Truly Saptarshi

গন্ডি দিয়েই রুখবে সমাজ যতই তুমি উড়তে চাও। গন্ডি দিয়েই ফন্দি গেড়ে, রাখবে তোমায় বদ্ধ করে। সবার থেকে আলাদা হবে? ভেবোনা তুমি যেন, এই ভেড়ার পালের সাথেই কাঁধ মিলিয়ে চলো। তবে কি সব অন্ধকার? একদমই তা নয়। কণ্ঠে যদি ফুলকি ওঠে, মনে ওঠে ঝড় তুমিই পারবে ভাঙতে শৃঙ্খল আর রুখতে সব বর্বর। গন্ডি তোমার সমাজ নয়, তুমি করবে ঠিক। তাতে যদি সমাজ রোখে, ভয় পেওনা, দাঁড়াও আবার। ঠিক - ভুলের ফারাক বোঝে, এমন মানুষ খুবই কম, গন্ডি কাটার খেলা খেলে, ওটাই ওদের মুষ্টিদম। মরণ তো হবার হবে, গন্ডি দিয়ে নাই বা হল। বাজে কথায় কান না দিয়ে, খারাপ ভালো বুঝতে শেখো। সঠিকটা কে বেছে নিয়ে, নিজের গন্ডি নিজেই আঁকো।

স্মৃতি পটে  যত  আলো  আঁধারের  সমাবেশ  তা  নিয়েই  জীবনের  পথ  চলতে  লাগে  বেশ।  জীবনের  এই  সমুদ্র  তটে - ঝিনুকের  মত  কত  স্মৃতি  ছড়িয়ে  থাকে।  কোনটাকে  কাল  সমুদ্র  ধুয়ে নিয়ে চলে গেলেও, আবার কেমন যেন ফিরে ফিরে আসে।  কোনো  এক নির্জন বিকেলে, জানালার পাশে একলা বসে- ছুটিয়ে নিয়ে যাই আমার ভাবনার কালো ঘোড়াকে, কত স্মৃতির  দেশ ঘুরে আসি এক ছুট্টে।  এত স্মৃতির  ভিড়ে যেন হারাতেই চায় মন, চায় ওই স্মৃতি  টুকুই  আঁকড়ে  বেঁচে  থাকতে।  তাই  স্মৃতি  টুকুই  থাক। 

The drug for life the exercise for minds, a relief of pains and medicine of illness. For some a luxury Rest take it for granted. The eyes come closing The book falls off your hands The phone keeps ringing And the world comes to a standstill. When everything is clear, and the eyes are dreaming No fear no care Whatever is coming! The whole day’s tiring errands halt And the world goes off to sleep Its always something on other side with new highs and deeps. Some rise, others wake up... With the minds swept clean and the heart pumped up Its again the new day's sheen And we will not stop.

Not a day can define the spirit of Womanhood for sure ...... every day is yours women ..... This is a salute to all the wonderful women of this World . Its such a great thing that we celebrate and dedicate this day to womanhood . I am writing poem after almost a year and am feeling very nice that am writing for Women's Day ... Women .... we admire  Women .... we love Women .... we worship  And women we fear Women were made with utter care They may seem soft and delicate But strength is all that builds them from inside They love with all they have  And , expects the same when she is sad When we think that God does not exist Go to your mother and see into her eyes You will know what God really is How long will Women be glorified in writings ? Are they not worth anything more ? In what society do we live ? Where mother is raped and beaten up .... and no one is there to help her No one is there to stand by her  ...

Its a tribute to a very special age, an age when we seem adult but we are not. We are always in a dilemma and in a hurry to grow up. Some of the things are common in many age groups but i find seventeen particularly very interesting so i chose it to write down a poem. I wrote it when i was seventeen so i have used 'we' time and again. An age to be cherished, an age to be nourished. Those who waste it surely gets punished. Full of energy, full of joy. We are always too active and most of the time- upto some mischief. An age when we- can never be a sage. Within an year we- will be out of our cage. Life is a stage. And we give our best, at this age. We are neither adult nor child. But thats something we don't mind. We think that- We are the ultimate being and we know everything. We question as such we know too much. A phase of life, where we taste every spice. From love to hate. From good to bad. Some make us happy, some sad. Some eve...

A room for friendship, A room for love, A room for for hatred And also at times a room for studies! The benches and walls are the most tortured, They remain witnessed to everything- The phone number in the last bench, which is still waiting for a caller- The proposal which is still waiting for an approval! The young poet's two lines, Are still waiting for a line of apprecition... All th equotes of paints could never hide them, They seem to come alive from time to time  The low cellphone network often forms a barrier, fo rthe newly met lovebirds The endless gossip, topics just seem like dropping from nowhere But everyone has something to say, no one is ready to listen The boring classes never seem to end.. the creaking fan never seems to stop either! With all these in heart we love that classroom.