" hows your poetry coming along..somebody asked ... "

so i replied:

poetry is a nice fancy

once upon a time by chancy

she gave way to nancy

to make poetry necromancy...

- amen..

Of mp3s, emails and old friends

Of Mp3, emails and old friends

---

I was in some confusion

whether to write about this

in bangla, my mother tongue,

or to stick to the language of business

english..let it be..

I let it be..

business ruled..and

so did history as on that fine evening..

i dug up my emails from yore..

And suddenly remembered

all of your faces..

old friends

to whom i had sent all

my choicest songs

perhaps irking you with my

own choices,

irreverent to whether you

liked them or not.

Today on a fine evening

after a sunny day

that decided to end without a whimper

or a roar

those mails, mp3s and all of you

touch me painfully

somewhere in my soul

tears roll down my eyes

for all the days gone by

and some of those mp3s

keep playing in the background

a harmless poem

sums it all

an obituary for that decade,

filled with you all my friends, emails and the mp3s..

I am still alive..

only just..

still tinkering with the words..

remembering not only you

but even myself which once comprised

of emails, mp3s and you all, all my friends..

Of my problem and a few lines..

My problem

--

My problem is

that this time around

when i was back home

i saw an ugly me,

having grown up

and with lost faith

drifting and trying

desperately to regain one's senses..

The smells,

the taste,

the sweat,

the sounds

and the sights..

not to forget the tears..

But the more i tried,

the more they seemed to elude me..

worryingly, i was unperturbed

as if each hour,

each day spent,

was just a budgeted one to go by,

and i knew i would be back

to my own unreal mess soon..

On other times

x or y or z happens on the way back

or on the way to home..

invigorating me

about home, my country, and old close faces..

this time though,

nothing substantial happened,

except meeting an old man

with grim stories of living a life

and fulfilling one's duties..

or maybe i have lost my senses to feel..

Why was the story like that?

I wonder, i scrounge for solutions..

i fail ..and despite the sleep..

i try these lines..

No longer worried,

if i have changed,

or others have,

or if i have grown old,

or others have,

just plain simple asking

whats going on,

Do you know?

---