Leaves and Letters

Linking with Poetry Pantry #415

Autumn: The Final Fall

Yajnaseni Draupadi

I am the chosen one;

Chosen to be at the receiving end

Of every injustice.

Devoid of a childhood,

Despised by my own father

And humiliated by one and all

For no fault of mine

I'm tired of asking why and why.

I am the chosen one;

Chosen to endure pain and suffering

From the moment I stepped onto this earth

I loved him dearly,

But had to marry five men

To save his family from shattering

Due to one mistake by Kunti Ma

I awaited her blessings with Arjun,

My coy smile unable to conceal my love;

I was weaving dreams of a paradise,

But instead of blessings,

Why did my life change to one full of ridicule?

I am the chosen one;

Chosen to have the strongest mind

And self-protect my honor

Despite having five valiant husbands.

How cruelly they failed me on that fateful day

When I needed them the most!

I may be battered,

I may be tired of fighting

Yet, I am fiery and opinionated

Beautiful and compassionate,

Because I have the Lord by my side

As my friend, Govind.

-Purba Chakraborty 

26.07.2017

This is a persona poem, a form that I recently started enjoying a lot while pursuing an online poetry and play writing course from the University of Iowa. I chose the character of Draupadi and gave her a voice as I find Draupadi as one of the most fascinating characters in Indian mythology. 

Note: Draupadi is one of the most important female characters in the Hindu epic, Mahabharata. According to the epic, she is the daughter of Drupada, King of Panchala and is married to the five Pandavas. You can know more about her here.

Image Source: Here

The Back Scattered Memories

Sometimes I wonder if memories drown us into the sea of pain or help us stay afloat in life. I guess it all depends on the way we treat those memories.

Haplessly longing for those moments to occur again in our lives can only make us melancholic, whereas cherishing those memories and feeling blessed that we could experience such good times in this lifetime can calm our hearts. After all, moments, the incredibly good ones are destined to be memories and such memories are destined to reside in our hearts. Dr. Seuss has rightly said, "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

We, writers, have an advantage as we can write about those memories in a journal or blog. We can relive those moments in retrospect and make them come alive once again through words. Writing may not completely alleviate the pain, but it often helps us make sense of the chaos in our mind.  

Azure or Grey: The two opposite colors of life

The beautiful, azure butterfly

Frisky and agile

Flutters over the bougainvillea tree

Oblivious of the gloom around.

The grey, cloudy sky

Which was beautifully blue 

Some time back,

Threatens to breakdown anytime. 

Sitting on the rusty bench,

She silently observes both:

The azure butterfly 

and the grey sky

The two opposite colors of life

In the presence of one, 

we forget the other. 

Her heart was once 

an azure butterfly

Today, it is like the grey sky

Achromatic and burdened

With the weight of her tears

That threatens 

of a relentless downpour.

As the blanket of thoughts 

wrap her tight,

The azure butterfly come flying,

Sits on her hand, 

wait for a few seconds and go away

Perhaps, letting her know

'This too shall pass'. 

-Purba Chakraborty

(26.05.2017)

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry # 355

When love becomes a journey!

I gaze at the autumn sky with a newly fallen maple leaf in my hand. The graceful cumulus clouds, oblivious to my inner tempest, look at me and sigh. Then, they continue their play as I try to unknot the memories of one particular autumn afternoon. The more I unknot the memories, the more they get tangled and along with them, I get tangled too - a chaotic mess. I start writing on the yellow notebook to unburden my heart. My spilled thoughts are all over the yellow pages. Every day, I write a new story as I try to unknot the memories. I add a new detail or change a dialogue as I read between the silences of a` moment long gone by. Finally, I have a thousand stories of a handful of memories. A thousand ways of feeling you by my side.  

I sail in your love

Every new moon to full moon

My timeless journey.

Linking with Poetry Pantry #346

That Particular Song

I find music very much related to nostalgia. I have experienced it several times. You are having a regular day, busy with your work. Suddenly, a song plays on the radio and that takes you back to a different time, in a different place in the blinking of eyes. For the next 5 minutes, you are not in this world. And when the song ends, you realize the tremendous emotional impact it just had on you. 

"Nostalgia is a seductive liar."~ George Ball

Linking this poem with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Nostalgia

The Dried Rose

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The dried, dark rose

Concealed within the pages of my diary

Whispers countless words

On a full moon night

When the heart is soaked in love

And chained by memories. 

Those are the words 

That were left unsaid

Like an unsolved puzzle,

An incomplete play,

Or a beautiful portrait

Left half-colored midway.

You perhaps wanted me to solve it,

But I was no master at the craft

I was too naive for mind games.

Dawn arrives with a new hope

The neglected, dried rose

Sigh at an incomplete story;

I quietly close the diary

Unchain my heart from the memories

And get back to reality.

-Purba Chakraborty

(12.02.2017)

Linking this poem with Prompt Nights – Love’s a night-song sweet sung by the tender strokes of wind – Valentine’s Day Special and Poetry Pantry #340

Have you checked out the new cover of my poetry book? The book is absolutely free to download on your Kindle App and Device till the 14th Feb. A small Valentine's Day gift from my side. Grab your copy from Amazon now!

Attachments~ A mirror of illusion

Linking this poem with POETRY PANTRY # 336

When I saw myself in a parallel world

Sitting in lotus position,

I close my eyes

Let myself drown and then float gently

On the soothing meditation music

I slowly travel to a distant land

Where harmony and beatitude exist.

I see a carpet of verdant grass

Yellow and pink blooms

Whimsical butterflies dancing around

I notice a girl; wind in her hair

Her laughter uninhibited

As she followed the butterflies,

Chasing them until she is tired.

Holding her belly, she then lies down

On the lush green meadow.

Glowing with contentment and gratitude,

She gives me a radiant, genuine smile

I open my eyes with a smile

As I softly realize I saw myself

In a parallel world,

Brimming with inner peace and happiness.

-Purba Chakraborty

04.01.2017

Linking this poem with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Vision

When I saw the prompt 'vision', so many things came in my mind. I definitely want to be a very successful writer and fulfill all my dreams. I want to travel a lot and do social work. And there are so many other things that I aspire to achieve. But first of all, I would want to be a person made of inner peace and inner happiness who can spread peace and happiness all around her.

One of my resolutions for 2017 is to do yoga and meditation regularly. This poem is inspired from my visions during meditation and the picture is from my trip to a spiritual destination of West Bengal, Mayapur in 2016. When I was in Mayapur for 2 days, I experienced a lot of inner peace. So, I thought this picture would be apt for the poem. 

A Little Blue Bird

A little blue bird

Greeted me this morning

I recognized him at once

My beautiful old friend,

My only source of solace

In the gloomy days of last year.

I smiled and said him a 'hello'

He studied me for a while

Then cooed blithely; his happiness palpable

"What makes you happy, little bird?"

"Your smile that is shining in your eyes

I see you've risen above pain, little human

Finally outgrown those who've hurt you."

We gazed at each other for a minute

Silently revering our bond

I blew a flying kiss

He cooed once again and flew away.

A little blue bird

Has a piece of my heart

Perhaps he is from some fairy tale

Carrying some pixie dust 

Meeting him on new year was pure joy.

-Purba Chakraborty

(01.01.2017)

Wish you all a very happy, prosperous and blessed new year!

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry # 334

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Perfect on Paper

All our rosy, poetic conversations

All the moon-lit dreams we shared

The telepathy we felt

On the most mundane occasions

That converted a moment into a miracle;

All our unsolved riddles

All our love laden complaints

The connection of souls we felt

In the lap of ethereal silence

That echoes deep within even today;

I wonder why, but they are only

Perfect on paper

Incomprehensible out of it

Reality, perhaps doesn't have space

For something so deep and esoteric.

-Purba Chakraborty

04.12.2016

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #331

Gone With the Wind

The season of beauty 

Has gone with the wind

Leaving behind frosty thorns

Dried, dark petals

That shows no hope.

Promises and memories

Are two sisters at war

Pitted against each other

Within a blink of eyes,

Promises perish in the storm of life,

No attachment or blind ties

And look at memories

They don't leave in hurricanes and earthquakes

Even when your existence is at risk

They can never be gone with the wind.

-Purba Chakraborty

(16.11.2016)

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Dew drops on grass!

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The opaline dew drops

Shimmering on the blades of grass;

The pearly tear drops

Glistening on the word-filled pages

Speaks of an affair, mystic and beautiful.

A conversation in the emptiness of night

That happily dies with the morning sun

So that it can be reborn again at night

Away from prying eyes

In the lap of starry, ethereal silence. 

-Purba Chakraborty

2.11.2016

To my muse!

Like a broken guitar

Like a broken guitar,

I lie mangled and overrun

In the labyrinth of life

Amid the sea of people.

My melody has fallen between cracks

As I gave myself to people

Who couldn't hear my music

My chords are broken

And I lie numb and soundless

Amid the charring noise

Seeping life out of me.

Like a lost child in a fair

I run from people to people

Asking countless questions 

As the questions multiply manifold.

Defeated, I close my eyes

Listen to my heart beats in silence

My broken strings gently collide

I hear some music; faint and delicate

Perplexed, I take a deep look within

Where I find an ocean of melody left

Although I am apparently broken.

-Purba Chakraborty

19.09.2016

Linking my poem with Prompt Nights by Sanaa : That which we seek; deep within will find – “IDENTITY”

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BEAUTIFUL : Blooms and Miracles

 Beautiful flowers gently caressing my soul

  Enchanting me with every passing minute;

    A sort of miracle occured as I gazed at them

    United with the Divine energy, I felt blessed

   The blooms vanquished every anxiety I had

Inspired me with their profound wisdom:

    Follow the pace and style of Mother Nature

      Unravel the varied mysteries of the Universe

      Let the divine beauty unfold in your life too.

-Purba Chakraborty

7.09.2016

Linking my new Acrostic Poem with Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Blooms (noun)

Letters to the Ocean

The letters to the ocean

Never go unanswered;

The ocean whispers a lullaby

Caressing her scarred heart

Whenever her tears mingle with it. 

-Purba Chakraborty

28.08.2016

Today, for some reason, I am feeling uninspired and stuck. The scariest place for a writer is to be in that black zone where she feels lost and uninspired. As I sit on my bed today, feeling the heaviness in my heart, I remember one morning that I have spent with the sea waves. 

It was in 2013. I was extremely hurt and clueless in my life as there were various things that were going wrong in my life. I walked on the beach hopelessly, letting the sea waves caress my feet. I kept looking at the distant horizon as if I was waiting for a miracle to happen. 

Tears escaped my eyes and merged with the sea. I was in that state for quite some time, after which I started feeling better. The sea absorbed my pain, like it was its own. The harmony of waves was balmy and soothing. There was some message in that harmony...to rise and shine.

If only I could now spend some time sitting by the sea, being absolutely vulnerable. If only I could now write letters to the ocean...

Linking with Poetry Pantry #317

Sandcastle Dreams

Do you remember the two kids

Building sandcastle dreams

With love and innocence so sublime?

Reality has left no room for dreams

The love extinguished in monotony.

Do you think it's too late?

Let us rewind and pause at the moment

We started taking each other for granted;

Holding hands gently, let's wipe the dust

That had slowly blurred our love,

Paint it again with unadulterated emotions

Who knows we might then

Rediscover the treasure of our sandcastle dreams!

-Purba Chakraborty

(21.08.2016)

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #316

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Noise and Music

The perplexity

Of untamed chaos

Asphyxiated her;

She could find

More and more noise

Wherever she looked for

Melody and Euphony.

A wood-note caressed her ears

From the faraway woods

She walked in that direction,

Letting the music of the forest

Nuzzle her chaotic mind

The tweeting birds, the rippling lake

The wild wind rustling the eager leaves.

The noise and the music merged

Just like day coalesces with night

In the bosom of evening;

In that moment,

She discovered peace.

-Purba Chakraborty

01.05.2016

Linking this poem with Poetry Pantry #300

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