Counting Breaths to my Death

Having long lost it,

Each trial towards recognition 

Is met with deafening disaster,

Leaving me breathless and bound

To the rusted earthly body -

Naked and Numb!

And I find the grip of my hand

Slipping away silently by the second,

And the ship of my hopeless dreams

Sinking slowly in the sand,

Where the only pool of water

Is by my drenched face of tears!

Hence, I stare now, looking for a shade,

And I see two paths that lead to a tree -

One with a thousand thorns, but is shorter,

And the other one paved, but tedious and long -

Which one shall I choose

To save my burning skin from the sun?

This world of lucid lies

Made of Beautiful Butterflies -

Thrives on leaves of tender olives,

Resembling the hope as it dies,

So, shall I travel for a quicker gain,

Or, embark for long with lesser pain?

They say, Timeless I am,

Beyond fear, beyond pain,

Riding through tides of time.

But, I feel wanting, watching -

On crutches of crumbling faith -

Counting Breaths to my Death!

-- Bhaskar Ghosh 

Sun, 22 Feb 2026,

1:26 pm, Kolkata

just there

Where the sky meets the sea

under the impression 

of a false union, 

where the eyes show 

what can't be true, but 

the mind wants to believe -

for the wish of a dream come true!

The sounds that "this one" hears,

one asked the other, do they come off you?

To which "that one" replied a question,

you feel the sensations that "this" feels?

One frowned at the other with a look

that betrayed satisfaction,

though one was silently feeling,

what the other had asked him to feel.

But the other, sensing the act of "this one's" face, 

replied in his own weird way...

That's a fact

that it arose off "this one".

But nothing does it matter

whether it came off "this" or "that"...

Still the sound that travels

through the corridors of waves,

and the drums that reverberate

to listen to understand... -

the fool does wonder -

anything does it unravel?

Behind the fact, you can run 

as much as you can,

but don't miss the truth!

This togetherness of nonsense

and profundity, that starts

from the words, but goes far beyond -

makes "this one" feel timeless!

Whether it is being stuck or free,

"this one" doesn't know - he just stares...

and "that one" just smiles...

This sound of the passing by,

this sight of the eternal flowing,

this movement that seems like a

still picture, but moving at the same time!

This hypnosis of the silence beneath,

this mesmerising presence,

often overlooked and unseen...

This sitting and listening

to the only sound of breath,

makes them realise

that it is neither mine nor yours,

it's just it; just there; happening.

-- Nayan

Sun, 8th Dec 2019

Isha Yoga Centre Coimbatore

বিলিয়ে দিলেন সব তিনি

বিলিয়ে দিলেন সব তিনি
এক পলকের নিমিষে,
যা ছিল সবকিছু তার
শুধু একটি শ্বাসে ।

যা সব অজানা, হবে
জানা এক নাগালে,
সাগরে শান্ত জাহাজ,
স্তব্ধ হাওয়ার পালে।

পথিক যে চুপি চুপি আসে -
বারে বারে গেলেন বলে,
শান্ত শুধু হতে হবে তোকে,
সে যে দেখা দিয়ে চলে ।

এই হল সেই আসল মানিক,
ছেড়ে তুই খুঁজিস কারে ?
যাবে যে নিয়ে সঙ্গ ডোরে
জনম মরণের পারে ।

চক্ষু দুটির পারে চাওয়া,
মনের অন্তরে যাওয়া,
নিজেকে হারিয়ে তবেই
নিজেকে খুঁজে পাওয়া।

-- নয়ন
মার্চ - এপ্রিল, ২০১৯