Infatuation, a Rubaiyat

I

School bag, blue shirt, hair parted on the right,

Daal-rice, the clock ticks away in delight;

Cycles stop, wagons with seasonal crop,

Get to her class before the gates shut tight.

II

The obsession froths beyond the eavesdrop,

Secrecy brews a moral of Aesop;

Friends don't yet know, the fear that the eyes show,

Grows the need to shout it from the rooftop.

III

Geography is boring, the maps tow

Useless details such as where's Kosovo;

It's all pretense, the absorption intense,

But her attention sets the world aglow.

IV

The wistful heart struggles to make some sense

And accept pain at misery's expense;

Then her comment, and the motives ferment,

The surging tide sweeps over the heart's fence.

V

Evening is drunk with sunlight, the day's spent,

Menthol erases the cigarette scent;

She fades from sight, the mundanities write,

A long ride back under the clouds' intent.

Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

Milk, a Triolet

Framed by mankind her voice turned raw.

For toxins had tainted ambrosia

and festered in her child to gnaw

framed by mankind, her voice turned raw

in grief for deaths to come. She saw

in court why she must fight inertia.

Framed by mankind her voice turned raw

for toxins had tainted ambrosia.




Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

Diamante Duo

Antonymous

Theatre || Cinema

Theatre

ancient, organic

previewing, staging, performing

Sophocles, Chekhov, Ray, Tarantino

filming, screening, releasing

modern, edited

Cinema.

Synonymous

Theatre = Cinema

Theatre

auditory, expressive

producing, setting, critiquing

Miller, Olivier, Azmi, Bergman

directing, acting, entertaining

visual, scripted

Cinema.

Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

'Seven Sins' : A Collection of Poems (Greed)

Here it is, the fourth one in the series. Took a while to get this out. It was interesting to confront this particular vice on a personal level, as I have never felt driven by it as strongly as the other ones. But it was there, underneath a lot of denials and other things, and in time it showed itself to me.  Enjoy, share, leave feedback if you wish. :)

Greed

I can't deny the allure of stability.

A red-brick house with a front porch and wooden pickets,

A mango tree with summer-drooping branches,

A spice garden in pitchers and pots.

The long corridor that runs to the living room,

The stairs lead up to the worldly roof.

Chiming winds curl the curtains on the windows,

Darkness recede from south to north.

Your steps echo in the rhythm of the rain.

I exist drenched in your scent,

With Tagore on my lips.

Ah!

What a life would it be!

You, me and eternity.

I want it all and I want the road,

Sunsets, gasoline and upcoming bends.

My greed never has known bounds,

My hubris to get to you and get away.

Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

'Seven Sins' : A Collection of Poems (Lust)

The third one in the series. Enjoy :)

Lust

“Years

have passed-

since that day

under the fig

tree. Our promises

were countless, your eyes had

shone with the inferno of

my heart. Standing on your tiptoes,

you bit my nose languidly, and smirked.

In that intoxicated clarity,

we both knew it would not last forever.

You were gone next morning, a letter

waited on my table, your hand-

writing asking forgiveness.

Life has moved on, grey hair,

mortgage, two sons- but

Sucharita,

how could I

forget

you?”

Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

'Seven Sins' : A Collection of Poems (Wrath)

Here is the second one in the series:

Wrath

The question was often asked,

With a lopsided grin and the most hideous twinkle in the eye.

My answer was always the same,

Full of malice and dislike, a jaded and tacit 'Fuck you.'

The observation was rarely made,

With a twisted snarl and the most pure loathing in the eye.

My rebuttal was always the same,

Full of indignation and protest, a broken and loud 'Fuck you.'

I walk on embers long dead, my feet burn like the ashes of my forefathers.

I persevere, it is the only thing left to do.


Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu

'Seven Sins' : A Collection of Poems (Sloth)

I've decided to do a short series of poems with the indicative name 'Seven Sins' as the title. Yes, there'll be seven poems in the series, and yes, the poems will reflect on one sin each.

Here is the first one:

Sloth

Insipid dreams,

I dreamt. A pervasive sort of thing.

Caught in the destitution,

I wailed for tomorrow.

I am made and unmade

In the depth of my eyes.

My own shadow knows me not,

Not as much my intellect wishes.

I have long foregone understanding.

My soul, rolls off to the sunset.

Copyright © 2016, Tamal Kundu