The Moment of Surrender

It is time..it is time..
To write those letters..those selected words..



Yet I am not writing..
As between the jingles of daily life and shadowed emotions..



As between the kept words and broken promises..
As within the invitation of Spring festivals and my unintentional rejection..



As I walk with cold eyes between the masked and taunting faces..
As I smile like a perfect corporate and work on with a hollow identity..



As each night I cry with painless tears of silence..
Scratching away in harsh to open the closed doors..



As I stand alone in the roof within a shimmering light of the moon..
As I search questiones whose answers everyone suppose to know..



Except me..



And then I laugh..with whims of a careless poet..



The moonlit silky wind kiss me at that very moment..
A night flower greets me with her virgin smell..



The night bird whistles along the call of the night train..
The designs of broken fragments of shadows of black and white..



And then everything pass by..
Another wind pass by..



The faint sound of the sleeping world..
Like untouched mysticism..



And I suddenly realise that I alone standing..
Like the first primitive soul of the primitive earth..



And it is time..
To speak..


The first word..
My lips opened..
And through the nemesis of wanderlust souls..



I wrote almost in trembling fingers..
The first letter of the first word..
Of the first poetry..



It is time..it is time..it is time....

The Quest

..I am still in search of that river..


That river beside which I found the first touch of words..

In a shiver of concious reincarnation..

I still remember that very night..that night of honeysoaked moonlight..

Those passing flock of clouds in an air of fantacised butterflies..

Some unnoticed journey of whims..some whisper of blushing sounds..

..The moments of surrender when I dare to..

Dream within dreams..within dreams..

Touch..within touch..

And words..within words..within..within..

It was the night when I felt myself unknown..and

May have uttered meaningless words..

Or really the first meaningful words in life..

As a silent transformation was there..

A Silent take over of solitude and eternal romance..

....Then after a tired journey of crossed roads..

For days..for months..for years..

I am standing here..

..It is time to find her..

The river again..

Alone with the river..

It is time..it is time..

Inspite of all the lustrous calls..of the broken world..broken images..

I for once..

Started walking..

For the quest of the river..

And then walked down on a completely wrong path..

Wrong path..

To meet..

Myself..once again!

.

Kritwibas

Sunil Gangopadhay wrote once about Kritwibas in his briiliant poem..




"....I found you within my adoloscence and youth..


within those daily morning and midnights....


Within all the chaos I can


trace..the invisible string..


I gave you the fragmented news of the paper and the monthly salary of Private Tution..I gave you my every drop of perspiration..


..Those irrelevant roamings of block and advertisement..


I gave you the heart beats of those young Poets..and their torn buttonless shirt..


I can still remember those College bunked afternoons..those hours when we kept seated in that old Press of Mohan Bagan lane for hours and hours..


....The pressowner with smile uttering' Don't smoke so much Charminar Khoka..you would smell like burning deadbodies!'


....In those days we often go to the Burning Ghat..


the Lightning Sarat..the mesmerising Shakti..and that dance of Sandipan..that dancing legs and the twist of eyes!....


Samarendra and Tarapada played hide and seek..and the open laughter of Utpal..


that shivered on the banks of the river..the rush of water..the sky covered in red dust of the red soil..


....The ten horizons trembled at the moment..


and then..and then..we singing our own personal national songs..marched on..walked on through the crosswinds..to a different lostworld of eternity..


perhaps to be lost and found again..again!


(Translated from original Bengali poem 'Kritwibas'.)



.

The Invitation

I know that I have no invitation to your sacred darkness..


But still I with an ecstacy of a conqueror and lostness of a traveller

Walked on..and on..

The ten horizons trembled..

The naked white lightning strucked..

A storm like thousand horses swept away all..

And at last like the first gift of a reincarnated soul..

I kept standing..

Standing alone..

Through the wet winds

Beneath that Buddhist monastery..

And just after midnight love came and kissed me..

Only the whispering shadows linger by..linger by..

As blessings of an unuttered song!