Cascade of poems and Rivulets of fiction

The wide yellow petals, Making many a whorl, Shining as if the Sun has graced the humble hearth, Glowing in delight, Scattering pearl drops everywhere, Each drop is a welcome song, For warmth to defeat coldness, Ushering hope to smother pain  with a will to win, Ego to be doused with the fire of determination, Emboldened by courage to fight  for the right, Surrounded by the nest of empathy, Bringing smile to the beaten faces, Sparkling are the eyes, Ready to rejoice bathing in yellowish hue, Resplendent, in abundance is joy, As the Sun is omnipresent in verandah, Never setting, beaming even in darkness, As if inspiring souls to let their dreams fly, High and high, Unleashing the innate strength  from deep within, To grow and prosper in a trajectory of one's own.

Photo credit: Srabani Paul The sun sets, The day fades out, Birds fly back to rest, Twinkling stars begin to wink, The Moon shines, Shedding diffused light, Night is born, When conch shell blows, A lamp is lit near Tulsi plant, A prayer for health and wealth. She sits beside the window, Dressed in her finery, A bright red bindi on the forehead, Vermillion dusted in the parting, A new beginning for Bodhu, Dreams of a newly wed, Etched in those smoked eyes, Speaking volumes, Exuding happiness, That shy smile hiding, Her longing for him, Intense; simmering with hope, Home to be built, With pillars of love and trust, Tinkling of a cycle bell, Barefoot, she runs, Blushing eyes meeting his. His coarse hands showing signs of toil, Lifted her with one go, In front of the mirror, Together they are, A garland of jasmine, Encircled it around her braided bun, The fragrance enamoured the man and the woman, in a world of their own, Heralding a new dawn,

When time is ten, A little respite from everyday chores, I stand at the window, Wiping droplets of toil, with one end of saree, I am awestruck to realize, Never I thought of different livelihoods, people pursue day in day out, Boyhood disappears, Pouring tea in cups, with yell of haste in the background, Bulging muscles with 'no rest' curse, pulling van loaded with cement bags, A distressed silence washing utensils, in a space infested with mossy green, Passionate speeches for alluring votes, democracy at its best or just a façade? Heaps of bananas, apples on Haruda's head, Keluda's fish basket with his rattling of names,  prawn, rohu, hilsa, A hundred kilo Mrs... on a hand pulled rickshaw, causing his veins on the verge of rupture. Suddenly, a screech in sync with Amma's shriek, Driver being pelted with a rapid fire of cuss and smash, Comes 'Yellow ganjee with shredded jeans' to resolve the ris

Photo Credit: Sudip Bhattacharya                                                                 The Moon is silent for days, Awaiting behind the curtain of Fog, Even the roads feel lonely, Trees shiver; swaying impatiently, Bundle of nerves; agitated and irritated, Scattering of rays through the dewdrops is a dream, Morbid are the dwellings, Emptiness devouring all around. Until the Sun elopes with the Moon, from the dungeon; caught unawares the Fog runs, When crimson hue cradling yellowish tinge is liberating the horizon, Snow flakes in anticipation, Begin to cascade, Lifting spirits from doldrums, Filled with sacred thoughts. Morbidity is in the grave, Defeated and in shame, While the Earth is simmering with happiness, The glimmer of the Northern Lights, Display candle of hope, Signifying an end to acrimonious antipathy. Making pathway for the Moon  To shine and shower, Every corner with soft light, Embracing angst s

Dancer Alokananda Roy's perseverance to train prisoners in dance forms and make them perform on stage. I am Bihanga, Spreading my wings, To reach the limitless sky, My wings undulate like waves, In rhythmic pace, I fly and fly, Freedom I cherish, My core sings, The joy of love, Finding happiness, Breathing the fragrance of being alive. Suddenly I realise, The four walls of concrete imprison me, A moment of madness, The knife slitted a throat, Fourteen long years in a cubical cell, Rotting in bug infested bed, Smelling filth in murky scum, Deliberating and deliberating, Had I died! Had I died! Then Bihanga happened! I danced and danced, Blemishes begin to fade, Pain I try to bear, Anger subsides, The applause makes me believe, I belong, I belong, No need to hide, Tears courage, 'Live your dream. You are Bihanga. Ahead you surge, In search of that strength, which will catapult you,  into the star fill