changing colours

changing colours of festivals
early memories
when festival meant celebration
happiness, fun, new dresses
gifts, crackers and treats
waiting all the year
for the hand-counted minutes.

slowly enjoyment takes backseat
spiritualism seeps in
crackers are replaced by hymns
fun, cheer and laughter watches
while deep sense of peace wins

then comes those days
when only the sense of well being
company of divine reins
all other feelings simmer down
festival becomes union with divine.

a satisfied soul sits with a smile
watches others enjoying things it did.


Sharmishtha basu
27.12.10

dancing on waves

life is such a fun
if you can grasp it
roller coaster ride
if you can hold it.

if you can grasp it
its depth becomes shallow
your soul lights up
its ebony black hollow

its depth becomes shallow
its waves become tame
you ride on them easily
like a dolphin or whale

its waves become tame
it unravels its glory
you write your story
in its rushing waves.

it unravels its glory
your soul is mesmerized
no time for being sorry
you live dancing on waves.

Sharmishtha basu
24.09.10

Wings of glory

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wings of glory 19.08.10
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Some yearn to fly
To kiss the deep blue sky
Some succeed
In touching the divine high
Those who are left behind
Sometimes shrug, sometimes fret
It’s just the human nature
Not much to worry or regret
When you are blessed
Blessed a bit too much.

Beyond the limit of everyone else.
Be prepared for envy
Be prepared for treachery
Malice, hatred or fury
They are just like winds
That pull you down to earth
Don’t let them scare you
Ride on them with a laughing soul
For they will come again and again
As long as you will fly, kiss the sky.


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wings 24.03.10
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Those who have wings
will meet these
wingless creatures
who yearn to fly
but can’t fly
reasons too many
lack of wings
or weak wings.

Don’t let their fears
Scare you.
Don’t let their jokes
Daunt you.
They may envy or hate
Mock, ridicule or curse
But they can’t stop you
So just fly and kiss sky.

sharmishtha basu

sleeping seed

Promises, hopes and dreams
Tightly bundled within
Covered by a hard shell
Sleeps in the fertile womb

Green leaves slowly make way
As soil parts to let them
To see the golden sunshine
To kiss rain, wind and sunrays.

They reach out for the golden sun
Their bodies getting tough every day
Hopes and dreams sprout as leaves
Branches spread out everywhere.

Flowers bloom, fruits ripe
Birds build nest, beasts feast
Who would have imagined
A tight kernel holding a dream divine!

butterfly awakes

Out in the garden,
Roaming around
The little girl complained
“Look at those hairy things,
Killing all our plants.”
“Daddy please kills them!
Before they chew them up all,
Nothing will be left behind.”

“Hun, those hairy, fuzzy things,
Running havoc in the garden,
Will soon bundle up in a ball
Ceasing all the pranks.
When that ball will break open
A beautiful butterfly will be out
Making your garden
A million times more beautiful.”

Colourful dreams

she sleeps
a bundle of vibrant colours
sheltered by a fortress
to keep her safe
till the glorious day
when magic wand will touch
her lovely eyes
she will yawn and stretch
spread her gorgeous wings
to sail out of her fort
and enchant the world

Writer sharmishtha basu
http://window2mysoul.wordpress.com/2010/08/07/colourful-dreams/

Golden fairy

I saw her pouting
A fragile golden winged being
Sun has woken her up
And reported a theft.

He said the roses have stolen
The ruby of her lips
Sky has stolen
Crystal blue from her eyes.

Sunflower and daisies
Committed the sin
Took away a tiny bit
Of her lock’s gold.

She sat there pouting first
Then she laughed out loud
Laughing like a nightingale
She flew back to moon.

Writer sharmishtha basu
http://window2mysoul.wordpress.com/2010/08/07/golden-fairy/

Happy heart

my heart soars like a dove
up in the blue sky
in the white ivory clouds
above every binding, limitation.

It sings in ecstasy
If dreams the sweetest dreams
No chains can tie it down
No restrain can weigh it down

It glides with the wind
Rolls with the waves
Burns like fire
Soothes like rain.

It laughs with the lightning
Roars with the thunder
Touches the earth
Only to soar again.

http://window2mysoul.wordpress.com/2010/07/26/happy-heart/
Writer sharmishtha basu
26.07.10

play your flute

Spread your wings Fly
Let the music flow
From your soul
Shower down
On earth below
Touch the blue sky

Don’t let any wind
Pull you down
Don’t let any serenade
Abash your melody
Let it flow, let it glow.

http://window2mysoul.wordpress.com/2010/07/04/play-your-flute/
sharmishtha basu

Little miss

“No I don’t want that one
I want the red one
Not the green one
Please mama the red one for me.”

I heard a voice as sweet
As a nightingale
And turned to see
The tiny miss nagging.

How sweet is their world.
They live in true bliss
Mama and papa are there
To pamper little miss.

To doll her up and play
To make each and every day
Her laughter and baby talks
Are music to their ear.

A cute world for a princess
Full of love and pure bliss
That’s how it should be
For every little miss.

Childhood days

Those long walks together
Sometimes running
Sometimes strolling
A gang of five siblings
Out to explore the world
Two yappy dogs
Unleashed and free
Chasing rabbits and birds
Jumping like crazy
Ignoring the shouting kids.

Garden full of flowers, bees
Butterflies soaring like dream
Flocks of birds and parrots
Sometimes a dancing peacock
Right in your courtyard
Spreading its gorgeous plumes
The velvety, red velvet bugs
Filling up the trees
Soft as velvet red as cherry
Treasures for the little kids.

happiness

happiness is a butterfly
soft, graceful, fragile
to be watched
not to be held
it will stay as per
its own will
just enjoy its presence
it will fly away
to fly back in another form.

Hope

An old woman lived alone
She had no one to call her own
Sometimes people were cold to her
And sometimes they were really mean.

They assumed horrid things about her
They assumed them too very often
For she never told them who she was
Or from where has she come to live there.

Hearing their taunts, fear and hatred
She became brittle as a thorn
All people could see on her face was
Anger, hatred or a big frown.

Soon that suspicion, mockery and hatred
Harvested its crop, she too started to hate
She made her hut her fortress and lived there
Hating, cursing the whole human race.

One morning when she opened her door
She saw a tiny child lying there
Hardly four or five years old
A pretty girl in tattered rags.

The mother inside her woke up
She asked her from where she was
And heard that she was an orphan
Who has lost her way in the dark.

Her life transformed with her touch
She started to live again
Soon her tiny hut was ringing
With the laughter of the little girl.

The neighbours started to ask her questions
She answered none, and raised suspicions
They branded her a thief, a kidnapper
And decided to punish her in front of all.

They chained the old woman, dragged her to court
The king was sitting on the throne
The little girl game with her, with eyes full of tear
The king was moved to see the duo.

On his gentle, kind query, every thing came out,
He ordered his subjects to never bother them
Told them to never hurt those they don’t love.
For only love gives us right to punish.

And as they have left the old woman to die alone
While they lived a happy life a few yards away,
Now that God has given her a glimmer of hope
They don’t have any rights to snatch that away.

Rabindranath Tagore and me

I have too many fond memories attached with this person and the immense treasure of poetry and songs he has left for us, Bengalis. My first memory of him was, I still remember, in my childhood, there was a photo of Rabindranath in his trademark gown, hands folded on his back, with beard in our drawing room. I still remember that pic clearly, even though 28 years have passed since. My mother used to sing marvelous rabindrasangit, a gift she could not pass to her daughters who were extremely eager to learn it, just because she was not a good teacher at all. But her voice is one of the best rabindrasangit voice I have ever heard. I still remember her singing “Chander haasir baandh bhengechhe…”

My childhood was spent in UP, mainly listening to hindi film songs, then I came in touch with Bengalis for the first time in Raisina, I used to return by school bus and one of our teachers had a marvelous voice, I still remember one day he sang the song “akash bhara surya tara” for his friends, and we all listened to his voice in pin drop silence. His voice still rings in my ears after 20 years.

Then I returned to west Bengal and my true romance with rabindrasangit started, I returned to west Bengal in 1985 and for the first five or six years I only listened to rabindrasangit, I was just obsessed with it, listening to the same song over and over again, drinking it with my ears. First it was debabrata and others, then slowly it shifted to suchitra, sagar sen, chinmoy and finally I selected two as my hot favourites shantideb ghosh and kanika, the rest came after these two in various steps.

Being a full blooded Bengali, full of emotion I often find my own reflection in rabindrasangit, so many of his songs speak out my words in a language which I could never portray. Like some one has taken the dream from my eyes and colours from my palette and made a beautiful portrait out of that. All my moods, all my hopes, dreams, desires were captured and portrayed by him.

When some one asks me which one is my favourite Rabindrasangit I am caught in a catch 22 situation. I simply say none, even the list of my favourites is very long, I just cant compare in between them. Like aguner parashmani, anandadhara bahichhe bhubane, krishnakali ami tarei boli, je rate mor duar guli, naha mata naha kanya, ami chitrangada, I just cant make up my mind about which one is best.

Its just like the various seasons of this earth, they all are beautiful and all are indispensable part of the entire show. So many times these songs has cheered me up, given me inner peace, filled up my heart with immense happiness, given me the courage to face the world.

There is nothing in the music world so complete, so fulfilling and so everlasting as the works of this one creator.