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We both were once in a village, far from the crowd
(Home/verses/khonika/ek ganye)

We both were once in a village, far from the crowd
Plethora, the joy is always ours!
Magpie Robin chirps there high on their tree branch, modulation and swings. Overturn, 
Lingering longer with her song, I too, learned to believe in the churn.
Her domesticity with her two cents, with her own there, pen name
Grazing there near our age old oak tree and underneath the shade.
Whence the fence is a threshold mayhem with her bewilderness 
We saved her, once more, our merciful shades!



The village of ours had a name, Srimantapur
The river Padma, meandered along, not too far, there.
Infamous me, is known there with most of  the villagers’ serenity.
And the specialty of ours is in gossiping  hands, myriad , primavera, pristine be!

Both had a surrealism, underneath, in glum and glee, a tear and a smile.
Midair, mid liner, spared a way, orchard a !
Bundles of buzzing bee wanders around, the greenery
And we  then believed in the unicorn. Lo and behold! A stingray and a sting of salt, cycled tributary, splashed me !


Nirvana had their thistle thal, on a fading twilight may
Floating around our village periphery
Their reverie, had a glow around the festive sky
They had a hue underneath the dispersing sigh, twilight high, a fading lullaby! 
The village fair had a booth , on the eve, noticed through, by and by!


The village of ours had a name, Srimantapur
The river Padma, meandered along not too far, there.
Infamous me, is known there with most of  the villagers’ serenity.
And the specialty of ours is in gossiping  hands, myriad , primavera, pristine be!


The village boulevard , and the depth of the fragrance of  the dense mango trees
The forest had the first usher where the utter learned them one by one, in the length to be!
The brittle of their coy
Had our beans and soy!
The canopy of their indecisive sky
Had my corner’s view ,  a gently blowing’ breeze, passing by
Incessant rain drops with the flash flood reynold numbered high
Had my cherry blossom in an eternal try, whence we were a simple outcry!

The village of ours had a name, Srimantapur
The river Padma, meandered along not too far, there.
Infamous me, is known there with most of  the villagers’ serenity.
And the specialty of ours is in gossiping  hands, myriad , primavera, pristine be!
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