shantopagla

Sides

There are not 2 but 3 sides.

One, of the people themselves

One, of the people who they say it to,

One, of the world and how they perceive it.

Sides

Sukumar Ray, father of Satyajit Ray – a history

Like most who grew up reading Bangla, Santajit Ray, his father Shukumar Ray and grandfather Upendro-kishor Ray. I grew up reading Professor Shonku series by Satyajit Ray, Nursery rhymes by Shukumar Ray and almost all know of Gupi Gain Bagha Bain, written by grandfather Upendrokishor. This video has a bit of the family history that would otherwise have been lost to generations that know Sanyajit Ray for his own accomplishment.

Sukumar Ray, father of Satyajit Ray – a history

Shades

When I sift through life’s chapters,

I am amazed!

What I had thought to be rainbow colors,

Have all somehow hazed.

Somehow the brightness of my happy times

Have mingled with my life’s gloom.

Now that reality has started to bloom,

Do dreams ever come true-I wonder sometimes!

I keep on watching as the colors merge

And all the gloom join together

I feel my emotions ignite

And my happiness and gloom change to black and white

Then I feel them mix forever

And only shades of gray emerge.

Shades

Resentment I

Whilst I thought I had cleansed up my thoughts and made it devoid of contempt and aggression; emptiness and loneliness I created in not giving other aspects of living a life kept on creating more and more. When I thought I had finished contemplating once and for all; I discovered life’s tight grips bind me in newer more secure chains, feeding my thoughts and emotions with more questions. I find myself in a maze all of a sudden again. But this time I have clues and have my friends’ support to guide me through it. While I thought it best to keep my pains to myself, I feel that I have denied my friends comfort and support. On my part I felt denying myself the opportunity of their shelter, only after I knew that in my shunning myself out I have shut the door for them to share their pains with me. Never was that my intention. Now all together I feel that I have caught up; but at the expense of a dearest friend’s extreme sorrow and loneliness. Caught up on everything I thought possible and more; and yet I feel that I have missed too much. If I only shared all my bad times as well as my good times; all my feelings and experiences instead of keeping them to myself; I might have done good not only to me, but all of us. Once again I resent the past; I am aggressing to a higher form of understanding. New, but an easier maze to cross. I know I will cross it for sure.

Yet, somehow I know that there is much more.

Resentment I

I am well

I feel like I am a well.

Deep and dark as my heart.

Enclosed by weak eroding scales,

Brick by brick, slimy and falling apart.

The worms of despair

Feasting on my dark mind’s lair;

Worn out, uncared for, dusty and dirty,

Hidden by shrubs; foggy and misty.

Cold smelly emerald waters of hurt

Flowing through my veins;

Muddy stains in all of my parts,

The untouched bucket secluded from my pain.

Days and nights make no difference

Love and hate are of no significance,

You ask me how I am?

I am a well,

I am well.

I am well

I shall melt

Cover me with moss

– and I shall melt.

Cover me with earth –

– and I shall melt.

Cover me with kisses –

– and I shall melt.

Fill me with love –

– and I shall melt.

Let me live –

– and I shall melt.

Kill me –

– and I shall melt.

I shall melt

Management

The management team has decided.

It has calmed the tempest

That resonated the seven seas.

It has resolved the conflict

That created the turmoil

And watched patiently

At the rubble left behind.

Point of no return, it said.

A point so certain

That it is imperative

And from the ruins of it,

It shall live.

Management

Mercy

There’s the knock on the door.

Could it be you?

You would walk over me a little more?

Or would you do something new?

Why would you walk to my doorstep?

You could have just thought of me once.

My love would follow your footstep.

My heart would float to yours.

There’s that knock again.

You knock is in vain.

I am in the extreme of my pain.

My body is wounded, my soul won’t sustain.

So its you, my angel of mercy.

What manner of relief you bring, pray let me see.

You chose the goodly apple, rotten at the core.

Feed it to me my goddess of the other world;

I can bear life no more.

Mercy

My thoughts

Thoughts mean so much more than reality nowadays.

Every moment changing it’s colors.

Have you ever seen the color of sadness?

Of distrust?

Of fear — disgust?

Together they make such beautiful portrait of life!

Think, my dear enemy!

Think of all the colors you have in the darkest canvas of your head.

Weave the threads of your true state of mind in ‘black and white.’

Cross the limits of envisioning.

However dark these moonless thoughts seem, is it not a prettier picture than reality?

Is it not more soothing than the dark, thick glossless leather of people’s attitudes?

Is it not less misty than their words?

Less venomous than their breaths?

I want nothing to do with reality.

I want to be alone in my own darkness.

I want to go into a stasis.

I want to think,

I want to roam only in MY Thoughts.

My thoughts

Mystical Eyes

I try.

I still cannot see through your eye.

Your words I understand,

The meanings are still hard to comprehend.

Should it mean what you say,

I would lose my way,

Should it mean otherwise

I could not verify through your eyes.

Beheaded, my heart throbs

Bewildered, my eyes sob,

Before, I saw some bliss

But never was it sealed with a kiss.

I saw your eyes streak of sorrow

Only to be forgotten tomorrow

Then all was misty and blurry

Your eyes only left me with pain to carry.

Mystical Eyes