IS IT A HAPPY NEW YEAR?

They rejoice, 'It's a happy new year'.

For some, days passed and days came.

They who can't forget fear or tear,

with time tears dried up - is it lame?

They celebrate Christmas every year.

For some it will never be the same.

They who believed in Santa and his peer,

had their emotions bloodied in his name.

They make merry as this year will end,

putting a halt to the promises not kept.

Almighty smiles for the gifts He did send,

while devils in Hell did profusely wept.

Is it all just pitch black and shiny white?

What about shattered hopes and shades of gray?

The cream of society have used it's might,

to torment those who believe in Him and pray.

Prasenjit ©1997-2022

DHARAVI - THE DARKNESS

They lie on the roadside be it rain or sun,

and they work on the roadside too.

They desire a home - they have none,

be it the rain, storm or the loo.

Plastic sheets as roof, alongside the gutter,

unclean water, no food for days on end.

No one voices for them, none does utter

a word of kindness or pity - they have no friend.

Beaten by weather, living in a shack

sickness, misery keep company there.

It's God-forsaken and all it does is lack

humanity for the baby lying nude and bare.

Prasenjit©1997-2022

THE SHEATHED SWORD

The hall is dark and dimly lit,
with silence echoing all around.
This is not a sight for kingly treat,
with history crying in majestic bound.

Yet the sword hasn't rusted still
with the gold handle in full glory.
The aura, the grandeur one can feel,
when reliving the heroic story.

Decades have passed and centuries gone,
the swords still in their sheath remain.
Fame, valour stayed while life moved on,
the swords will be out we don't know when.

The enemies are there on the inside, as
they do not charge in battlefields now.
The people have cried while politicians lied,
to right the wrong the sword will fulfill its vow.

Prasenjit©1997-2022

THE GAME

All around is nothing but just a game -
turmoils, struggles and lots of pain.
All these is needed just to make a name,
to remain forever and not vanish in vain.

Bring it on, toil now, sweat it out
and prepare for the unknown bout.
Face your opponents, see eye to eye -
they would know that the stakes are high.

Do not stop, do not bow as yet, coz'
you have given your all in this bet.
Compel God to stand up from His throne,
thus with respect you shall be known.

Prasenjit©1997-2022

YOUNG MARTYRS

Gather round comrades, have you won?
Do you think your work here is done?
You are honorable men of pride,
who have always put death aside.

Your courage have always forced it's way,

to hold back the enemies at bay.
Even hell will swallow down its lie
that you were not ever ready to die.

You were never fools who did crave,
the glamour of death and grave.
Some for you cried while some lied,
it is for them that you have died!

The bonfires in your farewell flare,
to salute your daring that is rare.
The smile lasted in your lingering pain,
as soldiers never die on martyrs' lane.

Prasenjit©1997-2022

RISE OF PHOENIX

You razed the old to raise the new,
the roads that were burnt by trusted few.
They put me down and into the deep,
over the ashes of Phoenix none did weep.

It was all but muscle and clout,

that put me down in an unfair bout.

Know this and know this for sure,

my vengeful heart will find it's cure. 

The wind, water and earth heard my cries,

the body is no more, the soul in barren lies.

Every grain of sand like the tears pile,

I will make a mountain - it will take awhile.

Out of the dark, out of the blue

one day I would rise to face you.

Like eternity my wait is quite long,

making right the deeds that went wrong.

I will be back from heaven or from hell,

you have hurt my soul - anyone can tell.

In fire, from ashes with colours it rose,

Phoenix will be back, thus the story goes...

Prasenjit©1997-2021

THE BATTLE OF REZANG-LA

They were awaiting return with eager eyes
and yes, the soldier came back - he did.
Silence turned into maddening cries,
kept his promise as farewell he bid.

Wrappped in flag, the trumpets were loud.
They laid his body on the courtyard bare.
The mood was pensive and yet so proud,
answered his call - not the family's prayer.

Not a bullet on his back - all on chest,
as our hundreds killed ten times more.
Fear riddled enemy, with him on the crest,
their war cry echoed with deafening roar.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

IMMORTAL VIKRAM BATRA

He reached the heavens, became a star

as he was martyred in a past war.

An immortal light that outshone the sun,

there never was one, there never will be one.

Bullets flying and the guns blazing,

nothing stopped him, there was no such thing.

Love for his land and blood flowed in his veins,

as up he charged on the rocky terrains.

While losing men gained the upper ground

though the enemies fired round after round.

While guns thundered from atop the hill

still he attacked the flank to make the kill.

Trying to save a comrade, didn't think twice,

ill-fated was the moment, he paid the price.

The man fell, in immortality rose his name,

the army was glorified in fervour and fame. 

Prasenjit©1997-2021

FREE YOURSELF

Many things locked up o'er the years,

it's time to empty the closet now.

Kept to ourselves - despair and fears

it's now time to vacant the trough.

Words that piled up into screaming silence

and tears that still echoes in the darkness.

Open up to your ever eager audience,

bring those gems into light sans starkness.

The wounds of the heart, the scars on the soul,

needs to be healed and mended now.

Unburden yourself, make it your goal,

let the healing begin - you may not know how.

Even though undeserving - do forgive them,

throw the trash, make your closet bare.

Open wide the doors, glorify your name,

and punish the wicked with sincere care. 

Prasenjit©1997-2021

MAYBE, ONEDAY

How long will it take to know,
that so many people are dying?
How long to keep our hearing low,
where so many people are crying?

How long will it take to admit,
that people here are without food?
How long till this world will split,
that people here are bad and good?

The day is near when the blind will see,
And maybe even the deaf will hear.
Imagine the day, the dumb making plea,
the good holding heads high with no fear.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

NOT EVERYBODY

Not every seed will grow as a tree, 
some will be trampled, squashed and crushed. 
Not all children will grow up to be free, 
some will be tormented, silenced and hushed. 

Not all girls will grow up to be a mother, 
Some will be tortured, discouraged and impaired. 
Not all pets will have a home - rather
Some die of hunger, disease and left uncared. 

Prasenjit©1997-2021

POLITICIANS - THE SCOUNDRELS

When will the fight be over,
now that the graves have piled up?
Where to run now for cover
as smoke from bodies fill life's cup?

All around - martyrs and bullet shells,
while leaders looked the other way.
Of bravery and tears - unending tales,
the wind of patriotism is still on sway.  

Prasenjit©1997-2021

END AND AFTER

What if one day, I am no more,
would they wail, sob and despair?
What if I am lost in daily furore,
vanishing like smoke in thin air?

When I am no more, what would remain?
An unbound soul, would all be in vain?
My shared feelings and some poems...
memories, smiles, tears - unique gems!

Some unfulfilled dreams..., while
my loneliness will be at my end.
My last reflection will be my smile,
while I meet my Maker at the dark bend.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

FIGHT BACK

You may put me down to the ground
and think, it's already over, I'm done.
For once - stop, turn, and look around
you see me standing and lose your fun.

I've fallen before, I'd surely fall again
and it doesn't bother me anymore.
Do not blow your trumpets yet in vain,
as you're about to hear my bloody roar.

I've forever taken pride in my fall
and been humble when I stand.
I still have the guts to stand tall
facing your deceitful, fiery band.

 
You may fling your lies at me
and cut me deep with your greed. 
You may see me on my knee, 
by now you know - I am a different breed. 

Hurl your anger at me, I say
please hit me as hard as you can. 
Scar me with your hatred - if you may, 
the once tender soul is now a rugged man. 

Prasenjit©1997-2021

DEVIL'S SATIRE

I may not be on the path of God

nor a subject of His liking. 
I am not the one who got His nod,
and have always been my own king. 

I am not part of any crowd
that moves with the flow of stream. 
I am neither humble nor proud
but I'm living my own dream. 

I have treaded with the Devil
who was pure as he could be! 
I have no veil - incarnated evil, 
my dark face - my true face, it's me!

 
I may not be his veiled angel
coz' I depict the pure darkness. 
I have no shroud, one can tell
coz' I hold my own steady harness. 

I am one of those - The Fallen
yet unscathed by purity all around. 
I'm not hiding in plain sight - nor forgotten
yet far from Satan's grip or Heaven's bound. 

Prasenjit©1997-2021

THOSE DESIRES

My wishes all around floats like dust, 

some trampled while some on my face. 

Let the rain fall, if it really must

and touch those desires with a grace. 

Why is it that the rain falls down? 

It surely must have some desires too! 

To engulf the earth like a gown

journeying from the skies for me and you. 

Why does the thunder strike down,

which is born in a lump of cloud? 

Comes blazing, roaring all over town, 

showing its might on a fearful crowd. 

Like love and anger, rain and thunder

travelling to earth from the skies. 

So many desires reside yonder, 

my heart's grip loosens as time flies

Prasenjit©1997-2021

CUPID'S ARROW

They talk of cupid's arrow - of love
which seems to have missed its mark.
They have killed the white dove
and is now crawling in the dark.

They who talk of Nations big, and
squash the people they think small.
They who belong to the soulless band
stood on heaped bodies to appear tall.

They who dug diamonds from the pit
never saw sunshine for many ages.
Those beaten are now crawling bit by bit,
the Hon'ble now rests in history pages.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

SONS OF THE SOIL

With pride they brought the martyr
who traded his life for countrymen.
It did never to anyone occur,
how the widow would live in pain.

Flowers strewn all over, he laid still

the lifeless face still bore a smile.

His last moments - its hard to feel

his sacrifices made it worthwhile.

Both the mothers with thieir frozen looks

one of his son, the other of his own.

The sacrifices will be in their books,

while emotions on their faces haven't shone.

The son would never know his father

while both women with their eternal void.

The acts of bravery, the son 'd hear rather,

those who stayed would be of life devoid.

Wrapped in flag, salute and gunfire

together they stand in pride and tears.

Committed to flames on sacred pyre,

a brave soul who overcame all fears.

The widow forgotten, the son 'd grow up

to follow steps as a son of the soil.

They who drank full from life's cup,

a life to give, one more enemy's plan to foil.

Once lost her life, now maybe her lap,

one brave at borders, the other without a frown.

For generations they have filled the gap

and have adorned grief like gems on a crown.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

THE REBEL'S CALL

This is a call to all the commoners

to gather around truly as one.

Few fiery lines for the silent doers

who below wheels should already have won.

You who toiled and slaved in the sun

drenched the earth with blood and sweat,

take your rights now, halt your run

putting  stop to centuries of wait.

Push aside your yoke and stand

and hold the hand that has the whip.

Look eye to eye, join as a band

be a rebel - that is for you to keep.

Your drooping shoulders speak of shame,

you never had the sun on your face.

How could you live with no name?

Strengthen your spine, be up in grace.

If not taken what was always yours

all will be lost like rain on sea.

Do not let them close the doors,

as they fear unity between you and me.

All along you have been on your knees.

Get up now, make your stride.

Stop! Stop doing as they please,

Look up and regain your pride.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

MY MOTHER'S CLOSET

The closet that was long closed
nearly a decade to say so,
with parting of doors - it posed
with all her memories as I know.

Her handbags, her attire - neatly kept

after her departing from worldly ties.

The fragrance of her presence - I wept

reminded me how I believed in lies.

I opened her handbag to see

some memories and coins of the past.

Her 'being' that was around me

proved to be worthier at last.

Sadly, the memories linger on

in those who are still here to stay.

The bond of a mother and her son

is something one cannot weigh.

Her blanket with velvet frill

reminds me of the winter cold.

The warmth of the hug and thrill

and how I felt, remains untold.

Struggles, care, memories and tears

all locked up like a bounty so rare.

The highs and lows, the fights and fears

the peace I miss, one cannot compare.

 


Prasenjit©1997-2021

THE POOR MAN'S BALLAD

Who would be a poor man's friend,
someone he could share views with?
The class where perils have no end,
'All men are equal' - is just a myth.

How does the poor man want to evade,
his already darkening dark being?
The perils threaten like a razor blade,
the bondage of centuries just not fleeing.

How would the poor ever see a rainbow,
the ones who knew only shades of grey?
'All poor people are equal' - if they must know,
on whom the sober elite suck and prey.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

THE HIGHWAYMAN

The water flows like endless time
on which life sails on like a boat.
Every chime I hear is worth a dime,
I follow my heart so not to gloat.
In life there are things I couldn't
and many things that now I can.
I have a house but no home,
so they call me The Highwayman.

I've seen the moon in eclipse shine
while the glowing sun was getting dark.
Down I was, I never learnt to whine
destined to move on, never to park.
In life, there are places I didn't roam
and faced perils; I never ever ran.
I need no roof, never had a home,
by turn of fate, I was The Highwayman.

I've heard the eerie silence of the crowd
and the deafening roar of a lonely clan.
Rumour is - I made my enemies proud,
while I toiled to foil their devious plan. 
I want to see the cloudy and starry skies,
while they try to stop me, forever ban.
True as a kite, against the wind flies
and bowed, they behold The Highwayman.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

TWO ROADS

There are always two roads

in life for every road we take.

What was unloaded felt like loads,

the path we avoided for future's sake.

Why did we never took that path,

that the sun never ever kissed?

Was it the sense of a dark wrath,

which turned us from the path we missed?

I know not now, I never knew,

what if we had traversed the other lane?

Memories, struggles, treasures all anew

filling the cup of life in its reign.

How can we ever be the true judge,

of a track that was never trod upon?

What made us decide not to trudge

and miss the moments those long gone?

We avoided the stormy, muddy ways

and looked for an easy way onward.

We do not see what ahead of us lays,

thus at every turn we may have erred.

We have our heart's say, minds doing

in all we decide as easy and true.

A bit more effort in our trying,

could have made difference for a few.

Prasenjit©1997-2021

WHAT IF?

Will the world ever be the same,
the dove and the eagle in the same branch?
Stopping those bullets in a war game,
the bloody battlefield into a green ranch.

Will the leaders ever know, that
sobbing and wailing is the same all over?
It has to be reaped what they sow,
there is no place to run for cover.

The spoils of war, the widows' cries
spurts agony even in the vulture's eyes.
Some committed to fire, others to earth,
cut short- a life promised at birth.

Can we really still not even hear,
how the dead speaks from the grave?
The silent story behind every tear,
of how the living dishonoured the brave.

Will the tables ever turn,
for an even playing field?
No ashes, nothing to burn, all
efforts put just to live and build.

Prasenjit©1997-2021