Cascade of poems and Rivulets of fiction

I met him again in my forties through social media. I was taken aback. There was a drastic change. The skinny short timid boy in his teens had become a man with a sculpted body. That shy smile was no more shy but as bright as sunshine. It might have caused a few heartaches amongst opposite gender in his prime. Even at this juncture when burden of experiences had taken a toll, Sree listened to the chords, a different song urging her to be different, like the clouds searching for a rainbow. She wanted colour, dripping in red, yellow, orange, to change the grey canvas of her life. Ronojit Sen sat on a revolving chair resting his head against the head rest. His eyes were shut. Bows of radhachura and krishnachura bent downwards trying to reach the metalled road. Red petals were strewed on it. He was walking towards his school looking here and there to have a glimpse of Sree.  His Sree, two ponytails, each tied with a red satin ribbon, were bouncing as she rushed through th

She came into the world, On the day of full moon, Black curls falling on her forehead, Brightness of moon pales, Fairness incomparable, Long eyelashes border, The blue viscous of her eyes, Black eyeballs dance to see, The world; her abode to experience, Love, pain, joy, disappointment. Fulfilment; a complete circle in essence. Her mother is petrified, A girl child once again, His ultimatum hammers, Diktat she has to follow, To murder her Purnima, A day old new born, Whose eager lips, Waiting for sustenance, The fountain of milk, Dimpled smile make her weak, A prayer to the demon for mercy, Blood oozes out from her lips, Purple is her face, Crippled with fear, A turmoil so intense. Purnima is naked, Sleeping on a charpoi, Freezing night, Even the stars hide, Bereft of tears, Waiting for her death, Agony of helplessness, Disdain and in shame, A listless existence, Whirlpool of thoughts, Tired, tired are the eyes, Drifting into sleep, Near the in