Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Becoming a Man



Living over the cliff, dreaming by its edges
I’ve cherished the gory sun every single day,
Loved the evil bonfire licking those foothill trees,
Kissed back the chilly wind teasing my dusty fur-
Thus I was getting used to live and liking the art…

Morning chirpers used to make my mood-
Every season had parented this hungry child,
Each fountain did water the herb over the sand,
Eyes of leopard drove away slightest darkness,
Thus I was growing in wild and learning the art…

One day the rock opened up with smoke!
Villainous lava dissolved my roots and the roof;
Left with the ashes of woods and leopard bones
First time I faced my craving and absolute dark night-
That is how I mastered the art and became a man…

- Anunoy Samanta

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Their Boon



There was the sun over the horizon-
There were busy steps of men and cattle,
There were colours in every petal and fence…
It was the utility hour to balance profit and loss…
Nobody had time for silly topics like heart and love
Except an old couple who lived down the valley of dark…

Then the sun dissolved in the canvas-
There were nest seeking birds and sins,
There was monochrome in portrait and minds…
It was the serenity that demarcated life and death…
Nobody retained spirit to cherish for things like love
Except an old couple who lived down the valley of dark…

At last night spilled her bottle of ink –
There were fire seeking food and bodies,
There was shadow veiling both God and ghost…
It was when midnight and dawn shared the same bed…
Nobody recalled daytime promises made to their hearts
Except that blind couple who lived down the valley of dark!

- Anunoy Samanta

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Before the Mirror



If it all were to start again,
May be he would have died in the womb-
May be he would have dressed up like a girl-
May be he would have stayed away from school-
May be he would have never made any friends-
May be he would have never aimed a bull’s eye-
Who knows he might have been an author
To stage someone else’ play!

If it all were to start once again,
May be he would have watched his watch-
May be he would have carried a compass-
May be he would have tasted the his sweat-
May be he would have valued fleeing moments-
May be he would have loved his insomniac heart-
Who knows he might have been a doctor
To heal someone else’ sore!

If it all were to start for one last time,
He would never had dived in those oceanic eyes-
No castle of romance over the eroding wasteland,
No flying carpet and no touch seeking magic lamp;
He would have known how fantasy kills one softly
And seen the veiled tears in living a fairytale-
Who knows he might have been a lover
To care for someone’s heart!

- Anunoy Samanta

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Reminiscence – the slow poison



In all the avenues,
Amidst maddening crowds,
Inside the dew fixed to every petal,
Through windows of hundred rushing caravans,
The grown up boy tried to catch up his breath, his Suzan…

When he hurdled over that 16
With soft hair down the cheeks and nose,
He hardly knew how to middle part his long locks,
Weaving futile cobwebs of fantasy with his own saliva
The boy peeped into clouds to catch up his dream, his Suzan…

Off late he puts fire to smoke
In the shadow stolen darkness of night;
Puts a ton of practicality over his quivering heart,
Still finding it impossible to balance the seesaw of bliss & apathy
The man desperately puffs out in vain his only reminiscence, his Suzan…

- Anunoy Samanta

Thursday, November 8, 2012

The Pinch


A dream so drifted in the time- 
A dream so deep in my mind- 
A dream that fuels my rusty heart- 
A dream that asks me again and again 
A question that I’m not ready to answer 
Neither in my sleep nor when I’m shaken... 

A dream that unfolded me true beauty- 
A dream that bathed me with patience- 
A dream that ceased me from action- 
A dream that asks me again and again 
A right that I’m illegitimate to donate 
Neither in my sleep nor when I’m shaken… 

The dream someday will abandon me- 
Gifted pain will become a sweet addiction- 
I’ll be nurturing the emptiness to hear 
The intoxicating melody of my lament, 
No question shall remain, no right will complain- 
Just the immortal boulevard of my broken dream! 

- Anunoy Samanta