Category Archives: Poem-From The Chest

A Salute to the Teacher [A Poem by a 16 year old Poet]

13 years on this day I had written my first poem for my dear Sir. So, am sharing that. Let me know your comment.

Continue reading A Salute to the Teacher [A Poem by a 16 year old Poet]


A Few Temporary Matters

Today am sharing one of my Bengali poem in English wrote long ago, about 5-6 years ago. Please share your thoughts on this.


the sun light that peeping into my room

will fall in the wall in same angle in same tangent

other days of this season maybe next season and other seasons

but the one sleeping besides me will she be there?

words lost, get stale as soon as you, I, we speak

as soon as it cross the threshhold, the lips

the memory formed get fossiled to be excavated or for sudden-discovery

the impact first a dark brush stroke, then smudge 

then February morning mist only & nothing else

the body you kneading on, you loving at night or whenever it is

will not be your always or is not yours in first place

love, you say, I keep myself deprived of because 

of being physical not being abstract one 

still though am open to love because sometimes 

“sin” is all I want to commit; sometimes I want to feel the ectasy

temporary my thoughts are as she is, as her kisses are

temporary her love like the shade of the bed she is lying naked

next one may not like that shade; she may like where am sitting now

full of west sun light–another temporary matter

temporary is this satisfaction she had gave me

the “sin” will be performed at night when we’ll over the phone

now I shall capped the pen and tucked it before closing my diary

her plump lips, her naked breasts beckoning me to take her up at my lips

moment wants I shall be inside her; I shall decor this evening

of ours with few impromptu decisions–few hers few mine

this urge of ours is what permanent in all this temporaries we share…



To You…

You’ve been there always by my side…

You’ve taught me how to get lost in alleys;

You’ve taught me how to cry being in the eve crowds.

You’ve been there when I was recognizing the turn of a day to night–

Standing on the footbridge at Gariahat looking at Bijan Setu with my friend Abhi…

You’ve witnessed my first kiss with Prothoma at the Lake–

I hold a grudge for that ’cause you hadn’t decorated the road with fallen leaves or flowers;

When my nervous tensed hand surrender itself to her slender little palm–

And there was no April rain or storm, but, a sultry cloudy Baisakh eve…

Years later (though) you had decorated a March eve in a somber color of the spring,

When I ended my years of solitude delving on the eyes and lips of Rupai–

At the garden of Victoria Memorial–how beautiful was the setting sunlight…–

She was looking beautiful with her teary eyes, tears that are of the first kiss…

(Yes) you were there when Rupai and before her Prothoma left me…

Leaving me from where I can’t return…

If you haven’t  been there I could be a hundred miles away from home–

Which I had been when Prothoma had left me…

But I had come back to you–a thousand time; have rediscovered you–a thousand time…

My dear darling Kolkata,

Whenever I’m down or just feel marooned or had delved in blue–

In the memoirs of broken vows and promises…

You’ve embraced me–

With your alleys and roads…–

(With) stories that can be found unspoken in the eyes of thousands…

My dear darling Kolkata…take me in your arms…–

Embrace me, please, in this cold noon (again) after a long time…–

(’cause) you all I had and have…

[From Poet’s Desk: This poem was written a few months ago in Bengali. I had translated in English a few days later from the day I had written in Bengali.]