Clouds in the valley...

I  stare at a sea of books – Every lane and by-lane Stacked with used books Ah, that musty, yellow love Strewn across for miles Countless shrines – with wisdom shine   But it is not just sepia pages It is the emotions in those books Trapped forever -   I lift random books And imagine the countless tales That live in every page   A scribble here, a note there Someone understanding the cosmos Then, a dog-ear of delay, Did she pause to look outside the window? Our Charulata? What did she see that the fold remained?   In another book, a flattened rose – Surely not Oshibana? Was it then a love letter? A gift? Forever pressed between chapters lost? A memento of love In a manuscript of maths     An old newspaper’s bookmark, A hastily scribbled phone number, A magazine cut-out of a beautiful face, Or a doodle here, a cartoon there A story within the story - Every memory, an unfinished tale ...

  An old friend passed away today He was genuinely old – Rather too old How he took to the changes of our world I do not know. Perhaps, that is why He befriended children Our last rays of hope   Perhaps every child in this bustling city Was once his friend Until we each grew up; Knowing somewhere in the void Our friend exists, No need to meet We are happy to know Somewhere, he is there   In the midst of all our busy excuses He chose to wait no more; We will carry on But somewhere, the part of us That refused to grow, cries quietly So many friends yet to make But he chose to no longer stay – An old friend quietly passed away today…   28 th March 2026   Dedicated to Adwaita – the Aldabra tortoise at Kolkata Zoo, and the longest living animal ever recorded on Earth. Legends say he was gifted to Robert Clive after his victory at Plassey, making Adwaita over 250 years old – a marvel who was shown by one gen...

  Around a turn, I stop – A massive billowing cloud Sparkles in the blue skies. Lost in my dreams, I tell myself: One day – I will turn thus But not find a cloud It will be a silver peak – Kanchenjunga, Nanda Devi, Machchpuchare The name matters not It will be a man and a massif Someday…   I close my eyes, Am I still here? Creating a future dream Or perhaps, I am already far This moment a living memory It is all a dream of thoughts Connected by threads of existence It is on these strands we walk And pretend to awake – I open my eyes: The clouds have turned to snow And man has turned to mountain…

  Like tear drops Rolling down, The Spanish moss Trickles too - Down branches and twigs Tendrils of longing Holding firmly To the tree of lost love   With time The tree is full Of the old man’s beard Its soul though Still drowns in melancholy As the moss Sobs silently But you and I just see growth – We claim, ah, the art of nature…   19 th March, 2026

  I stare at carved panels And wonder - Is this how Sanchi would look Trapped inside a hall? Two thousand years of history At least some have been preserved The surreal work of the Sungas A lost world carved in stone   But most people rush by - They don’t even know what these ruins are, Like any other debris Gathering dirt in a showcase But if you touch a piece of stone Perhaps the lotus, the wheel - You will get transported To the Bharhut of golden times   A large stupa, ornate gateways And the Buddha’s last remains - Maybe you can see its birth Piyadasi’s dreams, a Hellenistic touch; But careful - one wrong breath, Or a grumbling whisper And they all come crashing down; Bharhut reduced to ruins   But wait, do you see it? A reliquary left behind Its path hidden in these very rocks Breathing life, whispering the truth The treasure visible to those alone Who can touch the lotus blossoms Of a long-forgot...

  Winter’s Kolkata Full of restfulness On the Memorial’s greens; Some are active, Busy clicking - The marbled wonder Wrapped in Makrana, Victoria Memorial – our eastern Taj (The professionals seek its reflection In the Memorial tank)   But you fixate At the very top – The wings The trumpet, The laurel Ah, the Goddess of Victory You understand my curiosity ‘She alone was allowed To disturb the illusion of symmetry’ Angel wings moving with the wind   ‘But once in a while Even the goddess is stuck Against the whims of the universe’ I could see the angel reflected In your shimmering eyes ‘But she stays – Wings spread out, Ushering hope in the metro ’ Perhaps, the seraph smiles That only few of us can see…   14 th March, 2026   The Victoria Memorial in Kolkata was conceived after Queen Victoria’s death in 1901 by Lord Curzon, drawing inspiration from the Italian Renaissance style and the Taj Mahal. ...