Break the Shell
Swapnajyoti Bordoloi

Let the monsoon rain,
Become you.
Hatred is akin to dust allergy.
New seeds,
Forget not to grow them inside.
Water them with your smiles
And tears,equally.
Sing and dance, alike.
Like a drunken balladeer.
Be it sunshine or pain,
Whenever you feel like.
Andyou will begin to sense
The whole world humming with you!
That souls never race,
All else,
It’s your own Karma’s face!
And so
Just move on?

Buddhadev Nandi

It is a pitch dark night
That allows my soul
To leave the body
Transcending from the world
Of mundanity towards eternity.
The avenuesare dark
When the departed soul
Disembarks towards
The uncharted sea,
Urging to meet Him
For eternal company.
Leaving the material world,
To be illuminated by the light of illusion
For a transient moment.
Abysmal darkness
That bridges birth and death
Except a brief phase
Of sojourn illuminated
By the light of the earth
That draws a vague line
Between the two vast darkness,
Beyond time and space,
Only to be plunged
Into an all-pervading darkness,
Of a black hole.
From where the light
Of the earth emanates
Out of lightlessness.
Buddhadev Nandi

When the sky is overcast,
With the dark clouds rumbling,
And the jingling feet of rain,
Like a little girl dancing,
Passingover the fields
To dye them withcolours of lush green.
It is the beautiful monsoon
That has been appearing.
The trees nod their heads,
Touched by the pattering drops
The paddy fields become hopeful
To yield bumper crops.
The soil being leavened
With the monsoon rain
Becomes fertile enough
Promising a good harvest again.
A cart drawn by bullocks
Hobbles on the road with pain
The tune sung by the carter
Gets lostin the noise of the pattering rain.
Little children in heavy shower
Prancing in unwanted joy
Sail their paper boats
In the river, crying ahoy.
The birds under the trees
Wet with the drops of the rain trickling
Enjoy the song of the rain
With their eyes closing.
The obese frogs swelling their throats,
In the brimming ponds
Fill the nights with croaking sounds,
Expecting from their darlings’ a sweet response.
The rivers are waking up from their slumber
Fed by the monsoon shower.
As they prepare themselves
To regain their lost power.
Everywhere, there is merrymaking
For in the door, Princess Monsoon is knocking.


More Distant Than a Dream
Arunav Barua
Even dreams have a nearness in them,
Every fear that a nightmare evokes
Is felt in real terms by an unaware mind,
The heart refuses to believe otherwise
For what we see is what we believe…
It would be difficult to interpret mirages
Those clouds we saw were as real as time,
For none yet has understood its nature
Moments ago, we dreamt we were in school
Now the school bell refuses to ring,
For mornings now don’t mean a uniform
So was every day in school a dream?
Was this lived experience a mere facade?
Reality often is more distant than a dream…