PRANAB GHOSH - POEMS

Pranab Ghosh is a journalist, writer, poet, translator and blogger. He writes a blog “Existential Problems”. He graduated from Scottish Church College, Kolkata, with Honours in English. He did his masters in Journalism from Calcutta University. He has worked for such media houses as HT Media Ltd, Eenadu India etc. He has written for Slant News, an US news portal and such publications as The Statesman, Economic Times, Ei Samay. At present he writes for Business India. Currently he is also working as a research writer and Editor at Pratichi India Trust. His translation of a Bengali Short story was published in the US webzine Transcendent Zero Press. He has also written for such literary e-zines as Tuck Magazine, Literature Studio Review etc. He has coauthored a book of poems, titled Air & Age. He has to his credit a translation of a book of Bengali short stories titled Shantiramer Cha, authored by Bitan Chakraborty. The title of the English translation is Bougainvillea and Other Stories. He is
married and lives in Kolkata with wife, daughter and mother.

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                                          Soul Searching


​You sit with your eyes closed
You feel your soul transported beyond the void
 
You sit with your eyes closed
You feel your soul touching your
super conscious self.
 
You sit with your eyes closed
Your soul searches your life within.
 
You sit with your eyes close
Your soul touches your life within.
 
You sit with your eyes closed
You feel in unison with your soul.
 
You sit with your eyes closed
Eternal light engulfs
your soul, your mind, your body.
 
Will you sing a hymn now
With your eyes closed?
 

                                  Awaiting the Union


As you lie burning
in a faraway land,
away from the people
you once knew,
revelation dawns on
you like a white light
that you and your
supreme being is yet
to unite. The worldly
pangs apart, you aspire
for the union.
Alone you contemplate
of the supreme soul
and creation flows. 
 

                                          The Journey


The mother of all creation
handholds you and guides
you through your journey within.
As you sit still and contemplate
you race through the creation,
crimson red, beyond the
azure sky. The voids rush
at you but you are not shaken
as you know you have
to travel beyond it,
your faith the energy to
move on. Beyond the
creation, beyond the void
your journey ends and
you are engulfed by
the eternal light.
You are illuminated.
 

                                        Lord’s Abode


In the diffused light
of the morning,
when the workmen
go to the mill,
I see you following
them in shabby dress,
much like what they
have worn. You reside
in the hutments
they stay in.
In their work you
come alive and through
their work they pay
you obeisance
unknowingly though.
 
When did you leave
the temple to stay
In their hutments
I know not, as I look
for you in vain
in your official abode
amidst burning incense
sticks and flowers.
 
To you I dedicate
my words, my work.

 
                                  On a Rainy Evening


The first shower has
kissed the dusty roads.
As you walk down the
muddied streets
you see the rain-bathed
trees greener than before.
 
The city is at peace
with the scorching
summer sun going
beneath the gray clouds.
In the pale light
Of the evening you see
the lone soldier with
his killing machine
slung by his shoulder
walk by. You fail to
Understand his presence.
 
In the pale evening light
as you remember your love
you fail to understand
why wars are wedged,
why man kills man.
 
In the pale light of the evening
you want to forget and forgive.