new doll

her smiles hide her fears

as her hair hides her scars

her facade falling apart

make belief no more 

her world , was not hers

a gift it was , her love

her love? never was hers

a gift it was, her life

her life ? never was hers

all gifts showered 

because someone let go

make belief no more

her world, was not hers

new doll to replace the pain 

new doll to tame the sadness

new doll to fill the void

her facade fall apart

her life was not hers

from start

fear

i shirk from writing verses now.. i donot know what to write...if i write about sadness, im filled with grief..happiness is not something i can ever make peace with . when i keep asking myself what i want , i fear from listening to my answers... love or the loss of it makes you a tragic person.. maybe love does not matter in the end, i fear my own hypocricies , i fear my own dungeons and such nights when i want to cry..i pity myself , i make my own choices , 
i fear my fingers stop at every word, i fear to hurt so many , but i fear too hurt myself most i am bleeding, but my tears, like my words and blood have become to thick am i closing up on myself, letting fear breed on my pain love or the loss of it has made me tragic indeed i fear my own fallacies and my malice i fear my demons may burn down castles of dreams my fears will suck my soul out ....

plague

They had dragged her down to the dungeon,
her crime was evil they said,
betwitched as the men were....
They wanted the fair witch dead.

Her arms were battered and wounded,
her eyes hollows of death.
She cried for last trial-
one last trial before her death.

They urged her up the pyre;
They tied her up a stake.
She cried for one man's mercy;
She promised , she was not fake.

No one dared to touch her,
lest the plague befall again.
The poison would soon touch them,
and drive them all insane.

The women we standing indoors
hoping god would see.
His child is being murdered
for setting her kind free.

They danced and danced around her
chanting old verses from the sricpt.
Waiting for fire to strike her
while her women silently wept.

As the golden light was fading
and goldens flames arose.
She closed her eyes in prayer;
chanting her own little prose.

The clouds above were angry,
angry as the gods tonight.
To kill gods own daughter,
was almost a terrible sight.

Then lightening struck at the pyre
and she rose above them all.
All women ran outdoor
at last, the plague did befall.

The men who gagged and tied her,
their bodies were burning bright.
Though not from the golden fire,
but from the heavenly light.

Slowly they moved backwards
into the darkness and hell.
All men who hurt their loved ones,
their women they would sell.

They ran from the spectacle
ran fast to escape the plage.
But as plagued their own hearts were
they got hit hard instead.

Their faces had come off already;
their hands were filled with boils.
Their bodies burning and twisting;
all punishment for their toils.

They bent down in prayer,
hoping to be saved at last.
The fair witch rose above all;
now that her spell was cast.

i saw

i know i saw , yet i did not ...
what i had , yet i lost
i loved , but could not keep
thence now in pain i weep

some mother , not mine
but mother to all
i loved and loved more
spring and fall

yet my imprudent heart
wishes someday ,
i wish i knew her
some other way

i wish my mother
or not mine at all
was my mother and
not mother to all

i cried tonight,
like all other nights
thinking how much
i missed her sight

yet i will not
let go of pride
she is mother to all
thus cannot be by my side

i laughed and smlied
and wept away
on dear mother
what shall i say

you are mother of all
and mother divine
how can you be
just only mine

yet i wonder , someday
i will have you coming my way
i shall look out
hoping again
that mother dear
with remove my doubt
and hold me close
bid my tears goodbye

KHOHL

under the auburn sunlight and the rust colored twilight sky.
her jet black eyes , opened for a glimpse of the world/
she walked down the stairs , vermilion smeared on her forhead,
so bright were her eyes,in happiness? or anger instead?
her hair disheveled , her eyes laden with hatred.
too tired to resist her hearts desires
too deep beneath the funeral pyre
to be in pain, to be in fear
to be the one to always hear.
her arms full of oozing blood, her veins bursting in pain
her body ached , her vagina no more chaste,
her shame would be washed in tonight's rain.
with hope filled in her heart , and revenge in her mind
she would rise tonight , to let her being unwind
to be her at last , to be her own forever
she looked up at the setting sun, blazing its last glory
she waited for the rain to wash away her fears
to let her relive and revive what is hers
she closed her eyes , no tears would fall now
her khohl eyes would exudE only the fiery sun
her heart knew its mind tonight,her being was her own at last

night lantern

frozen in time , my shadow moves with my flickering light
diminished through the years of solitude and wait.
the night lantern keeps giving me hope
a hope i longed to find in so many i loved.

clinging to each of them, i cried , 'relieve me of this pain'
scared , biwildred faces was all i saw in response,
hands desparately trying to detach me from them
to shake of the liability they had, to flee

when they fled my side , abandoning my heart forever
i was cold and barren , but thats so predictable
pity my condition fori had no one to love
no one to call my own, no one to support me

everynight i would look into my lantern ,shining bright
in strom and struggle,i would watch the flame diminishing
and flaring up in the wind ,days , weeks and months passed,
with the hot summer days and windless warm nights
my lantern shone brighter,i had waited patiently for days now

not a word i heard from them,rainy and hail,autumn mornings ,
not a sight , or a voice i heard seasons passed and years ,
a decade i still wait ,i do
but nothing is void anymore,

my garden has bloomed fresh flowers ,the harvest is over
there is enough oil to light several lanterns
yet when i look at the one lantern through the mirror every night
i know its glow shall always be golden and bright

teriyaki winters

one often wonders what kolkata winters should be like. now that the city of joy is just a politicians toy and is several degrees filthier than it was even when we were in school. however the specific punch still resides in these lovely winter mornings like now ,when i am writing this.
the almost seducing swish of the janitors brooms on alley in from of my house , the sweet smell of the maid's freshly washed hair, and the half burned milk and almost freshly baked buttered bread fills in my environment with this overwhelming feeling of sucess.
i sit back on my chair in pride , smiling to myself how much i love, my neighborhood , more so my veranda and alley below.early winter mornings in kolkata is paradise relived everyday in several unique ways . as the day falls and the swishing and scrubbing get replaced by the drilling and boomings of the large constructions in my neighborhood . the sweetness regains its punch , almost pungent and odorous yet thought provoking , somewhere very deep rooted- just like the drilling noise , making a steady humming inside one's mind.
my city with all her concrete contours and barren-ed out greenery seems much more beautiful in winters, though the dust seems a bit to intolerable and the sun still grills out the sweat , yet the somberness of evenings is quite a catch.
when the sun sets right at 5 or before, the city tends to a silent wisper , as if a cry, a need to be loved ,just like the cravings i have when my beloved isn't around. this is when my heart goes out to kolkata , to her sudden and shy sweetness, to her chlorinated water, and intolerable stench , to her dusty roads and unbearable menfolk.
she so resembles a teriyaki chicken , so soft,so sweet, yet grilled and smoky ,almost always a culinary delicacy.
kolkata does make me long for her specially in the winters when i long for other beautiful delicacies in my heart.