Last Day in college


I was still a teen when I first stepped in

the grand old weary college buildin’

Skeptic thoughts ran through my veins

Thinking for what would happen hence

What is in there, for me waiting;

Yet the ambiguity was equally thrilling.


Ohh yes those days, thrill was easy to find

Meeting a hundred new people was first of the kind.

And in a time when friendship has lost its humane charm

I saw these people, greeting each other with open arm.

The dawn of something big was being marked

And with every new marking, time magically passed.


Sitting on the slab with a cup of tea

Idle for hours and laughter for free

Or dancing in public at the fresher’s party

Everything was so much new for me

The startup business idea which sparked over a TT game

Or narrating an amateur framed film-story without any shame

1st smoke, 1st job and many heartbreak’s silent sobs

Yes the college only has nurtured all of them.


Amidst all these one day I was twenty

And the college wished me with the people joining in plenty

The joy I felt of being someone special for one day

Yes there were gratitude hidden behind that I could not say.

Soon a time came, when being in home felt boring

And every day we surely had some reason for college going

An uncanny grace used to attract us and with time slowly

the people and the building became the part of an extended family.


In a world where happiness is measured with happenings

The college had a subtle definition of finding pleasure

While lakhs were spent to have an annual cultural college evening,

Here a normal college day used to be more eventful in nature.


And now today when its time to say Adios

I could not figure out what exactly will I miss the most.

Is it the college and with all the boring lectures?

Or the friends made here, who will stay I know, forever.

A new life awaits which will open new doors for better future

Yes I had always craved for this only forever.

Then why is this blank feeling which is making me low?

The uncertainty of the greater prospects is also not thrilling me now.

Is it for because I am missing my college days?

Or because I realized no good thing forever stays.























The obscure lime light

Boarding on the last bus from the pub

The old conductor, he knows, will give him a laugh

And like most other days he will be forgiven the fare

Samson will return to his mess with his guitar.


The small mess room has seen many sleepless nights

Being fed on music when food was hard to find

He always dreamt of making big and one day it would occur

God will be compassionate enough to Samson, the bar singer.


The pub remains mostly empty, listener even fewer

Samson staggers on some old Dylan songs, as he could not get newer

While the happening street is seeing crowd dancing on new Hindi songs

The dated bar has breached Samson and it had kept him strong.


Samson strived for his passion still longing for a better life to live,

Got dipped in his life and left now with nothing to give

But miracles do happen, as they always say

Samson was somehow offered a new job today.


The color of the night never felt so dark to him

The consummation of his dream also felt too grim

3 times more wage they offered him for his daily show

Only he has to play some music that may help the new bar grow.


The street lamps prepared a stage for a live drama

The barking dogs had no answers to Samson’s dilemma.

The faded streets saw Samson standing at the centre

‘Blowin in the wind’ one last time from Samson’s guitar.


আমি মানুষ

কিছু মানুষ এমনি বাঁচে, কিছু মানুষ প্রতিক্ষায়;

কিছু মানুষ স্বপ্ন দেখে, আর কিছু মানুষ পালায়।

কতো মানুষ এগিয়ে চলে লক্ষ্য রেখে স্থির;

কেউ কেবল মুহূর্তে বাঁচে, নত করে না কভু শীর।


বহু মানুষ চলতে নেমে গুলিয়ে ফেলে পথ;

অনেকেই পথ চলতে চলতেই ভয়কে করে বধ।

কারোর পথ চলার কাহিনী হয়ে ওঠে আখ্যান-মহাকাব্য;

সমান লড়েও হেরে গেলে, অনেকেই মেনে নেয় তা ভবিতব্য।


তার পরেও কিছু মানুষ সহজে হার মেনে নেয় না,

খুড়িয়ে খুড়িয়ে হাটার মাঝেও লড়াই ছেড়ে দেয় না।

সবকিছুর মাঝে থেকেও অনেকেই বোঝে না জাগতিক ভাল-মন্দ,

হার-জিত ভুলে থেকে পথ চলাতেই তাদের আনন্দ।


প্রতিদিন মানুষ মরছে, মরছে কতো স্বপ্ন;

আবার কোথাও শিশু জন্ম নিলে নিচ্ছে না কেউ যত্ন।

প্রাত্যহিক কতো মানুষই আত্মহত্যা করে,

আবার বহু মানুষ বেঁচে আছে মৃত্যুর সাথে লড়ে।


সকলের মাঝে থেকেও আসলে প্রতিটি মানুষই সতন্ত্র;

তাই শিখিয়ে যেতে পারেনি কেউই ‘ভালো’ থাকার কোন একটি মন্ত্র।

ভাল-মন্দ, জয়-পরাজয় আসলে সবই আপেক্ষিক;

নতুন একটি সকালে চোখ খুললে – সেটাই শুধু প্রাসঙ্গিক।।








U :- Interviewer

S :- Shamik


U – Who is your favorite cricketer?

S – Well..Its Sourav Ganguly

U – You have seen Sachin Tendulkar playing, Rahul Dravid in action then why Ganguly!! Because he is a bengali??

S – Not at all. Ganguly would have been my favorite if he would have been from Punjab or Diu or Kashmir. It’s the game he plays not the language he speaks or the state he belongs to.

U – But that’s only answering my question partially. Tell me why Ganguly. You don’t need to be a cricket genius to know or judge that Tendulkar or Dravid was a better player than him. Mark my words, I asked you who is your favorite cricketer and not your favorite personality or so. If you are choosing Ganguly for the dynamicity of his personality then better amend your answer.

S – Well it seems that you are more interested in establishing your choice over mine rather than knowing my answer. With all my knowledge and wisdom I still stick to my initial response; yes Sourav Ganguly is my favorite cricketer among all I have seen playing the game till date.

U – Very good then. Site some of the reasons why he is your favorite.

S – You love to eat chicken; isn’t that enough!! Do you search for reasons why you love to eat? Or simply eat when you are served your favourite dish?

U – I will surely eat the chicken merrily when served. But the case is that you are not choosing the chicken my dear. In a course served with chicken, paneer, vegetables etc you are choosing something like a papaya preparation. Well fine its your choice, you are free to do so. But you yourself should know why you are doing so, isn’t it. Is it just for the sake of doing it or are there some valid reasons…?

S – I may look a confused person and apparently a bit fickle minded…But but don’t you dare challenge my choices…Yes it is Sourav Ganguly, and he is my favorite because of the fact that he was not the greatest. It’s not easy you know, to share your dressing room with your friends of the same age who you know are far superior to you in the field that you all are in; be it cricket or in any other aspect of life. He dwelled with the best being much mediocre in abilities. Yet he managed to score over 20 k runs in recognized form of cricket and today he is placed in the top elite list of cricketers of all time. So how did he manage to do that!! He was not a born genius, neither he had great perseverance like that of Rahul Dravid to emerge into a genius in his lifetime; but what he had is the great sense of knowledge about this. He faced his weaknesses and never rushed to rectify them overnight. Rather he did what he can do best. The whole world knew that Ganguly’s weak point were the balls bowled to him at the leg stump, so what he did was make room for those balls on the leg stump by moving a bit away from the wicket and then played them in his strong zone – the off stump and today when we remember him we still call him ‘the God of offside’. That’s how admiration needs to be earned.

U – So how do you apply the philosophy in your life?

S – I try to. It has always been my inspiration. That mediocrity is not the limit for someone mediocre in abilities is what I learn from him. Another important thing he teaches is to be practical with things in life. With proper knowledge of his abilities he had always known that he can’t be Sachin Tendulkar or Dravid in spite of dwelling and competing at par with them. So he never ever tried to do so and at the same time has kept his self esteem level damn high. He played the game with the mentality that every accomplishment is coming as an over achievement to him and in due course he has nothing to lose. This is the way I try to sculpt my way through life.



                                                            – Sayanta Adhikary 

Swamiji once advised his disciples that it’s better to wear out than to rust out, for the well-being of mankind and to serve it. He emphasized on the other fields of work too. Human life is obviously for action not for idle contemplation. Our life is actually the accumulation of the minutes and hours. Even in every short span of our moment, we would have to go forward towards our goals unhesitatingly. One great writer writes a novel that remains unaffected by time keeping oneself awake day after day at night. In the same manner an artist paints on his canvas such a painting that even gets people of other ages to come bewildered. A scientist getting himself barred into the confinement of his laboratory months after months to get him absorbed in his scientific work for making a discovery or an invention.

All of us have had talent hidden in our hearts. We would have to toil hard; otherwise our talent will have to meet a premature death. Many of us spend precious life idling away our time and we want to get contained with the cheap creation found around us. But the spending of our life in this way is just like death to our merits. True men find joy in the work they are engaged in by sacrificing them for the sake of humanity. They actually mock at the horror of death all the time making it a life-stock!


ফিরে যাওয়া


সহজ কথাটা সহজ করে বলছে না আজ কেউ

চারিদিকে বড্ড বেশী জটিলতার ঢেউ।

ঘরে বসে বসে আকাশ খুজছি ceiling এর দিকে তাকিয়ে,

ছন্দ ছাড়াই কবিতা লিখছি দিব্যি গলা ফাটিয়ে।


ছাঁদে উঠে সন্ধ্যে নামা দেখা হয়নি বহুদিন।

বিকেল হলেই খেলতে যাওয়ার ধুম, ফিরে আসবে না আর কোনদিন।

বিশ্বায়নের শহরে আজ লোডশেদিং ও হয়না খুব একটা;

মাদুর পেতে ছাঁদে বসা ছিল না ভবিষ্যতের চিন্তা।


একটা ছোট্ট walkman ছিল খান তিরিশেক গান,

তখনও মাথায় বসেনি চেপে সুমন কিংবা লেনন।

মুখস্ত হয়ে যাওয়া গানের কথাগুলো বারবার করে শ্রবণ,

গানের চেয়ে ছিল বড় গান শোনার আয়োজন।


ছুটির দুপুরগুলো আসত যেন অনেক সময় নিয়ে হাতে,

টিনটিন আর পাণ্ডব গোয়েন্দারা দিত সঙ্গ প্রতিপদে।

থমকে যেত ঘড়ির গতি, কৈশোরের এমনি ছিল প্রভাব;

কিছু না করার সেই দুপুরগুলোর আজ বড়ই অভাব।


আজও রোজই সন্ধ্যে নামে, খেলা ফেরত একটা ছেলে

বকুনির ভয় সেও পায় ঠিকই, লুকিয়ে ফুচকাটা খেলে।

ভয় গুলো চলে যেতে থাকলে বুঝবে, তুমিও বড় হয়ে গেলে;

ভয় আসলে থেকেই যায় শুধু কারণ গুলো যায় বদলে।


বয়স একটু বারলেই বোধহয় কবিতা লেখা যায়,

স্মৃতি কিছু জমা হলেই তা রোমন্থন করা যায়।

একটি বারের জন্য হলেও সবাই ফিরে যেতে চায়

ফিরে যাওয়ার আকুতিতাই  তখন কবিতা হয়ে যায়।








Every time I meet him he greets me with a smile,

A khaki trouser and a rod in hand count on his style.

The age has shown more on the face than on his lean body.

The Square face and the tiny eyes, we all call him ‘Nepali’.


He was born in a teeming slum of Kalimpong.

Every night he sings out one same old Nepali song.

His guitar has some broken chords which matches with his voice

and some magic there will make you listen without any choice.

He sings from his heart and we think from our head,

And thus have failed every time in our efforts to translate.


His father used to play the guitar, love was the only sake.

His name is still marked on the wrecked guitar’s neck.

He was just a novice teen when his father died,

And probably the only time he claims that he had openly cried.

He had to leave his studies and started singing in a local bar;

But the girl he loved was always worried about their future.

Thinking about making money he once made up his mind,

Boarded a train to the city to see what he could find.


He is now a gatekeeper of this reputed society.

Perhaps earns some money more than a hillside bar singer.

Every month he gives away half his money to some charity.

As he had got no one on the hills to send his earnings for.


His lady love had married some hill based businessman.

Every time we speak about this, he tries to laugh out loud.

The filthy city had gifted him this, the best what it can;

A pensive laugh on the face and an effort to lie profound.

He does not talk much of hills anymore, he talks of only fear,

And sings that old song at the night with less grief and more anger.