Author: Oindri_I

Posted in Poetry

Windows

Posted on by Oindri_I 
Every window tells a story.
Some are beautiful,
Some are full of agony
Some depict stories as sinful.

I smoke up a cigarette every night.
Smoke coils out of my room.
And I wonder every time;
What stories will bloom
Here, in this very room.

Demons fight with me in my dream.
And my past mocks my future.
And no matter how much I scream,
My wounds find no suture.

My window also tells a story.
Of a crumbled, tampered woman.
She lures new men to her bed
Only to forget her worries.
She dances like a butterfly,
Like no one is watching.
She cries on her cold floor
Trapped in her visionary dreams.
Maybe my window tells this story.

And I wonder what other stories
Are told by the other windows.
Do they sing lullabies?
Or do they rise some brows?
Do they sing their owner's glory?
Or do they invite the crows?

And I keep thinking and thinking;
Till the clock strikes midnight.
Bathed in moonbeam on my bed
I just light up another cigarette.
Posted in Poetry

যদি সত্যি হতে

Posted on by Oindri_I 
যদি তুমি সত্যি হতে,
আসতে একটা সাদা ঘোড়া ছুটিয়ে?
যদি তুমি সত্যি হতে,
ঢাকতে আমাকে একটা সাদা চাদরে?
যদি তুমি সত্যি হতে
খেলতে আমার কপালের চুলগুলো নিয়ে?

হয়তো ধরতে দিতে তোমার কড়ে আঙুল।
হয়তো খাইয়ে দিতে একটু বুড়ির চুল।
হয়তো তুমি ভিজতে একলা ময়দানে;
আর আমি দেখতাম তোমায় অপলকে।

যদি তুমি সত্যি হতে
আগলাতে আমাকে বলিষ্ঠ হাতে,
হয়তো আমি জড়িয়ে ধরতাম তোমায় পরম আশ্লেষে।
যদি তুমি সত্যি হতে
সারাতে আমার সব ক্ষত,
হয়তো তোমার নিশ্বাস থামতো হঠাৎ আমার চুম্বনে। 

কিন্তু তুমি তো সত্যি না। 
তুমি কি শুধুই কল্পনা?
নাকি গতজন্মের প্রেমিকা?
শুধু জানি মিশে আছো আমার সত্ত্বায়; 
রয়েছ কোনও নাম না জানা ঠিকানায়; 
অথবা কোনও অশরীরী উতল হাওয়ায়।
Posted in Poetry

The Chasm

Posted on by Oindri_I 
Here, I'm sitting at a fancy restaurant.
My date bought me a nice champagne.
Painted in red, my lips leave a smirk.
I know, how to make this man more tempted.

I might spend tonight in this man's arms.
Or someone else would share coffee cups.
Maybe tomorrow I will focus on my career
And cast them aside forever.
Maybe, this month my salary will get a hike.
But I must go back to the empty house only to dine.

I travelled to this foreign land leaving behind a home,
Thinking that home was limiting me.
Neighbours think that I am soaring here high alone;
Little do they know that ambition has no mercy.

Sometimes I can't see the Sun here.
Sometimes it rains here with snow.
Sometimes the chilly wind is quite severe.
Sometimes the heat drops too low.

And I scroll through my social media
To I look for some old albums.
There I find some friends in sepia;
And I can feel the chasm.

That's why when a man gave me a note today,
"What can I get for you, Hun?"
My shivering fingers could only type back,
"I just want to see my mum."