সপোনত চৰি ফুৰা সাৰংগজাক উদ্ধাস্তু হ’ল ভাওঁনা আৰম্ভ নহওঁতেই হাতত সাৰে ভৰিত সাৰে সূত্ৰধাৰে কাণৰ কাষত দি গ’ল বোধন মন্ত্ৰ তাৰ পিছত কোমল ৰ’দজাকে ক’লে সন্ধিয়াৰ বন্তিগছিয়ে ক’লে মূক কবিৰ ক্ৰন্দনেও ক’লে এনুৱা সোঁতত নৈয়েও মূৰে-ভৰি কাঢ়ে বুকুত পাখী গজিলে হেনো বান আহে কিমানৰ বুকুতে যে পাখী গজে নাৱৰীয়াৰ তলি উদং নাৱে কৰে তুলুং-ভুটুং পৰ্বতৰ…
Author: Rituparna
hope Beckett is not turning in his grave!
The term ‘research’ being in itself so momentous, a research journal supposedly should be filled with scholarly ramblings or field observations. My journal, however, also contains a section on memories. While memories are necessarily selective and private, we are not unknown to their pleasures when shared… So here’s a glimpse of a memory from my…
under a frozen sun
People say times have changed. I still see toads lying flat on the roads in the monsoons. Their joyous leaps put to an end maybe by some breakneck conveyance, before they could reach their sanctuaries safely. Rains still come down to these sanctuaries like ever: demented! Thousands of invisible light-footed spiders gambol on the buoyant…
नारी
सदा एक काया मात्र । तुफानी बादलो को बाहो में समेटे बंदर को तकती बिस्मित अस्थिर । असहाय प्रकृती की चीरंतन चींख जैसे अपने लहू में लिये चलती, सम्भलति- सम्भालती थक जाती । क्षणिक स्त्ता से परिचित । गलते लोहे की बूंद में तैरती एक तरनी ओस की पहली अंकुरित पंखुरि में दिया जलाये…
Estranged
These days walls melt in darkness and the woods seek refuge beneath earth. Young bees wander; asunder.
for a drop of ether
Take me to your pond, I am no sunflower. darkening skies mean no twilight but they may remain for a while and I won’t thrive. You in search of your pond did you find it? The beggars come along like you asking for my favour. But I am a wilting flower ! …
Questioning Shadows. Murmuring Prayers.
vanity. the thought that knocked every time. romance seldom held the dock. childhood scurried past with morsels of self-consciousness biting from the future. and the future? a dark mass of self-doubt squirming into a mudstone rolling and rolling across the years, mustering fears turning vain. vanity. suffering. the feeling always left behind. incessant rains,…
Solus
I have come to this path; on Your released tresses I walk Bearing a cross in my heart My scents disappear Once more I live For you. For you I would walk on this Path. Tales harden me Not; nor waters soften Me. Let me see to your pains Through a mirror no more mine.
dawns which never arrive
One night I left the jar; the one with a miasma from mold growth, besides the wash basin for the next dawn to arrive when I would have definitely washed it. The dawn never arrived and I didn’t wash it. Someone did after four and half months. Maybe my mother on one of her visits…
উচৰ্গা: An ode to beauty
আমি ক’ত আছিলোঁ থকা নথকাৰ নীৰৱ সন্মোহনত আমি নাছিলোঁ ক্ৰমে উজ্বল হৈ উঠা আকাশৰ প্ৰথম তৰাটো মই দেখিলো ধুই দিয়া সাজযোৰ সামৰাৰ দৰে বিয়লিপৰত আমাকো সামৰি আনি সযতনে দিনটো নৈ খনৰ বুকুত সোমাই পৰা দেখিলো কাক উচৰ্গা কৰিছিলোঁ কালৈ বা উত্সৰ্গিত হৈছিলোঁ অন্তহীন সৃষ্টিৰ শ্বাশ্বত গৰ্ভজাত আৰু এটা দিনলে বিদায় জনাইছিলোঁ এক সুদূৰৰ…
Allegory of the Window
Through the glass, dimly, they appeared like a repeated motion film… The bitch gave birth to four puppies. Gender unknown; they all looked alike, except for a swop of brown, black and waxen shades and some flesh between the four. The dog who fathered them stayed closer and played with them. On some early mornings,…
Waterfalls as potential alternative sources for hydro-electricity in Northeast India
It was during my college trip to Mawlynnong, a village at the Indo-Bangladesh border when I was exposed to the magnificence of another natural resource of Northeast India, besides the mighty Brahmaputra River, its tributaries, tropical forests, fossil fuel reserves and tea gardens. And these were the waterfalls. Even if I had my share of admiring the…
Casually Classical 