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I live next door,
The compound wallSeparating us.I smellthe soup you cookEvery dinner.I seeThe bones you throwEvery lunch.I hearThe music of utensilsEvery day..Yet my kidsfeed on stale rice,And stomach full ofFree water,For I never liedI never stole,I never picked any stuffThat was not mine,And I loved to remain as I amI remained poor,For I was a lover-A lover of…
On this holy hued day,
Colours yet to fade off.
To work tirelessly for someone
A spoon in a dish!
In the society
afraid of numbersafraid of its own echoNobody seems to seekThe path of enlightenment,The era of the exalted Buddha,Nirvana or salvation fromThe cycle of Karmic bondages.But the number of timesThey visited the shrinesor offered homageunder media coveragealone counts.
No need to hunt them
Fishes always die in summer.
ଅର୍ବୁଦ ସପନ,
କଢ ଫୁଟା ରାତି ଧାରେ,ତୁମ ଓଠ ଲକ୍ଷଚୁମ୍ବନ ରାଗ ରେଜୋଛନା ଲାଜ ରେ ମରେ ।।ଅୟୁତ ସ୍ମୃତି ରକାଶତଣ୍ଡୀ ଶେଯଯା ଛୁଆଁ ରେ ଭିଜୁଥିଲା-ଆଜି ସେ ଅତୀତଅପୂରଣ କ୍ଷତଶାପ ଗ୍ରସ୍ତ ପାନ୍ଥଶାଳା ।।