Rest, no more!

Gone is yesterday, why still

thy sore bleeds, the unpleasant history

as Man killed man, with knives and guns

now they fight, a battle of words?

will you never learn to heal

take what you get and leave?

Wait, some more,

and then turn back; forget

what we had seen till yesterday

Pretend some more, like it never happened.

Why, then why

do we cry this fear away

of glorifying our past and present

let us hide into our mother's wombs

and cradle into our graves

till we find ourselves again

and face life, with a crooked smile

Stand tall and look at the flaws

and fill the voids by our own hands

like a sculptor, repair and re-create.

What has been, has gone

and what shall remain is what we do

now, for now

rest no more,

It is time to awaken thy soul.

Rest, no more.

To Love

I can never hate you.

But only love you.

And remain as distant

as nearness could never be.

Yet as near, as the sky and its horizon.

To love, is not pain

But the essence is detachment.

Both separate, yet entangled

like drops escaping the dark clouds.

We are no different souls,

yet we thrive in our own worlds

Never to meet again

until, the other side of this moonlit sky

Far, off into the emptiness of this night.

Are you Shweta?

I am glad to have some great friends in my life.Most, I found,on Facebook! It is almost unbelievable how strangers, go on to become such amazing friends! And it all starts with an Add request! Amazing!
So, I was doing my usual routine "check-up"..scrolling into windows of facebook, gmail, blogger and google almost in a coterminous manner. Suddenly, I got a "ping" i.e. a friend opened up a chat window for me. And asked me if I could do him a favor.
Well, usually this phrase "Can you do me a favor,please?" to a blogger, hints that the person wants you to mention him/her in your blog. Which is a Strict NO for me!
So I quite hesitantly agreed. 


This is what he had to say,




"Priyanka,


I love a girl. Her name is Shweta. We are no longer together, and though I know where she is, I cannot contact her. She doesn't want me to. But, like every year, I want to gift Shweta something. Can you help me? "
If I hadn't seen those words, I wouldn't have had believed them!
How can I be of any help, I wondered.




I want to gift all the Shweta-s who have their birthday on the 28th of December. Please help me spread the word!
So here I am my friends.. Shweta, if you are reading this, my friend wants to gift you something.


Love is so succulent.. So Pristine.
I wish I could ever Love truly. But I am only human, to err.But I still try..To Love.
As humanly as possible.

If you can, just share it around among your friends and circles and do get in touch with me if you do find someone named Shweta who has her birthday on the 28th of December!

I love you because I need you.
To
I need you because I love you.
To,
I Love.

And the Need evaporates like mist..As I touch the blue sky and fly high..

The Flight

Funny indeed, the bits and pieces

of artsy conversations I hear of you

here and there, somehow somewhere

And I laugh, in despondence.

Abated, even ignorance denied

Metamerism, as if a catalysis in a reaction

it stirs in me, a jolt of many accords

How much, time flies, and voids become the walls

with no mercy, un-porous resilient boundaries etched

crowning the end of what was Us.

Let the blaze quell, it's slime

and I shall forget you, said Neruda to me

as you have forgotten me,

And I shall sway my arms out at the sky

and fly away, high.. high..

As I bade you, Goodbye..

You, Me and a Few Close Friends

Trees watch us walk by, like milestones of memories
one after another, we forget counting
our fingers entwined into an embrace
You, me and few close friends.

We sing along, our voices uncoordinated
into tunes, twisted turned and morphed-too many!
Gossips lay cold, like the untouched tea cup and biscuits
Just you, me and a few close friends.

Poetry, sings to me
the day, since the day you went away
as if, it brings you back to me,
whenever my pen touches the paper, my heart
You me and a few close friends.

Years pass by, moments turn into time and voids
happiness and tranquility remain distant thoughts
we pass each other, like the breeze-brushing past
And on our own alone-ness, yet again
You, Me and a few close friends.

These companions, are for our lifetimes
that remind us, of what we had once and I hope
we might just meet gain, someday
You Me and our few close friends..

Tell you, but A story..

The Sea-gulls run into western breezes


Salty air drenched with wetness of tears, sweat and rain


The window-sill kept open, a bird might just come and sit


Someday this Ogre would also find his Haven.


And somehow someone would come and peep


into the dark and deep


and rescue the princess within me


If there is one to be seen.


Till then let the thorns, place themselves


like the holocaust into my dreams


Let the board hang loosely at the gates,

"Trespassing Not allowed, Make no mistakes".

Oh Kolkata!

The tram scurried away
I tried, wrapping the shawl a little tighter
the shraabon in Kolkata, a little cooler than liked.
people, distantly absorbed in their rojgaar,
pushing against the tide of the bhadralok,
I smirk my way down.


And as I stroll into one of the tiny by-lanes
I find the aalu qaabli wala, mixing the secret masalas
into an irresistible mixture
I gasp at the sight, the nimbu flavoring, tempting me.

No money, I make a face
and ask, dada, ektu taste korte daao na!
And he says, didi, dos taaka lagbe, nahole nai!
I plead a little, the old tactics tried
he says, Momota didi er shohor ekhon,
tai bole ki shob didi der "phree" te khawabo!



I longingly look at the mastery of his hands,
the aroma of boiled aalus, fixating me
I go on with my search, into the crevasses
surfing on the crests, resolving to find my self in between it.
Some day, Kolkata shall find me,
And I shall seek myself into her arms,
Loved, owned and treasured.
Let me seek into thy heart,
and let me last breath die unto you, Kolkata! ♥





Translations:


Rojgaar- earning. Here, refers to a man's every day Life.


Bhadralok- refers to the people, in general.A term used to call the bengali babus during British rule. The Bengali English knowing class.
 Alu Qabli- A popular street food made in Kolkata.
Nimbu- Lime/Lemon


"Dada ektu taste korte daao na"- Brother, please let me taste of of that
"Didi,dos taaka lagbe, nahole nai"- Sister, it costs ten rupees.If you don't pay, I can't give it.


"Momota didi er shohor ekhon,
tai bole ki shob didi der "phree" te khawabo!"- Mamata Banerjee popularly called, Momota didi, rules Kolkata (here it refers to the elections which Mamata Banerjee won, to beco'me the Chief Minister of Kolkata) , that doesn't mean that I will give this to you for free(phree-the accent in which the word is told ).

The Woman in You!

The woman in you

Un-hid herself, off your reflection

The tinted mirror heated,by the steam

Of purification,as drops leave your abode

Drop by drop, the self,stirs and simmers

Unto your cusp-ed drought,quenching the thirst,

Of the soil that moistens your heart, like the gray clouds,

That hang upon you,asking often

How you wish to be One

And you passionately rub of the last traces

Off your rosy cheeks, inflammable by thrust

Thud! You step down,it shan't happen

Like it has happened before..

This woman shall only rise,from

Every tremor, deceit and disguise

And not bow to the self-fed Sun

But rise along,and become the woman,

In every woman,in every man

That is often sublimed distorted,

Seek that woman,in you, Today

And you shall find yourself,

A little closer to You.

Estranged, We meet!

Estranged, we meet

Spread your wings,a little more

the boughs relentlessly call for you

Come fly, fly with me,

Beyond the shadows, beyond the seas.

Let us swim into nothingness

elope from the chaos

Let I become you, you become me,

Let us become one..

Wild and free..

Little Voids

Little d

         r

        o

        p

        s

s p r e a d on me

like  v_o_i_d_s  of time

into distant  m

                     e

                       m

                         o

                           r

                            y

d

r

o

p 

  them

into s..t..

            r.. i..

              n.. g.. s..

Incessant

I

let them b

             l

              e

            e

              d

their misery,

as t

     i

    m

    e and t       e

                 i d

take you A-w-a-Y

From Me..           o u

I s p r e a d my b.     .g 

                                     h s

s
t
r
e
t
c
h for your t o u c h

as your shadow caresses me,

a  l
  o
v
 i
  n
    g l u s t.

And let me

d
r
o
p them

into s t r i n g s

i n c e s s a n t

and let them b
                      l e
                         e d

The sun shall set

Its t i m e to go, n
                           o
                          w

Come, lets w_a_l_k some more

this journey, f o r f e i t e d

yet to live and die for

again and A
                 g
                 a
                 i
                n!

Spinach Paratha

Spinach is one thing I detest having! But due to my newly found responsibility of cooking meals for my household, I had to include Spinach into my otherwise not so-healthy diet chart!

But I know for sure that I cannot have those spinach-paste called "saag" or those curries of green broth with Paneer they call, Palak Paneer.
So, instead I thought of a better way out!
And it worked great for me! And I know you will like it too! It can be served with a Hot and Sweet Sauce, or any cooked vegetable.


Ingredients Required:

Flour
No need of Maida. Use the normal atta you use for making rotis. The quantity of atta would be the same amount as much as you use for Parathas.

Spinach
not just the leaves but the stems, (halfway) too. No need to blanch them. Just wash them properly, and then chop into fine pieces.


Onions
Chopped into cubic pieces, chop it and keep it out for an hour before using it.That would take care of the moistness required in it, to make the Parathas tasty.

Ginger
Scrub the ginger and take about 5 cms long a piece, less if you don't like too much spice.

Chillies
Green chillies.Four to Five~ A must for me. If you're not into the spicy mood, add one medium sized chilly, finely chopped.

OiL/Ghee

Salt

Sugar

Red chilli Powder

Black Cumin Seeds (Optional)

Water



Steps

1. Take the flour in a large bowl. Add 2 Tsp. of Ghee/Oil into it. Mix it into the flour with clean hands. Next add 4 pinches of salt, 4 pinches of sugar to it. Mix well.
2. Take some warm water, and pour little into the flour. Add black cumin seeds and begin to make the dough.
3. Add spinach, onions, chillies and ginger with the chilli powder too and mix it all up into a nice smooth soft dough.
4. Make round balls out of it, measuring to fitting into a palm. Smooth-en them into circular plates, and then first roast them on a dry tawa. After that, smother oil/ghee on to it and let it roast till nice golden and brown.
5. Serve hot.

It should look like this. Doesn't consume much oil, is healthy and not too heavy. Plus there's spinach, and the kids won't complain! :)
Do try and then let me know what you think of it!

Cheers! And Happy Cooking!

The Love Trade

Under one canopy of Us,
We sheltered our love
Against the shards of clouds
That fermented upon us, time and again..
Half wet, half dry
Naked eyes,traveled beyond
The known and unknown
This rain drop on my lip,reminds me again..
The dried tears are safely stored
Somewhere in the contours of my soul
Wrapped mildly into your memories
They whisper to me,in silent verses.

The dampened stirrings of my love
Are still there,somewhere
In my abode of your heart,
Some creases would still be left..

Can you bring that back to me,
My love,that belonged to me?


' Ek akeli chattri me jub,
Adhi adhi bheeg rahe hai..
Adhe geele adhe sookhe,
Sookha man toh mai leke ayi thi..
Par geela man shayad bistar ke paas pada hai..
Wo bhijwa do,,
Mera vo saaman,
Lauta do..'

Supplemented Ego-bruised Love O' Mine

I sat down to write few lines

to wash away the wrinkled frowns

by the tides of events

that rise and drop, yet another pretense.

I came to you, to sing a song

Of our love, to a world where we belong

the place where intentions are right

and actions are never wrong.

With the wind, the petals flew

the roses that you threw

at me, as if it were thorns

and thorns alone?

No, don't go, I plead

your scorned face, cold

as I whimper, like a weak breed.

Your laugh, resonated, out and bold.

I stopped, looked at your face

you were not you, but your alter-ego

the one I loved, was now veiled

behind a concrete shadow.

The ego of needs, playful beliefs

see, how they burnt away our love

Yes, I still long for our love, so true

But not your attitude of Ingratitude.

The Love-er

Men always want to be a woman’s first love.
 Women like to be a man’s last romance. . ♥





The two brooks

Seldom meet..

Never forever

Not too apart


They silently

Make their presence felt.

Like summer scorch autumnal breeze

Bubbled air, love-lustred lips.

Book Review~ Dream's Sake

“The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment, when you are between asleep and awake, when you don't know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.”

This quote has been my favorite since a long time. Dreams are mysterious rays of hope.speculations..interpretations and at times, conclusions. So when I went on to read Dream's Sake penned by my friend, Jyoti Arora, I was very much excited. Dreams take us to an unknown destination where we see things, the way we perceive them, conscious or subconsciously. But dreams are tricky. They mean different things to different people. Some take dreams like a glass of scotch-they gulp it down and forget about it. Some others, treat it like threads, weave them together to form a piece of it. The best part about this book is the variance of its characters and yet, the penumbra of the thread called Life that binds them together on a journey, that changes their lives. Who does not have a Past? We may fret about it or regret, love it or miss it.. The past is what makes us the person that we are today, in the present. The book revolves around four characters, Aashi, Siddharth, Priyal and Abhi -nothing extraordinary about them! Simple average people we find all around us. People we walk, travel, eat, work with. Every person has a story and Jyoti takes four such focal points to narrate a story that transcends each of their lives to a newer pedestal. Aashi is a practical, "aaj ke zamaane ki ladki" ( 21st century woman) who is emotionally, financially, vulnerable, She comes down to a rented house with her mother.She is aware of the world around her and thus, remains quite conscious regarding the people she has to interact with. Priyam and Abhi are her neighbours, who live just next to Aashi's rented house. They lost their parents in an accident. Their friend, Siddharth's wealthy father helps them meet their ends. His love for Priyam, lingers on even after succumbing to the impacts of his distorted family life. Like I mentioned before, Jyoti manages to encapsulate as well as distinct between the various characters as they entwine into each other's lives by each passing day. I'd suggest you to read this book to freshen your mind from the daily romances that seem to be the current obsession. Of course, at the end of the day, what are we without Love.. But to experience the vivacity of it, you must read this book. The only thing that I felt was that certain parts were a bit sluggish, though those parts were necessary. But at the end, it hurries at an end, which is a common feeling among writers. Nonetheless, the intensity will surely keep you enticed.The language is simple and the idea behind this book, is appealing. A well deserved 3.5 out of 5 for Dream's Sake. Thank you Jyoti for sending across a copy of your book.Wishing you the very best in this and all your future endeavors.

At the gates of Borgha

The nonchalant prophecies
Often return an amused smile
Away from the chromic door
I stand,at the gate of Borgha.
The palace set up,like a gem
Decorated into a clumsy whim
The grills are cold, ember black
They sing to me, a tale of tales,untold.
And the more I see,
The more I know
The vassalage of Goddess Tara
Occult writers,describe the Mother
The Queens and haridasis,hymns and fables
Write the story of time at Borgha.
Carts of gold, steel and coal
Sweaty hands and empty pockets
Still protruding ears to hear the happy shrill
But they are cursed,the men at Borgha
Never would a woman be conceived there,
And when they protest,
Shadowy reminisces of a sinned past, haunts.
Mother Tara, deflorated by one of their brethen
Lay in blood,soaked in disgrace
Her body, covered in ochre,
Her face mutilated.
A man, appears on the other side of the gate
Lust, staring into me,
I loathe with venomnous hatred,
As I turned around and left.
The city of Borgha must remain sinned
Till the Holy water is found again.
I shall take births,but not come to my abode
Till they know they are sinners of Borgha.

Myth-maker

The Myth-maker
I write to thee,the story of time
When passages were small,roads sublime
between you and them, a dwindled taker.

Herculean tales to Babylonia sermons
Cults venerated of magic cusps and trees
Mother Goddesses, ochre and mutilated debris
I seethe the Chinese dragons and Asian demons.


Past glimpses resonate the fear
guilt of the rule, curse of the ruled
Age of humanity often ridiculed
and sometimes, show us that End is near

I tell thee, the secret verses of faith and occult
the face of a yesterday, you would barely know
I stand testimony,to you I show
in writings of time, in papyrus and basalt.

I, the myth-maker of time
tell some concealed lies
forfeit my own desires
Seek me from the rudimentary ruins and cure of thyme.