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Freelance Journalist, Mechanical Engineer, Writer, Poet, Thinker, Creator of Naya Hindustan (Youtube)

Wednesday, 24 June 2020

'A Confession'

People often hamper me with such questions.
Who is she?
What is she?
I stay as motionless as a cloud ЁЯТнin a blue sky. 
They observe a grave silence, sharp head waving, closed eyes and a radiant smile on my face for a smidgeon of the moment. Yes, just a smidgeon of the moment, a well-measured smidgeon. Considering that shade of ignorance, the bliss of Shakespeare they pass by.
Today, I draw for you the depiction of my indulgence in that smidgeon.
She is the kiss of an angel.
Her eyes are deeper than the gorges of Gangotri.
Her face reminds me of the imagination I had of Vishkanya(poison-woman) when reading mythology for the very first time to whom I fancied getting bitten even if I die.
Her scattered hairs with a ponytail in the breeze are like mangroves swinging gently on a bright sunny day at the coast of Hoogly. 
When she smiles it feels that the season of springs is about to come in a heatwave.
She doesn't use perfume but I feel perfumed when I am around her, the one which you smell of the sand after mild rain.
Every time she walks she makes a new course. She is a super river indeed.
Her talks are chants of a yogi which bamboozles you if they inspire you more or aspire you more.
She forms an illusion of delta as she walks towards me and makes a short thunderclap in my heart when she hugs me, just like a holy river indulges in a salty sea to turn it somewhat brackish.
Among many, I tell you one intimate moment. Once I saw her naked back, it was reflectively shining like a worn smooth rock by the eternal flow of spring water over it.
Every time I see her I feel like seeing her first time. She ages but she is ageless and edgeless. And eventually, I get shot by life.
She has to be the most beautiful signature of almighty.
This is not a feature film, trailer, promo or anything materialistic. It is the crude depiction of that smidgeon of the moment, yes the well-measured one of my indulgence with a grave silence, sharp head waving, closed eyes and a radiant smile when people hamper me with such questions.
Who is she?
What is she? 

Tuesday, 9 June 2020

' рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВ '

рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред                 

рдкреНрд░рдХреГрддрд┐ рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рднрдВрд╡рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред
рдирджрд┐рдпрд╛рдБ рдШрд╛рдЯрд┐рдпреЛрдВ рдХреЗ рдЙрджрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред
рдкрд░реНрд╡рдд рдЖрд╕рдорд╛рдиреЛрдВ рдХреЗ рдЕрдзрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред
рд╣рд╡рд╛рдПрдБ рдмрд╛рджрд▓реЛрдВ рдХреЗ рдкрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред
рдЕрдЧреНрдирд┐ рд╣рд░ рдХрдВрдХрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред

рдкрдХреНрд╖реА рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рд╕рдлрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
реЩрд╛рдореЛрд╢реА рд╣рд░ рдПрдХ рдкрд╣рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдЙрджрд╛рд╕реА рд╣рд░ рдмрд╕рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдорд╛рдирд╡ рдЕрдм рдХрд╣рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдХрд╛рд▓ рдлрд┐рд░ рд╕реЗ рд╕рд╣рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕реЗрда рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдмрд┐рд╕реНрддрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдордЬрджреВрд░ рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдореБреШрджреНрджрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рд░рд╛рдЬрдиреАрддрд┐ рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдЪреМрд╕рд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдорд╛рдирд╡реАрдпрддрд╛ рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдХрдирд╕реНрддрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рд╕рдорд╛рдЬ рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдбрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕рдВрдХреНрд░рдордг рдЕрддреНрдпрдВрдд рддреАрд╡реНрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рддреАрд╡реНрд░ рд╕реНрд╡рдпрдВ рд╢реАрдШреНрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдиреЫрд░реЗрдВ рд╣рд░ рджрдо рдлрд┐рдХреНрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред
рдЦрддрд░рд╛ рд╣рд░ рдПрдХ реЫрд┐рдХреНрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред
рдЬреАрд╡рди рд╕рд┐рд░реНрдл рд╣рд┐рдЬреНрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИред

рд╕рдм рдЕрдкрдиреЗ рдШрд░ рдореЗрдВ рд╣реИрдВред