Genesis of Life

Morning till night I try to
solve the misteries of life, like
a man possesed.
Every new day throws a new challenge,
bringing me near to myself.
Life keeps asking for more.
New dreams comes to me, with new
hopes of attaining the plateau
of eternal life.

Running after my life's creations
has now become my obsession
and I do so without any failure.
Disputes of heart remained to be
solved, to be asked and given a new hope.

All things begin with a
sleepless night,with heart full
of questions and a lot of fight.

By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick 2000

The Unknown Soldier

I am fighting my battle alone,
with words and ideas.
Leaving a life of faith and solitude
the sky is my limit, the ocean is
my path, for my battle is without
boundaries and shades of blood.
I keep on pressing myself to the end,
keeping my hopes tied up in my sweat.
Every day I think of taking on new
grounds, alas it never happens.
For the world has much bigger
walls for me to climb.
I keep banging to that wall, with
new vigour and faith.
Knowing I can succeed at the end.
Voices of despair cannot divert me,
for I am the unknown soldier
fighting a lonely battle of my own.

By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick 2000

The Clown

Every day after the show ends,
he sits there in the corner
gazing eternity,
thinking what's in store
for him tomorrow at the show.
People are clapping,cheer him
to death make him laugh at himself.
With dignity and hope he sits there,
eyes closed and murmuring to his soul.
Night comes and he is still
sitting along with his tired soul.
He doesn't feel any pain
for he is the clown.
Everything stops, only the
heart beat of a tired man.

Next day the crowd is waiting
the clown is still there sitting
in the corner, cold as a dead tree.
sitting there in eternal peace.

By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick 2000

The Bleeding Monk

I bleed to death
for you for nothing less
or nothing more.
The blood flows to form
a mark of faith.
The blood keeps flowing.

Those were the bodies
of my fellow beings
denied of any human feelings,
lying there.
Feeling the wrath of
god on their naked body.
There lies the monk among us,
burning with the
hope of nirvana.
Lush green ground
supports his body.

He is still bleeding
lying dead with a glow on
his face.

By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick 2000

Divine Scum

Call it the existence of mediocrity among us, the so-called-civilized scums of this world.
Who and how this divine scums came to life….it’s a crucial question for all of

us - the so called sane, civilized, bohemian, snobbish, ultra modern, techno beings.
I am not asking you to join this discussion…but if you could spend some time reading this stuff, I promise, to reveal the real identity of this alien-or-not-so-alien being among us.
Not so long ago, when things were sane…and we used to call ourselves humane, there, one fine day or moment came to earth a heavenly body from a land unknown ( I am still working on it). He was fine looking, just like, we humans, all features were same. Not to say…he was more humane, than all of us.
Gradually as time passes by and we became more-and-more sensible, this human looking heavenly self took a new form…at first it was horrible. Believe me…you will, I am sure.
Oh,! with his features getting distorted, gradually he took the shape of a sub-human.
Sorry! my mistake…more than a human.

We all got so fascinated by his new looks that we started calling him ‘Yummy’,
to start with…later on it sounds like Scummy. That’s bad, really bad, to play around with someone’s name.
Too bad! but that alien started accepting that kind name of his. To be precise got used to it. He was pretty thrilled to be called scummy or scum (short name, with love).
But there was an issue to be solved, he had an infectious mode of conduct and that was a real big problem. His goodness or precisely…his scummyness started to surf around among us, the human’s. Day passes by and we all got infected by this diseased moron from some damn place.
Now the surprising part of the whole story…we all fell in love with this divine scum. Each one of us, except for a few, who are not listed among…human’s.
The love was so blind, it just accepted the divineness of failure to be real, as the truth of existence.
Now-a-days scums are found at every nook and corner of this planet.
What an achievement, of one little moron from outer world. He actually changed our perception, of living an honoured & ideal life, as a simple idealistic human being.
Three cheers to him!
We should all bow to this great divine scum among us…to him we owe our soul. This is not the end of the story, it just got spicey from here…!!!
Fellows, can you name this divine being???

Death of an Idea

Everybody likes to kill something or the other!
Some are fly killers, some like to play around with cockroaches or spidey’s, are some of the favourites.

Like for myself, I am an-idea-killer (or should I say us!).

Others like me do exist…I have a strong conviction for that.

It takes nothing to be like me. Just a few hiccups, few painful realisations, a lots of sweat & a little bit of practicality. You also have all the ingredients in you, to be the same as me, unless you want to be someone else. But I do have an idea…right now!
Want to see it the light of the day….alas some know-it-all dude kills it, right there in front of me.

It’s a painful journey for me, starting with the sowing to the reaping of an idea. They come in all forms & sizes….and at all times. Boundations they have none. For they are from the family of thoughts.
It takes seconds-to-months-to-years-time to germinate. But only a few seconds to terminate.

We all feel proud to kill someones’ ideas. With jest we do it, till the last sign of originality is gone. Ideas are plenty to be found on the streets of creativity, some are half born, some soulless, others want to cry for support & most of them are heart broken.
The fault lies with us, the procreators. Pardon me Sir/Madam, for we are unaware of the killer instinct of many of the CREATIVE jealots among us! Wow they love to hate us, the ideators. Seldom they miss out on the devilish pleasures of destroying ones’ ideas. I pity with them, I have stopped rolling the tears.

>Now realisation has taken its place<
IDEA’S are born to die, (cheers!) and what a nameless death it has to be. No my friend, no need to cry for your beloved idea, for it was good for that idiot to leave this world. It would have been unfair for that lonely IDEA to be among us and still breathing, knowing none of the realities of life. No matter what it looks like, good or bad, acceptable or not, it needs to be terminated with the utmost of sincererity.

And everybody takes part in the process with their heart’s closed, eyes shut & ears plugged. They are not to do any thinking before or after terminating that idea of yours.

Well, its pleasurable for every one of us and sometimes becomes our favourite pastime feature. I would like to invite the whole mankind known or unknown to me, to come and participate in this fair game of ours….the ideal idea termination game!

To hell with all ideas. Boooooowwww……!!!!

Have you felt good reading the above line of self low-denomination, I hope so!
If that is the case, then my friend you are a born IDEA killer. No pun intended, You are the chosen one (no Matrix stuff). So go ahead, take your killing shot on any God damn idea you come across right away…..

Hope you are feeling better by NOW!!!!


By Soumen Bhowmick
©Soumen Bhowmick

The Price of WOW!

What a big question to be asked by the creative fraternity.

What’s this WOW! factor? Lately came to be known as the ultimate sign of creative triumph, or so is it?

Not exactly an alien expression, to me or to any of you, the creative citizens. It expresses itself seldom-lonely. It attracts the utmost attention of the people around it. It’s a short form of cherishing our unfulfilled dreams. Say this short word and see the magic begin all around you.

Along came the reason to define some feelings or name it ….exactly that’s what WOW is. The urgency to express something unknown, with utmost sincerity. Come on…its as simple as drawing a straight line on paper.
It’s simple, yet complicated to spell. When the moment comes to say this word, we get a cold feeling of selfishness deep inside our heart. Something stops us to spell it. Maybe it will just rip off our soul. May be…

It took me some real good thinking, the first time I said WOW. My self exploration is still on, from that day. My first spell out was a bit early, that I realised later on. When someone real creative called it and displayed a sense of aloofness. What a performance of expressing ones true feelings, without touching your heart deep inside. He showed how to surf just a bit above your soul, while saying this WOW thing. I corrected myself that day. Now I am a more sensible creative guy, who knows the real way of saying WOW!

Timing my dear…is the real secret to all this. Just delaying a few words of appreciation can make a whole lot of difference to ones own image of self worth. WOW is in short supply this days. Reasons unknown to the creative fraternity. Maybe we have stopped saying this word out of compulsion. Just want to keep it shut within our heart, locked with our selfish attitude.

Now things are safe….nobody will spell this WOW thing.

But during all this, WOW paid a heavy price of failure. WOW is now a heartless, lonely old fellow. Looking for some solace among us. No body cares for him. I just heard we are now looking for an old home for his safe stay in this sane world. God bless this good old fellow, for he had served his purpose well, when I was in need for him. Thanks WOW! I will always remember you. You will always exist in my heart.

And I promise to spell you out every moment I get the opportunity to do so, till my last breath!