ব্ৰহ্মা আদি কৰি জীৱ যত ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম
মায়া-শয্যা মাজে আছয় ঘুমটি যাই |
তুমিসে চৈতন্য সনাতন ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম ৰাম
আমি অচেতন নিয়োক নাথ জগাই ।
- নামঘোষা (Naam Ghosa)

Brahma, the creator of this Universe, along with all his creations,
Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram...
Trapped in the morass of this illusionary world, they float in the sea of unconsciousness.
Thou Art Omniscient and Eternal,
Ram Ram Ram Ram Ram...
We are all in a Stupor
O Prabhu! Master please awaken from this slumber,
And guide us to Thee.

-

The last drop of silence,
The distance between
hope and us,
I've not forgotten

It was more than
fading away,
From letters to sentences,
It must have been beyond
difficult

To this moment,
a part of my heart sees it
as for the good,
Let me wait endlessly,
Let me wait !

-

মোৰ গান হওক
বহু আস্থাহীনতাৰ বিপৰীতে
এক গভীৰ আস্থাৰ গান..!!

-

प्रेम हमारा कुछ ऐसा ही हो,
जैसे...
(Captioned)

-

When the pen dares to bleed, when we let it bleed, then even the lack of inspiration is a blessing in disguise, because then in that scarcity state it will be breathlessly drawing ink of inspiration from the universe through the writer's heart.

-

-

I look into the eyes of the moment. I act as if i should wait, if not for minutes, then for a moment. There i see it coming, the form within which i remain still and invisible, its tepid state.
I then rethink, say a big no.

Words are about to breathe, they must.
On the stillness of the tumbler, or the timeworn window, or about a philosophical poem i left midway? What do i write about?

As if it's my obsession to sit in front
of a typewriter the most.
So i let them breathe.
That simple.

-

प्रभात का सुनहरा स्पर्श पाकर
आपके मन उपवन के पुष्प
आशाओं से दीप्तिमान हो उठे

ऐसी दिव्यता.. एक नई प्रेरणा के साथ
आपको जीवन पथ में आगे बढ़ाती रहे

नियति में जो लिखा है वो भी बदल जाए !

-

I discovered a perennial plant
in my backyard,
It has been talking to my
deepest of silences,
ever since i saved it from
the downpour.

Across my diary pages
One may construe the voice
as trival,
But, only the universe knows
Those are words through me,
not mine.

-

The reflection of my existence is visible in a mirror lying at the comfort of eternity, the mirror is a freestanding one, but the irony is that it cannot be understood how this is so. Though it is blurry, I can see it as if the sun is covered by wispy of clouds. To know and accept the reflection is of my existence, is a poetic reality, beautiful. But when it's time to turn the hourglass upside down, the indistinct memory feels more like a reality, a reality out of the reality, too beautiful.

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