Come Back!

Fame! Fame! Fame!
What power lies, in those bequeathed eyes
that sets you on fire,
of deceit hurt and lies.
What are you panting for,
running behind those crooked smiles
Stinging sunshine or gloomy monsoons
what pleasure shall you derive from being so perfect
when all the joys lie, in being perfectly imperfect.
And you destroy,
every inch of hope, like a rope
saddled between a well and a hill
to jump, is to die, to choose one
And still smile,
why! O why! I hate your disguise
Let go, of it, Now Now!
Come back, lets cheat the sun and run
into shades of the Banyan, rest under it
closing eyes, we hunch back, our feet resting in mid air
we talk in resonating silence
Those times call us back,
it is never too late,
And we are never too big nor small,
We are after all, etched into life,
Like Cognac in the sherry glass,
Lets Celebrate life, being who we are,
No pretensions, no faking by
Come!Come!Come!
Waste no time!

I loved her, Maybe I do.

You know my friend, I loved her. Like, really loved her. Truly, madly and without thinking. She was my only, my secret, the greatest. I was with many, but I always carried her in my heart. I needed her the most, and I hurt her the most. I couldn't accept the fact that I love, so I pushed her away. I constantly came to her, but actually I ran away from her. At some point I'd show her that I care and at next I'd prove it that I'm rubbish. And the worst thing of all, whenever I returned, she was always there. And now..


-What now? You've gotten over her? 

-No way, there are moments when I forget her for a moment, you know, when alcohol kills the last piece of me. 


-So why you don't go now and tell her everything? 

-Eh, you see. I accomplished what I want it. She's gone. Now when I return, she won't be there anymore. They say she loves another, but I know that's not true! 


-Go to her then! 

-I can't.


-Why? 

-She's reasonable now. She has understood that I'm just a big rubbish, and I could never love her. My love for her is classical. I can't be there for her, but I'll always expect from her to be here for me. I can't come and hug her when she feels difficult, although I know she would for me. 


-It's impossible to understand you! 

-Oh, I know my friend. I hear it often. Only one person could understand me. 


-Who? 

-She, my friend!

And then, Karan turns himself to the other side of the mirror, and punches his fist into the middle of it, breaking the mirror into pieces, some lying on the basin and some, still hanging loosely on the mirror stand. I those little pieces, he saw himself, break into further pieces, each, devoid of his own.


Mishti, I miss you.. Only if  could ever run to you, hold you in my arms and look into your warm eyes, feeling life, running in my blood..


He closes his eyes and shuts the door behind him, putting away the little scope of light that was there, somewhere. Shut.

Writing Defines My Life!

A writer is not born in a day's time. Such was the case with me. Writing has been my only passion. Last year, 2010 has been a nightmare! I lost a very dear friend of mine, to something as trivial as Dengue. We were playing like kids, dancing in the rain singing songs, playing dumb charades, antakshari and enjoying life to its fullest. Ten days later, he was lying lifeless in my arms. That sight still breaks me down.
Days followed and I cornered myself to an existence where I knew no one at all and no one knew me. For almost a month, I saw one by one, all "friends" go away. It had been terrible!

Then one day, I went to my blog, which spelled Emptiness from all ends. I had just One follower-Myself.

I put my cursor on the "Delete Blog" button, and was about to click it when I saw a blog, I had bookmarked but had not seen recently. Something in me, made me click on that blog. It was a very popular blog-and the author had written about life, happiness and how Life is not about the anticipation of the finishing line, But rather enjoying and celebrating as we pass every milestone.

I smiled slowly as I read the posts. 1500+ followers and hundreds of reader comments!
And I thought to myself, I should give this a try. This guy may just inspire me to write again! I will talk to this guy, He is very popular so he might not reply. If he doesn't, I won't write again!
With that thought, I searched him on Facebook and sent him a friend request. I sent him a message saying that I loved his blog and I gave him my blog link. I had recently written a blog post regarding my friend's demise.

Within five minutes I got a reply from him. He sounded so happy on receiving my message! I couldn't believe it!
And it was from that day in the 2011, that I started writing and now my blog had more than 140 followers and people who visit my blog, have only appreciated it.

I know it will take some more time to become more popular. In fact I do not know how much people would relate to this story, but writing defines me life. I would have been nothing without my poetry. And I cannot explain how much this guy helped me through, without even doing anything, he inspired me so much!

I want to be such an inspiration.Whatever I do, I want to help people take that chance! Become who they want to! Be confident.

Book Review: Autumn In My Heart by Saptarshi Basu

Autumn in my Heart


Format: Paperback
Language: English
ISBN: 9789380828541
Pages: 162
Price: 150.00








The only place where there is no change is our life. It is the same old routine..No matter what you do, you can't satisfy people, you say how much they mean to you and they think you are a flirt..or even better, a liar..or even much better.. an insensitive person.
Closing his eyes, he felt the raindrops on his face....He silently thanked someone, somewhere up above. Love never dies.As a sapling,it again rises silently from a secret corner of the heart. Deb opened his hand and tried to feel the drops.
Rain..Rain
In the wine of lovers..
Rain..Rain..
It's a lovers' pain..


This is how entwined Love becomes, in the lives of Deb, Ayantika, Sagarika and Sujoy. Saptarshi Basu in his second novel, Autumn in my Heart, manages to encapsulate the varied tones and hues of Love. Based in the City of endless hope and forever love, Kolkata, Deb is entwined into his journey of experiencing Love, beginning with his first love, Priyanka (yes, sadly enough we share the same name! Just the name though! I would always be the main protagonist, you know! :D ) who leaves him for her senior at work. Struck by the heartbreak, Deb immerses himself into the Life of an Office-goer and Love juggle where love for him is merely flirting with girls and having frivolous hangouts with them only. Love becomes a matter of the body and not the soul, to keep it short. At work, he has a good friend in Saurav, who manages to complete all of Deb's work while Deb is busy with multi-tasking his girls and sneaking from his boss, Vinod.
The playboy finds a girl, Sagarika to play around with, until he finds his soul mate, i.e. Ayantika.


Life is moving endlessly, until he meets Ayantika on an online portal. She is a girl right from the pages of a modern flick.Wants to be independent, likes romance and expresses her interests and tastes. She is looking for a job so that she can be economically independent and then, can choose a guy on her own self. Which she knew she can't unless she is financially stable on her own feet. They get into a relationship soon, unsure about where it would lead them to. Sagarika's parents were looking for suitable grooms for her while Deb was in no state to commit for marriage.


Deb is confused about his relationship with Ayantika. It is in this phase that Deb and his office team plan a trip. The story unfolds beautifully from here. All the characters fit into the story here as if in a jigsaw puzzle. Deb realizes his love for Ayantika. We are also shown how Vinod reveals his sexual interests in men, during the trip. Thus when they return back, each character had had a storyline and a clear future with regards to the story. 
The story ends with Deb and Ayantika marrying and the other characters, namely : Saurav, Vinod, Tina, Sagarika settling down in the future.


About the story, I noted the following things:


First, there is very little about Deb and Ayantika. Somehow there is a lack of luster and chemistry in their romance. I mean, we meet hundreds of people on social networking sites, but there is a sense of attraction, comfort and chemistry that defines the  complexities between the different people we meet.


Second, this book deals with the notion of homosexuality, but in a vague sense. One is to be sexually oriented. And the other is to have a sense of sexual abuse in the childhood that leads to a mental instability about our sexual preference. I somehow could not understand the psyche of Vinod, who had been sexually abused that had led him to seduce Saurav in the trip. But later we get to know how he decides to marry Tina. Which infers that Vinod is not a homosexual. Confusions are also seen in the other characters too as they are not clearly sketched out.


Third, though I really like the story, the glaring spelling errors take away the glory from the script.  I have already pointed it out and I am sure it would be edited and done away with in the second edition!


Overall I give it a 3 out of 5 for its narrative, and the complexities of Deb's and Ayantika's characters.
Thanks for the great read Saptarshi Basu! All the very best for Autumn in my Heart! Looking forward to the next one!
In case any of you wish to buy this book , here is the Flipkart Link!
Cheers!

About the Author
A Gold Medallist in Mechanical Engineering, Saptarshi Basu has worked with the top 3 IT MNCs in India. He had subsequently lived in London, Toronto, Dubai and San Francisco before moving back to his native place, Kolkata. A prolific blogger and an avid traveller, he has been into writing for long having published his poems and stories in different magazines of his earlier organizations.
Currently he works as a Project Manager in one of the leading IT MNC in Kolkata. His first novel, ‘LOVE {LOGIC} & THE GOD’S ALGORITHM’ is now a best-seller in Infibeam,a popular online store. His second novel, ‘AUTUMN IN MY HEART’, marketed and distributed by TIMES GROUP which talks about broken love and homosexuality is now creating lot of stir.

The Girl who wanted to be the Pauper

Bubbles
intangible egos
rise up, as I drown further into
into my tryst with destiny.

Wings
they flutter
invincibly into the waters
escaping judgments that surround.

Rock
hits the head
thoughts clatter and dash against it
thudding into a orgasmic symphony

Blood
rushes from membranes to the sea-floor
I feel happy and at peace,
Another Dead poet writes a story,
that is seldom remembered,but often rehearsed.

(The stage curtains bow down,
we come to the end of a beginning
let this poet die and maybe the next time,
She would become the pauper with the prince blood.)

Silenced Wanderers

Silenced Wanderers

You spoke to me,
in a hushed tone, as if
there was a crowd beyond us
And I strained to hear.

Years passed, and we learned
to hear and to whisper
secretly, but effectively
into our hearts, alike.

Shifting loyalties,
in between practices of practising
love in adversities, losing
our own selves, somewhere down the lane.

We lay across each other,
dwindled arms and couched backs
and then we turned to the other side,
Silenced wanderings, were all that lay between us-
Then and now.

রবি ঠাকুরের স্মৃতি( With English Translation)

শেই এক দুফুরের মেঘলা স্মৃতি

যেনো সময়ের বন্ধিক একটি সাদা কাগজ 

আর এই বৃষ্টির রিমঝিম 

তোমার ডাকের মতন ছুয়ে যায়ে|

রবি ঠাকুরের লেখা সন্ধের ধধ্লা শোনার মতন 

গড়িয়ে পরে রূপের অন্তরে বাহিরে

শুরের ঝচোনা রাতিরে বাজে  

এলো মেল  ঝনকারে|

কাহারে ডাকে এই মনের বিশাখ

সুর্যের তাপ লাগে যেনো অভিশাপ

ঝোচনা আলোয়ে ঢাকা একটি ভালবাসা

গায়ে রবীন্দ্রের গান গুলি|

আমি কান পেতে

শুধু শুনিতে যাই

শেই কন্ঠের বকুল স্মৃতি

আর তোমায়ে ভাভি

মাঝে মাঝে যখন

মনের দুটি পলক খুলি,

বন্ধ করি|

The English Translation

Just another gloomy mid day memory

as if time, has chained the gray sky, in her arms

and the rain drops sprinkle on me

like the echoes of your voice, far off.

The lyrical little-s of Tagore flow like molten gold

within and without me, caressing;

Moonlit melancholy dancing its way

into swirls and twirls, like in a concert.

Who do you call, Oh purest of souls, My Lord

that strives within me, like the sun that shines,

and stinks if too much, unlike the pleasant moonlight

that balms the mind into tunes of Rabindra sangeet.

I close my eyes, and listen still;

the piercing symphony that instills within

that chord that strikes my soul, like your memories

and I think; I think of you some times,

As my soul awakens; awakens

only to sleep.

We them and Us.

Plaited tongues, criss-crossed in humility

say soft words, with invisible thorns

sometimes harsh, others witty

a clowned face, tears mimed into sojourns.

And we still smile and cry, and smile again

to last for once, then pretend for ever

a parted memory, or sealed lips against the rain

the envious curse of a silent river.

as it flows past, my land to yours

I wish for you, succulent roads

that transcend beyond fences and bars

and you rise above all forks.

Against the tendered humility

transgressing into your life, like mine

as we become strangers again in dignity

Believe! Believe! we shall meet, soon in time.