27 Days

Years reduced to Months.
Months Reduced to Days.
Left are only 27 days !
How should one count now?

Where is her lifelong Nest?
Where the beautiful heart rest?
When is the auspicious day?
“Wait Child”, two words He told.

Although the answer was enough.
And closing eyes were tough.
Nocturnal eyes slept wide open,
Searching roses in answer of hope.

Today, on nearing the day, one fears,
The auspicious moment of tears,
One wants to speak less, smile less,
To see her chirping, laughing forever.

WTO and Kamal Nath

The average Indian is not aware of Hong Kong WTO resolution. Kudos our Minister for Commerce and Industry Mr. Kamal Nath ,who took lead on behalf of developing countries and persuaded them towards free trade in banking and telecommunication. On behalf of these countries, the import restrictions reduction and making a point of lessening the subsidy on agriculture by developed countries leading to zero subsidy were remarkable steps. Unlike Kankum and Doha submit this summit of WTO at Hong Kong got something at least for long term benefit. Although the important point to note is that it was give and take negotiation with 30 hours debate magic.

Thanks God, he is not among the Operation Duryodhana's MPs.

A White Dove

O Dove, I don’t have bed of roses.
Not the golden cage.

O Dove, I don’t have the sweet grams here.
Not the green peas.

O Dove, I don’t have the sweets songs,
We are tribal.

O Dove, setting you free, just free.
From bondage.

O Dove, keep flying across sky,
Across the boundaries.

O Dove, if you fall tired,
Thick grasses, I grow here.

To my blog inspirations

The blog has covered a journey of more than one year. The birthday went off unnoticed . Anyway I saved all the birthday party expenses.

Presently I feel, its utmost important to me to recapitulate the events that led me to writing. All the times when I received appreciations and sometimes beautiful criticizes too, for my writings, I felt nice and encouraged. My writings had a cascading effect from the people around me and some of the well known authors and of course an excellent school teacher, my dear Maa.

My office boss, Sujay sir, better to say my elder brother, have many published Hindi articles in many magazines. The ground to earth man with an excellent attitude to think on the topics and analyze them impressed me. Last year once when my friend, Sanjay took out a topic of national importance for discussion on the net. I had ideas but could not gather them properly, so could not present my views. By the time my friend Prashant well wrote on the topic and let every one read on the group. The key was found. The ideas, he picked up were almost same as I wanted to say. But key was he took a strong point first, explained the details and added some another points and at last summed up it with another stronger point. By the time I saw Jaya’s blog too. Although the topics she touched ranged vastly but she had the ability to give sufficient reasons behind everything she wrote. In school, jokingly, I participated in a story writing competition after coming straight from the playground and after being forcefully insisted by respected Pandey sir, who used to teach Hindi. After few days, I knew that I was third. That meant that I had writing ability, may be at least of the third grade :-). Moreover for debates and extempore speeches, I am ready always since my school life.

So it was no looking back. I sat with my pen to write and created this blog and waited for comments. By the time Jaya’s suggestion came that one should keep writing without caring for them. I kept writing to sharpen my nib.

To none of my inspirations, till date I told them the fact. And one day when once my office boss told me, while casually seeing my Hindi poems on my laptop himself told that, these can be sent to the editors for publishing, I blushed. When Prashant again after seeing one of my writing told that I write well and presented that on our teacher’s website, I was again happy. At our alumni forum, one of my excellent friend, told me that my writings have confidence, I got really more confident. Some were traveling with me continuously and encouraging me among them were Manish ji, Silky ji, Alka ji, Sandeep ji, Piyali, Debashis da and more. To walk in a group has been an excellent experience for me.

Thanks a lot again my cohorts and inspirations, who are on an unknown mission which is very positive in nature. How nice it feels that the first day introduction meet remains same always.

An obituary to my Oxford dictionary

This is an example of an“imaginary SMS”

because I don’t keep a mobile now.

O suet grl..

i want 2 tel u

dat wen u snd

me all da

sms, wich r



nd in wich

u wantd to

show ur luv 2

ur frnds bt i cud

nt ndrstnd dos

foren lang…

so i bout a nu


frm Xword


gud nght

suet drms

Ami Kolkatar Rosogolla

This is the title of one of the famous Bengali song and is based on Kolkata's lady beauty and have a good tune. The literary meaning is “I am Kolakata’s Rosogolla (sweet )”. The famous song sung by Bangla pop icon Usha Uthhup. I have danced on the tune in my childhood. I was humming the same lines on the streets of Kolkata on the human rights day, i.e. yesterday, 10th December. But now a days when I am grown up (still growing), as only humming the song , in Kolkata I saw the infamous Kolkata’s street dwellers, to whom I had seen in the almost same scene 13 years back too, when my Navodaya Vidyalaya arranged the Kolkata trip for us.

The black ladies and gents and skinny children, mud sticking to skin which again sticks to the bones. All their belongings packed in the sacks. The torn black plastic sheets make a roof shape structure for them. Ends of the plastic tent were tied to roadside electric poles and handles of old house doors. In between there is one broken kerosene stove and another black handi over it. Beside them two persons were on the aluminum food plate. The plate filled with rice and few fine meat pieces. The hungry eyes were concentrated on their shares of meat. At afternoon 3 pm, I too did not have my meals. In morning, I had two Kolkata’s rosgollas only and started the day. In hunger anything looks delicious. I was feeling hungry. The aromas of their limited prepared dishes set me tempted. I left the place. At least for my those Indian friends, whose coming generations too will not read my blog ever, I can never sing the song on Kolkata streets anymore. But the town celebrated the Human Right’s Day officially and rosogollas were of course the part of the snacks in between the meetings.

Shares of etiquettes , I bought

Hi my dear readers,
The reasons of mine last months absence have been revolving around me, my career as well as my family responsibilities. A lot of lessons, I have learnt in this period. I shall share them with you all. Ultimately my aims of writings are to benefit myself and/or my readers. The first topic, I do like to touch is basic etiquettes, the common man must have. Not being a Bengali guy (usually Bengalis give much emphasis to it) but as our oriental cultural outcome is there, which beautifies the life. The etiquettes cost nothing but gives back in lump. The base of etiquettes is respecting the other person. The net culture is not lacking it, but there are basic tendency of few people, due to which they miss a lot. I am not telling about calling me Prem ji or something like it. Even if they call me %#$# , I will be comfortable. But that too should be genuine and if with sufficient comments, then the better.

Then the topic of absence and etiquettes — the relationship may not be clear to you. Actually in my absence I have benefited a lot with the asset of mine. But apart from the cyber- world, the real world gives you back more with this asset (yes, more than what you can expect). I am richer now. No one can steal it. The polite and natural behaving to the other, as if another is your family member is the key.

I am back

I must be back,
From backwaters.

I must be back,
From backtracks.

I must be back,
For my backbone.

I must be back,
With back lessons.

I must be back,
Not back but forward friends,

I am back,
To sleep again, someday!