Dear Poetry lover friends and bookworms -October 2015-

With great pleasure I announce that my Selected Poems (Paperback and E-book) titled, Time Whispers in my Ear has been released and it is being displayed for sale in the following sites plus more as one may find from the site of the publisher, Onlinegatha. I invite you to visit them, one or more; this is seeking your patronage. I have confidence about the quality of my work as confirmed by the learned critics over the years. The cover page of the book also is given below.

The Paper Boat 


The paper boat

I set adrift

In my childhood

On the flooded road

Of a metropolis

Has just arrived

This rainy evening

At my doorstep

Under full sail

Inviting me

To set out on it

For a nouvelle



At the river bank

And quiet flows the river

without a ripple or shiver

trees stand windless

not even a whiff in space

no leaf shakes, no sound;

fishes are sleeping

sweating fishermen around

have lost all zeal

in the act of rowing

their boats stand still;

the water shines like a mirror

naked boy in it looks at his figure.

The world without a name

halts at the bank of the river

no one knows when it came

none knows if it was there.

What Peace is Like

Peace is like the early rays of the Sun

Slightly auburn, spreading on the eastern sky.

Peace is like the mild setting Sun, sure of its return,

splashing colours on the western sky.

Peace is like the rising full moon, bright in its orb,

from above the rows of giant palm trees.

Peace is like the resting of the elephants

in a sward before the promised sunrise.

Peace is like the birth of an arc-rainbow

after the gale and copious rain.

Peace is like a sleeping pregnant cat

on top of the hay stacked in a burn.

Peace is like the child’s sucking sound

from the round breast of its mother.

Peace is like the deep silence of the wood

pregnant with promises near.

Peace is like the concurrent rain

spreading across the vale and dale.

Peace is like the trustful pacing of the child

holding his father’s finger top with nail.

Peace is love, Peace is smile

Peace is fragrance of the flower.

Peace is faithful surrender to the Divine

Peace is enchanting shower.

Peace has its last resort away from the earthly bower

in the Nirvanic void;

beyond the domain of science, history or logic

even as it baffles the ideas of Freud.

  Peace is love, Peace is smile

Let the true Peace spread

Let this not be fragile.

Life and Death Hugs each other

Living things

Even of unknown species

Thrive on the body of the dead

That lies on the sea bed;

The carcass of the giant whale.

They enter into it and come out

Of their shelter paramount,

It is their food

Source of their life on earth;

Death is the cause of their birth.

From the dead rises the living

Living thing kisses the dead

One dead gives birth to

Innumerable living things ad arbitrium;

Life and Death hugs each other ad infinitum.

India the Mother


Mother India has snow capped Himalayan crown

She sits with her feet on sea washed by the three;

Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea

The ancient peninsula is Bharat Mata renowned.

On her left hand is Bay of Bengal and Sundarbans

Full of history, biodiversity and maritime commerce.

Farther to the north-east the land is rich

In biodiversity, wildlife and Nature’s bounty.

On her right hand is the turbulent Arabian Sea with maritime history;

Foreign merchants and missionaries from an early age

Reached attracted by the spicy smell, carrying Christ’s message.

The rest of India, secured by coasts and mountains,

Is equally rich in natural wealth, holy breath and sweetness.

Humans of different faith colour and race

With quest for adventure and zest for life

Charmed by her noble face

Mingled with her pristine body of humanity.

Some outsiders ravished her time and time again

Some pseudo-civilised people tried to establish their reign;

None is here now; it is India with her people sovereign.

The perpetrators of crime were from the other age;

None presently is responsible but none can the past crime assuage.

Religions, racial bigotry and weak democratic structure

Divided the holy country; those are at work wreaking damage further.

The real enemies are insiders holding powers

Who stealthily rob her wealth and beauty; the cheaters.

But Mother the mighty will ruin the rogues, stop the trend

To give birth to unity

In accord with her inner harmony

And wholesome spirituality.

With all admixtures India is a cauldron of culture;

Present looks back to greet the past

Past comes back to harmonise the present;

With all imports and revivals, looking to the future

India is unique in her original essence.

Let all those who left come back to make a single race.

Let all try to fulfil themselves in her racticing

With a heart vibrant and roseate.

In peace let India shine among the nations

To fulfil her mission of creating a world United.



Bumblebee Bamboozles

Flashing like a busy black diamond

Appearing from an unknown beyond

Settling almost at your nose tip

Whirling still with a whiff

Giving a momentary shock it flits easily

As you’re nonplussed, in flurry

And settles on a flower, knotty bumblebee;

Whimsical and dangerous it seems.

At a great speed fluttering its wings

Humming restlessly here and there

Black strong and stout, whiz past you

Bamboozling like a tormentor,

A perfect gift from God; true.

Scientists bewilder how in the air does it run

With its heavy body weight, disproportionate

To its swiftly moving light wingspan;

It’s a violation of aerodynamic laws, they bet.

But there are laws beyond assumption

More wonderment at every step beyond our horizon;

Nature has more in store

To shock the recalcitrant therefore.




The Uncivilised


Uighir, a nomadic pastoral tribe

of Turkish origin in Xinjiang,

find it difficult to survive

squeezed out by the Han Chinese

introduced just for this

as was shifted the Ethnic Chinese

to kill the culture, depopulate, destabilise

the peaceful Tibetan Buddhist race;

this was the technique of red-rebellion

of killing and degrading men by brewing poison

of jealousy, hatred and strife among them.

Creating tourism and villa in the land of Jarawas

leads to the extinction of the aboriginals

for they cannot survive the touch of the civilians-

so keen they are to sip only their cup of tea

destroying others’ dignity.

Wherever minerals, oil or woodland treasures are found

the greedy run to acquire the wealth profound

extinguishing the pristine flora and fauna

and the indigenous people, Nature-bound;

in Amazonian, Peruvian forests, hilly belts in India

in Indonesia, Philippines, Canada and Africa.

Moving into galaxies, to the north and south poles

plundering the reserves of the earth and heaven

men feel victorious but the soil they stand on shifts

for their pollutive role in human lives;

that men become pollutants, we are not surprised

that civilised people are the most uncivilised.

Buddha Purnima

Some are famous for serving the sick and the destitute

by their own hand with sympathy and rectitude

but many an unknown person also serves them

with the same or more sympathetic attitude

some are prone to do it by their nature;

philanthropy is not the only thing to consider.

But the karuna and benevolence emanating

from a being like Buddha in peace

 spread throughout the globe

touching all living beings

like the light blue rays of the full moon

carrying love and peace; desireless boon,

embrace all hearts like true arhat.

More the time pass by more his influence

reach the tumultuous humanity’s confluence.

Buddha’s benevolent debonair face

shines in deep blue sky

as on Buddha Purnima;

above all religions how he touches our soul

is not an enigma.

Invisible yet Perceptible


Age is pushing them below with feet

as they try to rise from the subconscious deep

the relationship; physical vital mental

heterosexual or asexual or obscure camaraderie

passionate quagmire from the oblivious memory.

On one hand something invisible

yet protective and perceptible

is trying to pull you out of the rusty rustic past

purging you out of the iron base

from moment to moment

for life is meant for correction at each step;

on the other hand something shining

is trying to emerge out of the mud,

the past holding the key is pulling

the legs towards the sludge;

a claim of birth to hold life in its sphere till death.

All the strife and struggle are ephemeral

against a flight eternal;

a reward for one who believes and relies on grace

of the invisible yet perceptible existence.

There may be changes in the world contemporary

resulting in a situation topsyturvy

but to hold on to that something;

a spark in the being

is the game of all games

a play between the light and the darkness.

© Aju Mukhopadhyay All the poems have been published in different journals and ezines and some of them included in several anthologies and discussed.

Poetry: Adivasi withdrawn

Poetry: Six new poems added on 11.5.2016          



published in different magazines and ezines including www.kitab.com (Singapore), The Seventh Quarry Poetry (Wales, UK), Poetic Connections-Poetry from Australia and India (Anthology), Syndic Journal (US), Asian Signature (a Web Journal: Face Book), Whispers in the Wind (a Web Journal) and others. They are included in my latest book of Selected Poems, titled Time Whispers in my Ear (Online Gatha, the endless tale, Lucknow)


The Poems

The Burning Lamp, Time Whispers in my ear, Politicians of the World Unite, Flower of the Future, Insect’s Nest, Sri Aurobindo



The Burning Lamp


The lamp was burning golden-brown

In my dark room steadily, alone

No one was there around

Flowers bloomed of a mystic hue

Radiating my obscure chamber;

When you came to light the lamp

No one knew

No tread, no flash, no sound.

Time Whispers in my Ear



susurrus over the vast undulating grass

tumbling of water in the forest river at night

cackling of hilly meandering streams

flowing of molten lava down the ravine

spewing of ash;

volcanic eruption at unknown site

spread of forest fire with a strange beam

spreading rapidly with the wind,

desert storm changing the face of the sand dune

without notice;

rains and rains in the rain forest again

in the country sides and cities, rolling of water bodies;

seeds sprouting, trees growing and dying

again and again;

sibilation of nature’s shifting phase;

nature is at work without rest in every nook and corner

in every pore and cell, near and far;

time whispers in my ear

that with nature it flows with all its belonging

to the events forthcoming

while consciousness keeps its progress in everything

constantly rolling towards the future;

time whispers in my ear

that past never sits in its forlorn chair

but leaves its essence for assimilation;

time whispers in my ear

that the ethos of the bygone ages, their zeitgeist

can never be recovered by any strategist;

the world may be seen in the grain of sand

but the flow of sand is constant;

infinity may be guessed in the palm of hand

but it cannot be gripped by any standard;

time whispers in my ear

that everything passes on for ever.

Politicians of the World Unite


At the dawn of independence

patriots were substituted by professionals;

shedding idealism and humanism gradually

came into existence the selfish politicians.

Diehard political activists

have spread their wings far and wide

cutting up didoes, corrupting

the country’s social fabrics;

by brute force they work with their class in cahoots

while missing the balance losing the political clout;

they touch the pithy heart of truth

with hard core supercilious falsehood;

this is a class irrespective of parties

who loot the country’s wealth

shedding all dignities;

there are exceptions as in every other field

but in the long run most entrants join their guild.

When he was digging violently

a soft target, the law-breaker himself

could not properly guess

that he was producing a lawyer;

when he lost his political clout

after 32 years

the lawyer, the son from his own seed,

could the law-breaker supersede.

It is a dangerous signal in all countries

when people aren’t awake, forget to perform their duties

remain an onlooker simply witnessing all happenings

swimming in the intoxicating rigol

avoiding to face the problem heart and soul.

Insect’s Nest

When it came and built the frame

on the wall,

briskly I bruised it

by a finger.

Twice it came again

I ignored it then.

Now on the wall it has a shelter

at the back of my computer;

a frail one inch hollow tube

upside open downside closed

clipped to the wall.

It’s a tiny wasp

may be with family it lives;

 they come and go.

Ain’t all the great constructions

like insect’s nest

brittle and fragile

sure to go

today or tomorrow

measured by time?

Why bother about any mark made of lime?

Flower of the Future

Unknown and uncertain

Are the results

Of the mystic bud

Blooming unseen

While shimmering hope

Is rising up

From the luminous vast

That the flower of the future

In harmony with Nature

For a Divine purpose

Has been opening its petals

From ages far behind

Towards a time

Peaceful and glorious.

Sri Aurobindo

‘God shall grow up while the wise men talk and sleep

For man shall not know the coming till its hour

And belief shall be not till the work is done’-

said Sri Aurobindo in his epic poem Savitri.

The voice of truth in the seer poet Sri Aurobindo was heard

As he was a lotus born in mud, away from the mundane scene,

The cascading Supramental light like the golden swan

Touching the sky kept its foot on earth fixed.

Like a tree he was peaceful, unhurried and calm with perseverance

Among the thousand resounding words his existence was silence

In his body sat the God, his face revealed the eternity

Out of intense love for men he sat away from humanity.

Small fries in shallow water and surface-gazers

were lost in the depth of his fathomless water.


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