Old men are beautiful of fineness in immensity

Of loveliness as father, teacher and grandfather,

They are sitting in colorful passage where

Dense outstares at shining visuals of arrivals,

New generations – birth and death,

And people gather there for observing fest, in a sea of

Baul Songs, Harinam Sankirtan, Bhakti Songs, Bansuri.

They are seeing the arrangement over the place,

Where bubbles of aspiration, fire, burn, and lastly

Emptiness, beyond grief, arrives in oceanic humans.





A little Cormorant and a duck

In a village pond.

Morning mind of the little cormorant

Flexible with love

Reaching likelihood its own, floating on, is

Flying around the duck swimming

On water peacefully,

That seems focusing the danger

Other one not resembling to its own,

Chaos in water

Morning has a twist,

That the duck does not desire,

And it hurriedly tries to thwart

Other one’s attempt to pick it up,

And finding another one

Not likelihood of its own,

The little cormorant just flies over

The pond; and the duck hurries to swim

Across the pond to reach the bank.


The duck is beautiful. And naked dream

It dreamt first in early morning and it gets

Puzzled with not having messenger of love,

While the little cormorant has met one

Corner of mystifying appearance,

That involves it to fly over the lovely pond,

Morning speaks out without togetherness.

Culture, religion and tour at Tarapith, West Bengal, India, on the eve of New Year 2017.

It happened to me to be present at Tantric temple and its adjoining cremation grounds (where sādhanā are performed – Wikipedia) at Tarapith, Birbhum district, West Bengal, INDIA, on the eve of 1st January, 2017 when TARA MA SANGHA, Shyamazar, Kolkata organized 40th anniversary there with colorful events and I have enjoyed it and took snap shots and a short video recording of those events.

It seems to me this program is like a poem in composition.

–  Asim Kumar Paul, 07.01.2017

Culture, religion and tour at Tarapith, West Bengal, India, on the eve of New Year 2017.





Amaze me with autumn’s beauty,
A little while before,
Everything is put into disarray,
Food plates are strewn around,
Slow down everywhere.
Little brown leaves wearing glass-mask,
Opportunity and beauty affected,
It is not life.

Amaze me with autumn’s sincerity,
A little while after,
Background light loses ambiance,
Queue after queue opens painful light,
Silent, a great treatise, without food,
Air in cup of lingering strain,
Whole axis turns biased beforehand.
Coolness prevails, oxidants.

Amaze me with autumn’s forgiveness,
Casting actors are like thunderstorm,
Running water turns toxic,
Soundless actors think of wand,
Miniature performers stand on stage,
Silicon valley is now synaptic driveway,
Pessimism gets robotic trends,
Not passing through forgiveness test.



Devi Durga, we are all in Her praise,

We never see Her in war field,

But she is always in her warring mood,

Valiant, silent, Her pride to be savior,

As if, She is in the mood of silence,

After the demon, Asura, accesses to defeat,

His eyes caught in fearful lesson,

He watches Her, our eternal savior,

We pray for Her way to be our way,

No violence, only coolness to be considered

As way we can hold it all time in our eyes.



Can I travel with this cloud?

Can I touch peak of this cliff?

Can I touch tips of baby paddy plants?

Can I hover with freedom of a connoisseur?


Vast green field has opening of breathing

For life and it is the source of surmounting savior,

Fear of termination does not bother

Whether it does actually occur.


Of the unexplored parameters of the sky,

It is one sense of motivation and salvation,

Love goes with sense of traverse of perseveration

Above the source of magnitude of creation.


Mind has no bound of thinking great

It has time sequence we experience

With our life and tenacity of concord

Of forbearance and sacrifice for existence.


Freedom is only a window,

Its shutters are to be shut if staining smell

Comes from outside, it is happening around,

Coerced by simple game of power struggle.


It is the earth that contains many concepts,

We cannot fathom all those beauties

Because we are not in the form of totality,

Yet we survive because we patiently dethrone anxiety.





I am in quest of love and hug, that goes into an end,

For quirky temptation, sickled in greed and security,

I am told that marriage is a duty, maintaining a family is

Life time courtesy that cannot be rattled, either by

Denouncing or renouncing that may rustle quagmire.

I am blitzed more than what it actually happens.

Obeying dance and dine with channel of familial life,

Apathy comes truer than what a stranger can expect.

Far behind, neglect is unfurled, I feel some strangeness,

All people under the same roof, except a little child, lay out

Swords to saddle me for a cut in the war of selfishness,

For thirty five years, I make trade, yet cannot meltdown war.


I carry the storm across my home to the town, cannot

Unfold my mind to others who walk away, as I roam.