ଦିନ ତମାମର ଗଧ ଖଟଣି ଆଉ
ସାଂସାରିକ ଜଞ୍ଜାଳରୁ ନିବୃତ୍ତି ଚାହୁଁଥିବା
ସେ ଦରମରା ମଣିଷଟା
ନିଶାର୍ଦ୍ଧର ନିର୍ଜନ ବେଳାରେ
କଣ କଲମ ଧରେ ଖାଲି
ରାତି ପରବର୍ତ୍ତୀ ସକାଳ ପାଇଁ?
ବୋଧ ହୁଏ ହେଇପାରେ,
କିଂଚିତ ଅବକାଶରେ ଅନାବନା ଲେଖି
ନିଜକୁ ଶବ୍ଦରେ ସାଇତି ରଖିବାର ଅଭିପ୍ରାୟରେ
ସେ ତା' ଭାବନାକୁ, ସ୍ବପ୍ନକୁ, ଈପ୍ସା ଆଉ କଳ୍ପନାକୁ
ଶବ୍ଦଜାଲରେ ନିରିଖେଇକି ବାନ୍ଧି ଚାଲେ l

ହେଲେ, ରାତି ପାହିଲେ ତ କବିତା ସରେନି,
ସେ ପୁଣି ଅପେକ୍ଷା କରେ ତା' କବିକୁ
ପରବର୍ତ୍ତୀ ରାତିକୁ,
ରୂପାନ୍ତରିତ ହେବାକୁ,
ପୂର୍ଣ୍ଣ ହେବାକୁ, କ୍ଷୁର୍ଣ୍ଣ ହେବାକୁ ଏବଂ ଶୂନ୍ୟ ହେବାକୁ l

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When love touches
Like the drops of rain
It leaves me with your smell
Nothing less like the petrichor
Monsoon leaves my heart with
Every new season

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When love touches
like the morning light
brightening the insights
and changing the perspectives
you begin to long for intimacy
with hope, prayers and expections
for the person you admire.

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When the green compensates for height
Nature converts to luxury
The inhabitants treated as creatures
rather than the beautiful innocent entities
Will you find peace in that growth?
When the chirps go silent
When the peacoks no longer dance
When the deers are distanced or dead
When the nature steps away,
Will you be safe in those high towers?
I remember what that campus meant
when night crawled like a beautiful lady
with comfort, beauty and connection
Of the ethos with the soul
When mornings were filled with muse and music
And afternoons shined through the scattered leaves
That pleasant walk with the Supreme
Will the projects replace these fine?
"But you no longer belong there no?
It's just an alma mater and how does it matter?"
Ohh, it does not, physically
But the bond we share, the moments we had
Are yet to give up on.
We learnt from the ancient,
We wish to transfer it to future
Yes, we do agree Development is the need of the hour
But will your adventures educate the next generations?

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When love touches,
like the ocean waves,
heart begins to chant poetry
it never ever read or heard.
All words seem imperfect
just to hold that person in verse.

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When love touches,
even when unwanted,
it runs like a Monsoon river
flooding your veins and thoughts,
letting you breathe and flow
along the undefined glow.

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When love touches,
even the slightest,
like the summer breeze,
emotions bloom into April
letting all Spring it contains
somewhere deep within.

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I have watched,
the fog turning into day,
then evening and night,
only to return denser than before.
Just like my emotions turning
bleak to bold to blurred
each and every day.

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My nights are always troubled, either with dreams or with the recurring thoughts installed by many. Even when the wounds are almost healed, I scratch them further to find the reason for being the sole subject of all the traumas. And I find none. " It happens, we are humans " - I agree too, but everytime? As if my existence is a joke or ground of experiments.

But I have to cover up all by dawn. Stich myself and brush the wounds to look fine. Yes, to look fine and ready for my next encounter, the encounter of which premonitions I already have lived before, just with a differently named character.

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आदत हो तुम जरुरत नहीं,
ज़ियादत हो तुम मोहब्बत नहीं,
मुख़्तलिफ़ इरादों के तो
हम क़ाफ़िया बनाने चले थे ग़ालिब,
फिर ये एहसास हुआ,
बस हसरत हो तुम इबादत नहीं l

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