Protibaad...

A friend of mine had requested me,sometime back,to compose a song for him,and I have finally been able to come up with one.Composed the music yesterday,and wrote the song today.Heres presenting the lyrics of the first song I have ever composed.


PROTIBAAD




It kaat balir stup,
Sohoshro manusher klanto micchil,
Soto manusher bhirer majhe
Sobai kano tobu bicchinno deep?

Shopno gulo harie jae,
Bicharer bani shlilota harae,
Laal,nil,kaalor bikkhipto obhinoe,
Taar protibadey aaj
Ami shamil hobo.

Kaalo dhoa aaj shongi amar,neel aakaash janai bidae tomae,
Rongeen shurjo ontorhito soto akankhar dhojae,
Sohoshro shopner jaal bhongur ak lohomae.

Ami ottacharer aartonaad,
ami nirbaak,muker protibaad,
tomader protibadey aaj
ami shamil hobo.

Sobbhotar shrinkhola aar noe,
Poradhinota janai tomae bidae,
Osobbho protibadey aaj
Ami shamil hobo.

HOPE

In a dark creek,guarded from all sight
Live they,the creatures of the night,
A life free from harrows,
But can it ever be free of strife.

Haggards born unto a world so dark,
They smile not,fearing forever pain
Lips mocking,breaking into an occasional smirk
Mirth held in such disdain

A gentle stir,strangers pass by
Silhouetted by the ever growing darkness
Theres no reason to fear,nor to smile
Facing each day with an unchanged face

no one sings them lullabies
sleep be an eternal Friend,come hither,embrace
of forgotten dreams,visions long tarried
no painted veil to grace...

and yet they live,for live they must
come here they not to die
hoping for a new morning every day
hope rides out on every sigh..

Sixty years after..

This poem is more of an after thought,my wondering as to how childhood friends would behave if they were to meet after some 60 years or so.I was inspired to write this poem after reading a poem by cutest angel about two child hood friends,their exploits on a summer afternoon and how suddenly,it all changed.Please do read the original poem by cutest angel on http://cutestangel.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/that-summer/.

Sixty years after..


The morning dawned,enshrouded in a bitter chill
Vision murked by the thickening fog
Clouds engulfing the ever lonely hill
Trees crooked and shorn,upon us was the winter fall

Walking down a desolate alley,i met her
Frailed and thinned,beauty ravaged by merciless time
Bones projecting out,veins standing out through the skinny veil
I met her in the winter of my life,lucy,my childhood friend

But time had not taken it all,a familiar smile still lingered on her lips
Slightly bent by age's burden,mind slightly deranged
Shorn of her youth,with nothing left to do but pine
And pined i for how my childhood friend had changed

And we talked at length,as the light around us dimmed
About how unreal and distant memories seemed
And talked we of that summer long ago,those days of yore
About how change was a familiar foe,but it hurt no more
For pined i no more for how it all had changed
I was glad to be back with her,lucy,my childhood friend

change is in the air.......

As night befalls and the hungry wolves howl
Prose gathers power,terse verses no more
For poems can no more placate the crumbling plasters
Depravity so acrid,wounds so sore

Is that a Pegasus flying in the sky
Or is it the starving mind misled
A cry rings out amidst the brewing storm
'Veins snapped,blood spewing,coloured all Red

Violent winds swirling by
Violence is the name of the tide
Fuelled by waves of desperation
Riding a hungry ride

Their faces wear a look so grim
Emptiness rule their heart and soul
As we,stuffing ourselves to the brim
Push them down this ruddy hole

So they want their wish fulfilled,tired tirade no more
As anguished cries fill the air,cries of revenge
Starved of food but not of desire
For better or worse they no longer care
All they want now is Change.


and i tried my hand at writing a sonnet....and here is the best i could come up with.........sorry to put you guys through this torture.....and sorry again that its in bengali.......


Dekhechho mrityu, kobi, karoni upolobdhi,-
Nijo antare? Byartho bhikkhuker samaaj
Nirashraye dhaay, Ishwar-o paay laaj
Achchhaadi, jom-dwarer upal abodhi.
Bahe kato jhar, Mrityu-r songeet gaahi
Karne ki pashe tabo? Uddhato se ahobaan
Haane aghaat, kare charom apomaan
Kabyer bish sudhaake, dripto bhasha baahi.

Jeebonke karo barnon kobi, -Mrityuke,-
Jao bhoole, Dakho suteebro Anondo ros
boy amritodhara roope, premer dheu.
Bhoktir Shubho jyoti aachhre pore booke,-
pobitro sourav, hridayer parobosh
Kamponer shuru, se ki dekhe phale keu?

A Suit That Suits......

The suit or rather the business suit for men has a hyper-vaunted position in the world of fashion.

I came across this statement in a certain blog,and this statement could not possibly have been more right.It is not surprising that in the boring lame duck world of men's fashion,the suit almost commands the position of the holy grail.Men,unlike women,do not have,at their disposal the huge variety of dresses to choose from-miniskirts,long skirts,slit skirts,asymmetrical skirts,pants,trousers,tops,bikinis(yes,its not merely a swimwear anymore),spaghetti tops,funky tops-the list is endless.and,even after being blessed with this huge variety of dresses to choose from,they seem not content,and have,with an open heart,made mens dresses pretty much their own-trousers,jeans,tee-shirts,even the pyjamas-they have ventured into the male's dominion of fashion,and have owned it.But men have not really been endowed with the same huge heart and open mind to make everything their own.Imagine a man,walking around in a spaghetti top and a short asymmetrical miniskirt...no..the mere thought is as repulsive as the man who shows such courage and bad taste.

So stuck we are,with so very little to choose from in terms of dressing,the only choice is in terms of having a collar or no collar and the shirt or pant being either full or short(not too short though,you may enjoy looking at a lady in a miniskirt,but a man in a mini pant is to us what Nano is to Mamata).So cling we on,on to our beloved suits,our holy grail.Of late though,designers have tried all sorts of daredevil innovations with men's dresses-a button more at the back(now,that thing can never come out through that small a slit),a slit where your pockets are supposed to be(no need for purse,no cell phones either),asymmetrical trousers(so that you look like a thief whose pant had been chopped off by chasing dogs) and much more.But till date,i have not seen even a single person with either the courage or stupidity to try these out in public.So the suit remains. This suit fetish is so apparent that no businessman is willing to allow his suit to have even a single wrinkle even if they sit in Yoga inspired extremely contorted positions in low cost economy class seats. No wonder then, even if it’s a huge inconvenience, male executives can often be seen walking around city streets holding their business suits by the hanger, an intensely purposeful look in their eyes. May be we all see it as our Lady Justice moment. Always keep in a cover, always keep it straight, only to be dry cleaned, never expose to rain, never wear unless in combination, the five commandments of suit owning imposes a more stringent religion of its own.

And however out of place,impractical and vain a suit may look,considering the oppressive hot and humid conditions that predominate the vast majority of the subcontinent,we would more readily usher in the next ice age than let go of our suits,because that's what suits us best.

shit,grissho,borsha
coat pant e bhorsha.......

A Different Flavour.........

The skies were the darkest grey I had seen all monsoon this year,had been the whole day.Ever since i had woken up today,the skies had been threatening to play spoilsport on my afternoon.And just as the clock struck 1:30 and I was about to go out,the skies broke in a heavy downpour.So I was stuck,stuck for the rest of the day with nothing to do,nowhere to go.I stared out from my windows for a few moments,blankly,vaguely,at the steady drizzle comming down.No,it would be mere foolery to venture out in this weather.So,with nothing better to do,I switched on my television set.But there are certain days when nothing seems to go right for you,and today was one of them.The remote had run out of battery,and there was no spare battery in the entire house.And so there was I,stuck indoors on a rainy day,with a television set in which,only one channel was available.And in a vile conspiracy,that one channel that I was stuck with was Doordarshan.Talk of bad luck!But a few minutes of Doordarshan never fails to do that one thing-stir those childhood memories,something it had been such an integral part of.And as those lost memories came flooding back,I switched of my television,exclaiming to myself,'what do i have to watch on television anyways?'.

Its true.Doordarshan never fails to revive those memories of childhood.The satellite channels had not yet made their foray into our lives,Sas Bahus were as alien to us as fishes are to snow laden mountain tops and a mere two or three channels were available to us.And yet,we never complained.Compare this with today's 'wish karo dish karo' age where we so frequently find ourselves complaining that there is absolutely nothing to watch on television.And,yet,in those holocene days of our lives,a mere three channels were sufficient to satiate our thirst for entertainment.Waking up to 'jungle jungle pata chala hai' on weekends followed by Alice In Wonderland,life had seemed easy and innocent.On the nights,having dinner,with our eyes firmly fixed on our television sets,watching Chitrahaar had almost become a part of our daily routines.And it was impossible to imagine holidays without Doordarshan.Its hard to find a child in Bengal,of my age,who didn't watch Chhuti Chhuti.That one programme so lighted up our days and made those lousy afternoons so much more bearable.I can still remember that song 'bajlo chhutir ghonta',a song that signalled the end to our long wait all morning for the clock to strike 12 noon and Chhuti Chhuti to begin.Here was my first tryst with Hollywood and spider man,and my first watch of that one movie that was so much an essential and integral part of any Bengali child's growing up,'Goopi Gayen Bagha Bayen'.

Those years are long gone,and nothing can possibly turn back the clocks,and gone with it is our beloved Doordarshan.Is it us that has changed,or is it Doordarshans quality that has undergone such a steady and fast decline.One thing however remains certain,that however much we might cringe at the mere sight of Doordarshan,our childhoods would have been incomplete but for its presence.For in the soft boards of our intensely vulnerable and pregnable childhood,Doordarshan has made a permanent place.

Hope I didn't bore you guys with these meaningless consternations,for whats gone is gone,but sometimes,its necessary to look at life in retrospective.