… feelings & thoughts, scripted in fonts …


296. His Last Call..

“…. Krrriinnng… Krrriinnng… “

The phone rings..

Calls the King..

Wishes “Happy birthday..!!”

To his Princess.


No one knows..

Whose call, which, when..

Rings the last..??

After days seventeen, just..

Death rings its call..

And the King finally departs.


Folded him, took him back with his breath, last..

His princess performs his rites, last..

Bids him bye, while he heads for his journey, last..

Her first love, for the last time, thus..

From her phone, that voice, last..

Goes forever quiet.


Her phone won’t show..

‘Baba calling’.. anymore..

A daughter faces a loss..

Lost her first Man of everlasting Love.


Though, the King, no more..

His name, his voice…

Remains stored..

Forever, in his Princess’s phone.



214. Happiness Wealth…

Once, there were a happy four,

Having hearts of pure gold,

They were simple, loving and giving,

People found them strangely giggling,

Always found them in their own chosen heaven.

Happy in their little life,

Their tiny cottage sparkled,

With pearls of laughter,

And smiles full of glitters,

Wealth was not about money for them,

Peace was their happiness wealth.

Nobody could feel their inner bliss,

Without cribbing for the glitters of things,

None could teach them material life,

Happily, wore all the gems,

Adorned by their peaceful life’s jewels,

Happily they dwelt,

In their self made heaven.



203. You are in Her…

You are very much in her,

Till she is here..

But she’s nowhere there,

That place, wherever you are..!!

There’s so much of you in her,

You can never just disappear,

Yes, you are here, though..

Seems you’re nowhere here..!!

Along with all the chapters in her maths..

Helped her learn solving on her own,

The real equations of this algebraic life.

Also, while holding, running after her trembling bicycle..

You trained her, how to balance real life.

Always in her weak, odd hours..

Strengthened her trembling thoughts,

In most of her acts and ways..

Showed her how to keep patience.

Pampered her tender tears,

With your utmost care,

She really got refuge,.

In your soft comforting words.

Gathered all the moral armours,

Supplied to her, from time to time..

Stored them for her, to keep her equipped,.

When she really needed to stand upright.

Indeed, she cried, when you married her off.,

But reminded her, to keep it in her mind,.

That path, leading her back towards her home,

That door, you’ll always keep it open.

You told her, she was your good daughter,

She also told you, what you were…

The best son, the best brother,

The best father, and..

Always a helpful friend, moreover..

A great human being..

Around her, forever.



93. Time, Give Them Back Young…

Growing age, retarding health,

Silvery, silky, shining hair,

Wrinkled skin, they cared, it shows..

Voices cracked, can voice out no more.

Cuteness filled in their smiles toothless..

Eyesights weakened, due to farsightedness.

This old stage of their good old days,

Trying to let go, overlooking my sadness..

The older version of their old age,

I’m definitely missing those faces.

Their old photographs lay before,

Their old appearances, I miss more,

Our good old days, were the golden ones,

Those oldies goldies, lost long ago.



77. They Call Me Still…

When a little girl was I,

In the evenings, between the study hours of mine,

From our balcony, I stealthily gazed at the night sky.

With my doll, before going to sleep,

From my little window on my bedside, I would peep..

Each night I would bid the stars, a kiss o’ goodbye.

My Maa, me and my doll, while in bed,

In the embrace of them, once I asked,

“Why every morning, Maa, when the sun is here..,

Where do they all disappear, those cute little glitters..??”

She said, “They don’t go anywhere my doll,

They are there only, just we can’t see them, that’s all..!!”

Saying this my Maa started my bedtime stories,

But my mind got lost, up above the sky,

In the kingdom of those bejeweled fairies.

I found the floating beauties, come down to me,

With all smiles around and two feathered wings, so lovely..!!

Attached them on my shoulders and took me up with them, so high..

Slowly and gradually, they left my hands,

To let me learn, on my own, to fly.

I floated with them in the dazzling night sky..

With lights and lights all around.

Holding hands, altogether we swung,

Together we all, danced and sung,

Humming the songs of Light and Love.

Our wings, all in sync, fluttered together,

In the cosmic rhythms of a soulful rhyme.

Amidst those glitters, I found myself,

Lightened up, all sparkling bright..

I was overjoyed, finding myself,

Become a twinkling star overnight.

Till today as I gaze up,

Still they call me up there.,

A strong and strange connection,

Down here I can feel..

Why do they now call me still..??

How can I still hear their calls..??

Yes, I still hear them call me,

Feel blessed that I can hear them so clear.



62. To That Child Still In Me…

In our times, in the eighties, there used to be a trend, of having a set of long distance friends called ‘Pen-Friends’. Many of my friends used to have their set of such friends apart from the real ones. Discussed about this at home at the age of fourteen and I was told, “NO”. It’s not that I was also very eager to have one, I didn’t need them as well, having quite a lot of real friends. But as I grew up, I found those friends befriending people through their pen from anywhere, all over the world. Among my gang, this started to be considered as quite an in-fashion and grown-up stuff. I felt totally like a child then, before them., I decided and made up my mind, “In this life, I will experience this one day for sure. I have to be trendy too and show my gang that I’ve grown up..” Many of my friends collected addresses of such friends from newspapers and know-not-where, without their parents’ knowledge as well and wanted to help me too. But being a very timid and fainthearted type, couldn’t muster the courage ever. So, I preferred to preserve my wish aside with care, in some corner of my mind.

Once, we went to a relative’s wedding and our stay there introduced to a lot of other relatives, who last saw me at my birth and that was where they were meeting me again in my mid-teens. Was feeling awkwardly special and specially awkward, may be more than the bride herself. Most eyes were on me, rather the grown-up-me. “See, how time flies”.., “She has grown up so fast”.., “Can’t believe my eyes”.., “Interested in marrying her.. I know a guy..” … and all sorts of blah blah blahs’… on and on and on..!! Wasn’t habituated to that kind of attention before and so much importance from so many unknown people at a time. Someone who hates limelight all through, you all can very well get my mental state at that moment. Was feeling like running away from the spot.

Anyways, in this process met an aunt there (mom’s cousin) and heard about her daughter Bonny, why she couldn’t come to the wedding, which made me really sad. I went for her only. We both were of the same age. Through others, we heard a lot about each other, but never got the chance to meet. We both heard,. how our birth months matched, how we resembled each other, how we both were from the same school of habits and thoughts. Both were popular among the elders as the ‘best girls of the family’, (that was for being very introvert, suppressed and obedient ones..) and equally unpopular to the younger ones.. specially the ‘derailed little ones’ who were put on track by showing us as their should-be-role-models. Among them, some kept quiet and had to follow us forcefully. And some others used to get so much irritated on us, mockingly named us, ‘boring borhdidis’. ( Bengali, didi : elder sister, Borhdi : eldest sister..) 

Whatever, the above was what we collected about each other over the years, and somewhere inside desperately wanted to know and meet each other. I told to myself ; “Yes, Bonny is the perfect candidate to be my pen-friend. Maa-Baba won’t, rather, can’t say NO, and I will be able to match with my trendy gang as well.. Took the full advantage of meeting this aunt of mine. The first thing I did was, I asked and took down her postal address. ( It was how, during the eighties, we used to keep in touch with our close ones..) Back home, informed my parents, “I have got a pen-friend of mine from now and that’s our Bonny”. They smiled and paved my way to send my first letter to her.

Till today I remember, that day, I was over-excited to address someone for the first time as,..

“Dear pen-friend Bonny,… ” 

… followed with a long letter of four, fullscap, double ruled papers, with a photograph of the ‘Teenage Me’. Put it in an envelope, wrote her address on it, gummed its mouth shut, put a stamp on it, went to the nearby post office and posted it in that red coloured post box. After posting it, I sighed and thus started my countdown, waiting for her reply to reach my hands. Till two weeks I had to wait. Those waits seem so exciting to me now,. Today, we reach each other in minutes, sometimes, may be within seconds,. without waiting… (Again getting diverted.., let’s get back to my time..) Finally.. one afternoon, back from school, while waiting in our balcony for our postman to arrive.. he reaches our letter box, ringing his bicycle bell.. trrrring… trrrring… I ran down the stairs of our company quarter like a whirlwind. 

Yes, she replied, with a photograph of hers. So so innocent of me..!! I literally jumped with joy, seeing her first line on her equally long letter, with all her words, so much like mine;

“Dear sis-friend Devi,..”

The next day, I joined my gang and boasted before them in a special tone, “Now, I also have got a pen-friend of my own.”

Years later, now, when I make friends from all over the world, comment on your posts, virtually talk, befriending you all, I boast to the ‘Teenage Me’ in me, “Yes, I’ve finally grown, now I’ve so many pen-friends of my own.

Laugh a bit, with the child in me, World.. πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰πŸ˜πŸ˜



51. Completely Incomplete…

Once, there was a bird watcher,.

Who loved to watch and praise different birds..

He loved to watch them knitting nests..

While knitting beautiful words on them.

A tiny little bird loved to hear him.,

Loved to hear his simple words of praise.

One fateful day, one wrong word.,

And forever flew away the bird.

A storm blew away its half-knit nest..

But his half-knit words, waiting for its return, till now…


( Words once spoken out wrong, can’t be taken back, so beware World, do look before you leap, do think before you speak…) πŸ’•πŸ™‚