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A Letter To Write.

aveekoiqbalneep

A letter to write,

Is my need,

Is my laugh,

And is indeed,

My food,

My happiness,

My bliss,

And for it,

I cry.

A letter to write,

Must be written.

It must reach faster.

My beloved maternal grandmother is waiting for it,

As the days are getting longer and longer.

A letter to write,

Isn’t a madness,

Though many are mad.

They harm,

They charm,

Yet seem absolutely normal,

When spoken to,

But you must remain calm.

Otherwise, their true form would surprise you to the core.

A letter to write,

Makes me happy,

Makes me be free.

It’s best to the write the letter,

It must reach thee (My maternal grandmother).

Adios!

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Forgiveness.

aveekoiqbalneep

Forgiveness is not a candle which can be lit as soon as you want to. Neither it is a ” forget it all and all is well” chip card.Nor is it a recurring process to commit mistakes, knowing that you would be forgiven.

It is not a tool for cleverness, for slyness, for spying.

It’s a boon which must be used to ask for forgiveness which comes from deep within the heart.

Beter if both your heart and mind are in sync.

On a daily basis we commit many mistakes especially the silly ones.

We often fall in traps of the overbearing minds and get entangled in such things which can’t be undone.

Forgiveness is asked for and by people like it’s a candy to got for free.

My Meher Baba is The Lord Of Mercy. His name name means “The father who mercies or The Merciful father.”

But don’t take him lightly. He does forgive, but the tests through which one has to pass are great.He walks the talks, and talks what he walks.

So, ask for forgiveness but it must be true . Otherwise when the time comes, you would ask for forgiveness for asking wrong or false forgiveness.

It’s better to row the boat yourself than to ask someone to do it free for you.

Adios!

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I AM Foodie.

aveekoiqbalneep

Since the morning,

Bread and butter,

Soup and salad,

And potato and steaks.

Till the next morning,

Same the next morning.

Oh! My God,

I want samosa and hot tea.

I love Nandu Dadu’s Chana Bhatura,

And love Kashmiri Pulao,

And love Red chicken with gravy.

I love dahi kachori,

Gulab jamun and Sandesh,

Prawns and Rohu,

In a proper curry.

Please God save me alone.

I am only watching the sea.

It’s only rain.

Which is my friend with the brain.

But to glide,

I need my feathers,

Made by raincoat.

I love to eat.

I am a Bengali.

Adios!

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In The Rain I Find Me.

aveekoiqbalneep

In the rain I find me.

Under an umbrella, forgotten my family.

Eating hot pakoras and drinking tea.

Oh! My God, what my wife will say, if she sees me.

How much out of my mind,

Wanted to enjoy the rain.

If the God wishes, can anybody refrain?

I know you have school, college and office.

But the man makes pakoras very nice.

I feel that I have gone back, twenty-five years of life.

I was young and cut the vegetables with my knife.

Least I took an autorickshaw,

Used to walk miles.

Now my dropping shoulder, cries for that noise,

Till my tea and pakora is there,

And pull from my family,

Made me buy two extra packets of pakoras for their tea.

Adios!

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The Mighty Shore.

aveekoiqbalneep

You have deposited sand as barrier between you and me.

It is the shore and your pull is continuously saying yes and no.

Not making it a tsunami.

You are the endpoint of landmass.

Till now, I was strong and walking,

On the road,

With a good grip.

Landed down on the sea shore,

Folded my trousers end,

And wanted to soak my feet in your water.

The sand loosened under my feet,

And I felt the earth moving.

Having you, made me feel strong.

The gone away sand came back,

And with that it brought shells and pieces of corals, conch and the sea gems.

A little far away my heavy sneakers are lying.

Calling me back to the road.

The game is ever increasing.

Between the upper crust and the sea rope.

I know we all are one.

The mankind, the mud and the sea, the metals, the gems,the snow, the mountain peak, the rivers, the ponds, the fishes and the plants.

The sun and the grass.

The moon and the waves pull.

Motor cars and buses and trams, small children, grown up and old men.

Ultimately all are in the sea,

Eons it will take,

To pray for the golden sea.

Adios!