The Letter To Noone

Sometime I think about the Postman.


Who goes on searching letters stamping them and then looking for unknown houses at distant zones and posting them often in the post box or by getting an welcome smile from the host himself.

From very childhood I am fascinated by the person who bring me letters and as then our boundary seem to be a very narrow one..he appeared to me in those days of less globalised world..a person who by walking or through his cycle had seen enough part of the world and can go to those parts where I can never imagine also.

Well..it's a child's fascination..

As the life of a real postman seems boring and hazzled one..but somehow as I grew old the basic spirit for which I like postman..crept in me.

As I have a great thirst too to explore the world.

Meet different people.

And step in different places.



And as I got stationed to far off places due to my work demands..I sometime feel..that somewhere in an invisible postbox..I am also collecting mementos of different addresses..unknown letters..people of various shades..and some traces of lost homes and new spirits..

And obviously I remember about Rabindranath Tagore's 'Postmaster'..when I am too sent off to unknown places..



There are many dissimilarities but somewhere there is an internal similarity..



And it is by these my different strata of thoughts and whims that I started now loving the place where I am.

..This became more true in that night..

It was a night after a couple of days after Holi.

The air still smells gullal or abir..and the spring in all its signs making it's arrival.



And there was suddenly power off.

It seems a long one.

I after my dinner went out for a walk.

The street quite empty.

The shops getting closed.

A very faint moonlight trying to adore the night but soon it lost all its glow..as flocks of clouds came swarming in from no where.

I was still walking.

Some bikes some cycles passed.

And then I stopped before the level crossing.

The crossing is closed as a train must be coming.

Within the total black topography of a power off area only the red signal can be seen like an unperturbed invitation.



At that moment the wind arose..

A fierce wind..

A swarm of dust swept the earth..

Almost making my eyelids closed..

And then a striking blue lightning in the sky..

And within my trembling eyes I saw the red signal now turned yellow..

The train coming..

And then as if by a magic of a great magician..

I found the rain drops..

And the train..

Running in..from distance..

Throught the white light of the train..the rain drops look like silver droplets..

Which were pouring in..

In strings of happiness..



The train came..

Along the rain..

And from somehow in the background..

Someomeoned laughed loud..

Like a cry..

of a Forgotten soul..

Or the sound of an ecstacy..

And then the train passed..

Then sounds came to halt..

Then silence..

Except the soothing drops of rain..which now not in a mood of plunder but of tender touch..

Far across the the shaking leaves..the glowing dimmy candle and hurricane lights in the roadside houses can be seen..

Like trembling lamps..



And what remaining at last..

The fading away light of the gone train..

The soaked wind..

And the whistle of a night bird..



I stood alone there..

Completely wet..

After a while I started walking..within the rain..beneath the cloudy sky..

And as I walked in the rain towards my temporary home..

I realised one truth..

There are two shades of life..

One the real life..

One..the fantasy life..



And somehow the line between the two strata got crossed a moment ago..

And in those fraction of seconds..

I witness..

A moment of creation..

Creativity..in the mood of nature..

and thus I shivered..I trembled..

And as I opened the door of the house..

I found..

Some invisible Postman..

Has kept..an invisible letter..

In my mailbox..



Seated beside the window..as the rain kissed me all over..

I wrote in my diary..



'I am born within the midnight rain..cloud soaked winds..and the fragrance of soil..'!



.

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!

The kiss..

Let a storm strike


the roots of this wretched old earth

Let the words fly..

The letters fly..

The tunes fly..

The gains fly

The pains fly..

The desires fly..

The rhythm fly..

The dreams fly..

Let the earth slowly moves towards destruction..

It is getting naked..naked

I will just..

Kiss your lips, my beautiful lady

As it is through them

The first drop of rain

Of a new earth

Would come..

Let me get wet..wet..wet..

Fragments of my Wanderlust mood : A compilation of Poetry

"I can feel the call of that ancient road where still the dusty grains of time whisper in the ears of roaming souls the granduer of the lost road and the urge to discover the traces..of shades of life and its reincarnated fragrance..








Like an homeless Prince with a worldly smile I each day leave the nemesis of uncherished dreams and search flashes of life within the call of the road..a call which from ancient time made me wanderlust..







Along the silence of midnight..as somewhere an empty boat dwindle in lonely air..as a night train halts in an remote soulless station..as the first touch of dew kiss the eyelids of a pavement beggar..as the invisible moments change shades within..I found..my old lost words coming back to me and whisper..across the coveted distance..of their rebirth..n my reincarnated poetry..







Sometime as I turn the pages of my poetry.. I found those old faded words offering me still..those sunny mornings..those lonely afternoon..those rainy evenings..those moments of sudden storm..those moonlit night..those first flash of dawn within the wings of night bird..the signs..that I could be noone..yet someone..







I walked through the foggy roads..hazy streets..dew soaked valleys.. rain washed lanes of a nostalgic shades and then I found the invitation written all over..to write some new words..which I wrote and gifted her..through a whisper of love..







By an urge of nemesis..by the first word ever uttered of the primitive earth..by the smile of the reincarnated monk..by the dreams of a lost horizon..by the walk along the lost harbour.. I found somewhere those unspoken words..untouched letters..it is time..it is time I should speak..to her..of love..







Back to the roots..as I walked from a life which offered me both sides of a coin..I faced it..with visible smile and invisible pain..and then walked on..as if with a wish of a river..urge of lost words..touch of the sea waves..dreams of an traveller..the silence of the night..by the simple road..along the moonlit tracks..and an air of a distant whistle..of a call..a call..







I gathered..the kiss of wind..the wandering drops of rain..the first touch of fallen leaf..the dew soaked eyes..the silence of the winter night..the song of a lost Baul along the red soil..the shadow by the river..the trembling lips..the warmth of words..the whisper of poetry..for you..for you....







I walked down the hills and came to a lonely station..covered with misty fog..a dimmy light on the shaded platform..a half slept stationmaster..the brushing wind..far across I could see the fragmented ruins..like an untouched fantasy..the shadows of past lingered on..as if this is indeed heaven..but at that time came the whistle of train and I stepped in..to life..







The promises made beneath the canopy of ageless star..the sleepless words born in the scent of midnight..the full moon over the garaged rickshaw..the brilliant laughter of the four youths along the foggy empty streets..the shadows under the streetlamps...and the dew soaked flight of the night birds..I saw all..I felt all..I wrote all..as poetry of moments..







The unknown words of the Persian frescoes.. on the Ashokan Pillars..the words of postures of fabled art of the shady caves..of the rock cut sculptures..the words..the hymns of the white bearded priest in a ruined temple..how much I uttered n I unuttered don't know..but I walked..in a rythm of light and dark..life and death..I searched myself within..being lost and found....







The misty fog..moonlit valley..the mirage of a desert..the last passanger of the last train..lost footsteps..the shadows of an empty busstop..the Sarenga player of the Rajasthani Bhopas..the songs of Tagore..the smell of the dew soaked nightbirds..the eyes of the reincarnated monk..the whistle of a night train..all came along the shades of night and kissed my dreams and I surrendered all..to my words..







I found those invisible words..written on the ancient gateways..uttered from the lips of the greatest monk..lost within the faded paintings of the abandoned caves..within the dagger of the silent sword..within the mediaval fragrance of the moonlit Taj..within the dance steps of the forgotten temple girls..within the shadow of the lost days in the mirror of the hilly river..







I walked along the silence of the night and found the moonlit ancient roads calling me like a light of an ageless star of horizon..a call which once made a Prince a monk..a call which make a confined soul out in the fresh air..a call which make a lonely traveller wander thru the ruins..a call which make a poet create words..for a poetry named life..







I found her on the thatched beach huts of coconut trees..thru the sacred chants of the Church..thru the arch shaped highway down town..thru the evening bar b que along the fire..by a sip of wine in the white sand..in some lost Mahals of a Rajasthani fort..in the twilight of sanddunes..in the frescos of lost caves..and in the mediaval fragrance of a wrecked inscriptions..searching me.. My words..my love..







A call of a distant place still I unvisited but through the signs of dream it offers a paradox of thoughts..the golden sand..a light house..the sea waves like a flash of white garlands..the bell of a night dinner along the beach huts..those dancing shadow of a couple..n the old boat man by the wrecked boat..with a wrinkled face n innocent eyes..as if..as if the face of God..







As I roam thru the lost city..I found a touch of a woman on my hand..who for ages loved me..who made me write for her always..who among the ruins portray our love as the greatest beauty of life..in her eyes I found those words which thousands desire to tell but still yet unuttered..n I found those..in my journey across the fragments of time with my beautiful wife!!







Far across the river I walked and saw..a canoe floating.. night air flowing brushing the smell of the lost ruins..the crecent shaped moon wandering at the wretched watch tower n there a mile away a lonely station sleeping..with a remote solitude..I wonder..if this silence is heaven n if not then how much distance left..of still unwritten words..







When I am alone with the midnight thoughts..the hazy street lamps..the departing last train..the call of the ancient roads..the wrecked dockyard..the moon kissed ruins..I walk on..as if in dream..soak in words..







As if by nemesis of ancient roads I am still wandering within the desolate lanes of an forgotten empire..n the unforgottable cave paintings..to pick up those unuttered unwritten signs..to be written in words..







Sometimes I feel that my journey of life is like an wanderlust monk who walk n walk..diminishes the distances n shades of day night n search smiles within the unknown cities n when alone create letters..of a different life..with love..







When i find myself alone in the silence of the night..I feel there exists an intimate relation between me n this very earth..it is by words..sheer words I can someday describe a journey of man again n again..being lost n found..







I listened laughter..I listened cries..I touched dew drops..I touched twilight..I shared the silence of night..I shared my just written words..







Within my two hands I can create a heaven through words and gift her who a long ago hold my hand in a busy coffee house in an golden evening..i can not make life worst but only beautiful for her..







As evening kissed the banks of the river here..somewhere again night is ready to kiss the sun..here all the windows are getting slowly shut.. somewhere doors are now wide open..somewhere silent tears..and somewhere a flash of magic smile on soft lips..







Sometime rain comes with the fragrance of early birth..sometime I search the lost river..sometime I feel like touching the wet wind..sometime I stand over the bridge and saw love and hatred lying aside..along the silence of the night n moon..







I saw heaven just a miles away but I came back as the earth called me with its midnight tears..lonely moonlight..the scent of dawn..song of a lonely Baul..the first drop of rain..n the mystery of her eyes..







I crossed the distance of the night..the whistle of a nightbird..the dimmy light of a lonely station..the figure of a walking man in his own moods..and the return of a forgotten song like silent tears in a midnight of rain..







As if walking along the river side..along the parallel rail tracks and a distant wooden bridge..I saw night waiting on the other side as at my end..evening slowly wither away..a wind soaked in rain greets me..in whisper of silence..







It is a strange feeling to be back in the known roads..may be all wd be same..or different..but may be I would be a bit changed man who will step on the known path with a bit more confidence and fear of loosing nothing..as I saw the opposite side of the coin.. named life..







As I crossed another day..the floating white clouds of the midnight..the distant whistle of a train..the fragrance of a new dawn..reminds..that I have to walk on..till that snowcapped summit..where may or may not I can step my foot one day..but I wd cross the distance between.."