Sunday, January 17, 2010
Kabbo likheche oneke onek
.Bohu purano e bishoy.
Kintu e paap sudhui aamar.
Nijete nijer obokhoy.
PAAPI R PROLAAP :
Mon ta chilo topto agun.
Apoman er jala.
Pagol noi tobuo amar pagol sajar pala.
Raat ta chilo purnima,Kobi chandrahoto.
Buk er bhitor prosob jontrona,Tomar Shristir khoto.
Abeg chilo tomay niye.Abeg lagamchara.
Sei sujog e Kal sorper Dustu Koranara.
"Apple ache, Apple nebe?Gyan brikheer phol.
Tar monta pete hole,etai ses sombol"
Porlo mone tomar kotha""Parbe ki amay dite?
Parle jeno nischoy tumi Tomay pabe amate"
Tritio ripu, prothom paap,Tomake pabar lov.
Moner modhhe ekraas Pourus er bikhhov
Nilam ami bisphol Korlam bis paan.
Buk er bhitor ochin abegSes er ahobaan.
Tobuo chilam hasimukh e Tomay paoyar khusi.
Hotat suni kalsoprperKathor attohasi.
"Paap korechis nidarun,Joghonno sei paap.
Nijeke nije porabi tui Etai Ovisaap"
SESH ER SURU :
Tomay deoa monta aj,Paap er astakure.
Khachhe sokun, Khachhe kukur,Khachhe chirekhure.
Tobuo bhabna tomar sudhui Tumi hridoy byapi.
Tomar chinta korte mana."PAAPI.. AMI PAAPI"
NOTE : To the readers, this is not my poem or my creation, but this is one of the best porm I have ever read.I am saying this not because of the quality of writing, but I have felt the pain of the POET.... It was something out of my real life experience, I can still fel the trauma of the poet in myself. Still, terans roll down from my eyes ,and I have to make every effort to hide it in the corner of my eyes.This piece of writing still stirrs me from within, and I can feel and live that pain.......
To the poet, I just wanted to say, "If Possible....Plzzzzzz forgive me...... "
Tobuo bhabna tomar sudhui
Tumi hridoy byapi.
Tomar chinta korte mana.
"PAAPI.. AMI PAAPI
Aaj ke PAAPI ta ami..... tumi borabor e "too good for me " chile,and I always accepted that..... PAAP ta ami e korecchi..... kichu ta bondhuttor jonno.... kono kaccher bondhur mon rakhar jonno..... Jogghono ekta Paap kore felechilam tomar sathe, jetar kono khoma khoyna..... and Paschatap ta amun vabe korcchi.. jeta hoyto yumi kokhuno jante parbena,....... R eta e amar PAAP er payascchitto.....................................
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
COllege 1st year!!!!
It was that day when he wore that white clean shirt that made me thought about those broad shoulders and pure face. There’s something in that perfect and comfortable arms which never failed to make me feel light and safe. I know back then that nothing will ever feel like that. I knew that it was one of the few things that remind me of heaven – of being so high above everyone else and the things that usually feel like dreaming away from nightmares and other stuff that creates fear and anxiety. Back then, I knew, deep within me, that I found life and spontaneity and it will kill me to lose everything I felt lately. I felt existence and it was so heavy and was so weightless both at the same time that I can fly yet I can feel myself for the first time. I can finally feel my beating heart and my brain is working rationally for the first time. I felt electricity and how it feels to run in my veins so smoothly. I felt bliss and how simple you can get it just from glimpsing at the way he moves or hold his pen or listens to the professor or simply sitting and smiling from time to time. I’ll give up this blog for those. I’ll give up my “car dream” just to witness those.
College second year
It was the day when he wore his blue shirt that made me vowed that I’ll do everything to deserve him – his goodness, his excellence, his perfect-ness. I knew back then that he deserves not just me but everything I am, everything I was and everything I am not. It was a goal set for a lifetime and though I often tell him I love him, it’s not because I need to let him know but because I just simply do and the feeling whenever I say it is increasing at infinity’s power. It was amazing and until I met him, I almost thought it was impossible. I thought that dreams stay only on that world where imaginations are the only things that exist. I know now that he is true and what we have is real though my ego convinces me that it was too good. He is tangible and is my favorite person in the world and that includes the imaginary ones.
College Final YEAR!!!!The last few monthes
It was the day when he was not around and wearing a colorless shirt that made me close my eyes and see him in my wildest dream – in the innermost part of my heart, in the core of my being. It was that day when I promised myself that when the right day came, I won’t let him go far away from me, not even an inch away and then we will, at last, be inseparable – both literally and emotionally. It was that day when I shut up and heard his perfect voice played in my head. It was musical and irresistible and the most assuring sound I ever perceived. I heard the sound when he’s sweet, worried, mad, teasing or sincere. It almost felt real and very comforting that he is so close though yet so far. It was the day when I pretend sleeping and felt his arms wrapped around me – so warm and so gentle, then I can no longer sleep just because reality is a lot better than my dreams. It was then that I whispered “I love you” and though he might not heard, I felt certain. I felt absolute and I included my love for him as the second thing that is constant and doesn’t change. I felt unvarying and I knew it for sure that nothing’s going to change, that everything will just miraculously keep on getting stronger… and I found myself singing with happy love songs, smiling genuinely, worry-free and only him in my mind. I wondered curiously is there exist a feeling better than what I’m celebrating and I knew that there’s none and it’s the best that I can have for the rest of my life.
Sometimes we come across situations when we stop contacting someone not because we dont love them,but because we find that they are much happy without us.........CUTE PAIN but BITTER TRUTH.......
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Everything is white and all are in bloom
Flowers falling like tears not of gloom.
With eyes so well-defined and romantic lips
With your sweetness, how can I ever resist?
Nothing shines brighter than the spark of your kiss
Pure and genuine, I never had such bliss
Call me happy or perhaps half-crazy
I’ll stand and show you what’s written in destiny
Oh mister, this love had grown so much
My darling, my fear of losing you had grown larger..................
Saturday, August 22, 2009
This is heartbreaking. Over one million children live treacherous and degraded lives due to being trafficked in prostitution in India. And 100 million people are involved in human trafficking in India. ONE HUNDRED MILLION. These numbers are staggering and incredibly disturbing This is a country that has so much poverty and yet so much promise. Business has exploded there. And yet it is definitely a country of the haves and the have nots…those who are benefitting from the business explosion and those who live in the slums in abject poverty. Opportunists play both sides…the wealthy buy children to have sex with. The poor sell their children into prostitution. They are all players in this sick and soul-killing game.
If India as a country and as a people does not take bold steps to raise up the poor and stamp out child prostitution, they will see generations of moral and spiritual destitution and poverty that will plague them and destroy any potential greatness their country could realize.
Case of Rubina Ali of Slumdog Millionaire fame...
Children are often seen as commodities in poor areas of India and other countries and parents are left with difficult choices. Rubina’s father said: “We live in one room, seven of us sleep on the floor. I earn £2 to £3 a day. I have to consider what’s best for me, my family and Rubina’s future.”
It is difficult to imagine living in such poverty as the people who live in the Mumbai slums. If you have seen the movie “Slumdog Millionaire,” you got a glimpse of how they live…and of how Rubina lives.
Rubina’s father is being an opportunist. He knows that she can attract the attention of wealthy people who can give her a better life. In that regard, he is no different from the father of Madonna’s Malawi child giving his son up for Madonna to adopt so he could have a better life. Rafiq Qureshi also sees this as his one chance in life to provide for himself and the rest of his family.
To raffle his child off to the highest bidder sends chills up my spine. It is to see a child as an object…something to sell to get money. I think of the preciousness of a daughter…the hopes for her future, the love she gives and brings to the family, the delight in seeing her grow up and develop into her own person, the pride in knowing that she came from you, etc….I cannot imagine under any circumstance selling her or giving her up.
Is this what poverty does? Harden people to the point that they don’t see children and women as precious? Or is there something in the character and genetics of people…people who are so callous and selfish and money-grubbing that they would sell their own daughter even in the face that she could be prostituted…that leads to their poverty? Can one be so bankrupt in morals and love and basic caring for a child and also expect to live in anything but poverty? Don’t the two go hand in hand?
To realize the preciousness of a child is to see oneself as abundant. All the riches in the world come with having a child. And to see a child only as something to be sold means that the poor cannot see true abundance when they have it and will never truly attain it.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
After a long time actor Salman Khan has come up with a real gem. On hearing about Shah Rukh Khan being questioned by US security at Newark, New Jersey, he said it’s good that the country has such a tight set-up. And that ``there has been no attack after 9/11 because of this.’’Salman has a point. SRK might be an icon to Indians and many in the subcontinent, even to the desi diaspora spread across the globe, but to America he’s just a visitor. We may be convinced he cannot be involved in anything that’s remotely violent, but the guard given the responsibility of stopping something like 9/11 from happening in his country again will want to take no chances. And what is the possibility that he’s a die hard fan of the Khan and Bollywood? Very slim.Interestingly, the same day that SRK was detained in Newark, there came news that the great Bob Dylan, who was wandering around Long Branch, near New York City, sometime back, was asked for an ID by two cops too young to know who he really was. When he couldn’t furnish one, he was taken right back to the resort where he was putting up and staff there vouched for him. And America is Dylan’s own country. Was there a furore? Not that I know of. Not even a little blowin' in the wind.SRK says he’s ``upset and angry’’ because it was his Muslim name that caused all this. Thousands of Muslims are made to go through extra security checks everyday in America and a host of Western countries. Is he equally upset at that? He's probably just pissed that it happened to him, India's mega star. We all know how a lot of Muslims have been subjected to prejudice around the world because many countries see terrorism as an Islamic phenomenon. Yes, it is uncalled for, unjust and maybe wrong. But America is a country that takes the killings of its people with the seriousness it deserves, unlike India whose record on this is shameful, to say the least.Also, because most of the perpetrators of 9/11 were Muslims, America thinks it has to be doubly careful where they are concerned. Had the terrorists been Jews, perhaps it would have looked at Jews with similar suspicion. I was much more aggrieved at President Kalam being frisked. But that’s a dated debate.There are two layers to the SRK incident and we must peel them off with care. One, it is quite ridiculous that Indians feel their icons and superstars are everybody’s icons and superstars. What the heck? If Jet Li came to India tomorrow, the man on the street here would probably call him ‘`Chinky’’ and not give a second look. For that matter, what if Gérard Depardieu came travelling. How many would know him? Matt Damon was here recently and there wasn’t a traffic jam in Delhi. These guys are huge back home.Moreover, America doesn’t have a culture of fawning the way India has. Mike Tyson was treated like a common rapist and spent most part of his youth in the slammer. Winona Ryder was sentenced to a three-year probation for shoplifting. Chinese born Hollywood actress Bai Ling was fined US 200 dollars for petty theft.More importantly, we are actually aggrieved because we are ``not like them’’. Well, guess what. It isn’t a virtue. We should be like them and take the security of our country and its people with solemn, no-nonsense professionalism. Frisk Brad Pitt when he lands in India next. Give Tom Cruise the same dose. Don’t spare Bill Clinton either. Isn’t he an ex-prez just like Kalam? Who’s stopping you and what’s stopping you? Colonial hangover? Or is it plain lethargy and callousness. Looks like both.We are just whimpering over here like hurt puppies because we feel, ``Oh, but we don’t do it to them’’. Oh no, we don’t. And it’s a scandal. We should. I’ve seen white men – and women – get away in India with murder. Indian women can’t get into some discos wearing a sari. And bouncers will frown at you if you are dressed in a kurta. Have you seen what some of these firangs have on them? No one bats a eyelid.So instead of making SRK’s detention an issue, we should think of upgrading our own security set-up. There’s a lesson in this. And it is a positive one. A day after our own 26/11, there was hardly any security at CST in Mumbai. It can’t get worse than that. The bottom line: Stop fawning, shed the colonial hangover and make no compromise where the country’s safety is concerned. Can we do that or is it too much to ask from a country that’s been free for 62 years but was ruled by white sahibs for 200?
Saturday, August 8, 2009
They come to me with evening,
calm and still and bring me peace
these thoughts of you.
Slowly in the quietness of dusk
they fill me with tranquility.
They make my eyes aware of loveliness of intricate shadings of purple and grey.
They bring to me the far-off faint perfume of all unseen and beautiful flowers.
They tune my ears to drowsy humming sounds of winds and waves and distant bird calls.
These beautiful thoughts of YOU are divine and only mine........
Love YOU Sonai.........
Saturday, July 18, 2009
My shattered dreams and broken heart
Are mending on the shelf
I saw you holding hands Standing close to someone else
Now I sit all alone
Wishing all my feeling was gone
I gave my best to you
Nothing for me to do
But I have one last cry
One last cry Before I leave it all behind
I've gotta put you out of my mind this time
Stop living a lie I guess I'm down to my last cry
I was here you were there
Guess we never could agree
While the sun shines on you
I need some love to rain on me
Still I sit all alone Wishing all my feeling was gone
Gotta get over you Nothing for me to do
But I have one last cry
One last cry Before I leave it all behind
I've gotta put you out of my mind this time
Stop living a lie I know I've gotta be strong
‘Cause ‘round me life goes on and on and on and on