COSMIC CONVERGENCE IN AUGUST
BIPLAB MAJUMDAR
With auspicious advent of
Awesome August
A wilting wildfire
A windswept wisdom
A wordless woe
Runs after a
Rainbow revealation
In cosmic convergence
With verse of vicissitudes.
And a poet and his poetry
Like split-screen movies
Sublimingly show
Their summated sumptuous stride
On the road to realization.
Because sometimes
Bronze bereaved breeze
Blazes his bones,
Sea-green sizzling sun
Scorches his soul,
Crimson crystal confessions
Console his conscience.
And a poet mirrors
His maroon metamorphosis
His dedicated deconstruction
His shadowy silence
In cosmic convergence
With verse of vicissitudes.
To him
Life is a spectacular squiggle
With splash of splendour,
Some spilt seconds from a
Surreal stream of surprise.
Because Sometimes
Mottled maverick moon-tide
Meanders in his mindscapes,
Damsel dewy distance
Drenches his dreams,
Diminishing dahlia dusk
Dallies with his diamond days.
As a poet is
A wave of wonder
A worship of words
A wakening of the world.
His quintessential quest
Leads him to
Eternal enigma
Of cause and effect,
To search for
Seasonal semaphore
Of wispy worldliness.
And to research on
Rhapsodic reverie
Of violet visions
To track
The trail of time
Upon his
Engrossed existential epiphany.
Dawn dives into dusk
Dusk diminishes to night
Night merges with morning
His future folds into fate
In cosmic convergence
With verse of vicissitudes.
Because sometimes
A bizantine blaspheme
Hallucinates his hymnal heaven,
A berserk birdsong
Beseeches his blissful blood,
A transient twilight
Traverses his transfixed trance.
And the proem of poetry
Merges mystically
With a poet’s
Magical metaphores of
Evanescent everydayness
Meaningless mundanity
Eerie experiences
In cosmic convergence
With verse of vicissitudes.
Because sometimes
Screame of solitude
Segues into his
Semblance of saga,
Purple passions ponder
In his poppy profundity,
Cryptic constrictions crawl
In his chrysanthemum cry.
And he has to harness
Whirlwind of wildscreame
Devastation of divinity
Collapse of conscience
Within his world of words
Within his illuminated inscapes
In cosmic convergence
With verse of vicissitudes.
NASCENT NEIGHS IN NOVEMBER
BIPLAB MAJUMDAR
At the neolithic nights in November
After a long
Spell of seperation
When blazing bereavement
Becomes bearable not
Seven horses of horizon
Closing their wings
Descend upon
The dust of dale
From the farthest forest
Of misty mountains
And they graze
For a while
On moonlit meadows of mindscape.
I can hear their
Nascent neighs non-stop
From the depth of déjá vu.
In this lighted darkness
Stillbirth of solitude
Is ruptured rustically
By the sobbing songs
Of scared scorched souls.
Waves of waning wind,
Whisper of waterfall.
Flames are found
In fuming forest of forethought.
Rapturous rhythmic rataplan,
--- Round and round
At dreamy distance
Of mind-blowing magical moonlight.
Suddenly with
A tremendous thunder
A sword of fire
Came down from
The sky of curse
And kissed the
Silence of sepulchre.
With a sanguine shriek of shadow
A bevy of vampires
Bursts out boisterously
In the guise of
Fondling flowery faces.
Rapturous rhythmic rataplan,
--- Round and round
At dreamy distance
Of mind-blowing magical moonlight.
The speedy seven horses of horizon
Jumped jubilantly up in inane air
Just for once
And Lo!
They became seven princes of paradise.
The fairies came close to them,
Danced hand in hand
In rhapsodic romance.
Mellowing moments in
Scent of scattered souls.
Flickering flamboyant flirting
Brought them closer
Into a
Paramount perfumed playground.
Call of colourful confluence
It was the
Season of celebration
Limitless love-making
Purple pristine pleasure
Miraculous manoeuvres
Waves of wonder, one after another
On the shoreline
Of melting mystery
Endless ecstatic exudation
Shower of sensations
Screame of souls
Signal of seperational sorrow
Rapturous rhythmic rataplan,
--- Round and round
At dreamy distance
Of mind-blowing magical moonlight.
Under astounding asteroids
The bevy of fairies
Made love with
The seven primrose princes
In panchromatic pantomime
All through the horror-struck hours.
Their voluptuous violet vampirehood
Increased incredibly
With the urge of
The seventh heaven’s horsemen.
Now the questions arise
Why is this love-making? Why
The horses of horizon
Careen to earth
From the land of lonliness? Why the
Vibration of vivacious vamps
Comes up from
The depth of death?
Are they old lovers
Of thousand years?
Do they carry water of eternity
In their virtuous veins?
Why myriad memories
Of lustful love
Dive down to the
Hut of hearts
Years after years?
We know that
When life shakes hand
With the hand of the end
Bodies get decomposed, but
The tragi-comic fact is
There is no end of love, and
The souls
Those are poles apart
Cannot remain alone
Even after death,
Because the cosmic call of L O V E
prevails for
Ever and ever.
[ Honoured with the 19a RASSEGNA INTERNAZIONALEPADUS AMOENUS 2014, PADUS D'ORO, 1* Premio Sezione Estero, 2014, Sissa, ITALY Award ]
SAREN JAHANSE ACHCHA
BIPLAB MAJUMDAR
Howling of horrendous hypocrisy
Rolls in the holistic horizon
At this hysterical hour,
Blood oozes out from the wound.
Under the surprised sanguine sky
Starved shadows shiver
In crores of slums
Of the working class,
Daily labourers, farmers,
And down-troddens of my land.
An evangelical esse explodes
To see this sabotage
Of constitutional rights
Rape of rule of law
Hypnosis of human rights.
The demonic dichotomy between
The haves and the have-nots
Beckons a cataclysmic cloud
Over this sublime sub-continent.
Who will be the Saviour?
Vision gets blurred to see
This soulless society where
Phantom of politics
Plays a piebald psychodrama.
Where extreme exploitations efface
The emblem of equality
To embody the embers of elegy.
Where ice-cold injustice
Ignites an impassable inconsistency.
Where cancerous cactus of corruption
Craves corners of
Poisonious plutocracy.
Where ignoble illiteracy
Imbibes iconic idolatory.
Where incomprehensible
Incisive ignorance illustrates
Illuminated ignominy.
The raging realization roars
To see this shameless rat race
Of skimming
The cream off independence.
The high and mighty
Plucks the
Primrose of prosperity,
And seeks shelter
In the corriders of power.
The top-notch traverses triumphantly
The criss-cross of
Mutiple-hierarchy.
The vicious circle of
Politics-Business-Crime
Jointly loots this country.
There is suffocating social discrepancy
Emasculated economic disparity
Blasphemous religious bigotry
Putrid provincialism
Ebony ethnic eddy
Vicarious vandalism of values
Hackshawed haemorrhage of hatred
Treachery, murder, abduction cause
Septicaemia of society
All driving the land to
A damask Doomsday.
Where are the values of Vedas?
What happened to the
Maxims of Mahatma?
What about the
Visions of Vivekananda?
Here unscrupulous untochability
Ushers upheaval of
An unshakable untruth.
Here fabled freedom
Fades away with the
Fatwa of fanaticism.
Here reciprocal regionalism
Recreates ruthless
Ripples of riots.
Poetry protests against these
Camouflaged caste-system
Narrowness-prejudices
Superstitions-selfishness
And delusion of demi-god.
Here temples are trampled
Mosques are mangled mercilessly.
No monks of Mandirs
No maulvis of Mosques
No gurus of Gurudwaras
Can prevent their perishing.
Here millions of foodless Jesuses
Sigh in jhuggis and chaupals.
Thousands of homeless Buddhas
Spend their nights on
Parks, pavements and platforms.
Spider of life weaves
Webs of well-off world
In their thirsty wet eyes.
Wounds wonder to watch this
Pomp and power of plutocracy ---
Outragious osmosis of obscenity
Piquant philandering peccadilloes
Sybaritic life with
Passion for possessions
Hollow hearts with
Simian synthetic smile
Sticky sensuality of porn-sites
Stink of scandal
Grimacing gossips
Arcane arousal of adultry
With masked morality.
A crimson conscience cries
To see this
Encrypted unethical encroachments.
The blazing blood bursts to see this
Thundering Terrorist Tandav
Maoist Massacres
KLO Kamikaze Kurukshetra
Naxalite nexus
With ISI-agents
The callous culture of RDX
And inhuman human bomb ---
All celebrate the
Carnival of crueltry : a
Blinding berserk bloodsport.
There is rampant loot
Of public property
Shameless syphoning
Of innocent public money,
2G. Spectrum scam,
--- Coal scam ---
--- Commonwealth scam,
Cricket bating, Spot-fixing
Uncontrolled micro-financing.
The environ is enshrouded
By a bleak and black
Craze for material success.
A sympathetic soul sobs
To see the sudden
Frown of famine
Flux of flood
Curse of cyclone
That increases inevitably the
Plight of pensive poverty.
Again these events are encashed
By the shrewd sharks of society.
The ill-bred, ill-treated, ill-fated
Moribund millions moan miserably.
The semblance of sham afar
Segues into the steaming song
of SAREN JAHANSE ACHCHA ...
Women of India are
Gentle and submissive
But still they are ruled by
Patriarchy, caste and religion.
They are stripped,
Harassed and molested
By unscrupulous
Wolves and hyenas.
Doubly marginalised
Dalit women are
Exploited-oppressed-suppressed
As beasts even today by
Delinquent desperate Dusshasanas.
Can a nation soar up
Without respecting its women
Who are the soul of society?
But Sarpanchs are
Deaf to the demands
Of GURIAS.
Mass is monosyllabic
To the misdemeanours on
Mukhtarans-Imranas.
Society snores in slumber
In the issue of girl-child,
Flesh-trade, child-marriage
And Dahej-system.
How long this
Nightmarish necrophilia
Will nibble at NIRVAYAS?
Who will raise voice
Against these
Atavistic atrocities on them?
Who are those INDIANS
Will come forward
To change the scenerio : this
Sanguine surprise
Of split-screen movies?
[ Note : SAREN JAHANSE ACHCHA : The best in the World ]
YOUR ENCHANTING EYES
BIPLAB MAJUMDAR
Flaunting fragrant flowers
Drop in damsel dreams
With wispy whispers
In one of your eyes,
Silver smile of a princess
Under bridal veil
Winks at me
In another eye of yours.
Hope of harvest
Basks in the
Field of farmers
In one of your eyes,
A sombre snake
Of sceptic soul
Sighs on
Stone of silence
In another eye of yours.
A rustic river runs
Within nerves
Of nascent night
In one of your eyes,
Wildfire of words
Strides on the
Song of semblance
In another eye of yours.
Pensive procession of pallbearers
Shouldering deadbody of the day
Marches mutely
Towards the end
In one of your eyes,
Mind-blowing musical mornings
Boisterously boast of the
Second youth of yearning
In another eye of yours.
An evangelical eagle of ecstasy
Flies fervantly to far away bluish
In one of your eyes,
Sparrows of sun
Swoop from the
Spotless sapphire sky
To greenish grassland of greed
In another eye of yours.
Who delve incessently into
The soil of cemetry
Day and night?
Why penury prevailes
In their parched profiles
In one of your eyes?
A crimson call of conch
Awakens awaited AUM
With pious prayers
Of Padmapuran
In another eye of yours.
Sometimes Gitanjali becomes
Badly beloved in
Rain of reverence,
I look back to the
Attic of childhood
In one of your eyes,
Sometimes fireflies of future
Blink at dark distance
Of upright untruth
In another eye of yours.
Sometimes my cryptic conscience
Gets covered up with
Storm of sun;
And the hapless, helpless bird
Cannot return to its nest
In one of your eyes,
Sometimes I watch a
Wretched wordless
Tired tramp
Asks shelter, food & water
Before the hut of humanity
In another eye of yours.
Sometimes
Silver swans of seperation
Fly to foggy
Olive orchard
Of milky moonlight
In one of your eyes,
Sometimes
Rainbow remembrance reflects
Riptide romance on
Lotus days in life
In another eye of yours.
My marvellous making
Of everyday’s edifice
Darts towards triumph
In one of your eyes,
Sunburst surprise of
Inevitable earthly evening
Gives birth incessently to
Surreal scenes of
Mundane magic
In another eye of yours.
My living was true
As decisive diamonds
On dust of dedicated days
In one of your eyes,
My living is true
As dream-struck birdsong
In pensive peacock pain
In another eye of yours.
Paw prints of passion
On sun-set shore
Follow
Which horrifying hunt
In one of your eyes?
Why transfixed time
Shivers scaringly
Like a bewildered bird
Escaped eventually
From the fist
Of a wild cat
In another eye of yours?
Our odd conversations
Keep us unknown
To each other for ever,
Forested foresight foreshadows
Masked mysterious movements
In one of your eyes,
Cherubic children of earth
Make temporary temples
On sand dunes of seconds
In another eye of yours.
Who plays the sad
Sonorous sitar
In the fort
Of nightmare
In one of your eyes?
Why scudding shadows
Of clouds graze
With lone lambs
On melancholic
Mountain’s mindscape
In another eye of yours?
War of Troy
Traverses transiently
With tumultous tragedy
In one of your eyes.
The stag of sorrow
Steps on slowly to the
Forsaken fountain of faith
To quench its thirst
In another eye of yours.
O L I F E, how enchanting
Evanescent eyes you have!