tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8043071268237522932024-03-13T04:53:25.190-07:00Furrrrrrrr...........Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-82701947127708363842013-04-29T11:17:00.000-07:002013-04-29T11:17:27.788-07:00Velvet Conpiracies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My favorite atom is now talking to my least favorite one. They often conspire for my mood disorders,willingly or not; they affect my connectivity. I wish I could punish them,scold them or love them strongly. Imagine every atom splitting and out-bursting into an individual entity. Then n number of individuals behaving independently like a rivulet of desires, conspiring to burn a wish with no fumes to acknowledge.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The atoms train themselves for a precious explosion to travel through a light way ,brighten up their dark minds and to pour some coal from their heart. Unknown to each other, they leave for the same time zone. When they collide, they desire for a greater explosion and form a molecule, the interaction becomes a little chaotic and they vibrate within the shell. The vibrations become heavy to destroy the wish , but before they could reach , they die of internal combustion.</div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-12377171933257286682013-04-29T11:12:00.005-07:002013-04-29T11:16:21.690-07:00Do Dard Ke Tukde<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Kal raat do tukde mile dard ke</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ek adha, ek bikhra</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Dono ne milke nazme buni</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Cheele badan se usme siskiya bhari</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Phir bhi nazmo ko jeene ki aadat kaha hoti hai</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Wo to bus kitabo me saans leti hai</span></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWX-6EnYMvo/UX63hLX9iSI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-p9E2kYh6qI/s1600/IMG_0982.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HWX-6EnYMvo/UX63hLX9iSI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-p9E2kYh6qI/s320/IMG_0982.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-53707097435422807602012-12-28T09:37:00.000-08:002012-12-28T09:38:47.659-08:00Hang Till Death<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
' Roshni ki baat hai' - the only line I remember when I was in KG. With me, it has always been a matter of mood and nothing else. I get glimpses of vague random ideas, I try and join them but often making senseless portrayals. Heart-broken sentiments, some love-captured moments and a few killer wasteful emotions induce writing waves in me, most of the times the best way to take out what I could have never said to anyone. I am dead struck to my policy of disclosing only what is emotionless.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I realize that being scared of so many things at one time, gives a sudden rush of bravery which is inevitable. Laundering thoughts keeps haunting you without even telling you the right ejaculating pattern.Sometimes, you hang from a bridge, holding alternate decisions in each hand, you leave anyone, you are destined to drown. </div>
</div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-70644835498725658282012-10-23T10:18:00.001-07:002012-10-23T10:18:28.513-07:00The purple kurta <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Lingering around the wall with a mug of coffee;I told him not to wear the purple kurta again. I wanted to bother him desperately, viciously spreading my desire through my eyes. His innocence was tangentially falling prey to my naughtiness and I was extracting every bit of sweetness from it.<br />
<br />
The latitudinal and longitudinal lines on the kurta with swollen threads created a palpation of its own , the tinkling and sparkling color mystified the appearance and the texture consolidated the love struck feel.I wandered through the straight crossing lines just to rediscover my mischief. Sipping slowing, drop by drop of coffee, I nurtured and caressed it.<br />
<br />
I was having caffeine and he was ashing his shyness, dipping himself into the pool of attraction, while he was searching for the other deep blue kurta. I went through a ionic spark witnessing the white cloudy contours on the blue oceanic flavor which was capable of engulfing my feelings. I was ready to throw my waves of wickedness on it.<br />
<br />
But his continuous search revealed the existence of one more purple kurta, duplicating the previous one. He acted ignorant to its abstinence and I was struck with a dilemma of distributing my affection in different forms and flavors. I was again trapped within the intricate opening of sparkling mystery or probably I was just fascinated to everything that belonged to him, I tried distributing my like wives to something else but the repulsion was evidently impossible.<br />
<br />
Its not about twin kurta brothers or the blue cousin , its only a possessive link that wants to catch hold of his every belonging. To knit every emotion,every kiss, every touch into a small muffler to cuddle around with every breath.</div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-66483878674161662452012-08-22T13:13:00.001-07:002012-08-22T13:13:47.093-07:00Dedicated to all non-singers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Nothing syncs, sound melodies are monstrous to me;<div>
I try and swing on those vibrations,</div>
<div>
The momentum is too paradoxical to me-</div>
<div>
I fight with my cacophony,</div>
<div>
I crawl over the dead sounds,to catch the soul.</div>
<div>
But all I get to see are some empty corpses,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Could I insist to tune up your eardrum?</div>
<div>
As the soul is a shape shifter, its possibly </div>
<div>
on its way to my empty vessel.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-17629428945361650792012-07-27T04:36:00.002-07:002012-07-27T04:36:54.127-07:00Smoke melts easily<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XKcKglFF1hM/UBJ9M-eOT6I/AAAAAAAAADU/4a09n9pjioI/s1600/phoenix2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XKcKglFF1hM/UBJ9M-eOT6I/AAAAAAAAADU/4a09n9pjioI/s320/phoenix2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-26905836059053024102012-04-24T14:00:00.000-07:002012-04-24T14:00:53.361-07:00The canvas of blood<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
How do I draw you here?<br />
The elevations from my pencil are so dark and fatal.<br />
I haunt on to the canvas border<br />
Submerged thoughts;battered desires<br />
<br />
Illustrations are spineless,until I de-stain the background;<br />
To unleash the curvature and paint the picture<br />
Faint and smoky, I could draw your veins<br />
Submerged in blood, still they look all the same<br />
<br />
I couldn't see you, the red river makes you blur<br />
I wish I could find you,<br />
I wish I could suck the blood.</div>Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-85315600219876764542012-04-18T11:30:00.005-07:002012-08-13T03:21:09.378-07:00RANG!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GIg2QGwR7Ro/T48MOxVLpwI/AAAAAAAAACA/AMBEoTtt-2w/s1600/2011-11-24%2B17.17.56.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732814298565814018" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GIg2QGwR7Ro/T48MOxVLpwI/AAAAAAAAACA/AMBEoTtt-2w/s200/2011-11-24%2B17.17.56.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 150px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Boond bankar sun rahi thi mai rango ki jhooti mooti baatein.<br />
wo nanhi bankar chaap chodna chahti thi kapdo par.<br />
pata nahi apni nishaniya bhulana kyun pasand nahi unhe.<br />
Pighalti , Sisakti , Raundti ..wo bus chipakna janti hai.<br />
ghul ke kaise kho jana hai, kisi ne sikhaya hi nahi unhe <br />
<br />
khara , matmaila ya saada;sparsh unka ek jaisa hota hai<br />
paniyon se chankar wo roye bhi to algav behisaab hota hai.</div>
Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-62580738506820117652011-07-25T09:02:00.000-07:002011-07-25T09:40:38.234-07:00What if??What if ?<br /><br />A traumatic childhood secretes special hormones to make you mutant..<br />At least that is what history , authors , movies explain.. I know, be it Newton's gravitation, Picasso's artistry or any other person of far more mental skills and abilities. All fields have been covered by scintillating brains. So does that make it that indispensable to master at least one field of interest???<br /><br />The white and black keys of my piano are beautiful but what if I don't play them just because I like the instrument that way. Music is in my mind and what if I play it with my limitless brain attached to all the strings of music. Normal elements of life do exist which are abnormally brushed aside. Surviving to aid and apprise true non sentimental values is a work of fiction and the follower is secluded. A shrewd brain at rest is never recognized but why to create delusional stages to extract those brainy contents.. Can't it be, just kept at peace to resolve other inner conflicts ... which are perception less and secure..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-10595035738071289592011-05-21T04:53:00.000-07:002011-05-21T05:07:34.218-07:00FariyaadWo aaj aaya tha talashi lene ..churaya hua sab le gaya..maine roka use..gumsum aankhon se sehlaya bhi..peer ki ibadat ki..sunepan se bandha...par wo chala hi gaya..neend me doobe hue un palo ki chaabi hi le gaya..<br />ab wo kabhi jaag na payenge..kaanch ki un deewaro se jhanke hue neend me hi muskurayenge..kash wo chaliya na hota..to mai use pehchaan jati..fariyaad karti..bebas lawaris aawaz goonjti..shayad ek fariyadi ki karakashta wo jhutla nahi pata..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-14310448236381343272011-04-30T12:21:00.000-07:002011-04-30T12:52:43.524-07:00.....................................All I can remember now is his voice.His whispers to my ears are snakes on quilt..<br />I have become his part and not a part of mine is now left for me.I wish I could see him again as my restless eyes want some peace. I want his presence to touch my soul, to dig my heart, to freeze my breaths.The blowing breeze faints me down, takes away my sensibilities,tortures me and kills my imagination. <br /><br />I am tired of faking my realities..so helpless...so ........Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-60784088217118843922011-04-01T11:56:00.000-07:002011-04-01T12:08:22.173-07:00Chand ki katori par...Chand ki katori par raakh sooni sooni hai<br />Geeli geeli ojhal si raat kahi rooth gayi..<br />Chup ke baithe hai wo roshandan se door<br />Ek tuk dekh ke chehra fer lete hai..<br /><br />savera aa nahi pata unki aankho ke dayere me<br />ki thodi si roshni hi har taraf ghar kar gayi hai<br />Dhundla mausam pyara lagta hai, andhera rangeen lagta hai<br />uska mijaaz hi kuch waise banjara lagta hai..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-78453954847518263982011-02-17T07:17:00.000-08:002011-02-17T07:44:55.327-08:00Faking thoughts.............Jumbling thoughts scrolled over my mushy quilt.. as if I would not sleep , my breathings taking my senses from me..all my efforts were to survive that night..<br /><br />I tried to escape the miserable feeling..faking to cry..faking to puke and faking to be real gain.. but the fake people around me didn't realize the utmost faking thing about me. They laughed at my reality.They hunted for my crooked heart, willing to preserve it for ever. I applied all the survival strategies,they didn't know I was trying to cheat with their intelligence. I treated them as mannequins, they treated me as an illusionary impostor..at least they existed for me but I was never there for them..Possibly they are my illusions..and I was a part of their illusion as well..That vicious circle never crossed the threshold of my delusions..and I still want to escape that night of my misery..kill those thoughts to let them die forever..and beat them all to rest in peace for ever..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-13209987216436541892010-12-08T02:29:00.000-08:002010-12-08T02:32:33.324-08:00Parchaiyo ko kehte suna tha.....Parchaiyo ko kehte suna tha<br />Libas khali hain,chalo pehen le saare<br />Ek jaise hain sab pehchaan khatam ho jayegi<br />Phir raat ke kale andhero se bhaag payenge<br /><br />Surago main ab bhi thodi jagah bachi hain<br />Chup ke thoda sa so jayenge<br />Milo ki thakane hain, ab sadiyon tak na jaa payengeAnushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-31503967362927584962010-09-19T09:00:00.001-07:002010-09-19T09:20:53.690-07:00katra ke dekhaRaag kathak nache bhaang me..<br />Ghuli hain raat zabaan mein<br /><br />pheeka pheeka swaad hain , khushboo katil sawaar hain<br />jhoot ki woh talash thi , ghoot ghoot beswaad thi..<br /><br />khatta shalgam katra ke dekha , gumsum se fafoond ko.<br />rasdhar si behi phir roz roz aankhon tale..<br /><br />behti gayi khushiya ya khamoshi ,<br />jhingoor bole majhdaar se.Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-29600412750154937312010-09-08T11:03:00.000-07:002010-09-08T11:35:39.467-07:00Gum hona main bhool gayi...fiza si ruhani thi wo kaanch ki baalkani...<br />saaya mera bhi khoya khoya sa bathake hi jaa raha tha..<br />roz-e-ewal sa ghoom raha tha..parchaiyo ki talaash mein<br /><br />chand khamoshiyan tod laya wo aakhon se..<br />kehna chah raha tha kuch<br />bus gale laga liya<br />ankaha suna diya <br />aur chal diya sara fitoor uthaye..<br /><br />dekhti hi reh gayi..samajh meri main kha gayi..<br />chalti hi reh gayi..gum hona bhool hayi..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-77310103674947422372010-08-10T10:56:00.000-07:002010-08-10T11:27:35.961-07:00The UnthinkableToday I called him finally,and told him to meet..he sounded like an ocean of current every time I talk to him..ahhh...!!eargasm.....He praises everything on earth except me,well that is actually enticing ...kewl.!!sometimes I find him averagely rude..thrilling ,isn't??+++point<br />Not a very surprise element,but surprisingly not predictable..sadist for love and hatred..mirror cracking material,camphor unburnt,his sarcasm creates cold wars and the sufferer actually enjoys it..whatever..<br />he was busy ,he denied to come..now I regret ..why did I call him..me:such a moron..such a non self respecting person..I should go to hell..<br />oh! I could have called the plumber to fix my loose taps or an electrician to rejoin the wires that came out of my mind,instead of calling him....now the left overs of my dignity tells me to keep on digging the wall,but I am sure he is not the Anarkali..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-43760354867460024222010-07-30T05:52:00.000-07:002010-07-30T06:12:36.635-07:00The crazy ladyShe was the Ditcher, the woman chameleon ,the lady most undignified.<br />She hated truth and thus in her À la carte,there were maximum lies but she lied only for the sanctity of the naked lie..that she loved.<br /><br />And when they stole her seven masks,she had for her seven ages.The thieves were cursed and she got rid of them;to have her eight one which was the most poisonous of all.The poison was trained to effect the helpers and the mask was so clever,that it never revealed the face inside it which was frozen for eternity.<br /><br />She was not beautiful but her innocence captured hearts of millions and she ate them for her immortality.Her poison never failed and she kept on using people for fun and then isolated so many of them to cry behind her.<br /><br />She painted the room darkest of all with red and black as a reward of bravery to her and celebrated the deadliest of her crimes wit the next victim.Her canvas was black and blue...and violet ,everything except white ,she reflected nothing.She was only the absorber of happiness.She snatched a lot of it,burnt it never to be resurrected again...Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-6558716870922866712010-07-25T06:20:00.000-07:002010-07-25T06:59:59.054-07:00Ijazat (Permission to leave)Who could have ever thought of capturing complexities of relations with such ease and beauty....Characters here,actually complained nothing verbally ,but their silence created the magnetized effect for the movie.Journey from the waiting room's darkness to the past life and back to waiting room was a graceful poetry by our dynamic and efficient director "Gulzar Saab".<br />Maya's (Anuradha Patel)character -that too in the era of 80's was even unthinkable.She gave all the poetic effect to the story.She was the beautiful crazy spirit who balanced the abnormal society,even her death signified her radical lifestyle.when Sudha (Rekha) returns Maya's belongings to her.She enticingly and emotinally asks her unforgivable moment back that she has spent with Mahinder(Naseeruddin Shah)...'Mera Kuch Saman '- the ultimate combination of lyrics,music and singing for Gulzar,R D Buraman and Asha Bhonsle which could never be found again.<br />The mature subject was so delicately handled that one can even start expecting his/her world to be that much emotionally sound and stable,the mutual mature bonding with melody in life.This movie enhanced Rekha's elegance and Naseeruddin's individuality as a person.<br />Even the ending,when Sudha asks Mahinder ,the permission to go,gives it a perfect start(for a new life)'Ijazat' to leave him forever (this time).<br />Jatigriha( the novel inspired it) was justified in true sense and added to the classics of Indian cinema.Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-58200481595894449522010-07-17T07:18:00.000-07:002010-07-17T07:25:11.094-07:00Pratidhwani....Awaaz thi uski kuch,thali me began ki tarah<br />Idhar-udhar ladakti aur udti<br />takrati har taraf,magar chuti kuch nahi<br />Awara,nakara...khushmijaz si tahalti<br /><br />banjaro ki tarah kahin bhi mud jaati<br />rasta jo pehchan leti thi wo,manzil ki talabh na lagi kabhi usey.<br />na dekhti,na pehchanti,na jaan pati,na mehsoos kar pati<br /><br />Ek roz jo thamne ki koshish ki<br />surrrr....si nikal gayi fadfadate huye..<br />goonj bhi to akhir uski ,meri awaaz ko na pehen payi kabhi...Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-10277689965066463992010-07-13T06:30:00.000-07:002010-07-13T06:46:29.475-07:00'Pratibimb'<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAU-tgNAqCE/TDxtSYJLKdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Li_xp4gacrw/s1600/prati.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JAU-tgNAqCE/TDxtSYJLKdI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Li_xp4gacrw/s200/prati.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493385807971166674" /></a><br />Ek geeli ret ki chaw <br />jiska jism kho gaya'<br /><br />Odhe thi wo shaffaq adayein<br />pehne this wo guroor hazaro....<br />ab nam si dikhti hain wo chaw humesha.<br />Mitti ke ghar me rehti hain wo <br />reteeley ghaw ke saath..<br />....................................<br /><br />safar mein dhoop to mili hogi..<br />zara zara roshni si chura lana.<br />sab rakh lungi,kal chato pe <br />bada andhera baitha tha...<br /><br />............................<br /><br />kuch panne meri kitab se bahar nikal aaye.<br />pass jakar dekha to sare akshar dhoondle ho gaye..<br /><br />...................................<br /><br />bada naadan shaitaan tha wo maali,<br />bagiyan se mati bhi chura gaya..Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-804307126823752293.post-21007735054174593162010-07-07T04:44:00.000-07:002010-07-07T04:56:10.279-07:00Empty MomentEyelids with slow motions,closed lips,<br />myriad unborn expressions .....<br />a language-eardrums cannot trace..but <br />then the slightest movement could <br />explain mysteries deep inside ashes.<br />Now we imagine a speed decoding and one expects the whole story <br />to be unfolded without any deteriorating <br />moment..Once it is done, the wine of love+friendship<br /> preserved for your <br />gut...One Empty - moment steals the <br />show with no continued disaster but <br />only satisfaction for the competance <br />that dwells around us.As the broken truth re shoots itself from a single source at different points to be conceived ,nourished and presented as a sweet dessert before meal.Some may have the taste buds to cherish the reality,some kill them or some just swallow them to be destroyed with the acid and all this happens in a single empty moment.Anushree Ghoshhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02808552701235867578noreply@blogger.com0