Poetry and art from Srijani Dutta

Think like a blabber

(Selected pieces)

(2019-2023)

Self-Portrait

2020

I contemplate a lot. I ponder over my mind, my prejudices and my existence. It makes me express myself through words and colours. 

Fragment 1

There is a light, I believe

At the end of the tunnel

Shimmering, blinking

To show the hapless souls

The meaning of life.

There is a light, I hope

At the far end of a tunnel,

Hope to see

Not its death

Its constant struggle

Against the rough winds

And the hammering silhouettes.

Burning flames, burning flames

Flicker but not yield.

Burning flames, burning flames

Pose like a crumbled soul;

Remaining ashes

Pose like a crooked nail;

Moisture, dewdrops, lavender,

Skin of oaks, landmine, sound of those

Savage disasters, elusive memory,

Knightly armour, tattered jackets, wet soils

Uncharted vision- all I want

From the daybreak to the last ray of hope.

Till then, burning flames,

Seek, strive,

As there is a light at the end

Of doubt and denial:

Conquerable and 

 Solemn.

6 the September

2021

Trash box

We throw garbage in a garbage box. Unknowingly, we throw a fragment of ourselves in the box; we throw our skins and unknowingly we look down upon at the wastages. So, what is it doing in the box? How long?

16 December

2021

Fragment 2

Contemplating over things: Mind’s progress

I. Similarities

It feels like air

When someone sleeps,

Seems like a box of stones has been dragged out

Pacified 

Hollow like balloon.

It feels like river

When the sweat trickles down from forehead

And touches someone’s knees,

It is cold like water

When the fan runs in full swing.

It feels like a jolt

When the bus driver hits a break,

Seems like one discovers oneself 

And starts searching for the past skins 

Of the past times

In the road 

Once travelled

Of his livelihood. 

07.11.2022

II. The Pain

My mind needs a sheet

To cover itself up

For camouflage

For hiding from the wind

As it carries the unwanted thoughts

Of different times,

Thought about bodies,

Uncertainties,

Failures;

My mind does not halt for a moment

I like a sleepwalker try to cut the entrance door

To have a look

Of the sunny mornings

Of its other side;

Gloomy, it sounds

Mild, it appears

It bombards,

It bombards the wall 

Between my tempo and mood

I don’t want to have the darkness 

Around my body

When my mind

Can leave its skin

Within a wink of an eye.

The cobwebs inside my mind

Like fear

Increase

If they are not untangled 

With the feelings

Of ease

And 

Of melodies.

From the melodies,

One can find a tune

The tune

That binds 

The hearts of those

Who cycle through the veins of life

Cycle through the spark of failures.

08.06.2023

III. Agony

I am born in the month of agony

As peace has not dared to appear;

From sunbeams to sunlight,

Shapes and intensity

Change,

The toddler learns to run with words;

Here, I, the agonized, disorganized soul

Do not know how to crawl.

All the butterflies spread their wings

Around the tip of a bud

Encouraging it to grow,

Hope, 

The world acts like this

And makes a constellation

Of lost souls.

March, 2023

IV.

She cries and cries

As if she is destined

To bear the weight

Of the cracking sky,

She never imagines

That her teardrops 

Can paint the white rose

Into blue

That she drew

In her notebook.

7th April

Fragment 3

The Blabber

Side face of a blabber

2019

The Blabber 

Part 1

If something wonderful happens in my life, what will I do? 

The best thing may arise in me. 

My instinct or my strong belief in miracle can bring miracle to me. 

People say that life is a box of miracles. 

Life happens when nothing is happening.

Who will open the lid of the box of my life? 

Waiting is the foe of creative energies,

I believe. 

Restlessness creates the symphony

That takes refuge in me. 

Blabber is one who speaks a lot but can do nothing. 

I am that blabber.

Blabber is one who lives in the bubble. 

Bubble of misconception, bubble of doubt. 

I am that blabber. 

I am such a blabber that I fail at everything. 

I want to be a doer. 

From being a dear to a deer, one goes through a journey.  

Part 2

I write to free myself from the clutches of thoughts.

My body acts like a vessel and I am the sailor of the sea. 

My vehicle is not so big like my body. 

Its frailness makes me ponder over my rowing skills. 

The canoe like body faces hurdles to go forward. 

I want to be free like water. 

As free as the birds. 

The boxes around my existence enable me to think

That I have to take a shape 

Of a cube, round, square 

Or of any geometric figures. 

Water is shapeless 

So does the wind. 

Sky is shapeless so does the earth. 

The oxymoronic sensation is my breath 

That acts like a fuel to the machines of my body. 

Oil makes the machine run properly. 

Every evening, the horizon paints the scenic beauty

That does not demand any mechanical or technological recording. 

My eyes see the eyes of the firmament. 

At night, it is the evil but the day comes with the prediction.

A hope,

A dawn.

14.04.2023

The moods of Future

The future is a giant ball. A mystery starts with the anonymous suspects and ends with the prominent names. The more you try to look at the future, the more it will get away from you. It is like sand slipping away from your fingers. It only makes you realize what you can hold on and that is present. Today, the first day of the Bengali calendar says what can happen in the near future. Possibility and probability are not same with certainty. Certainty gives you the feeling of ending. As long as a soul can float, he is happy. 

Happiness gives you wings. It makes you venture into the lands that you have never thought of. The blankness in the eyes of a kid does not hypnotize an adult. But, the same blankness garnished with wonder can make anyone feel lost if anyone peeps into it.

Eyes are like ocean, I always say. 

From yellowish blue to bluish brown, the colour paints the layers of the sky. They symbolize the different moods. The cinematographer plays with the colours, technicality of the cameras, and the camera decides which mood (circular or horizontal) it should concentrate on. The process of contemplation evokes out the psychology of the scene, the inner spectrum of the human beings. 

The wise man can quickly advise on the significance of the minutes. Seconds are better than minutes. The tourists wait in the Tiger Hill to witness the rising of the sun, the advent of a new dawn. They wait with their cameras but within a blink, they can miss the metaphorical birth of the sun. This is the power of the seconds. The future is exactly like this one. It follows the laws of nature. And miraculously, the nature is the creative offspring of God. This nature stores the gems under its soil. It lets her rivers flow. It is also like mood. Very uncertain yet so adventurous just like life.  

Youth is life; life is youth. How long can youth stay? Youth is the bohemian river, a wild horse. After youth, comes the mid age. The age of grey hair. White means wisdom. Wisdom means a step closer to death. And everyone will meet the future. The future comes with a hazy mood.

Youth

2019

Life is synomous with youth. Youth can be existent, omnipresent if one only thinks of present. Destiny is like a flame. Moths are like the pedestrians. Flame attracts the moths. Some die; some make a life of illusions.

15.04.2023

Prayer and Prayer

Folding the hands and looking upwards are the ways to alert the God. You become silent; you become calm. You have words but you throw words at the wall. There is no receiver except God. The tantrums of the world, the gullibility of the human existence, the love for the breathing- all sterilize our thinking capacity. 

The act of thinking makes the hair grey. 

Hair falls down onto the ground. 

The empty baldness starts appearing. 

Still, you pursue conversation with God. 

Your sweaty body starts getting melted due to agony and excitement. 

Uncertainty aligns with belief and belief is a force. 

A force

Indomitable.

15th April, 23

Fragment 4

Face of Durga

2021

The (000) of my life

I don’t know the meaning of (000). But, I am sure what may be the possibilities of (000) in my life. People say that life is existence. I believe that life is doing. Journey means going from one place to another, moving from one space to another. Moving signifies that you are doing. You are doing for the mind; you are doing for the body; you are doing the deeds. Does (000) refer to a circle? Is it a line? Does a straight line hit itself back-to-back until it gets transformed into a round shape? Line has an end. Circle has no exit. Line has an exit. Circle has no end. I am Srijani. I am happily stuck to the ground of (000). I am running, growing like the leaves of a plant. A seed in a soil. 

The beauty of livelihood is such that it makes one pause for a moment. One thinks and thinks until his eyes feel the burden of sleep. 

Mahalaya, 2023

Fragment 5

I see you-

The people,

I see myself there, 

Just there.

From here,

To here

Navigating, slowly, silently like a 

Super sleuth or a cautious frog

I am going

I am traversing.

I am visualizing images

Like a heap of moments

So transitory

So illuminating

Ephemeral like wind

Like a second.

It evaporates,

It evokes out the smell of

Loveliness

Loveliness of the face

That is standing in the dark,

The eyes as dark as caves

Dark as the veiled sky,

I am standing in the mid centre of stage

Called life.

How ironical it appears!

I am cycling through the words 

Some want to become the dusk

And I want to become a dawn.

Tears blow like wind

Only to make a bridge

Between you and me

Me- the mind

And you- 

The people, the receiver

And the audience. 

17.11.2023

Fragment 6

Two years have passed.

I forget to read the notes. 

There is a coin in the notes.

The coin that I place on my palm 

Only to listen to its subtle sound 

Is a boon to anyone’s miserable days. 

This sound is so silent 

That the deaf intends to receive its noiseless words. 

Sometimes, it is my soul 

That reciprocates to the sound of my brain. 

Who gives me signals? 

Me to my selves?  

Or something else?

18th November

2023

Fragment 7

I can smell the smell of the dead men

But, I forget to smell the odour of the flowers

Of my garden.

I see the vision of the forebears in the 

Eyes of the girls,

I can smell the smell of their bodies

I smell the smell that is yet to come

But, I forget to smell

That is already there.

Is it just my fear?

Is it something else?

I think and overthink

To let my thoughts flow

Through my veins

And I walk

I go.

25th November

2023

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