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Best Poems From
ANIRBIT MUKHERJEE
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1.
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The dinner.
The rice is cooling down, (then it wont taste good) .
The soup is getting cold, (I know you don't like soups) ,
The fish is very good to taste, (I know you don't eat fish) ,
The chocolate ice-cream is great! (Oh! ..sorry..I forgot that you like vanilla)
The almonds in the chocolate bar are also great, (Oh! ..No! .you like only plain chocolates) .
See..its already late, I am hungry, the food is getting cold, Won't you come?
I am waiting for you,
Yesterday I waited at lunch, you didn't come,
The day before that at breakfast, you didn't come,
That day I was waiting in my room, you didn't come,
The day before at the bus, and many times before....
I know I am empty handed, I have nothing to give...
But neither do you ask for anything!
The sun has set long ago, vermilion scarred the evening sky,
The sky bled with joy, the sun reveled in its colour,
The river rolled smoothly by, I was waiting....
See..now its very late..where are you? The dinner is getting cold..,
Won't you come?
What? What did you say? Oh...you have already had your dinner?
...that day too you didnt tell me...
That you had already had your lunch.
I know the food wont taste better,
whether one eats alone or not.
I know the information will be told,
whether on sms or in person.
I know you will understand,
whether I teach or I dont.
I know I will survive,
whether you are there or not.
I know the road will be walked,
whether I walk alone or not.
The chocolate ice-cream is melting, the soup will go stale...
The lights are going hazy, its vapours all around,
A waterfall in the dining hall?
I shall wait again for you,
Tomorrow again at lunch, in my room, at dinner,
Whenever I am free...
Will you come tomorrow?
Never mind, if you cant,
I will wait again the day after tomorrow...
I know there are millions waiting for you,
But I am also waiting,
But can you wait for me?
Oh! ..Sorry! ..you are busy..
I wont ask again.
I think I had a heavy lunch,
I wont have my dinner today.
Anirbit Mukherjee
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2.
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Uncertainty.
Every time i think that this is the destination,
Everytime i think that this is the end....of my search,
Everytime i think that this is here to stay,
Life reminds me that its all a mirage that i see.
This time around i again thought,
That this is here to stay,
But only to realize in a short while,
That life is far from such assurances.
That this might all be transient,
That this might again be a visitor in the inn of life,
By the side of this long road on way to nowhere.
That a candle lit in my darkness to burn for a few moments,
And then vaporize as if it was never there.
The quaint tune that floated down the hills,
Might just stop to play oneday,
Leaving the vaccuum of existence silent as before.
This stage is set for the ballad,
That might never be played at all,
But the echoes of the rehearsals and the forlorn decorations,
Shall tell of the earnest efforts of the playwright.
Can the playwright try to get it staged again?
Anirbit Mukherjee
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3.
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A date with nothingness
A night with a drunk ghost,
A journey into the dark forests of hope.
A wait for the one who shall descend from the thin air
Into the flimsy images of an airy existence.
The dreary night unfolds; into the lap of nothingness,
The exotic aroma of time; enwraps the numb senses,
It is the love for the one beyond existence,
It is the love for what is beyond senses.
Drunk am i in the wine of its apparition,
Drunk shall i want to be in its esoteric mirages...
Intoxication of it not being there....
Submerges the anticipation of it being here.
But when?
Here shall i wait, never wanting it to come;
Here shall i stand, for it to find me waiting.
Anirbit Mukherjee
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4.
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Sculputed out of thoughts.
It is here since i thought it is here,
It will be here till i think it is here,
Captured in the web of my thought,
Captures the course of my mind.
In the confines of the infinite,
In the bounds of the boundless,
Lies its freedom to span my life.
Under the shelter of the unfathomable,
Beneath the infinite azure of hopes,
There lies the pearl of my infinite,
Confined in my finite moratlity.
I shall wait for the oyester to wake up,
In the depths of the bottomless ocean,
I shall wait for it to see the pearl
Woven out of my thoughts,
Crafted and nurtured,
By the golden shimmers of reality.
Anirbit Mukherjee
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