Tokyo Drift


Rubies and diamonds, millions of them shone,

Shining balls, cuboids, cubes and cones,

Towers scraped the sky, stood statue in the sea of stones,

Lit up shapes with lights and colors of their own,

Some laughed dim, some brighter than the brightest,

Glistened spoilt, beamed out their best,

Blinked mischievous, as naughty as the West,

Mocked the poor dark sky,

The Cimmerian clouds floating by,

A mourning influx from third world neighbors,

Adding on to the night’s poverty,

Studded with multinational jewelry,

The city has been long swallowing the Sun, flaring in its energy,

Darkness disintegrated pearls of the Brightest Star,

Had them anatomized and sprayed to remain dissolved,

Till dawn in every nook and corner,

Thereby, letting witching hours flash orange divine zeal,

Cheering, alluring the ones intelligent, disciplined and daring,

The Yakuza land had little time for sympathy, no time for charity,

Here, winds too bore electricity,

Slapped current on my face, pinched me Yen-less disgrace,

Lost owner of a sinking fortune, a drowning company,

They had their prey easy, an obliterate mind hankering decay,

Slipping into a kaleidoscopic void with feet on the balcony,

Slowly sliding out-of-focus, into the motley surreal,

Paranoid fingers clutched the railing tighter,

Got a hold on fatal sways,

Mind boggling back home, the body’s drifting away, craving escape,

A head and chest rebelled for a bend, to tilt forward,

Along with his dimming eyesight, they too were disobedient tonight,

Gravity snatched the pen out of his pocket,

Kissing past the swinging chain of his oscillating locket,

Vanished out of a hell-bent motionless stare, out-of-sight,

To a distant trickle, metal on the manhole,

Twenty floors below,

Spell’s broken, trip’s cracked,

Steps anchor back,

From the black haze to the room yellow,

The book isn’t ending here,

The final chapter isn’t Tokyo,

Panting in shock, he chooses not to follow…




(Image from : )

Bring it on, I’m Ready Again…


Denser, deeper, thicker,

A fat base with a fatter brush,

Might just get the job done,

Brushing, touching up the swells,

Facial plateaus, black ’n blues,

Premium brands to conceal wounds, tangible,

Dope for the ones unseen,

Ones on the soul,

Mirror Mirror, it knows it all,

Finds us vanishing hurt-marks,

More often, than we’re found drinking water,

Pimped day-in day-out,

Readying up every now and then,

Every time, my soul, my conscience is dragged to the gallows,

Banged, Hanged, Butchered, Electrocuted, Shot more dead,

Freshening up, putting up a spotless flesh blackboard,

Neat and clean to excite the man,

To jingle upon his riches,

Pay big for his bigger weakness,

Quench his chauvinistic fetishes,

Chalk out brand new images,

Decorate our then, seemingly untouched faces,

 With spanking new swells, black ‘n blues, cuts, injuries… 





(The moment in a prostitute’s life is inspired from the 2012 film Talaash (

Image from :

Kolkata’s Valentine Veggies…


Sacks underneath,

Rugs by their side,

Love flowed freely,

From the stink of cabbages,

From their feet smelling wet hide,

Romance erupted from those rusty plateaus,

Love’s been seeping in their soil too,

Preserving, nurturing active volcanoes,

With love’s lava boiling within,

Waiting for them to be forgotten,

Covered, concealed with paints of a hard, and too regular, a life,

Go unnoticed in the crowd,

Lost in the market,

Amongst the commonest of men,

Peeled skins from greens, plucked cauliflower leaves,

Adorned the front,

Adding to the instant,

A quintessential touch of their reality,

The power of love celebrated, danced in there,

Sublimed in poverty,

For the blind to see,

Naughty comfort,

Amidst sips of tea,

Chirps and chatters out of laughs,

From their list of sold veggies,

Amidst a day gone good,

Thoughts of a sumptuous lunch,

And, moments to secretly cherish,

With their kids asleep in peace…




(The image is borrowed from “The India Travel Blog- Mahindra homestays”,

Seen the rain, like this…


Have seen many a droplets,

Have seen these rainy days,

Those trinkets spraying my face,

Have heard them hiss,

Have felt them kiss,

Many a times,

Have I sketched the rain like this…

Never have I been able to escape,

The grill of the Sun,

Those tiring days,

That stressed my soul,

Robbed me of any fun,

Landed me in tears,

Each and every time,

The same old way,

Haven’t been able to stop playing,

Playing with my mind,

Playing those games of dreaming,

Painting the sky with its flower in it,

Dreams that had everything,

To feed me life,

To protect me from the cold,

To save me for the spring,

All that it missed out, lady,

Was the unexpected,

The tale of your departure,

Else, many a times,

Have I seen the rain, like this…

Four walls and only those walls,

Have never been enough to carve out a house,

One with an equal amount of strangers,

There existed passion, existed a tie to die for,

Ties that have led many a figures,

Go haywire, go astray,

Spent searching the very purpose of this life,

Ending up with the same old conclusion,

This city seen through blurry eyes,

Have started afresh,

After many a breakdowns,

Shattering down many a times,

Trying to break free,

Once again, have I turned around,

Once again, have I started hoping to get back some,

Expecting returns,

Been losing so long, but

Never did I acknowledge my loss,

Never did I dream,

I’ll loose you too, someday,

Else, many a times,

Have I seen the rain, like this…


Many a times,

Have I been duped,

Trying to stay afloat,

Floating with the tide,

Have I been burnt,

Trying to learn lessons from the Fire,

Have I suffered,

Trying learning ways to give out a lot of things,

Ways to offer,

But, never did I dream,

I also, had to give you,

A farewell, someday,

Else, many a times,

Have I seen the rain, like this…




(Totally, felt and inspired from the Bengali song, “Ami Brishti Dekhechi (I’ve seen the rain)” by the very talented and uniquely gifted singer, song-writer, actor, musician and filmmaker, Anjan Dutta, accompanied by Somlata.

For more on Anjan Dutta, visit :

For lyrics of the song “Ami Brishti Dekhechi (I’ve seen the rain)” from Mr.Dutta’s  2011 Bengali film, “Ranjana Ami Aar Ashbona (Ranjana! I ain’t comin’back ever again)”, visit :

For the song, itself, visit:


Waiting in Bangladesh…


Selfish! Wasn’t he?
Would never share his troubles,
Unburden himself,
It’s been years,
We’ve been there for each other,
Lived away the stink and the stare,
Lived away our patches of destruction,
Together, have we dug,
Many a tunnels of resurrection,
But,it always has been the same,
Eating, cautiously munching down,
Swallowing his worries,
Concealing them all the while,
He has always ensured,
We’re never aware,
Our faces are lit up when he’s around,
That there’s always a smile,
Made us believe,
Life’s a journey,
And, all we have to do,
Is brave the storms,
Swim over high tides,
Trying to escape this world,
Following other fishermen,
Calling it quits,
For once and for all,
Wasn’t the only way out,
We could start all over again,
We could always branch out, afresh…

I’m aware,
He’s breathing heavy debts,
The reason,
He has to take a chance,
Has to unlock fate,
Let it gamble,
Let it dance,
So, he’s out on the seas,
Hoping to net enough fish,
With two lives hanging at home,
That’s the only way,
Could he assure,
We didn’t sleep hungry,
Seldom did we starve,
Ran short of morsels on our dish..

Clad in a clean white kurta,
He left the house,
Left me waiting,
Praying for his safety,
Yearning for him to return…



Debaroon’2013 (self-illustrated)

Readers’s Love (1)

Versatile Blogger Award 



Well, a bit of love from my readers in here.

I was nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award by

A heartfelt ‘Thank You’ goes out for this fellow blogger of mine. This really feels nice…

Okay, now as per the rules, I will be sharing seven things about myself, and they go like this…

  1. I depend on my feathers of imagination cropping up from films, videos, and books.
  2. I research and live situations before I bring them to you.
  3. I live characters, and wear their emotions to bring out my best
  4. I do not write, unless I can feel the same emotions, myself.
  5. I’m an introvert till the time I do not know you well.
  6. I write, paint and sing
  7. I love watching films and documentaries from around the world

And, the fifteen blog sites that I, sincerely feel deserve this award are as follows:


Congratulations!!! Guys, each and every one of you rock…




I don’t want to play, I just wish I could walk…


Twelve it is,

Though scratched and peeved,

The broken military watch,

Is still ticking,

Like me it is the only other inheritance of my family,

Our only possession that wasn’t rubbed on to the ground completely,

My grandpa gave it over to my dad,

After a short stint in the Israeli army,

And, since then dad preserved it,

Like he’d taken care of me till now…

It’s a brand new year,

Kids all around the world,

Must have gotten together,

Must be a hell of a time,

To play, to eat, to make merry,

But I don’t want so much,

I know kids in my world are not so lucky,

I don’t want to play,

I just wish I could walk…


I’d seen those jet planes that close for the very first time,

Gripped by their power,

Trembling in that macho sound of theirs,

I thought that manly machine attracted me,

But, before I could think anymore,

The ceiling came down on me,

And, soon my pounding heart,

Caught the pain,

My leg wasn’t there,

I could feel myself only till my knee…

So, now I don’t want to play,

I just wish I could walk…

Crushing on my tool in that Turkish refugee camp,

Resting my aching arms and those crutches,

I miss my dream of playing with my brother,

With all of my family dead,

Now I dream no more,

All I want is to ask friends from that happy world out there,

Did they need my leg that badly?

Only a little makes me happy,

I don’t want to play,

I just wish I could walk…


(Inspired from Joe Sterling’s CNN article, “Uprooted by Syria’s war: ‘Is there a worse way to live than this?’ “,


Hey! take me along…


It’s been years since you accepted that barricade,

It’s been years since you left me all alone,

To wither away with the autumn leaves,

To lay still and hear footsteps of your man walking past that door,

To witness the world come and go,

Today, time has been kind to have turned me into a Mummy

So that I rest unperturbed and secured in my pyramid of fate,

Without waiting for you and that world of yours to take me along!



A painkiller for a sloshed me, straight from the Almighty


I’m here,

You need not fear,

‘He’ has a cure for every pain,

A pinch for every gain,

Mending tools for souls gone insane,

Every heart shall be understood,

Before it stops, for once and all,

No matter how hard you try,

Flesh and blood will it be,

You cannot gift yourself a heart of wood,

There’s a beauty for every beast,

There’s an outcry at every feast,

But, when the guests are gone,

When the glitters are scrapped,

When the lights are out,

It’s time for your ones,

It is only in that darkness stifling with genuine companionship then,

That they would want to celebrate…

It is these moments that shall heal your wounds,

Limit your desires,

Scoop out in front of you the very meaning of life,

The meaning of love,

The meaning of relationships…

Shook by the sudden trikle,

From my whisky glass hitting the wooden counter, the polished drinking table,

I tried looking away from that golden cross hanging short down her neck,

I heard her telling me all this into my ears,

Did she actually utter a word?

Or was it me dreaming? Staring her down her neck,

Stuck, since late,

Must have made her feel filthy by now,

Had to raise my eyes,

Cut through my layers of shame,

Only to see her smile,

That steamy invite,

Her eyes long abandoned by slumber,

They signaled down on the table,

On the glass in red lipstick,

was her number…


Coloradoan Lessons


Having snapped uncomfortable social ties,

Having given up my job, I broke out of those chains of slavery,

As I strolled down the dusty outskirts of Denver,

Happy vacationers waved and jeered at me,

Sights of their vehicles painted bright green, red, yellow and blue,

Signaled towards life,

Towards peace,

Towards the real me,

Green-flagging my plans of self-discovery…


I hitch-hiked to the Slab City,

Saw them parked, saw them party,

I got my share of pretty pretty stares,

I know I was here, this was my road, my destiny…

They told me, beyond this, lies the unending desert of Colorado,

Where’s you water? Where’s your food?

Miles of uninhabited baked terrain,

Would kill you hungry, would kill you dry,

Hey kid, you really got to worry…

I smiled, as I thought,

Back at Denver,

I had everything, I wasn’t dying,

No one tried killing me,

But where was the happiness?

Let’s try finding it, one more time.

In scarcity, in adversity…

Stepping close to the salvation mountain,

I looked back, only to confirm their ant-like traces,

From here I was alone,

In the hands of nature,

I closed my eyes, felt the blowing sand kiss my cheeks,

As I read that painted saying,

‘God Never Fails’…

Amidst the scorching wilderness,

Standing empty-handed, with the shirt on my shoulder,

I could see miles of chocolate land,

Pitted miserly with creosote bushes, and the Cholla Cactus,


My hike was cut short, as I stood looking into eyes of the desert’s life,

Inhaling hard, the tailed-horn lizard seemed proclaiming its territory,

Lying on his oval base, it showcased its pointed scales,

I could see eight sharp horns on its head,

They were rising, getting ready,

Ii trembled in fear, tried looking off those blood-shot eyes,

With not a soul around,

I prayed to get away, my heart craved a ride.


I could hear the reptile declare,

“Like my desert, happiness is unfathomable in itself,

Scares like me will always be there,

It is your steps, that’ll take you past,

To the farthest corners of life,

Where glee prevails, and sadness fades away fast…

I surrender to the Lizard king, then and there,

With a thud, my hip hits the ground beneath,

Looking up at the gleaming skies, I see the vulture hovering in despair,

There was no death around, no calamity,

The bird got it wrong this time,

For it’s a soul full of life,

A soul that won the arid wilderness,

A free soul, full of life,

On its way to embrace happiness, contentment and the truth, permanently…