Seeking solace, peace in Suchitra Mitra

Suchitra Mitra and Hemant Kumar were the first voices I discovered and fell in love with in Tagore's music, which happened pretty late in my life - in my teens - considering that I am a Bengali, and considering that my father and mother listened to them, sang and hummed them ever since I can remember. I guess I was just deaf to this tender music before that.. also because I never lived in Bengal in my childhood days, where the influence of this music is so strong. For example, my mother and her sisters had to learn at least one Tagore song well, to sing when prospective grooms came to "see" them..

Anyway, thankfully, my mind and my heart and my soul did finally awaken, and I turn to them whenever my mind, my heart, my soul seeks gentle solace and peace, in life's lonely path.

Suchitra Mitra has remained my favourite voice, though I have discovered many more voices since those days of my teens..here are a few of her renditions:

VISWA JODA: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gZ7A1Ut0Oyw

ABAR ESECHE ASHAD: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=nITh36oyiMU

megher pore megh jomechhey... Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=IYZ2FmCgZdM

Khelar Sathi Biday Dwar --- Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=1UUlFj9s5YU

NA HOI TOMAR - Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=lbikOSWFhl8

BAJRO MANIK - Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KrwhEYNmC0k

Suchitra Mitra - Je raate mor duarguli: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=RTQjDTkEhaw

tagore song : suchitra mitra & kanika banerjee: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6BEjGL8dHeI

suchitra mitra ; din guli more: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=VEPNHabMwnU

Maran re tuhun mama Shyama saman.. Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=IK4GcRC77LQ

Tabu mone rekho...Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=uw-P6Bkxepc

Aachhe dukkho, aachhe mrityu...Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3Nc3bBrC1No

JAKHAN PORBE NA MOR PAYER CHINHA Suchitra Mitra: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=7khjN--OXqo

the hermit

it lives its life

wrapped in the

convoluted silk folds

of its mind

encapsulated by opaque bone

sometimes it pokes

an enquiring tongue

through its skull hole

to taste the world

and sharply recoils

at the bitter tang



a hermit creature

it permits none

other into

its hard shell

sometimes it extends

trembling fingers

to touch the

shifting sands

on which it stands

and sharply withdraws

at the stinging bite



it listens

well hidden

in its dark hole

to the song

of the waves

to the sound

of the wind

telling it stories

of a world

it never

knows

when she smiled

places she’s been to
walking over
plastic furniture
walking into blank walls
personal voices ringing
impersonally in her ears
speaking words
the meaning
lost in inanities
what insanity! --
with bold step, confident smile
strong of voice
she steps forth
though secretly her heart
sinks at the sound
of each foolish
blow that bruised
nevertheless
for she knew
in the secret
place in her heart
the falter she smothered
in her feet
the tremor
she concealed in her voice
the tremble she hid
in her hand - half outstretched
the fear she did not show
in the salt that stung her eyes
were hidden
in that secret
place in her heart
when she smiled…

Restless peace

Still seeking.. Wondering.. If there is
Anything on the other side.. Of Silence
Still learning.. How to overcome.. Fear
Of absences.. Silences.. Nothingness
Still learning.. How to quell.. The need

Wish I could say, 'I don't give a damn,
About absences.. Silences.. Nothingness..'
Trying hard.. To attain.. That state of bliss..
Of detachment.. Of needlessness

Did I imagine.. I heard your voice.. Your heartbeat
Just now..? The boat is anchored.. To
Such fleeting, nebulous.. Beacons..
Of hope.. The monsoon breeze..
Cools the burn.. In your heart's confusions

Beacons.. That light up.. Suddenly.. Dimly
In the darkness.. Of this never ending Night..
Just when.. I begin to feel.. I am fading
Out of your heart.. Your mind..
My mind comes awake.. Quells the heart ache..
Discards thoughts.. Confusions..
Of the fictitious.. And the authentic

Sleep then steals gently on my eyelids
And I put aside worldly woes.. And the ticking of Time
And despite a raging thunderstorm
I allow myself to drift.. Into the ephemeral oblivion..
Of restless peace

The fluttering leaf

Waking from an old familiar dream state

That same old dream - me seeking you

In vain, through obscuring clouds, sky, wind

A fallen leaf caught 

In the eddies of

The careless wind

Fluttering - now here, now there

Now in helpless circles

Will I ever know if you and I belong

Did we ever belong

You and I, to each other

She asks the tree

How long will this longing last

Why did you discard me

She demands

Of the tree, so silent, aloof

Do you and I mean anything

To each other -

Did we, ever mean anything

To each other -

The leaf flutters

Restlessly, tirelessly

It seems, aimlessly

The tree, lofty, aloof

His branches, bare

Has no answer

You are my domicile where I bury my lifelines

In your realm of rushing, frothing river-deltas

I stroll over the fluxing topographies

of your fecund anatomy

with its many revelations. I identify

every contorted mudra,

every eyeball morphed declamation,

every incandescent idolatry

accompanied by crashing cymbals

and beating drums, every marigold garland

wrapped around your chiselled neck,

every soul-breath wrench, every incense perfumed

sweat-gland drop that emanates from your stores

of dateless times --


I know I’ll never penetrate

your cloud-hidden psyche. I know

You and I can never be We, Us.

To comprehend fully is to understand the need.

Like an unsevered umbilical cord,

it is your piecemeal manifestations, your kaleidoscopic

scatterings, that tie me to you.

Yet estranges me, leaving me rootless.


You’re more than the halo-ringed homescape

that I happened upon on the hairpin bend of a roller coaster

to the grail-road terminal I was blindly heading for

those years ago – I have forgotten now the exact postmark.

Time never mattered. Like you I let myself

get scattered in your labyrinthine theme streets. And travelled beyond

dollhouse mentations to congested settlements

of neon lit stage settings, bustling bustees, clogged crawling streets

where word-painters tell their stories in lurid retellings

and the unending traffic flows bumper to bumper, winding through

spanking new aspirations, multistoried dreamscapes rearing

above low lying corrugated hubs; floating rivers of narratives

where laughing children play and procreate

and days drift into dateless times -- all of which

grow on your carbuncled body like extra limbs.


Your earth is fertile. Your soil is febrile.

You are my domicile where I bury my lifelines.

The season's last mango

A long time ago -- Sometimes it seems like another life time --

When I was a little girl -- Ah, those carefree days of childhood

When the summer season arrived, I gorged on juicy mangoes

Ripe and sweet and as carefree as a laughing child

That juicy laughter of tangy sweetness with each mango bite

Has stayed on my tongue, dripping of the blazing Sun

And humid hot summer breezes, until today.

I wonder now, where were you then?

Were you also tasting mango bites on summer days?

Many years have gone by since; a life time has slipped by.

A blur of seasons of mango bites; seasons in which

Unbeknownst to me, perhaps, I sought you in the summer breeze.

Perhaps it is to share our mango bites - create new memories -

That you came into my life, stealthily, unbeknownst to me.

And yet, here is another mango season, slipping by,

And I'm unable to give you a slice of the mango

I bought just for you - the juiciest best of the season.

The season's last mango

Its soft sunrise tinted flesh bursting with

The nectar of the flower that gave it birth.

I wonder where you are now;

Are you also tasting mango bites in this fading season?

Does your mango taste like mine; of sun soaked earth and cloudless skies?

Does it taste of the koel's longing in its song?

Does it ever taste of the darkness of foreboding, disquiet,

The taste of a sense of loss?

The loss of carefree childhood; the loss of love that has not been.

Mould and trapped moonlight and bruised flower petals

Linger on my tongue like a misty wraith

Which explodes every once in a while

Like some premonition in my throbbing mouth.

Is that the taste of dying love? Would I, could I endure that?

Can I find strength within me to hang tough

About you forgetting me; About us never being - together -

Tasting the earthy fragrance of love's enfolding mango bites?

Of course, of course.. Time heals all, they say..

I take another bite of the season's last mango

While I keep watching, waiting, hoping.

And wondering, again and again, where are you now?

Are you also biting into the season's last mango?