Introduction to the Poet:

Bijay Kumar Show from Durgapur, India has been teaching in National Institute of Technology, Durgapur for about 08 years. He obtained his Ph.D. degree in Engineering in 2014. He enjoys teaching and research and likes to spend quality time with family. He is an amateur writer with little experience and aspires excellence. To him, poetry is the painting of one’s inner self with colours of eclectic feelings. It is also a source of contentment and peace for him. His poetry has recently been published in Tuck Magazine and Dissident Voice.

Monsoon

In the crisis of sustained heat,

As mercury soars up perpetually;

Cloud forms clandestinely;

Meets, gathers and eventually

Takes charge of the sky to shower.

It showers gently, smoothly,

In a rhythmic way, at times;

Yet, at other occasions, it starts

Pouring heavily, devastatingly,

With cloudbursts and thunders

Along with the wild storms;

Or with ice storms, infrequently;

Everyone looks for shelters,

As it starts on a busy street;

Yet, some are found walking

With umbrellas and riding

With raincoats in delight;

While, very few are found,

Enjoying despite drenching;

Some rejoice from inside home,

With a yearning to dance in the rain;

Falling drops titillate emotions too,

Leaving one longing for beloved;

Post pouring, everything

Rejuvenates with raindrops;

Streets twinkle in the lamps,

Water overflows in drains;

Trees seem to be in ecstasy,

In subsequent seeping drops;

The celebrating melody of different

Beings can also be perceived.

After Break-up

The weeds of carelessness have now

Turned into roses of trust;

The chaotic colours of altered emotions have now

Become the rainbows of adoration;

The cacophony of harsh tones has now

Transformed into melodious ragas;

The erratic river like manners has

Submerged now into serene lake;

I have made highways of conciliation

Through the mountains of self-esteem;

The desert of my heart has now

Surrounded by greeneries of optimism;

The paintings have started talking

And the silence of music can be felt;

I invite you to revisit into my heart

In which you dwelled earlier;

The restoration that you started,

Has now appeared to be completed;

Now after separation my love for you,

Has reached to a new peak;

And Once again I want to fall in love with you

With a renewed vibrant heart.

King’s Flame

Once a Banyan tree fell in love with a young Gulmohar,

On the opposite side of the road in a lonely place;

Delicate fernlike leaves of Gulmohar always attracted him,

While the cool shade he provides fascinated her;

But in last summer, the umbrella like canopy,

Of bright red flowers of the ‘Flame of forest’,

And the large, leathery, glossy green elliptical leaves

Of the ‘King of trees’, mesmerised each other and

They started loving deeply when their souls also met,

As his root secretly crossed the road to the other side;

The fragrance of flowers of the ornamental tree

Continued to allure him all the time

Whereas his masculine appearance

Made her irresistible for him

Their utmost desire to hug was about to come true,

Though afterlife, by mercy of civilised beings,

Who were going to eradicate them to lay highways,

As they are habituated in doing so;

But to their despair, they found,

Straight road was curved around to save them;

Perhaps not to save trees, rather to gain attention;

In the crisis of global warming and pollution;

Thus they once again became rude to them,

This time by not cutting and letting them to hug;

Now the place have become spot of attraction for all,

Not for the love story of the two trees,

But for the design of the road in order to save them;

Though for a social and political reason;

She continues to shower colourful treats to the onlookers,

Whereas banyan tree gives cool relief to the passer-by;

Gulmohar has never spread like what she is today,

And the banyan tree has approached closest to her;

In a deep longing to feel each other,

And to be merged into one someday.

Intolerance

It is the self, rather than the

Caste, religion or the country,

That has become intolerant,

As we look inwards;

It is our dogmas likes or dislikes,

That makes us narrow-mindedness.

Elegant words are practiced,

Along with courteous manners,

From the inner chaotic background,

That is intolerant always;

We deceive ourselves with smart logics,

To save our prejudices and self esteem

And never hesitate in pretending to be

Lenient, even in extreme current of intolerance.

But at times, our suppressed intolerance

Erupts like a volcano unconsciously,

Or burst like a tsunami in an unruffled sea,

Shattering our creeds for the moment;

But instead of learning a lesson,

We start practicing to control

Anger, jealousy, fear etc. through

Anger or fear management courses;

By listening to motivational speaker;

Or through taking some swear.

But again these make us more refined,

And we caught up in vicious cycles;

We become more simulated than earlier,

With the intolerance fixed deep down.