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Dear Earth, As we sweep our feet on your soil The dark brown soil, sometimes rusty or pitchy The variety speaks for itself - There is indeed unity in diversity. You cradle us to a tranquil slumber When we recline on you after hard toil; You alleviate our pinching aches While sustaining the whole human race. When you are soggy after a downpour, Creating puddles for croaking frogs And children alike For the sake of sheer merriment; They reminisce us of the paper boats We often set sail To destinations obscure. Lush green valleys on your bed In stark contrast to parched broken lands; The delicate stalk of Petunia Pitted against the thorny stem of Cactus; There is a wholeness of creation In both beauty and ugliness. Nourishing your dwellers selflessly While your people are waging wars In pursuit of momentary sovereignty. Roots of saplings find paths through you, You show the way to a wandering pilgrim. You are our dear mother, To you, shall we merge; Showering infinite love and care Balancing the entirety in full dare. 'From one of your inhabitants... The specialty of this poetry is that with each stanza, one line is erased. This poem serves as my tribute to Mother Earth.' By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Rubrics of life. Tangibility of thoughts. Fecundity of ideas Manoeuvred by reality. Levelled roads, steep mountains. Red bricks, incomplete buildings. Unfiltered talks, random movements. Rejuvenation of unique ideas. Placated wavering faith. Calculation of insignificant arguments. Lottery of life. On the periphery of traffic signals. Kiosks of public booths. Long-standing unfinished lines. Images captured During eerie moments. A pressed tin can Loitering aimlessly by the roadside. A cow regurgitating The stale chapati. Smiling eyes Yet to reach the lips. Uncanny resemblance Of a stranger's face. Undrawn curtains revealing The wall portrait of the neighbour. Life comes full circle With a cup of brewing tea. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

"What is this life if full of care, We have no time to stand and stare." -William Henry Davies I consider myself immensely blessed to have been born during a time when there were no mobile phones, let alone smartphones: no Facebook, no Instagram, no WhatsApp. We had a landline where a few neighbourhood aunties would often queue up to talk to their loved ones( who were they? I would usually wonder). The only source of visual entertainment was television. Only two channels of Doordarshan used to pop up on the screen to enliven our childlike spirits. On weekends, films were telecast, which were like the icing on the cake for us. Nowadays, people are so hooked up to their phones that they miss the simple workings of life around them. They have no time to listen or pay attention to their near ones. Technology has distanced us in ways incomprehensible to the typical human psyche. Children are so fascinated and awed by this new toy that they often lack enthusiasm for actual conversations with real people. The current situation has further put out the matter to an optimum level. Reading is downplayed and frequently overlooked. They don't cherish the freshness of a new book as its pages are turned enthusiastically. Skimming new apps is more viable. When I was a child, I would always stare outside the window as I sat down to study (Well, I sometimes even zoomed towards my books as well). My eyes oscillated, watching moving folks on the street, some going to fish markets early in the morning; tingling of cycle bells as young boys moved around in them; scratching sounds of utensils as someone prepared early morning meals; office goers scurrying off to catch buses or trains and even some sparrows sitting on the wall discussing some exigent issues. There were houses, not stalwart buildings, where strangers peeked from their balconies towards other strangers. I lived in one such house and had experienced a neighbourhood where people knew each other in person. In those fleeting moments of observation and rumination, perhaps a poet was already born within me, which surfaced much later in life, in its true form. Despite all the changes around us, grasses still grow, birds sing, the sun rises to herald a new beginning, and people still fall in love... Let's hum a song In merriment- Let's relive the moments Lost in hurried days, Both sweet and bitter Are to be savoured, Life is a medley Served in varied flavours... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

From the ashes shall I reborn Like the phoenix will I rise- Through the crevices of my heart Shall divine light abide. My sorrows are my gains For they endow me with strength; Falling apart while I grow In the path of freedom, I flow, Mind so clouded with fears From there shall courage alight- Across the enormous sea of doubt A distant ship of hope will ply. Huge spirals of waves Daring to engulf all, The spirit must sail through Tending the heart's desire. Wings on fire with dreams ablaze- Embers drawing forth Must keep me flying. Through forests of uncertainty I transgress trodden paths; Fashioned and forged Chiseled and gleamed I prepare to search My true inner being. A purpose is all we need In our way of life This pertains us a sense Of being really alive- A tiny stone can create Ripples in a stagnant water A single beam of light Can illuminate a dark corner. Do count the small steps They do matter in the long run For however small they seem You have taken them with a mighty heart. If nothing else, I am that burning lamp By the edge of the door. # An inspirational poem about never giving up in life... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Time to ponder 1) Capacity to think, intrepidity to speak... 2) Paraphernalia of redundant emotions... 3) Intensity in thought, brevity in words... 4) Untraversed path, imprisons uncertain Fears... 5) Debilitating pain begets unbeaten Strength... 6) Vulnerable minds in eternal captivity... 7) Unfaltering faith overcomes all odds... 8) There are absolutely no substitute to a contagious smile... @ Nandini Sengupta

Way to go... A rippling sensation in my heart, a deep sense of incompleteness, where words go missing into the periphery of endless memories, keeps coming back to me. A void within me makes me helpless, numb, and hollow. My thoughts provoke me to write, yet I am at a loss for words when I strive to do so. I find myself a dreamer in this quagmire of surreal human existence. I want to be free— to have freedom of thought, speech, and action. I don't want to be answerable every time. My thoughts shouldn't be questioned, and my actions shouldn't be doubted. My words should set me free... Keeping my mind in its proper place, I venture to start expressing myself through letters, forming unique sounds. I hope you love and enjoy them, in all their flavours. Keep experimenting........ By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Rain of my dreams A rainy day sparks a host of memories, from my school days to now. Rains are formed when clouds become dense and dark...when they cannot hold the water within anymore...drops of water travel down the human eyes as well...sometimes in joy, other times in sorrow... Rain is the harbinger of love, passion, ecstasy, romance, hope, and abundance... an abundance of greenery, beauty, and a state of calmness and bliss... Rain is poetry in motion...singing the song of life...in all its essence...dancing in ecstasy... unanimously showering love... When we were in school, we would often wade through vast stretches of water in the flooded roads until we could reach our buses...I never really enjoyed them, but I became proficient at handling a rainy day — taking off my school shoes and slipping into slippers, either wearing a raincoat or carrying an umbrella, depending on the intensity of the rainfall. Water reached my knees...I almost felt like a duck, with a missing beak and feathers. Now, I enjoy rain more from the vicinity of my balcony...drops of rain splatter on the railings and then fall off onto the ground...My daughter often stretches out her hand in total exhilaration and joy. I stand as a spectator, drawing in the scent of nature in its purest form. With time, I have learned to stay calm and enjoy the silence, listening to sounds that I would not hear otherwise, and observing the workings around me as they unfold. I let things be as they are... Here in the North, the rains are quite erratic. Sometimes, it rains heavily for days, while at other times it's pretty hot and humid. Rain has its own story...it brings both expectancy and uncertainty, the fundamental realities of life, offering bountiful surprises and uncalculated risks, both with their beauty and lessons to be learned in the process. Rain is the story of two lovers, Heaven and Earth, uniting after a long spell of separation...a deep inner sense of fulfillment, pure joy, and absolute love. The earth is revitalized as rain percolates through it, quenching its thirst and bringing it back to life from a dormant state. Just the way love is... "As the drops dribble on my neck On my arms and then my fingers Slowly onto my legs and toes It again merges with itself While landing on the floor; From Him are we born Into this world Unto Him shall we retire After the day's work..." By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

On the top of a hill In drizzling rains, I stand Arms stretched out I pine to have all But drops slip by; On the precipice of a mountain When a piper plays the flute His tune reminds us Of days lost in a dispute... Mountains are what I seek- a sacred seat where my heart resides. A deep sense of calmness and belongingness pervades them as I behold them intently. A haven of infinite consciousness and awareness- aware of being alive, a true sense of being one with nature-twittering of birds, chattering of monkeys, squeaking of squirrels, chirping of crickets, and dancing of the leaves as they fall from the trees. The vast meadows where sheep graze and the shepherd calls after them as they stray away...the rains drenching the smiling grass as heaven unites with earth. Snows overlapping the trees and mountains with blankets of protective love...the breezy wind that shivers your spine, the lofty pines and deodars that look upon you with heartfelt wishes are all part of Mother Nature... The roaring of our zeal and enthusiasm of ascension of the mountain peaks, the jutted rocks where we falter and get wounded and then resurrect again with new vigor as we continue our voyage ahead. The perils of life that nature throws at us also act as a healer- opening our eyes to remain alert and enjoy at the same time. Mountains beckon me, they travel in my dreams...the long rides through the roads that bend at uncertain angles, bringing both surprises and uncertainty is a reflection of life itself. The tinted shade of the disc of fire as they illumine the peaks of snow-capped ranges is no less than a wonder. The clouds fly down onto the lakes whispering tales of love; fog translating a dazed vision of illusion of human life on earth, are all but messages of the Universe. The birds that fly away to far-off places in search of some hidden treasure rings in a sense of tranquility in the cobalt sky... I dream of joining them one fine day, a day when nothing will matter, no worries, no cares, no chores to finish...when I will be in an absolute state of bliss lying on the dew-covered valley, staring at the sky for hours on end, basking in the glory of being united with the cosmos- the gigantic space where countless stars sing at night the song of love and longing... From nature, we are born Unto shall we retire Thorns of our journey Are but pauses To unite with the divine... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

When books matter, and nothing else, When words matter, of a tempting tale... Stealthily reading a story Underneath my Chemistry book... I forget for a moment I am here or over the moon... The very smell of books resonates with my different facets of imagination with an array of diverse memories of olfactory experiences, I have accumulated over a period of time...The smell of old ones makes me ruminate about the people who might have read those books...turned those pages which make some of them crumpled from the edges, some even torn in the shape of a triangle. The new ones have some other weird tales to narrate..the hands they had passed through till they have reached the newly formed bibliophile... My initiation as a bibliophile started around the time when I was in the fifth grade...I dreamt of having a library of my own, I being the sole proprietor of it ....a sort of haven in a world of crude realism. I would turn the pages of a book with utmost delicacy and care...I have a strong distaste for folded and crushed pages...somehow they reflect the unbridled attention the reader paid to the book while devouring their pages. Books are to be savored and respected...they disperse the knowledge and creativity of the writer who has taken utmost pain and diligence in assembling his ideas in those pages. Books transport me to the world of the writer and his characters....a temporary suspension of realism; woven out of the grey matter of the genius. They goad me to think and envisage the story in my ever inquisitive and restive mind and create an interpretation of my own---very distinctive and self-contained. I would accumulate all the money gifted to me on various occasions and hop on to a book store to buy books with the unadulterated enthusiasm of a child when he gets hold of a new toy. It's utterly a cumbersome effort on the part of the person who has accompanied me to the book store, to take me out of that place...Later on, I often feel pity for that person and sometimes grateful as well that he or she has tolerated my insanity for that period of time. Books sustain me, satiate me and dispel an inner calmness of the mind for quite an impressionable length of time. To cut the long story short---- Mounds of books, strewn all around, Sitting in the middle of nowhere - The aperture of my eyes refuse to shut It's already twelve o'clock... By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

Sitting by the waves in deep thought, He orchestrates innumerable plans... He is unbound, unchained and unperturbed. Mountains beckon him, Forests enchant him, Waves enrapture him, Nature awes and surprises him He is a loner in this swarming world. But ambitions delude his wanderer's mind, The long-awaited journey is still undermind. An unending path needs to be traversed Circumlocution of life and The amalgamation of varied thoughts. Snapshots of vivid images Of an old dream left undone. Realization is all that remains: Which necessitates perseverance And unflinching strength. With renewed vigor he stands up-- Up must he move Not let down by any restraints, Reasons and excuses His mind now knows. By Nandini Sengupta. @metaphors_of_life

Serpentine bylanes at loggerheads, Alluring you into an enigmatic journey. Red-oxide floors, shuttered windows, Tell a tale of bygone history. Clarion call of crows at daybreak, Sunshine filled barandas, Let's reminisce for old times' sake. Mouth watering phuchka, Fish fry and rasogolla . Honks of rickshaws during sleepy afternoon, Is no less than a boon. The first cup of brewing tea By roadside stall, makes you glee. Tagore's songs and Ray's bioscope, Will always beget unrestrained hope. Durga pujo sets the festive mood -- With spirited joy and lip-smacking food. Thakumar jhuli is now grandma's tales, Gamchas are fading away with the gale. Howrah Bridge and Victoria Memorial, Tranquil Gangar ghaat is truly pictorial. The tingling sound of the evanescent tram, No more load-shedding and telegram. Once rock addas are hardly to be seen, Old Calcutta is now Kolkata by all means. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life

''O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.'' -Robert Burns(1794) Love is inspirational and divine. Love conceives hope. It mends and repairs. It lifts us up. We feel transported to a different world altogether- where only two souls coexist.BUT......it can be overwhelming too, taking us to an abyss of infinite longing and hopelessness. Still, we fall in love only to get up again....as we know LOVE WILL FIND A WAY......Will it?? Love is spontaneous and eternal. It has been there through ages--life is created out of love. As they say, Love lies in the eyes of the beholder, the look bewitches two minds and they fall in love. It's magical---two souls are entwined into a single entity. There is desperation to the level of madness when one falls in love. They are inseparable and incomplete without each other......but sometimes, with time, it loses its initial aura and sheen. The innumerable promises tend to be forgotten with time. Does love cease to exist?? I am not here to deliver sermons on LOVE. It is unfathomable, undefinable, and beyond the reach of common human perception. It is so painful, yet liberating. Love moulds one's perspective of looking at life in general. The initial blurred vision of vanity metamorphoses into a clear humble existence. The wait for that special someone-the true love is never over, our heart aspires to meet the ONE. Is the wait worth it?? The answers to all my questions are.........Let's experience......they lie within US. By Nandini Sengupta @metaphors_of_life