When The Seven Stars Bloom

When the seven stars bloom in the sky, on this grass

I sit still; like a dead star starfruit-red clouds 

inside the bay waves have sunk  – descends a quiet, obedient

Bengal's twilight-blue evening – as if a long-haired lass appears in the sky:

On my face, on my eyes float her hairs;

no path on this earth has seen her –  never seen such

countless hairs' kisses fall on mango-pine, jackfruit, rose-apple ceaselessly,

never known such pleasant fragrance drip from a beauty's tresses.

On some earth's way: the fragrance of soft paddy – the essence of 
water-spinach, duck's plumes, arrow, pond water, 
glassy fish and olive barb's mild smell, 
lassie's rice-washing wet hand – that cold hand, lad-trampled nutgrass, 
the jaded silence of the red banyan fruit's saddened fragrance –  amidst these

when the seven stars bloom in the sky, Bengal's soul I feel. 

Pink is just not another color

  maybe a color of romance

I may be a color of romance

I may hint at approachability

But why think you have a chance

& up for grabs is my femininity?

I’m the sweet side of red,

the color of love and passion –

but I'm not your object abed

please note down my objection.

Do you think my playfulness

an invite ‘Hey baby, let’s ball?'

Even if I’m a color of weakness

what gives you any right at all?

If you find me too palsy-walsy,

if you think you can groove –

So my NO now you think sassy,

too rude if I stop your move.

I am hot, rose and fuchsia -

Work to play is no pink-collar

I’m Falak, Minal or Andrea

I may be tender but I’m valor.

Mother, teach your son well

so they know what is a no

Sister, tell your bro miserable

What’s a hint, when to let go?

Last night, I saw the movie Pink and I was deeply moved. Salute to the team that has conceived the story and has given it such a nice treatment. May we all be in the pink!

This morning, I realized that pink is not just another color.

September 25, 2016

Pablo and Pablo

 This poem is a tribute to two of my favorite Pablo's in the world - Pablo Picasso and Pablo Neruda.

Origamagnets!

Refrigerator magnets with origami bird; my experiments in reuse and recycling.

Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market

This is a humble attempt to translate Neruda's masterpiece. The refrigerator magnet is handmade.

Only if my words

Only if my words
would flow swiftly
like a spring stream
and whisper softly

along a summer breeze,

if fall they would freely

as the autumn leaves

or the morning dew,

I could tell the story

of a firefly
on a mid-summer night
braving the galaxy
to meet a golden drop

on morning grass.

Only if my words

would bloom effortlessly

as in a spring meadow

or the valley of flowers

and then 

weave I could

like a damsel -

flower after flower

plucked one at a time

lovingly from eden -

into a tapestry,

I could tell the story

of a butterfly 

in your garden-

speed-dating flowers

satiating unquenched love.

Only if my words. . .

Experimentation with canvas shoe painting

A Stream Of Joy

This had been a wonderful week for me in terms of revisiting Tagore!

A couple of weeks back, I had this request to translate a song by Tagore from a local didi - Bengali for sister. Before sharing my translation with her, I sought feedback from friends and family whose opinion matters to me. And some wonderful discussions emerged.

I got to hear from a young scholar about his view on Tagore. More about that in a later post.

Then I got to discuss with my baba [Bengali for father.] I fondly remember reading his copy of Chinnapatra [A book that had assorted letters of Tagore] during my school days. My dad, in his beautiful handwriting, had written, during his college days, on the margins of each letter references to Tagore's poems and other works making it an interesting reference book.

During one such exchange, a dear friend (more like a younger brother) Sid Chattopadhyay - an extremely talented musician [Listen to his album Jolchobi at Amazon Digital Music] requested me to translate his favorite "Aanondo dhara bohichey bhuboney." And I thought of giving it a try.

Below is my humble attempt. Comments are always appreciated!

A Stream of Joy

A stream of joy flows through the universe,

day and night, into infinite sky spills over much nectar.

That sun and moon drink with cupped palms -

ever bright their unfailing light -

replete earth each day with life and rays.

Why do you sit absent-minded?

Self-engrossed for what reason?

Look around broadening thy heart,

ignoring all little sorrows

fill up your empty life with love.

San Jose, CA
January 23, 2016

My Beloved's Shadow

My translation of a song by Rabindranath Tagore (from his Nature/Monsoon phase written in 1938.)

My beloved's shadow
Alas, today in the sky floats!
Alas, in the dreary rain-soaked air.

My beloved between the clouds
Hiding in the evening star beholds whom,
Alas, elided light of the evening lamp she recalls.

With the rain-dripped forest-fragrance
Touch-less welcome-garland weaves my beloved.

My beloved in dense monsoon-pour
All over the sky loses her mind.
My beloved's anchal swings
Alas, in the deep forest's dark outbursts.

San Jose, USA
January 14, 2016


Below is the original song in Bengali script.