Food For Thought

The fifteenth portion of the world goes without a square meal a day.
Many sleep with the ambition of succeeding to provide for the next day for their family. Half of our stored grains rot in the storages unutilized judiciously for months.

Drought-hit lands cry for the mercy of a single meal but we cannot help them because the far-fetched lands lack the visibility of transportation in out advanced society.
We can but put out feelers from so-called developed nations and click pictures of vultures waiting by the remains of an unnourished skeleton to adorn the drawing rooms of an artistic second-half of a compassionate role-model.

Sentiments ooze out of my adrenalin when I see someone waste food in front of me.
With due diligence to social factors governing my surroundings I observe restraint on an upbeat encounter of such weeds of extravagance!

I, herein, dedicate the sarcasm on all those beloved brothers and sisters to whom, unwittingly, I have conferred the title of "Hypocrites".


Ask for a drop of dream?
Have it in my feast with cream.

Entry is free for all who wish,
Start it all with anyone dish!

As you like with the menu from top...
Or bottom, Until your tummies' Stop!

Tongue and Nose quarrel over a choice,
My eyes topple over each voice -
"Don't mind if you don't like a thing,
Shove it to a bin with a fling."

Proud of the token on the table laid,
Loud with thought - "Well Said!",
I approach a few of rare wine in red,
"Some countries have ration with dry bread..."
- Someone whispers to spoil my mood.
I look like a beggar among all food.


I would rather vent my anger in the pages of my diary than to create a pandemonium on a wanton cluster of unerudite species who have not lived to see hunger in the face.

Disclaimer:-
This composition is in no way intended to hurt the feelings of any individual living or dead, and, has no resemblance to anyone I know personally, and, is not based on any statistics !!

Dance of Whim

Many a times, I have observed people around me venture into activities, to which they are remotely connected in the past, with the air of an immensely experienced personna and end up feeling completely lost about what is going on around them. I am sure even you would have come across such people from various facets of life. It does not need much investigation and a peek into the daily newspaper itself could provide you with an array of opportunities to identify a few of the candidates.
Most of the times there is a messiah around to help them from drowning.
Unfortunately, these messiahs are lost in memories when the spotlight rovers on the initial incumbent on a 'chance' successful achievement!

I would, in the following stanza, like to remind that success beckons those who follow it aggressively but the strength to sustain the success lies in those remote connections often forgotten a mention between the celebrations.


Stepping on the bottom of a shallow shore,
Feeling for the rotten on the slippery floor.
For you see the ground on ebb but tide,
For the shell be found you wait but guide.
It delights to feel a sparkle in water,
Unless aware, what lies behind the shutter.
Opaque water adds a quick sliver to your legs,
The best of hearts confides in need of some pegs.
Risk your tongue again on the jabber of Known,
Forsake your soul to conquer the Unknown.


It would be a lot better world if the sensible people could gather our consciences together in the recognition of the true champions instead of lingering on with the facades of mock performances.
We could at least ensure in the true spirit of achievement the righteous berth to those eligible for a reward. At least, we could attempt to guarantee the burden of a lot fewer failures to our developed society instead of handing over the reins to the whims of self-established gamer-changers betting on the contribution from you and me.

Self-Control

I have a bad habit of being overtly complex at times for things that can be expressed in a quite simple tone. I feel being simple is a way of experts.
I am just in search of snatching the fun of living each moment of my so-simple life in an ingenious Utopia.

# A figment of space in the
northern corner of my heart
Encapsulates a void waiting to
be filled with the touch of her fingers,

# Applying the cream of love on the
soft-spot wounded by the perils of time ..
Lies an immense sense of desire
longing for her ephimeral presence.

# In lieu of my dreams, which betray
me so often, I get a glimpse of hers ..
A deep slumber feeds the hope of union
into a crave, and a crave into a reality.

# The belief, which I wish to nurture
unto death for the fruitfulness of my being ..
Someone somewhere is getting dressed
for a beginning till the last.
A tender phantom wanders in the shades
of my porch tampering with my garden of wits.

# Alas, I cannot touch her silky shadow
anymore for days to come.
The moon is stolen from my nights
with only the stars to show me light ..
A game destiny if ploying
stealing sleep from my sight!

Here, I try to regain my self-control over my identity which seem to wander forlorn, whimiscally addicted continuosly, in refuge of an imaginary companion.
The flight of fancy is a partake on the existential supremacy in one's irrationally moral justifications of being at risk to succumb to an evil within -> Love :)

Last Thought

Bengali , being my mother-tongue ... feelings are associated quite naturally in the language you were born with!!

Ami pore royechi ek jhora pata,
Kon je desher matite,
Horek rong-er sombhabona,
Nijeke keno je r chinte parina.
Holud, sobuj, badaami,
Kon je gacher khandani.
Hawai bhashiye eneche jomite,
Ochena ojana kono bhumite.
Pore royechi sukno phuler pashete,
Opekkhai achi ek domkai taake harate.
Gondho nei nijer praner r kono,
Pipilikai koreche sorire tar ashroi.
Ami pore royechi ek jhora pata,
Taakiye achi ek sukno phuler ankhite.
Ei bujhi batasher doyai - achi suye sudhu eki ashai
Bhule jawa shei pothe abar - bhashiye niye jao ghore amar.

Trying to summarize the life abroad.