Rohit Bhanja Chowdhury

Being a student of English Literature, I came across emotions that divide a person into two characters- the one the world sees & the one that the mirror sees. This dichotomy first prompted me to write. I find more justice to my expression through poems. A religious reader and follower of Tagore, currently a blogger and a poet, taking new endeavors.

• The Holy Courtyard

  • So I have come, breaking the silence
    I was sceptical, yet I know when you called me
    It took me long to fathom your depth and vigilance
    The road was long; eyes were heavy and a heart to flee

    The stairs were high yet I passed them for you
    Oh dear friend of mine! How can I be thankful?
    Oh my lord! Of unknown origin you have made me lure
    When I entered the gates of your abode, it was plentiful

    The birds gathered over in your courtyard
    I fly with them, today here, in your halo
    My eyes have showered, my emotions made up, I am tired
    I came to find the solace in you, you I follow

    The sun asks your allowance, who am I to call you?
    Yet I know you are human, you are pure
    I have come with all my worries to tell them to you
    I sit here, fill me with wisdom, with patience, promise me a cure.

    The huge courtyard of your palace clad in red stone
    Lures me to dance with your music of the universe
    The rhythm calls me, nut there are human eyes, unknown
    Love me; accept me in your pity, an epitome diverse

    The flies have gathered around me, dust is everywhere
    Yet I feel nothing except a sheer joy of unity
    In your light I want to find answers, my sorrows to share
    Hold my heart, friend of mine; I have given you my sanity

    I want to a mad man, lost in your beautiful realm
    I want to be as insane as you, no more this entity of loss
    Take me to your garden, and help me take off my shame
    I have got words, chaos in this silence, thus in you I am lost.

• THE NARCISSIST CLOWN

  • I have walked the shores of the endless sea-
    I have seen the stars of the northern hemisphere,

    I have held your hand in the unknown glee,
    I have travelled the universe like the Last Lear.
    I have danced to the rhythm of the conch,
    I have bathed in the dark realm of the sun,
    I have dreamt of the Helicon and the fountain, they haunt;
    I have felt the breeze of ice; I have devoured the air like a man.
    They are all lost travellers blinded by their illusions,
    I am the sooth that drenched souls search for a cure;
    I am the ship of Columbus, who found an island in my passion;
    I am the sole torchbearer of the dense night; I am the one who lures.
    I am the Helen of Troy, for ages I have loved and lost;
    I am the depth of the Pacific; I am the unknown of the Amazon,
    I have been a spectator of the drama of Eden fall, God the host!
    I carry with me the buried past, unspeakable and forlorn.

    For, I am the oasis that alludes the quenchers
    For, I am the deluge that engulfs Noah and trenches.

• The Night Fall

  • Bats circle the sky, as the agony horns through the red clouds,
    As night gnaws into the flesh of time, the cry of the lusty hours are aloud;
    Why thus we sit under the open sky, hoping for purging drops of soul?
    Why thus this thunder reminds us of delirious ghouls?
    Thousands upon thousands of lives have reeked the earth's breasts,
    Till the milk she gave had a stench, it rusts what it touches
    And infest
    The souls lying lifeless in its mother’s womb, in the battling cry of humanity
    When the mother runs naked and burning, pity too looses its sanity
    The stench of burning flesh, heaviness of the soiled grave,
    Neither water nor blood can rest the burning pyres,
    The flowers on the graves have died depraved.
    The bats circle the sky, as we hear to the clouds roar
    Corrupted drops of agony, lust and fire pour
    The hours have read the gospels and the holy books
    The earth is hungry, the famine has struck Death too,
    Back to our soul it looks.

    Bats circle the sky, as the agony horns through the red clouds,
    As night gnaws into the flesh of time, the cry of the lusty hours are aloud;
    Why thus we sit under the open sky, hoping for purging drops of soul?
    Why thus this thunder reminds us of delirious ghouls?
    Thousands upon thousands of lives have reeked the earth's breasts,
    Till the milk she gave had a stench, it rusts what it touches
    And infest
    The souls lying lifeless in its mother’s womb, in the battling cry of humanity
    When the mother runs naked and burning, pity too looses its sanity
    The stench of burning flesh, heaviness of the soiled grave,
    Neither water nor blood can rest the burning pyres,
    The flowers on the graves have died depraved.
    The bats circle the sky, as we hear to the clouds roar
    Corrupted drops of agony, lust and fire pour
    The hours have read the gospels and the holy books
    The earth is hungry, the famine has struck Death too,
    Back to our soul it looks.