tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-192966392011-07-07T18:53:06.472-07:00jharai nayana dau.. anukhana jhar jhar..Tanianoreply@blogger.comBlogger151100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-51341011267330332072010-08-11T08:55:00.000-07:002010-08-11T08:56:22.860-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EPurUtkYzvc/TGLIEgWY-oI/AAAAAAAABck/dOIX4KfjmUk/s1600/House+Guests+Are+Awesome...jpeg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_EPurUtkYzvc/TGLIEgWY-oI/AAAAAAAABck/dOIX4KfjmUk/s400/House+Guests+Are+Awesome...jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504181674329045634" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-5134101126733033207?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156436040866814932006-08-24T09:10:00.000-07:002006-08-24T09:14:00.866-07:00<p><br />The rebel lived dammed..<br />along the sides of the dockyard and shipcutters allies.<br />he mourned his awakening into life and the knowledge..<br />he mourned the knowledge the most.<br />his senses were painful..<br />chop chop chop<br />each vessel of the blue waters<br />ripped up in timbers..<br />split up to the keel...<br />her gut wide open..<br />he sensed the treasures..<br />his god dammed senses..<br />he trode along the pink moonlight..<br />along the dieing backwaters..<br />rotting storehouses..<br />into the beauticians shop..<br />he sensed bad perfume..<br />The rebel hated the knowledge of things..<br />things that were his .. and things that were not anybody's<br />his breath talked to the splinters of the ships body<br />smoothened them.. filed their rough edges..<br />yet he lived a dammed life..<br />he knew about most things now..<br />and he knew about all things after...<br />he knew the old waterways of affluence..<br />he knew the sky roads of beyond...<br />His eyes were imprints of everything his mind has seen..<br />His eyes were dammed..<br />He lived along the old river..<br />and he lived to know more and suffer..<br />The rebel was thus dammed..<br />The rebel..<br />don't ask.. don't ever ask him anything..<br />Jan 2006</p><p><em>I think I wrote it when I was trying to get over my bastard. And I used to hang out a lot with Ram. And he inspired a story in me. This is a prelude for the story that later became the treatment for the movie I'm yet to make.. Working title - " The Monk"</em> .</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643604086681493?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156435729111065022006-08-24T09:06:00.000-07:002006-08-24T09:08:49.113-07:00Just about nowhere is left to the path to his house..<br />and carnations don't do any justice to it..<br />as always there are doubts to his love for yellow and red flowers..<br />and the rain has ceased to excite us..<br />its late afternoon and its cold out there..<br />the road to the lake is all dry grass..<br />and the city seems to just wake up now...<br />just about nowhere is where I'm standing...<br />Its still cold out here...<br /><br />December 20th, 2005<br /><br /><em>Written for a friend.. who I had started to love at that time. And he's never read this.. My bastard.</em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643572911106502?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156435082035292352006-08-24T08:56:00.000-07:002006-08-24T08:58:02.036-07:00<p>borsha megh kuasha ghera upottaka<br />sobuj, aar sobujer jato rokompher hoy.........<br />khin pahari nodi jharna hoe name..<br />bheja..bheja.........bhison bheja mon.<br />abcha poth..,akash pother dhare...<br />esob deshe rongila phul manay na...<br />brishticlanto ghashe, mathar pashe....<br />achena ghashphul.<br />anek pahar...ilsheguri brishti chador jorano......<br />jongule gach... jongla nibir mon...</p><p>july 2003</p><p><em>After my 1st trip to Khandala.. with Dad... Drove there.. Loved it..</em> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643508203529235?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156434911267828992006-08-24T08:53:00.000-07:002006-08-24T09:04:42.456-07:00<p>baki kaaj ,one fine day eshe dhakka debe mathay.......<br />totdin nahoy aei tuku niye baysto achi..<br />taai thaklei ba kon boshonter asha atkabe bolo..<br />in fact , kaak'o dakbe roj shokalbela...<br />achha kaak bolte mone porlo..<br />obarite aajke khub ekposhla brishti hoyeche..<br />kintu.....<br />duto kaak chara keu bhijte beroyni...<br />ki dukhher kotha bolo dekhi.... </p><p>August 09, 2004</p><p><em>No idea.. I have no idea why I wrote this. Here is another I wrote on the same day.. It was a very strange day I guess.. </em></p><p>onek shopno dekhi...<br />dine..bikele...shokalbela...<br />kintu raat'ta bhebe katiye di...<br />koekta holud baganbilash...<br />e naame ekta eto sorol ful'ke dakata churanto aatlami<br />jai hok<br />holud aar golapi<br />aar amar mathar bhetor..<br />prithibi-brismrito hoyeche,<br />emon ekta shomoyer rajnoitik,orthonoitik o neo-dhormio kichu<br />jilipi aar sutli-jot..<br />amar onek chinta bere gelo..<br />mohin bolechilo....<br />ekta gaane..<br />runway jure pore ache sudhu shunnota....<br />achha mohin ki eboi porechilo....<br />charon jodi shotti dekhe thake shunno shobhhotar uddyan...<br />charon ki bhashay gaito shediner pothe... emon chobite kishori manay bhalo.<br />kishori ki shotti shedin, kichu sukh kichu dukhhe chul elomelo korechilo....<br />amar chinta onek bere gelo<br />akasher jokhon gham diye jor naame...<br />shedin keu chilo taake jol mishti debar jonno...<br />achha ekdin she bhoy'o pete pare akash'ke..<br />khola math'ke bhoy....dhu dhu prantorke<br />charon bhebeche onek kichhu shedin....<br />amay tar kichu chinta diye gelo...<br />amar chinta bere gelo.</p><p>August 09, 2004</p><p><em>Inspired by Shongbighno Pakhikul - Mohiner Ghoraguli.. and Issac Asimov's Foundation series . Random mix? I know..</em> </p><p> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643491126782899?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156434711529779222006-08-24T08:42:00.000-07:002006-08-24T08:51:51.530-07:00I looked at his face.. while he slept..<br />tensed angles of his jaws were relaxed for a change..<br />his lips pouted a little.. just a little..<br />and trembled now and then...<br />his hair had fallen off their neat set up..<br />and a few brushed the middle of his brows..<br />his eyebrows twitched in his sleep..<br />just a few times..<br />but he looked peaceful for a change..<br />a little cold wind brushed his nose..<br />and he curled up tighter against the seat..<br />pulling his coat in.. searching for warmth..<br />My dear Lord... was this a test..?<br />how I had stopped myself.. only I knew..<br />I traced his temples..the small lines on his brow..<br />his closed eyelids.. his lashes..<br />his cold nose..<br />and his little gasps of warm breath escaping them...<br />his little pout.. the tiny dip in his chin..<br />nuzzled his neck.. with my eyes..<br />I dared not touch him..<br />for he would wake up..<br />and torture me with his cold silence..<br />he was quite in his sleep..<br />but he was not silent..<br />his breath kept me company..<br />I could gaze and gaze and he'd never know..<br />I could imagine his dreams for him..<br />and search for meanings of his lips trembling..<br />he'd never know..<br />I could breathe in his musk..<br />inhale as much as I want...<br />and he'd never know...<br />So I dared not touch him..<br />I dared not break his sweet rest...<br />I adored him in secret..<br />and in secret shall it stay..<br /><br />1/2/2006 Bombay.<p></p><p><em>Written on a New Years Day!! I was entangled in an intense infatuation towards my then best buddy. I honestly don't know how he felt. He later said that he was babysitting me. I call him my Bastard. </em></p><p><em>All that is real. That really happened. In a three wheeler. On the way to a New Years Bash that went very bad later. Due to bad alcohol , bad music, and jealousy.</em></p><p><em></em> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643471152977922?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156434027906687642006-08-24T08:25:00.000-07:002006-08-24T08:40:27.923-07:00tumi chokh tule takiechile<br />pratham aaguner opar hote,<br />bohukaal aager eek akasher tolay,<br />dekhechile, pratham amake........<br />amar pratham manabi sarir...<br />tarpor, futie tulechile pathure deyale...<br />chaya chaya eek, manush meye ke<br />aar futiechile....prathambar...ajana akankha.......<br />pray nirbodh moner eek... nirjan prante//<br /><br />tarpor kono eek khorosrotar tire....<br />beej bunchile tumi...<br />chokh tule takiechile........<br />prathambarer ekrash sonali dhaner pechon theke,<br />dekhechile amay,<br />saddasnata ami,prathamdiner matir kalashe.....<br />jaal tulchilam<br />aar holona tomar beej bona....<br />naram urbar mati ,<br />ektal tule nie,<br />shrishti korechile......<br />ashpashta amar akriti<br />aar shrishti korechile jhar....<br />jaa sedin seei nadir opor boechilo<br /><br />bideshe apahritaek kritadashi.............<br />ami sura patra haate...<br />eshe dariechi ek notun raajdarbare<br />tumi takiechile<br />prathamkaaler akshare lekha,<br />ek rol papyrus er opor die...............<br />rajprashasti lekhar kotha,<br />bhule likhe felle...<br />ek sundarir bhalobasar .......<br />pratham kabbya kahini<br />aar lekha hoe gelo ....<br />sura bahikar mone ....<br />eek asambhaber nesha.........<br /><br />ashtra garar pathare <br />manush meye enkechile<br />jate beej bunte hobe <br />manabi murti gorechile<br />raajprashati lekha bhule <br />kabbya kahini likhechile<br /><br />aajke philosophy lecturer sesh benche boshe...<br />noter khatay amar sketch koro...<br />hoyto kobitao lekho<br />sei chokh tule dekho amay...<br />kather bencher opash theke...<br />pratham aaguner pare <br />korechile jor kore adhikar<br />srotoshwinir tire jharer rater ....<br />pratham abhishar<br />bideshinir moner kheya <br />payni kono paar.<br />tobe aajke keno samne eshe bolte paro na..... <br /><br />"tomay chini..... <br />tumi amar..<br />anek diner chena..." <br /><br />18/july/200? (2? 1?) (kolkata)<br />( has been revised every time it has been read:P)<br /><br /><em>This is the oldest writing I consider Poetry.. I was barely 15 when I wrote this.. the ones older than this were just games in rhythm.. and simple songs.. I chucked rhyme for the 1st time with this one.. I can still rhyme well.. But I don’t do it if it doesn’t come naturally to the poem.. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>And I wrote it for Irrfan.. and he never came.. I'm gald.. </em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643402790668764?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1156433030983316062006-08-24T08:10:00.000-07:002006-08-24T08:23:51.016-07:00<em>My one beloved told me a long time ago that she collected the pages I tore off and threw away.. </em><br /><em>I asked why would she collect my rejected lines.. She said that one day I might not write anymore.. and these will be of immense value.. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>This a an attempt to collect all my poetry. Most are in my hard drive and some are in old notebooks.. Most are very personal.. and all have appeared somewhere else before.. </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>I'll try to add a history and geography of each poem.. if I remember why, where and when I wrote them.. I don't remember much.. So this is an attempt to write them down before I forget the little I recollect. . </em><br /><em></em><br /><em>here's one..</em> <br /><br />ami anek durer theke tomay nisthobdo pakhimone dekhechi.<br />borshaklanto nihshaschara matir moton.<br />je nihshaase mishe thake...<br />ghasful,pipre,aar foringer nishchupkotha.<br />borshaklanti asheneme ashe tomar sorire.<br />17 august 2003<br /><br /><em>and another on the same lines..</em><br /><br />prati raat naksatrer,prati raat kobitar hobe...<br />besh koekbar kanna,besh koek bar shirsha sukh/<br />ek fota nistabdata tomake chenabe.....tomar mukh.<br />tumi ek fota surela ratrir moton/<br />megh pahar, megh, megher sabda akashe/<br />serokom aalo aar gaan/<br />gaan othe anek gabhire,anek gabhire magnatay nirlipta she gaan.<br /><br />August 2003<br /><br /><em>Now.. these were written for a asshole I have worked hard to forget. But they're poems never the less.. I wrote at lightning speed at that time.. mostly extempore.. over IM Chat.. and I dont like them too much now.. </em><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-115643303098331606?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1136471925941563032006-01-05T06:34:00.000-08:002006-01-05T06:38:45.943-08:00<em>these are my most often repeated lines when I used to write poetry.. they are some what random.. I never could fit them into any poem in particular.. they were just stand alone lines.. didn't mean to mean anything.. just a feeling.. just a summary of my 1st secret rendezvous with him..</em><br /><br />Boshonte hotat brishti<br />bheja krishnochura..<br />amra shedin<br />lal polash'er para<br />ghurte gechilam..<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113647192594156303?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1136470935288053982006-01-05T06:16:00.000-08:002006-01-05T06:22:15.290-08:00Shedin nihhsheshe bhalobeshechi<br />Shedin, kalke ki hobe bhabini...<br />Shedin shojore thot'e thot boshiyechi tomar<br />Shedin bishwas korechi, daakle brishti ashbe<br />Shedin tomar obodhho kothagulo kaane mishti legeche..<br />Shedin shorir mon tuchho korar shahosh chilo..<br />Shedin.. bhashte chaini.. dubte raji chilam..<br />Shedin aar shobkichuke kachkola dekhiyechi<br />Shedin khide payni.. ghum bhulechilam..<br />Shedin bhije bhije kaday nechechi..<br />Shedin tomay bhalobeshechi.<br />Sheishob borshagulo... aei koekdin aager kotha..<br /><br />00.00 pm<br />1/1/2005<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113647093528805398?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1136470584059364272006-01-05T06:10:00.000-08:002006-01-05T06:16:24.076-08:00Shei shob borshagulo<br />jar ashay kete geche onek kalo akash,<br />kalo akash sudhu..<br /><br />aajke onekdin por..<br />brishti elo..<br />tobu sheishob borshagulo onnorokom chilo..<br />pen'er kali, khatar pata..<br />shob'ee shesher dike..<br />kintu aei sheshei hotat lekhar khub tara..<br /><br />brishti porche krishnokanto<br />onek kichui dhuye muche jachhe<br />aar kota din opekhha koro..<br />plabon elo bole..<br /><br />11.55 pm<br />31/12/2004<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113647058405936427?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1133166796619604772005-11-28T00:33:00.000-08:002005-11-28T00:33:16.620-08:00egaro tarikh june mashe..<br />brishti ashe...<br />brishti ashe...<br />aaj rastay, elo melo hote hote<br />choshmay jol elo<br />kancher opare... aar epareo...<br />chite fota kada..<br />ektu gaan...<br />aar bhir lal bus'ta ke "kaatle" bole<br />bhije bhije hata..<br />aajke chowpatti'te keu nei..<br />boddo beshi dheu..aar haoya<br />bali ure choshmay, ..jhapsha..<br />ekta neel plastik, ekta mora aar koekta saucepan..<br />chup chap bhije jachhe.....plastic ta urche bhuture..<br />ekta cutting hole besh....dhut! chawala gulo'o paliyeche..<br />amar already teenbar haancha hoye geche.<br />banglay gal dilam ekta auto'ke...<br />tobe chetano kada'ta besh laglo...rang de...<br />office'e jete hobe...hanchi pachhe....na geleo hoy..<br />boddo lazy'mi te peyeche amay...<br />logic, economics emonki history class'tao aajke bunk.<br />faki dichhi aajke shobkichu..<br />ashole, onekdin por kanna pelo...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113316679661960477?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1133166754532670772005-11-28T00:30:00.000-08:002005-11-28T00:32:34.543-08:00kono gohon raate<br />ekla boshe<br />bhebechi ghorchara hobo<br />palie jabo<br />gaan sonabo<br />duniyake<br />kono gohon raate<br /><br />bijon belay<br />keu dekeche<br />barer taane<br />keu teneche<br />ami chokh buje kaan bujechi haay<br />sunini taar mohon bashi<br />amay bijon belay<br />keu dekeche<br />mohon bashi mohon bashi<br /><br />ami ekla achi<br />tarar raate<br />amar gaan bandha gaan saadha phuroy<br />keu sone na<br />prohor kaate<br />bendhechi gaan jar surete<br />she palie geche surti nie<br />taar bashite taar bashite<br /><br />ami ghor palabo<br />ekla hobo<br />tobe jodi dai she dhora<br />jaar pothete poth harabo<br />tar pother hodish srishti chara<br /><br />ami chole jabo<br />sokol chere<br />tar piche piche<br />ekla pothe<br />she dakbe amay<br />abar kono<br />gohon raate<br />bijon belay<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113316675453267077?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1132906491796977632005-11-25T00:13:00.000-08:002005-11-25T00:14:51.796-08:00all the angst that can come out of a guitar.<br />where else can love be so bold than in a song.<br />rough old voice of trees in their broodings.<br />its just nowhere else but here that songs grow wild.<br />and musings of old drums and lullabies.<br />its a strong melody by the fire,<br />one made of love.<br />and where love so bold but in a wild old song.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113290649179697763?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19296639.post-1132906389127086102005-11-25T00:09:00.000-08:002005-11-25T00:13:09.140-08:00<div align="left">Was it some time ago?or long?</div><div align="left">under the same sky..</div><div align="left">in that very field of autum straws and grass..</div><div align="left">the nightbirds hunt..haunt..and linger</div><div align="left">under the same sky..</div><div align="left">and starlight</div><div align="left">the galaxy revealed..</div><div align="left">a " highway full of diamonds" Bob Dylan wrote</div><div align="left">he didn't mean the galaxy's arm as seen from the earth..</div><div align="left">but it looked like a highway full of diamonds to me...</div><div align="left">that night,</div><div align="left">or was it much further in the past?</div><div align="left">i dont remember soaking starlight with you before...</div><div align="left">not till today.</div><div align="left">but under the same skynot long ago, </div><div align="left">or a thousand years from now...</div><div align="left">or,</div><div align="left">some where in the fields of Sumer,</div><div align="left">ive met you..</div><div align="left">under the same sky..</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/19296639-113290638912708610?l=jhoroi.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Tanianoreply@blogger.com0