Mother! Listen!


The All India Mothers’ Association,

Is it a protocol?Think stock - mother daughter

Is it?

You have to say NO

To every that thing I say YES

No matter

It is a boy or a toy!

That dress

You always think

Is provocative and a mess

Understand mother


That, that’s the latest trend!

I am a grown up sassy, mother

Sassy and sexy

But to you, I am a pile of clutter

You know nothing

That’s my skin like butter

Hair as that of silk

And an awesome bosom

And you call me

With a deep sulk

You cook bitter gourd

And it is ever bitter like you

Cook that cutlet

Before I sue




The All India Mothers’ Association,

I love you!

Pic courtesy – Think Stock


My red ballerinas!

Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas                                                                red ballerinas
Those unanswered texts,
Those hate letters,
A populace that envied
That pun that insulted
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas
My kohl laden eyes that hide some treasure
My gloss that musters sheer grit
My locks that may cause mayhem
A reflection of compassion
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas
My torn dignity that mends each day
My mammoth roar is the ray
I am shaping up
I am building up my own way
Whatever it be, I will look at my red ballerinas!

Pic courtesy – Internet


Daddy…. father daughter

Of all the rides with you, the pillion beckons me the most

There can never be another ride like that

Sitting behind and feeling merry and lost


Holding on to your thin arm

While I crossed the road

Equaled millions of muscles and the tusks


I have grown up in ages

I have grown up breaking the cages

Nothing like those homely Sundays

Nothing like the siestas behind the rays


Even if I am a grown up woman now

That is the just the way the world sees me

I am your little girl

That little girl,


There are those boys

Out there daddy,

Those dates and those funs

The boys run for the outer glory

Chase for skin and chase for flesh

Love, a beset in disguise

They loved, hurt and hated

They are just boys daddy,

Just boys

Nothing like you daddy

Nothing like you!


Can I grow a child again?

Again shall I play with thee

Again shall I be gay

I will be in my frock

I will hold thy hand

I will turn the pages

And you shall read me


Pic courtesy – Pinterest

A Samosa!

Eons of glories have come and gone                                                                                   samosa

What stays on

A Samosa

Debates on the republic

Its affairs and its gimmicks

Along with tea

Remains with you

A Samosa!

Those sunsets

Amidst a family chat, a gossip battalion

Near the station

Dipping in spicy chutney

Remains in my plate

A Samosa!

Music beyond words,

The college mess

The friends and their mates

Somewhere love brewing in a nest

With the mates and the zest

Remains with us

A Samosa!

I laugh and I sneeze

I eat while I beset

I eat with the inhabitants

A Samosa!


Samosa – It is an Indian snack made from mashed potatoes or any other fillings usually in a triangular shape.

Picture courtesy – Internet (Potato and Peas)

My glossy lips

A goblet of wine by my sideGlossy lips
A loaf of sweet bread on the other
My lips all that glossy
Coco Chanel Coco Chanel, do you hear me?
I love thee Oh! mirror
My love for moi
Coco Chanel Coco Chanel, do you hear me?
There is glee in my eyes
There is gloss on my lips
Come Oh! Glitterati
Let me win you!
Coco Chanel Coco Chanel, do you hear me?
I look my pretty in my frock
In my shoes
I shine, I am mine
I am having the time of my life
Coco Chanel Coco Chanel, do you hear me?

Pic courtesy – Pinterest

Amar sheyi shonar shongshar

Shawpno te ache ekti bari

Amar shonar shongshar

Jalnar dhare thakbe ek gamla

Tapur tupur brishti porbe,

Dekbo brishti mile amra

Thakbe shundor bichana

Thakbe ekti pakhi

Aar thakbe ekti notoraj

Rod uthbe chaari dike

Amra thakbo shakhi

Shawpno te ache ekti bari

Amar shonar shongshar

Mejhe te debo aami alpona

Gore uthbe amar moner kolpona

Shukhe dukhe thakbo mile

Srote bhaashbe bhalobasha

Bashbe tumi

Bashbo ami

Ei niye amader khelaghor

Thakurer name sheyi bhor

Thakure name sheyi raat

Shawpno te ache ekti bari

Amar shonar shongshar

That pause for a second or two

Somewhere in the middle of cursing Mondays                                                                      coffee and the girl

And beating the blues

In one of those cubicles in a corporate

While fiddling with the files in the laptop

Sipping through her hot coffee

Adjusting her spectacles

She pauses for a second or two,

Reveries for a gateway to the beach

In her shorts, in a Tee

Her hair waving high and low

While the sun sets in front

She gazes mesmerized

She overlooks the street Romeos with a blunt

While kids play around,

She sniffs food that surround

There lay a book in her hands

A diary and pen near

Came a knock sudden, just sudden,

“Debashri, are you done?”

Picture courtesy – Internet


Welcome to my world                                                                    universe

That world where I am born everyday

And die everyday

I die under the debts

The debts where I owe money

To live, to breath in this universe

To survive, to die again!

Krishna ni Begane Baro!

This is my Samsara where I am hated

Where I am loved

I am begrudged

You don’t die a day

You die everyday

Under the debts, under the lies

Under the pain, under the grief

Under the beset of hunger and sleaze

Come Krishna come, quickly!

Krishna ni Begane Baro!

Picture courtesy – Internet

That those

Those moments of sheer helplessness
Those moments when your will power is about to break,
That when you need a hand
That when your heart aches
Mind wonders….
Wonders to different ways
That when hope falls flat
Then when rain falls short
When sunlight is weaker then a poor man’s spine
Melancholy is when my environment is
When life is too gloomy to cheer

That, those…..

That lonely station

The train has come to a halt lonely station

A fully loaded train it is.

The station is isolated

Numbness all around,

People are schmoozing loud

My coach persists pungent smell

Political talks, a bibliophile in another nook

And a music aficionado sits across

A few good men get down to get some water

While some to get the fresh air

In the middle of all this

I gaze at the panoramic view outside

Where the sun is beaming high,

I hear birds chirp

I hear them sing while sitting on the wires

There goes that line of ants in a perfect symmetry

They are doing their rounds of carrying food

How hushed they remain yet they walk

Far across the station,

On the last bench

Sits an old monk

Clad in saffron cloth

Gazing at the lush green meadows

I look at them too

The train gives a whistle

It’s time

It’s time to move

Let the lonely station remain like that

Let the chaotic train pass by

Let the station remain

Remain hushed

Wholly hushed!

Picture courtesy – Internet