Rounak Chakraborty is a student of humanities and has been actively writing poetry and short stories for magazines from a young age. Brought up in Kolkata amidst the plethora of vibrant diverse aura of cultural abundance,his work often aspires to draw inspiration from diversity and harmony.
"There is nothing material in his world"
The priest declared in unshaken assertive confidence.
Meanwhile, the donation box standing in bright prominence
mumbled its subtly concealed objection.
Renascence of light
When defeat looms on the horizon
And muffles the honest cry inside.
The reign of courage shrinks its domain
Letting the misfeasance of shadows to blisfully abide.
The precarious winds of indecision
Set loose from anxiety's wicked chest.
Run rampant among the stretching shadows
Pushing its reach in a zealous fest.
The shadows grow as the last ray perish
Blanketing the world in a blind pursuit
Where every step is with no logic
Where every vision is without truth.
The ignominious night is here to devour!
To satisfy its gluttony for credence in control!
And it is here for long to stay
Till the last obsessive ring of the helpless toll.
But somewhere a light speaks up again from the horizon
Gleaming in rebellious undaunted glee.
Scathing through the hell tarnished eternal shadows
It calls with its voice, recalcitrant and free.
It says-" Oh defeat here me and hear me well
That if I do fail alas then failure let it be.
I would face it with confidence and vigor.
Not with shadows comforting me.
Relevance of the irrelevant
I am relevant Though for an irrelevant reason
Though this is seen by all as relevation of treason
But all, they rush in their righteous rigour
Restless in their rigid rationalised vigour
Of material reinforced restless relief
Replete with resounding redundance of belief
That all that matters is material in this world
And all that is relevant is realistically twirled
Never do they reconcile in the requiste rejoice
With the babyish repressed ridiculous voice
To reach beyond the rampart of regressive 'real'
And retrieve respite with resurging zeal
To be Finally rejuvinated with radiance resiliant
And reverntially acknowledge the relevance of the irrelevant.
In search of freedom
searched for freedom night and morn
Under the blissful sun and shadowy dawn.
I walked steep hills and climbed deep ridges
Swam across mighty rivers, crossed frightful tumbling bridges.
Finally reached a queer shop at the world's end
which sold freedom at the price of blood.
Strangely arranged, yet promisingly handsome
the shop stood towering over a hopeless flood.
I stayed for long purchasing freedom in return of the crimson coinage
enjoying its temporal bliss atop the bellows of the flooded river's carnage.
Till alas I realised my heart will never pump enough
For my mind's endless anguishing fire ever to snuff.
Hence to find another viable inexhaustible source
From my blissful rest I grudgingly rose.
Carried on with my journey, bracing bashing winds and demonic landslides.
I carried on with my search for freedom, but only with less blood flowing inside.
I sought and searched but never found
What I thought in the world was so fruitfully abound.
Freedom O freedom, nothing I desired more.
Till alas with much anticipation, I finally reached death's door.
I was redeemed, set truly free
Free as anyone ever can be.
But in the final seconds of my last living hour,
I saw the impossible with tormentous dreaded horror.
My redeemer, my salvation, the ever blessed--
Death in His utmost demise, worthlessly harnessed.
In the long corridors of hell's endless suffering and strife
I saw death itself eternally chained to life.