Migration

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” Humans alike bird recognize the virtue of experiences

Landscapes, smell of air, smiles,eye contact, styles of niche creation, the color of aspirations as versatile as the colour of doors- synchronised or mismatched.

Its the seeking to love but first to understand. Sure, it started somewhere with quest of power (Alexander) or SpiceTraders.  Man is of instincts. He acts his way to redemption of soul

However, this quest for migration is real, it captures and pulls the soul like the magnetic field of Earth, guiding migratory bird to risk its life to live and feel its flight. It is innate that we risk contents of comfort for learning.”

Imagine;

Migratories are curtailed,

For territorial games,

Travel and change wasn’t just luxury,

The cost of it- Mortality,

Yet, you have to break chains,

Monotone, scarcity, placid of planes,

Transformation in height of mountains.

Every lost  breath craves,

Hope, it steads towards Peace,

Mapping magnetic field,

Pectoral plates moves,

Breaks to reconnect,

Planning and processing this feat,

Includes delay, adjust to change, intuits;

Construct and destruct, constant at play,

Knowing it all,

Why mammoth this soul, frailer,

Why then?

One walk towards, change willingly?

Perhaps,

The futility of Unwillingness, we see;

Could ‘change’ be urged to stop?

If  we could;

Would we toil with cringe, quiver or shake;

Or

Would we embrace ?

Rupika Moitra

For If

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Transcendence is curated in solace yet it is relational. “all within me”
“Immanence is cultivated in closeness of relationship; with the aspects of
relationship which produces unity or a
point of identity.”

“How will I reach?”

For if, there was no one to see,

Would you still dress?

For if, your scent or stench couldn’t be perceived,

Would you still clean?

For if, hands had no where to touch or reach,

Would you still outstretch ?

And Love,

For,  if you could only give it,

In it’s purest,

but can’t feel

Would you still love?

Rupika Moitra

Perched Soul

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What if the soul could detached and refuse to connect to a ruminating self. Then, would we stop self-loath.

Is there still too much noise deflecting intrinsic wisdom?

Is it the mere fault of focus that is stuck on deliverance and ignore soul’s guidance?”

 

This morning,

The soul left self,

It felt contained, I guess,

I professed emptiness,

Then, I saw ‘It’

Perched on neighbor’s roof,

looking up,

missing home,

Drenched in blue,

Absorbing clues

 

Far, so far;

The body with scars

It rebels,

Doesn’t own its shame and guilt,

Stays blinded to its built,

And yet, it yearns to invite,

To staithe sombre

To complete;

 

‘Soul’

Formidable and forgiving,

It returns with a smile

With a wink from divine

 

We wait together,

My soul and I,

We still play,

our endless games

None is ready,

to give up the chase, YET…..

 

 

Rupika Moitra

Ticket to Freedom

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Confidence,

Self-Belief,

are just sounds echoed till we actively seek,

To project and believe,

A daily task to open shackles of doubt,

To unleash potential and let it sprout,

Each day, I walk towards it,

Then I take a few steps back,

To cross this channel,

To dive a little deeper

Almost there, Almost

I crave to hear

Each day I raise the question louder,

Today, can I try harder?

Now, as I come close to the ticket window,

I need to muster the last of muscle power,

To smile and walk ahead in line,

Convinced, I have mustered enough currency of courage,

That lasts me for the journey,

To announce through the ticket window,

Yes, I am ready

Finally ready to take on this ride,

Tokens of tenacity,

I find them in my stride……

 

.Rupika Moitra

Long road to Bliss

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Two parallel roads of life;

A road of shortcuts,

Curtailing every hurdle, negating all that’s diffcult,

Road of quick gratifications,

Quickly satiating yet quickly forgotten,

Reaching the shores,

Something seems-  left ‘Unexplored’

The long road is full of rubble, wait and struggle,

Yet, it promises, dreaminess of dreams untold,

Walking at it, I surrender to the whole;

Feeling pain and pleasure, all in my presence,

With unearthly practicality, I walk till I am worn,

No rewards, I can hold,

My cup is too small,

No fear of being fooled,

Not fooled, I am with, what seems,

Glitters never conveyed, what soul beseeched…

Knowing your wish,

Which road will I pick?

Not the road covered in jiff, with pleasure amidst,

Can’t leave lessons unravelled, for convenience of road easily travelled,

With courage and blessings, I walk where wisdom awaits,

Lessons falls on lap,

No rush to reach the gates,

Walking still, if I don’t see the end,

No glory of destination, I would sing, boast or tell,

Embracing it’s pace,

It was never a race,

I walk towards,

the bliss of eternity where endless love is a certainty;

For a journey that takes me to my ‘Home Unknown.’

…Rupika Moitraroad-sun-rays-path.jpg

Ripples in a lake

I raise the idle hand, itching to make ripples in the lake,

It pulls me, my hand, for forgotten games,

It unconciously flows,

Face-forward, it flows,

Bend, open-fingers like a bowl, it tries to hold,

Knowing that it wouldn’t hold, it flows,

Sending ripples of  a message to absorb me in, it flows;

Assuming a cooling bliss in me continues, it flows,

Like a damp log bed to lie on, on the warmest afternoon,

As I listen and try,

It reciprocates every sweat drop on the sould, with a dews on rose;

So do you remember, my friend,

No, I said, I forgot what worries, I held,

Before I opened the hands to flow with you,

I disturbed your sweet serenity,  for my childplay, and yet, you flow,

You pass me, the serenity,

together, we sing mellow,

Now which is me and which is you,

All that is,

All there is,

just flows……………

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RUPIKA MOITRA

Flutter and Glide

pexels-photo-769527.jpegI charge the muscles,

I flap my wings,

I soak my lips with assurance of plentiness,

I tickle the quest to satiate purpose:

This flight….

Yes, This flight will land me!

where destinies reside,

I need to ask,

when, when, when

Is that day?

The day of my grandest flight;

THE DAY OF MY GLIDE

I hear no answer,

Although, I do see a kite,

In hand of other,

Can’t choose its flight,

and yet it flies,

It flies, to fly;

It flutters, It glides,

It flies, to fly,

and I dream to Glide,

Of long straight strides,

Of magnificience,

of pride;

And then I remember,

The purpose taught by kite,

I try to remind often,

To honour those flutters:

as I would relish the glides……