A think-lonely 'boy'

He felt lonely, he felt insecure –

His was a disease with no cure,

He liked intensely

He loved fervently

And he felt devotedly,

Still he thought he was no-happy

And others were far too happy...

(He counted only times unhappy)

He stood reclining on the veranda wall –

He sat   neck bent, head cavernal –

And tears escaped his eyes

In protest of a thousand lies,

His voice hoarse – he tried to speak

Solemn he sang, expression sick;

Mind passionate, he tried to write

But his mind recounted each fight,

He looked about, he swayed legs  –

His thought witnessed some gags,

Still, out came words burning sentiently

Understanding himself, goal trenchently

Self-centred existence – jealous core

Materially no, spiritually more

Presented a filthy feel

Still, can’t desperate one to kill.

                                    And,                 He would continue –

For his was life was new

A fresh drop of dew,

       He would continue....

GOD's...everywhere

Ne’er did I feel before,

Ne’er did I know before,

But, certainly...

My soul knew,
My heart sensed,
My self felt

I was aware;

I knew it was,

I knew She was,

I knew He was,

That was GOD;

Who made the rivers flow,

Who made us be,

Who let us live;

GOD’s not He nor She,

GOD’s GOD –

GOD’s not a statue,

GOD’s not an image,

GOD’s not an idea;

GOD’s one,

GOD’s infinite,

You can know GOD,

You cannot identify GOD,

We’re all in God,

God’s in all of us...

The divine air

Permeates our souls,

Unites us all –

We know it or not,

We see it or not,

GOD is there –

GOD’s everywhere.

That man...

A green book lay on the table

A brown table it was –

Reflected in it was the book

Near, lay the reflection of

A clasped pair of hands –

Brown-skinned, with a gold watch

But the hands didn't carry up

To the torso; and in the rest

Was the white of the walls

Of a room with no windows,

No lights, no air –

As if nowhere, or nowhere

We know of –

The absolute nothingness of it...

Where ends bloodshed,

Where ends knowledge,

Where ends being human,

There, where is a vacuum

The ghastly black, where –

There is zero, but infinite;

There came a man

Pushed in by others –

And he came out

Carrying all back – nothing

And he blew a chill,

A tornado blew

And he stepped forth,

Earth separated

And he shouted,

Ears spewed blood

And that man swallowed hard,

The man collapsed – taking all,

To Oblivion...

"Arranged!"

This is from the school diary, a poem I wrote in an off-period...

The text...

"It is a lovely thin',

The way you mean,

But 'tis better - 

If not for a fetter

That binds you & me

That people call - he & she,

And those men come

To 'pply the last of gum,

That doesn't dry

But keeps on drippin'

But doesn't pry

For they're used to stickin' - 

Some other time, the spirit lives

Some other time, it leaves -

But the gum isn't gone

Nor banned it is,

For all keep it on -

None wants to miss,

And it persists

Heads in the mists

Strike it hard,

Push it hard,

'twould remain -

Neither compulsory,

         Nor optional..."

The Petal

This is from the school diary, a poem I wrote in an off-period...

[The idea actually came from the flower I had drawn (below) to pass an otherwise idle class]

Gone with the waters,

Carried on a breeze,

The petal floated on,

Swirling with the currents,

And pushed by gusts - 

Winding and recoursing,

Submerged or merged -

The petal floated on...

On and on, and on...

Onto the heaven

Over to the hell

On its destiny,

Over its self -

It floated on...

Forever on.

The Three Faults

This was actually an idea for a painting(...which unfortunately could not make it's way to last year's art exhibition at school).

The text is...

Man thinks he can bend

Nature to his will,

Man thinks he knows

Every learning bill,

Man thinks he sees

But is blinded by will,

These are three great faults...

Mankind, that halts.

Vive la Vivekananda

My first poem to be published... in school magazine.

The poem is...

“Enough of lazing, awake”,

Hailed an earnest voice

Sonorous in its aplombic make.

A floret blowed, its petals rejoice

Down and up they parted,

The effulgence to flare through.

And robust articulations darted

Bearing diligently that was true,

“Oh latent lion, would you light the dawn?”

Choice it was, between a lull and travail

Betwixt existence and oblivion,

Of living, the right to avail.

Elected the thorny path of act,

Garbaging the path of inaction

Deluding to nowhere, and in the sect

- Order of service, an echelon

Commenced on the path to Fate,

To find key to the fledgling’s cage

And unshackle infinite Possibilities; Gate

Of an epoch – gaped a sage

Erudite in brilliance, of Utopian wisdom.

Shook the learned, and awakened

The masses, an arboreal shade- platform

Sheltering Humanity, a warrior to stand

For the Divine Light;

Swamiji, he’s forever bright.

In school magazine

In our school e-magazine HEARTS IN HUE, my article...

...The first one to be published..

The text...

Throughout the half a decade I have traversed in Ramakrishna Mission Vidyalaya, there hasn’t been a day in this school more imprinted on my memory than the day I joined this temple of learning. As of any other new entrant, my assumptions far exceeded any expectation. For the last fortnight to the fourth of April, my only errand was presumably not to forget the day, which I marked on a calendar. That day, I was woken up early in the morning. After an unhabituatedly before-time bath and a quick meal, I started dressing up in the crisp new school uniform. I still remember my father having to tie the shoe laces of mine. Thereafter I was briefed on how to be at my new school. Probably then was I acquainted with the phrase, “the first impression is the best impression”. Then I was off to the bus stop of Bus No 3.

There I was introduced to a plump fellow-classmate. When the bus arrived, we were ushered into the first pair of seats on the left. The journey seemed more or less uneventful. Save I recollect a fog-curtained broad road and a whole swarm of students getting up at Joynagar. The tea gardens and the slope in front of the gate, I also noticed. Then, arriving at the school, I conducted a mental lottery and chose to keep my bag in section B. Fast enough, a teacher collected us into the assembly hall.

After the prayers, Vice Principal Maharaj welcomed us into the school. I noticed a likeness of him in the full length portrait of Swamiji on the stage. Once we were back in the class, the class teachers came and distributed us according to our roll numbers in the two sections. It was hectic running bag in hand for a likeable seat. The first period was taken by Subir sir. In his well-articulated introduction, I learnt for the first time that some schools even fined students for interacting in their mother tongue! So his declaration of the contrary here didn’t quite astound me. Then sturdy (or seemingly so) boys were nominated for the honour of bringing in the new text books, after brief introductions of all of us. I heard some say of having to buy the same books twice. Among those I marked as being the colourful characters, one brought a bottle full of ice and another complained to a teacher (in the third period) citing his friend as calling him mad.

In the journey home, the five freshers were seated in consecutive left-side seats, discussing which school contributed the most students to our new school. And finally, I de-boarded the bus on my way to home. Having said that, that day was not that much too extravagant or out-of-the-ordinary for such a credential as the most memorable day, but in my heart of hearts, I am sure to acknowledge its nonpareility.