When She's Gone

To her dearest,
A  story she tells..
Today they see the dawn
Tomorrow she may be gone.

Remember then, it was,
A dream that had to pause..
Funny, they thought it'd last
While time was running out fast.

A little different from the rest,
You knew what she liked the best.
Gold and diamonds were too loud,
All she wanted was a walk in the clouds..

Moments that were crazy..
Memories that get hazy.
Adventures to cherish,
A love that can't perish.

Her love is with you always
For the rest of the days.
As she's by your side..
Still admiring you with pride.

Moments of pain,
Get washed with the rain,
She knew she had to leave
Yet who could believe?

Wonder if you could hear
The screams beating the walls
Within her tiny chest..
When you had her so near.

She knew it all along,
And the world thought she was strong..
Through laughter, ecstasy and adventure..
She could see the future.

A crazy girl with dreams,
Flowing in the streams,
Floating with the clouds,
When they remove the shroud.

Find her beside you,
In things that gave her joy.
She lived a great life,
She was a good wife.

She was and will be,
Forever the queen..
Of her own space,
It was in her face.

Respect her love,
As she watches over from above
Her love will protect you..
Across the dimensions of the blue.

M. Neog 

( Dew drops ) 

A 'Septi' Pin Saga

The ubiquitous 'septi' pin, (written the way it is prounounced) in most Bengali households, found an indispensable position in the lives of middle class families and my grandparents' home, wasn't an exception. 

These simple septi pins made inroads into our everyday lives. You could find a bunch of shining septi pins  sitting  conspicuously within a small bowl or tray on the dressing table or lazing around carelessly, on study tables and glass or wooden shelves in the restroom. 

They found a place of pride along with the creams , hair clips, bangles and intricate vermilion holders; ones that seemed popular were holders with the carvings of ' Lokkhi thakur' ( Goddess Lakshmi), the fish or the elephant's head, each considered to be auspicious in our culture.

Then of course, you could find some septi pins enclosed in a tiny container and kept in the ' Thakur ghar' . These were kept aside for our ' Laddu Gopal's (infant Krishna) wardrobe.
What amused me was the versatility of the septi pins that ranged from miniature to finger length sizes. You could depend on these shining minions of steel for multiple activities , from fixing diapers to wardrobe malfunctions!

You could have a neighbor dropping in for tea and while he engaged in an animated discussion on Marxism or his appreciation for Bossa Nova , the eyes would invariably be drawn to his sling bag held together by a pair of septi pins. 

The average Bengali woman's obsession for starched cotton sarees that were pleated to perfection, lent the septi pin even more reason for reliable companionship. They dangled from gold bangles for ready use. ' Ay ! Amar septi pin gulo ke niyechhe ? ' (Hey! Who took my safety pins?)was a question heard too often. 

Some septi pins however, outlived their use , lying rusty and bent in less visible corners , but never discarded and while they were strewn with intentional carelessness, they waited; just in case they could be used for a rainy day!

Then, it was used by young creative minds in the household, looped together as  neck chains or  danglers for the ears. Simple and effective! There was no shame in using septi pins , they were essential to routine everyday life.

Such was the thought association with septi pins, that a house bereft of these seemed alien. Whoever invented the safety pin , couldn't have possibly imagined that it would weave itself into our cultural fabric. 

Septi pins are still found in our homes , perhaps not used as frequently as before but I can say with conviction that they're far from being redundant yet. They've seen generations go by and they've served  their purpose most effectively. They can still be found on dressing tables, alongside imported perfumes and sunglasses now..

The Devil

The devil awaits you
In the rising tides of vanity.
Sleep with open eyes
In your satin and silken couch.

The devil bathes you
In the slippery suds of insanity.
Do not tread
On reeds of humanity.

The devil nourishes you
In cold corridors of corruption.
Build not your castle
On curses and corpses.

The devil invites you
Into his sack of sloth.
Remind yourself
Of promises you made.

The devil urges you
To show affection to avarice.
But do not steal
A poor man's meal.

The devil guides you
To be a sauntering saprophyte.
Give credit to yourself
For not being a parasite.

The devil tempts you
With the incinerating inks of power.
Be kind to seek
Justice for the weak.

The devil tricks you
In hallowed halls of pride.
Look at the mirror
Of truth and reason.

The devil seduces you
With bright, beguiling lights.
Don't be fooled
With myopic treats.

The devil tosses you
On the wild waves of wrath.
Guide gently then
With wisdom and peace.

The devil draws you
Towards bloody brutality.
Take a long sip
From the cup of compassion.

The devil drags you
To treason and tyranny.
Do not quench your thirst
With mankind's blood.

Then the devil disappears
As judgement day arrives.
A plate full of karma and solitude
Is all that you have.

M.Neog
( Dew drops)

Child of the Mountains

Throbbing heart and trembling legs,
Soul stretching out again,
A rendezvous it begs,
So I rise, I ascend again.

For I know you rest at Eagle Peak,
And it is I who must come to seek,
Something tells me I know the way,
A blessed union in snow and rain.
So I rise, I ascend again.

Pounding heart and aching feet,
Face exposed to sleet,
Man and frost meet.
Then you send the mist my way,
So I rise, I ascend again.

Winds cutting through, air now thinner,
Heart pounding, legs trembling,
But you taught me to be a winner.
So I rise, I ascend again.

Fuzzy mind playing hopscotch,
With bursts of euphoria and melancholy,
Fighting back, breathing hard..
So I rise, I ascend again.

Lumbering through the countless bends,
Paths slushy and rugged,
Your presence in the magnolia blossoms,
Makes this trail blessed.
So I rise, I ascend again.

Lips blue, fingers stiff,
Throbbing heart and trembling legs,
I stop to ask, what if..
Yet the soul outstretched, begs
So I rise, I ascend again.

In loops and excruciating gradients, I find
Unabashed streams bathing ferns
Racing down a moss covered hill side.
So I rise, I ascend again.

A tragopan's song greets,
The frost trodden mountain feet
And my arrival to the summit.
Pain ceased, soul quenched,
With healing mountain mist.

So I kiss your feet,
And bring you love
From where you once belonged.
Days and nights I have longed,
For a union in the clouds above.

It may be long till I come again,
Heart pounding, legs trembling,
To meet you at Eagle Peak.
O mother of mothers ! I am but
A child of the mountains ..
So I shall rise, I shall ascend again.

M.Neog
( Dew drops)

I Am..

A tiny speck,
In your vastness..
A small spark,
In your myriad folds..
A conscious dream,
In your spectrum..
A shining droplet,
In your oceans..
A sharp gravel,
In your mighty mountains..
A drop of dew,
In your morning freshness..
A living atom,
In your unbiased embrace..
Finding refuge,
In your timelessness.

M.Neog
(Dew drops)

My City Bleeds

A hope filled sunrise
Bleeding city in a while
Steely nerves succumb to steel
All mangled, man and steel
Today my city bleeds.
Words of comfort, wads of cash
Heart rending cries
Neither can restore lost lives..
Darkness, pain and apathy
Gifts of corrupt policy
Today my city bleeds..
Lying helpless and pulverized
In an end, most undignified..
Hope, the only weapon
For the still breathing souls..
While the world sleeps,
Tonight, my city bleeds..

M.Neog
(Dew drops)

A Different Story

Did it cross your mind
Cross your mind ever
How that smirk felt
To someone very special
Someone different from you?
Did you ever care
To feel someone's joy
Or stop for a second
To feel that pain
Before you judged or condemned?
Did you ever listen to a whisper
Escaping twitching lips?
Someone different from you
In 'your' world
Has a story different from yours..
Of challenges and victories
In varying degrees..
Join the miniscule dots around you
To frame a soul
Until you feel the force..
The force of love
And then you will find
There was just one story
Read differently..

M. Neog
( Dew drops)