, for me you were Born,
"Mom"--you were only called,
when I ushered to the first ray of dawn..
Pains I enshrouded, you forgave them all--
Why you wear A Silence garb, then,
Hearing your son's call???

Open the door Mama,
let me see you and die,
and lemme see your tears
one last time, --as we both cry------

And I'll rub all your tears while I go to SLeep,
while you caress my heart with your words
soulful, comely, sonorous and Deeep..

Open the door Mama, embrace me in Your light,
From Worldly Blacks,,
back to your womb----to your sweetest sight..

Indrajit Ghosal----
for one of my Mamas
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal
The Unfelt Bliss.

Another Year beckons, where are you?
The Bard's ballads, his season of springs-
Moments I lived with you, are
the Moments gone I knew..
I still wait for you , can you hear the bell,
tracing to those days, still rings.

'Clinging to the by-gone days'-- they say
' is a stroke of compulsive lunacy'.
'Why,then o Bard, waste thy life
cribbing on futile thoughts,
and painful indolency'.

"Leave me to my own state,
I pleaded , to cease their 'naysay'.
"Waste isn't my Life since the time,
When You, my Dear,
to my heart, chiselled your way".

"As I visioned God, a mortal wouldn't see,
A new life dawned then,
a new vista glared with glee.
You remain elusive today, but please -
Abide With Me,
be in my heart Sweetheart, and let the glooms--
hide in your pristine sea".

"Doomsayers----God bless them, they know not
what 'Divine Love' is-
Intoxicated, let me be, -in you, with you,
as I can feel The unfelt Bliss".

Indrajit Ghosal.
copyright(c)2007 indrajit ghosal

Blogger Templates by Blog Forum