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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Straight words:

When I was in school, I wanted to go to English coaching classes and read great poetic works by Shelley, Byron, Milton, Wordsworth or great prose works by Doyle, Dickens, Hemingway, Hardy and above all Shakespeare, but didn’t have a spare penny in pocket to buy a single book, keep aside going to good English classes. But, I could see my friends going to coaching classes, turning over pages of lots of new enviable books, earning remarkable marks in tests and I felt remorse and pity; because of this depressive inferiority I could never concentrate on my studies, till left as a collegian, that I would have to carry on about meself. I love my parents very much and can still understand, as I did then as a teenage boy, how hard it was to manage a family of five with an ill-paid job, more so in those days. But, the hunger was deep inside. So, you can’t imagine, I boarded the suburban train, with my father, to my maternal granddad in Howrah and broke before him. Then I was 14, just a year from my first big exam hurdle. Very few people I have seen as skilled as he was in contemporary English language; to me he was a great man, a man with great command over English. He told me, after listening to my agitated mind about me and my mates that, ‘some people are born lucky and some have to bring in luck. What the former get easily, the latter have to earn by great hardship’. The only English tutor I could manage to bring around me was He, my maternal granddad. Reminiscing through that tough time brings back memories of my borrowing and buying used books by finishing overnight to hand them over to the lenders and smashing earthen pot of coins. He taught me the importance of self-study and self-practice and its values were so captivating that I closed myself in a room cutting off or having little social contact and devouring English like a hungry man and speaking English loudly alone, reciting from those fabled writers who I ever missed in my schooldays. My Granddad’s struggle in life, his great human face is a rare object today, I don’t see anymore. He was above all pettiness and has had a great influence over me, and whenever I start writing or speaking English on pages or skype, I remember him. I never thought I would write someday, but he predicted surprisingly, ‘you may not write now, but you will have to write one day because your creative mind will not let you off so easily. I can see you are too emotional and too imaginative and have a big passion for what you haven’t made up to you. This will chase you down’. And, he was right. Today I am sharing this ‘straight words’ with you, because a very few friends of mine, who love me, have always wanted to know how simple is that to me, and I think now they get at their answer. Not that I post here, in booksie or one or two more sites on the web, everything I write. It’s just 30 percent, light in words and plot, and reserve the rest as manuscripts for my dream agents and dream publishers. So, let’s cheer, ‘To good people, to good agents, to good publishers’, of course my glass can offer only pure sad water, no fizz.
Oh, by the way, ‘IT’S ABOUT MY DEAR’ is a poem I thought would be great to share with you, because in my way of seeing things, the modern world is a decaying world, human values are eroding fast. People have taken off their natural eyes and are fast wearing crooked spectacles and watching everything fishy. The only pure, unspoiled thing is love, which has its eternal strength and if this rotting world sustains too, sustains for it.

Submitted: April 08, 2017

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Submitted: April 08, 2017




Suvendu Chowdhury


Close my eyes, I want to see you,

Till lasts sight, I want to see you;

Wish of my heart is more, and more I see you.  


Those soaked eyelashes, furled and dense,

Pale, wan lips, divine she smiled whence,

Letting all hair, unkempt, down the neck

Ears! Pierced yet, never bedeck;

Her loosened bodice, untidy, somehow around,

Bedraggled unmindfully kissing the ground;

Such is she, such a lass I imbue;

  • Close my eyes, more I want to see you.


Elegance, has now come regaled past the gloom,

Fireworks, canoodle stars, a hundred buds bloom;

Palatial living, joyous clarinets wave me close;

King so gracious, I goad the maze how my mind blows;

I am so happy, lost being many beautiful faces beset;

Startled I heard, why the fiddler crooning so late?

Who’s away? God! Pitiable me the lofty sky I flew;

  • Close my eyes, I want more to see you.


Stormy days, nobody around awake in dark night,

I sobbed alone, thought my lot only cursed to fight;

Near gone far, far unseeing, boon is deserted palm,

Hands shackled, knee dug in earth who’d keep calm?

Hiatus before unpromising zest, sneers pouring bane,

Known world so unknown, deft they were to feign;

But, she were. She were different of a few,

  • Close my eyes more, I want to see you.


You were happiest, for sorrow deigned to leave me bit,

I slept beaten, you cared to stay praying, dull moon lit;

May fondness such be, smiling a high to hide pain in,

May greatness thus be, snared that I failed to have seen;

Never she dreamt her world besides me; Heaven so hard!

How not I felt she burnt first, when my dreams charred!!

Such is my dear: emptied her all I selfishly blew;

  • Close my eyes, I want to see more you.


Carousal mirth, florid, adorned flooded me out there,

Silent on pace, inferior she when went beyond all here;

Suddenly my heart why felt so blank, back in the day’s end?  

Stumbling stone, foolhardy I knew whose hand ever to lend;

Rushed off the gems, I found you alone cheeks bathed in tear,

My soul wept long, ‘Alas! Forgive me once, forgive me dear.’

Like deadened a rose be immortal in dew; Then

  • Close my eyes more, I want to see you.


Listen to me dear, listen me here, under sky blue-

As, a flower without bee

A bower without tree

The Heaven without Earth

The life without mirth

A morn without chirp

A string without harp,

So don’t we live, so can’t we be,

What if not I tell you, not you tell me?

See, the ferryman sitting on helm and the sun sets in peace,

Some whirls are up and some break in foam,

But, you hold me firm in a mesmerizing world,

Let never me loose or I won’t be home.

Cynic world, derisive clans I don’t want, bid adieu,

  • Just, close my eyes, I want, I want to see you!
  • Close my eyes, I want only to see you!!
  • Close my eyes, I only want, to see you!!!



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