WRONG FOOTED

You hanker many false and superficial things,
Syrupy words of appreciations and fictitious smiles.
You sway away by fabricated-cupboard-love,
Of shrewd word-artists and dirty women-pursuers.
Do you like people who carefully ornament their tongue,
But never bother to decorate their spirit?
Who shelter under sugary and appeasing words?
They who have some expectations from you or want to use you.
Will you like to be a puppet to such malicious so-called friends?
Not a person as my Pooja's stature should be unwise about it.

A person shouting "I love you" hundred times daily,
Not necessarily adores you, because it can also be done silently.
A food that tastes well does not suit health well,
On the other hand, that which suits health, not essentially tastes well.

You are simple, ingenue and broad-minded about all and sundry,
And I fear you see them all with the same glass that you wear.
The world around you are not as beautiful as you are,
They will not hesitate to hurt you, when you clog their selfish intentions.
Beware of them, they are like a pot of poison,
A tasty and attractive layer of nectar on the surface.

Falsehood delivers hypocrisy and circumvention,
And would land you in discomfort and tension.
It is the job of your true friend Pradipta to show you the mirror,
In which the truth reflects and the falsehood vanishes.
 Lastly I should say, she can be awaken who is in deep sleep,
But not her who is not sleeping  but does not wish to open her eyes.
Either you open your eyes and see the truth yourself,
Or stay in the alluring companion, the preference is yours.
   

HARSH BUT TRUE

Pooja saw thorns in my frank and courteous words,
But failed to spot the beautiful rose of an honest intention behind them.
My words caused you discomfort, stung your soul,
While they were intended to keep your eyes focused on your goal.
In love the choice of words really does not matter,
What matter most are principles, intentions and approaches.
Not necessarily love bears sweet words,
Essentially it rides truthful and honest steps.
Appreciations may not come from a loving tongue,
Generosity proclaims the sweetness of a loving heart.
Pradipta adores you, your eminence but does not think it just to hide,
Behind fabricated lip-deep sweet-speeches to have an access into your heart.
I can not present sugarcoated poison in friendship and love,
Rather I would gift bitter-tasting amity-health-friendly pills.
The world in which we live today, love means to get something,
But in my dictionary love means giving away everything.
I came to the earth with a naked and blank soul,
I will live like that frank and blank throughout my life.
I am not among them who do not hesitate to move around with a nude body,
But stay busy covering their inner self, intentions and motives.
I lived  truthful and will die with it one day,
I am straightforward and this is my unchangeable way.
I would never prefer a hypocritical and meandering way,
No matter whether you hold my hand or throw it away.
Call it arrogance of a macho-male; be with me or be not,
The choice is yours, the ball is in your court.

ANGER

You became angry and went away,
Nothing absurd or unnatural in it,
I am not irritated or worried about it,
After all we are all human beings,
How can we rule ourselves out
Of this strong feelings of grievance and concern ? 

I know I can't hurt Pooja deliberately or knowingly,
But maybe I am erroneous somewhere,
Or maybe something is lacking in my love.
You might be expecting your best man in me,
And maybe you visualized some shortcomings in Pradipta.
You might have felt compelled by the internal force,
Of your heart and obsession to move on a particular direction,
And your conscience and wisdom might have revolted against it !
Maybe my straightforward words pinched your heart to bleed ?
Whatsoever is the cause, I know you can not be wrong.

We scold our children because we expect the best out of them,
Does that mean we do not love them ?
Or does that mean they should flee from their home ?
Can you flee from me any day ? I can't.

I know my heart is your home and it will welcome you,
Whenever you will wish to come in.
Our love for each other is a self imposed life-imprisonment,
In the castles of our hearts, 
That we have gladly embraced with mutual consent.
I trusted you and your tremendous love for me,
Hence I know you will be with me sooner or latter.

I know the day the cloud of misconception of my words,
Or misunderstanding in your mind would be absquatulated,
The day you realize the depth of my love for you,
Yours for me, you will be back in my lap,
With more love, better perception about friendship,
To go further and grow further, together, forever. 

THE FIGHT

    You regard it a fight but I think it to be my responsibility,
    To provide the proper feedback, show you the staircase,
Upon which you should proceed each day slowly but definitely,
        Towards your goal, a glorious future, the one that,
               You most deserve and I most desired.

                  When Pooja knocks a wrong door,
               Misguided by enticements and simpers,
                  Of false, fake and egoistic friends,
Pradipta serves the truth to warn her against their siren calls.
      "Do not go with the words, neither their nor mine,
      Watch out the deeds, mine ones and theirs too."

You are here to serve your interest, ensure your future,
  Fight your own battle out single handedly, gallantly,
  I am here only to show you the things you overlook,
Or fail to notice the truth and hidden agenda behind them,
   Because I am, you know, your selfless well-wisher,
And I wish nothing more than your smile, your success.

       A difference in outlooks, opinions and thoughts,
Should never be regarded as a gap between the hearts,
              And if you still consider it as a fight,
        Then Oh! ruler of my heart, the teen queen,
     I will continue to fight and would never give up,
  For I can afford to lose you, but can't afford your loss,
          As I know, if you win it will be my victory,
               And if you lose I will be the loser.

A GIFT

I adore you beyond the limitation of craziness,
But my possessions for you is far ahead of your imagination,
Devoid of a return of anything sumptuous, sensuous or emotional.

Your passionate aficionado just desires you to discern,
That he falls for you  intently and fanatically.
He needs no attention or importance to his feelings,
Does not want you to spare your precious life or leisure for him.
You can have a deaf ear and a blind eye for him,
Even then he will have no complaints, distress or discomfort.

Being crazy Pradipta has just one demand from you,
Your presence and essence in his life,
 Is so momentous and stupendous that,
He can not afford to miss you in the place, on the day,
He bid good bye to the earth, hence he wants,
Your gracious, affable and august presence there.

Oh! No Pooja, you need not visit the place of my funeral,
I know you will not be able to over power,
The fluid streaming down from your eyes,
And the vicious world would begin to draw conclusions.
Moreover they might question your integrity, tarnish your image,
I fear numerous rumors would be winged.

Given the fact that I love you so much,
How can my soul breathe that air dissolved with bad odor of you?
How can I bear the burnt of you being harassed, humiliated,
And assaulted by filthy thoughts and dirty remarks?

Hey, I crafted a novel way to get rid of these bad dreams,
At the same time fulfill my lone desire !

You gift me a piece of sandalwood the day you meet me,
I will save it in my locker for that day utterly carefully,
And will pass on instructions to the expectant visitors,
To put that on the fire that would  burn my lifeless corpse !!

Be assured my soul would be alive outside,
To taste in satisfaction the fragrance of your touch,
In that most precious gift of yours, the sandalwood.

Pardon me for desiring something in worship,
That I had earlier promised you to be selfless,
Without expectation, pure and pious.
   

PEN NAME

                             I bestowed you a pen name and you accepted it gladly,
                               Without questioning the necessity or justification of it.
                             I know the query crept in to your mind and perplexed you,
                             As that was for the first time you faced such a strange offer,
                                  I too had never given a precious gift as this to anyone,
                              And assured you that I will never grace this kind of anything,
                                     To anyone else in rest of my existence of earth.

                               The day we met and came close due to a common interest,
                                  We shared our griefs, concerns, hurdles and philosophies,
                          I heard a voice of my inner being, that you should be the chosen one,
                                    With whom I can be extremely open, honest, intimate,
                              And trust you  fully in sharing and caring my emotions and truths.

                                     I, you should know, have no intentions to seduce you,
                                Or wished you to fall for me, give over yourself for my pleasure.
                                    They do seduction who desires, reckons on many things,
                                            Material and or sensuous from an opposite sex,
                                             And I had no hole-and-corner scheme for that,
                                             On the other hand I wholeheartedly loved you,
                              Your eminent-personality, sweet-innocence and unawed-candor.

                                             Being mortal, one day you will leave this world,
                                               After playing your part in the drama of life,
                                                   After writing and reciting all your poems, 
                                 For which you are here with all your qualities and capabilities. 

                                             On your death bed, before taking rest forever,
                                         All your organs outer and inner will slowly shut down,
                                      One after another, but the brain will be the last one to stop.

                                       On the screen of of your brain would roll all the memories,
                                        The people you came across, interacted, hated or loved,
                                             Events, facts of happy moments, grieving things,
                                   All the wins and defeats of your life as far as it could recall.

                                        When the face of your crazy but cool lover Pradipta, 
                                      Who loved you so very much altruistically and candidly,
                               Never anticipated or demanded anything except your merriment,
                                        Would be flashed for a blink second on the screen,
                                         I know a smile would sparkle on the edges of your lips,
                                                   And tear drops would gush out of your eyes,
                                  Remembering how only he called you pooja and you liked that,
                                      How he worshiped you, your coquettes throughout his life.

                                   This is a unique, special and you may call a strange concept,
                               The secrecy and mystery of your pen name  pooja, the worship,
                               Given to you by your matchless love-boy and aficionado Pradipta. 

Words are better than roses

                                            The vital difference between,
                                   Human beings and the other creatures,

                       Is the language, the words that convey our emotions.
                        
                            Our choice depends upon our own prudence, nature,
                   And proclaims our knowledge, intelligence, wisdom and personality,
                   As they can be sweeter than honey, brighter than the glitter of diamond,
                            Depending upon the way we handle and maneuver them.

                     Everybody is congenitally hungry of the sweetness of words,
           Our pet, a mendicant, a stranger we meet for the first time expects it from us,
                          Even a baby who does not understand a language,
                    Accepts the soft words combined with a smile in gratification.

                                  When your neighbor approaches your door,
                         With some complaints, looks serious and  furious about it,
                              Give him a sweet smile and some welcome words,
                   Offer him a chair, a glass of water, praise him of his smart look,
                                 Ask about his family, kids and his concerns,
                                 That would be suffice to marginalize his rage,
                                       Lower his voice and sooth his soul,
                             A discussion would replace a probable hot squabble.

                    "Buddham saranam gachchami, Sangham  saranam gachhami",
                "Take asylum with the Buddha, come and take shelter in the association,"
              Were so enchanting and soft but powerful words, the history is its evidence,
                           The powerful, cruel, bloodthirsty, imperialist Ashoka,
                          Surrendered to the glory and charm of those few words,
                           All his ambitions, proud, power, cruelty and king-hood,
                                      Vanished in minutes and he came forward,
                                To propagate the Buddhism in the neighborhood.

                         A great heart, a humble personality spontaneously casts,
                           Flowery of kind words even for them who cause harm,
                             "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do."
                  Of Jesus even when the soldiers divided His cloths among them,
            Are simple yet so precious and generous that always echos in Pradipta's mind,
                      Even diamonds are mere metals if compared to these words.

                                 Being  a good listener to your fellow human being,
                                   Instead of gifting someone a bouquet of roses,
                       When you honestly present some humble words with a smile,
                       That would heal a heart, sooth a soul and strengthen a friendship,
                                  For the former shows the richness of your purse,
                   Whereas the latter depicts the abundance of your heart and personality.