Amra Tomar Ei Kolkata


Chirp Story-

Mornings are special here. The mist carries a special nostalgic fragrance. With birds gone for the preparation of an uncertain yet magnificent Kolkata day, I headed unwrap layers of joy 🙂


Fearless, I Stand Tall-

These trees had been here since the British Raj. Witnessed so much of recycling of the city as there had been lot of change. Colors in Kolkata play a vital role.


Way back home is always long-

Old Kolkata has some marvellous sidewalks. This one..I totally fell for!


Beyond Where I Stand-

Starts More To Step British Architecture has always depicted symmetrical rock pavements. Some distinctive realms are a part of daily life in Kolkata.



The color of Kolkata has changed, very recently. spot where!


Attachment –

All so familiar yellow Ambassadors as Kolkata’s Taxi. Combing across the city with it’s rigor, it strings life to varied life forms.


Time goes by, so slowly-

Packed with enormous moments and history, Raj Bhawan stands tall in Kolkata’s pride.


Heritage on wheels-

“Tram lends Kolkata an old world charm and add to the romantic element to the city.This slow moving ,electrical reptile in narrow and crowded streets completes the ultimate attraction of the city .Having glided down the rails as a historian witness,Tram has itself been turned into an immemorial heritage for which the whole Kolkatans will be proud of.” says CTC homepage!!!I am glad someone put it all in words because I am spellbound! 🙂


Gully Cricket inside Ex-Miltary Secretariat, Esplanade Row East, Kolkata-

Well, Photographers are often shooed off. However, This was a sunday and a lady with camera was determined! 😛



Ex-Miltary Secretariat (location), Esplanade Row East, Kolkata-

“Built in the year 1909 formerly known as Ordnance Building, when Calcutta was still the capital of the British Raj, this building once again reminds all that the British wanted to create in Calcutta, a city on the lines of their beloved London. The wide verandahs and recessed rooms, with a large central court yards are concessions and improvisations, made for the difference in climatic conditions between the two cities.”- Read an internet source, I couldn’t agree more!



That’d be me!!

It’s Cooking, Yet.

Shuffling through ‘How-To’ s..
infliction of a new recipe..
All we gather..
the ingredients..
Guided by the ancestral instincts to..
Judge the spice of charm..
But to remind you!
..It is only the first page of a book..
What skill should craft..
From mere pages..
argues delis to the senses..
Jealous stands the air of the waft..
Of such artistry..
That is when you realise..
The influence of..
Watching an innocent pink turn..
Gorgeous sultry earth..
Lies in the magic of Sauté..

Sunday Afternoons

Bright Sunday afternoons,
Used to be mostly a doze
Back in school days
Or maybe a stash of homework
Yet, snuggled into mom’s arms
Cotton up.. sinking into the moment..
Wanting to never stop breathing her the warmth..
I open my eyes,
Another moment,
Its cold and gray
into a heavy downpour..
The phone screen flashing her picture
She is miles away
Still wakes me up for the rest lying day
Like, a lonesome string
Of a guitar
missing the others in a tune.

Walking through another day
from tomorrow’s yesterday
Peeking from the blanket
A chaos of limbs.

like a shoelace, we both lay
Another Sunday afternoon,
Only, a strange tingling yet, familiar

A spool should bandage
He Smiles.
Face to face,
Cheeks to cheek
Weaving Lace
Times fly they say,

It all reverts to you
By the universe
Knows none other but,
Its soul-mates
There, we stand looking into our
duplicated eyes, lips, smile,
That looks like mine,
Those, his
All a ball of life,
The magic of two
Always, from now
Tiny fingers,

Like a Marshmallow
Soft and pink

Half open eyes


 A little package of Love

Another of our lineage
Another soul
Reaching ,

Another Sunday afternoon
inter-wound limbs
tiny ones, the most delicate
bunking a pile of homework
for a warmth,
to dream,
to trouble and figure out of some

for her own

to germinate, into her tomorrow
to lay her roots
all these Sunday Afternoons.

You and Me

You pour down,
You touch me with your soul..
You give me a bit of you,
You wrap me around to unfold..
We long for a union,
You and Me
We long for ourselves,
You and me
We see the Path we built,
You and Me

We Know our Belonging,
You and Me

A Shelter of us, Now
Ours’ is the Sky,

Times from now,A Home
All the beauty we loved,
Furnished with our Care
Faith and Hope, within a
Confined country on this land,
For citizens,

You and Me.

Bubble World !!

Wandering across aimlessly,
in the streets of my mind,
I stop by the corner,
Where i’d find you and me.

I stand by the window
Of that cafe
Where we shared the warmth of a cup of coffee..
I sit by that table at
That Bistro where we shared some gag..
Rolling back to you with time
feels great.
Only to realise the bubble truth of this mundane earth.

A cold bed,
Missing your arms’ warmth
My favourite wrap around..
A sunk heart
Missing its favourite shine ,
Yet astound.
All this to cheer the moment.,
Which helps,
Only little did i know,
Reminded by you every now and then,
Would make my being
Miss your presence
Yet, Feel your absence ..
This often..

Ah! The bubble world is blame..
I fill the pockets with moments stolen from you and me..
Together what we create is pristine delicious..
To remember the taste of it is truly difficult..
Yet, we create the opportunity of invent each other in
One another, and soak in as much possible..
All because of this bubble world..
Never quite still or stagnant,

We live,
For and within
Each other, in this
Bubble world!