10 years & 43 inches

Had it been a tale of sheer happiness
We’d be living a bland, summer afternoon
As sultry as it can it can get in our mouth
Yet we tasted melting rainbows, and
Lighting shiver at the tip of our tongue;
A faint blame for fate, fled gleefully

Had it been a tale of sheer joy
We won’t know the season of smiles,
Ten years of shared sunlight
& our love tree grows 43 inches,
Certain things you can measure
Albeit there’s a lot more that you can’t


11816174_10155939794430608_7546630364099130379_oPart of me instills the fear that one day
Ambling on the bank of plush green lake,
In lukewarm and sultry shadows
of banyan and peepal,
Would be my last, and
my footsteps on soft mud
smeared, overstepped.

Well, as much as disillusioned perpetual reality
Eternity may seem like,
Isn’t exactly what I nurture,
Standing in front of a wall
erected two hundred years ago,
Makes me fall in love
with my own wrinkles.

Adorned with jewels of
Dahlia, Bougainvillea or seasonal Marigolds
I float in silence of smell and
the fluttering of wings
Of sparrows, babblers, herons, mynas
Reminds me that one evening
I won’t be returning home with them.

Hooting of owls unnerve me
that my time has come,
which is when it hits me
fear is an important aphrodisiac
and I wake up with the hammering of woodpeckers.

Join me on my Poetics prompt on Dversepoets. Today I invite you to write about what connects you to where you were born and if you want to come back, as a tribute to the great poet – Jibananda.


BaccaraThose who noticed, saw her beautiful hands
fingers long and supple
As brush, waiting for paints
Most didn’t see beyond eyes
cloud of messy hair
or misty coy glasses

Loneliness will become your problem, girl
said her mirror every day and
the fluffy rag doll-
that grew up with her;
she would look at it, tug it
but not play anymore

She drowned herself in music, adrift
never hum or tap her feet
to beats of her favourite songs,
No one could ever know she was singing inside
whenever she let out a silly blush,
They read shyness

No one heard her raise voice, let alone speak
Deep within the chastity of agony,
deflowered at an age before boys
could bring her roses

Loneliness is the least of my problems‘,
she said to the mirror and the doll
every day,
before donning her mask –
Yet very few
Would see through through her semblance…

  • Joining Dversepoets Poetics after a long time where KB has us create persona. Join us to read some wonderful poetry.
  • Black Baccara is a wonderful and highly fragrant rose, chosen for its unique colour.
  • Illustration by Partha Mukherjee.

The waste we seek

Fill it with depravity of moss
And you will end up
creeping down
a slippery, deep well

Lit a fire, and you can
Be an inferno,
To sweep through
Anything, really.

A dewdrop of vitality
A heart of ocean
And a bleak canvas-
Born possibilities

yet, we fritter, and
probably will
Through the wavy ocean

Join me on my first OLN prompt this year on Dverse poets – a happy new year to all my readers.

Love tales

Urge is a skin, and love?
the flesh underneath;
A facade is desires
Sauntering the brain;
Call it letter, gift, seduction
whatsoever –

Lust is a sweat, and hands
Bonds, heftier than ever,
Fingers? Truce
But silence between us?
– eloquence.

Join me on my OLN prompt on Dversepoets. Let us celebrate poetry.


Shallow thrills permeate anew
& beads of sweat
Emancipate taste.

Words aren’t eternity,
To outlive your smile or
Knickknacks you wore, to
Epitome of poise-

Past ain’t a restraint to curb you
Just the salt is treacherous
Lingers on lips, lasting
Ever after.

Linking this to OLN – 158. Come join us to read some wonderful poetry on Dversepoets.