Kausik Ananda Bahubalindra writes

My Homeland

In the midst of impervious silence
What a beautiful place Moynagarh is
To recite poems under star studded eve sky
With the curved moon as witness.

In the midst of delusive darkness
What a beautiful place Moynagarh is
To recite poems under the green light of fireflies
With the dark shadow covering green jackfruit leaves.

Be the historic Moynagarh filled with poems –
Better, that’s why, to recite poems closely here.

Encircled by two wide, deep moats
What a mystery Moynagarh is,
Turns the grave air of ditches into a pleasant one
As poetry is recited on floating boats.

Poems – one after another
Resound in the voice of poets.
As the breeze gets rapt in the odour of poems thus,
What a captivating place Moynagarh is.

Pulled by the poems, also rush the poets
--Lifeless and penless, towards the earth again,
Be Moynagarh the lonely host
Of that crowd of poets – lifeless and penless.

It’s unknown
Whether the God of Moynagarh listens to them or not,
Yet, a wonderful bouquet of verses
Is humbly offered to him.

 

Kausik Ananda Bahubalindra writes

RED INK LETTER

No  Sms, no E-mail, no Chat.

Why?

A letter I do prefer to write you

As in pocket close to your heart

With a rose - fresh, deep red, fragrant

You keep it while awake

Awake till 10 p.m.

And under white pillow as asleep

Asleep till 6 a.m.

Also my letter you smell at will

Long live the smell

And you smell with a smile

Smile that never fades away .

It’s a letter

Letter written in red ink

the colour of my love that shows

And the red ink of my pen 

Even if thousands of letters I write 

With this pen carefully kept aside

Only to write for you,

Would never run out as prepared

In the laboratory of my heart,

As endless is my love for you -

Endless, dauntless, priceless.

It’s a letter - a letter hand written

Not beautiful as yours though

But the softness of my fingers

You sense as you touch the words

And the words you read bit by bit

As under a tree each day you sit.

Not enough are the words to express

Yet extreme love at my heart

I deposit for you forever.

While writing the letter, I fall asleep

Asleep for some time

And surely see you in dream

A dream of you too writing to me .

My ear-rings dangle, my bangles clatter

And I wake up as also my hair

The breeze sent by you, does flutter.

Everytime I kiss my pen as your name

I write time and again by the pen -

Your gift so precious to me

And in the light of lamp looks shining

Your name like the stars out of reach

That twinkle high in the night sky.

Thinking, thinking for hours,

What do I write to you?

Should it be a love letter -

In poetry or prose form?

Or my other feelings do I share? 

As my entity you cover in entirety .

Or a letter filled with your name only ?

A name - sweet, smart and nice to utter.

Or you are what to me?

Love is not to like but to share

To share your everything I’m ready

Do you too?

No speed post, no courier, by a white pigeon

That flies to the sky of your region

Where on the bank of a river, you live alone,

I send my letter sprayed with french odour

And water, food, shelter for rest

You give to my messenger - a witness

Witness to our love as pure as its white wings.

Maybe the reply delayed

But I wait for ages till you reply

As I firmly believe, you are mine,

That I’m yours, I strongly believe

As always, we are born and made for,

Promised and addicted to each other.

Our letters make the ground

The ground - wide, plain, fertile,

For our meeting, long awaited

As confirmed and confident we are

In our love 100 percent.  

Kausik Ananda Bahubalindra writes and shoots

DAWN

This is the time -

The delusive darkness driven away

By the reddish glow in the east,

As if the veil removed from a shy face

By the mild wind. 

Or

The sky dyed with its blood

After an evil power is destroyed.

Peeps the light the birds await for long

And like a free flow of water

They restart to sing in cheer,

With no fear under the cover of  leaves.

This is the time - very holy,

Grows a will to feel the almighty

And to live in a new way,

Just as the trees look fresh green

By the touch of spring

                       And such a love as pleasant as the reddish east sky

Be spread into the veins of rude world.

This is the  hour -

For both the sun to rise

And the bud to bloom into flower.

Be the breeze of polluted earth filled

By the  rise and scent of goodwill latent in mind.

This is the time -

To take oath like a flower

To serve the cause of other,

Such a life is the sun of dawn

Revealing the beauty of humanity.

This is the time -

As if the messenger of peace,

                       Everywhere calm atmosphere.

Be lakhs of dawn showered on restless earth.

With the advance of day,

Its increase in noise and complexity

And steps in the darkness in guise of

A black mask, to frighten.

Be morning, noon, afternoon, evening, night -

                        All mingled into an endless dawn.
This is the time - the night dream
Erased from the memory 
Just as thousands of night stars
Vanished from the sky.
But must be the dream at dawn
To restore the beautiful world for future generations.
Needless to say, always wakeful the dream
At dawn comes true one day.