William Morris talked about this; I only feel the same way where I succeed to look at my past as if, miraculously, a much-cherished dream..
ROOM NO. 203
a room space quite a big with three beds at the corner,
sunlight garnishing the balcony as bright as ever,
the highway at a stone-throw vicinity busy with floods of car
and three creatures inside the room, timely crawling in every hour!
this was indeed the beginning, so lush fully ever grin,
INMANTEC Campus Hostel, Room number? "doso teen!"
a lost city of pride and prejudice still irks old pain
Kolkata, the maiden, so badly forbidden
the dreams have changed color to this one place,
tethered slogans and never-heard songs weaving an unfelt lace,
at times the old wines come with ever-youthful grace!
yet songs and words still keeps speaking of some marooned dreams
"bangalio ki room", they rebukes, "doso teen!"
some free time means surfing bangla news away from a few clicks
darling Kolkata soaked in an overflowing crowd of Puja or old politics;
or sometimes listening to some old rusty songs
that reminds again of kolkata throngs,
that speaks of our own time, those much cherished scenes -
alone they are, saiful, ansary, arin, tuhin trapped in "doso teen"!
yet there are many others, who are much closer to heart
be it distanced in other rooms, but not much apart
a warm welcome to everyone for any assistance
assignments and smokes and wines and sharing pain!
still what hurts among all this intimate feeling?
"woh log bekar hai, bangali, udhar rehte hai, doso teen!"
the beginning was full of strain
sleepless nights and nothing much to gain-
but with high hopes that future will be quite ripe,
after assignments and extra classes, we feel to survive,
fatigued, still an hour spent at night with eyes so steadily open,
how would be finale of this two year's game?
some fantastic days spent, with summer of 48
and winters so shivering!
a room to spend those unforgettable nights -
a room so close to the soul - "doso teen"!!!
visiting hometown is a sorry affair!
a week's leave granted is so rare!!
a life so subtly getting along with the trend,
where dreams and destiny are so ineptly blend
and life from rags to touch poorer flair -
a hapless breath questions the soul of each suffering
with a speechless heart, amidst a nightlong party outside
quivers a gloomy room - "doso teen"!
Amen! the last hour has finally arrived
Many of the known faces have already gone to far-off delight
Kolkata has slowly stopped encroaching into dreams
the sunshine of the balcony is now shadowed with the auditorium's beam;
the room blued with the sounds of goodbye, now looks so grim
a room that reminds of people so close and memories so bewitching!
a memory-drenched mind is getting too heavy, for a shared room of unleashed dreams,
a room so fondly called "doso teen"!
LUCKNOW
(with aspirations turned to ashes and the strong wind around blowing the heart with unprecedented yearning for something it hasn't ever came across)
a rain-drenched noon, the air so musically immune
going back to a past where lies the trove of tune
a past which speaks less and conveys more
of the lost tradition, some forgotten, a few of abhor!
the train slips quietly into the valley of music,
the evening is gorgeous and the rain guileless on go,
the breeze of a lost glory swaying in heart
while I was out on the roads of Lucknow!!
crossing some miles of the city's heap
with schools, and malls, and panicky row
the cab drove into Saadatganj,
not quite a place with those modern glow!
eyes were passing away with hope
through the shops and edifices that reminds of a time-
when the nawabs with their kakoris in their mehfils alight
sulkens down into the romance of rhyme!!
a city that nourished "ghalib" and "meer"
the place which was once the shayri's galore
is now much bigger with its globalized look
and the geets and ghazals are heard no more!
only they stands with a broken heart,
the palaces and the kotthas with some rusty blot,
the sarangi-players now replaced with reality show stars,
and the city standing alone as a historical spot!
yet the charm is there, only memories are at bay
yet her voice haunts me night and day
a peep into the city failed to show the ray
that leads an ever-thirsty soul to akhtaribai's way;
only that a gasp of breath reminisce
her voice so graceful and gay:
"deewana banana hai to deewana bana de"..
