The book “Inara: An Illumination Through Verses” by Abhinandan Bhattacharya is a poetry book.
Abhinandan Bhattacharya is a bohemian poetic soul who weaves exquisite rhythm – free-flowing and classical in his verses. Mint fresh themes like Moments nestle beautifully with the traditional ode Silver Lining, while Hunger highlights the World Food Programme.
To do justice to the sheer variety, one must completely indulge in Abhinandan’s world of mystical Macaroni with caramelized chicken to breathe in the aroma of punch like humour, and savour the tasteful bytes and dare to Crossover with the seemingly idyllic bougainvillea. This book promises to the reader that never shall one’s spirit be Extinguished.
Read an excerpt from the book below.
A Call Away
Like the benign sea breeze, you breathe new hopes
Of resilience and kindness, with spirits that one copes
You held my hand and made the rain gods sway
And whispered in my ear, “I’m just a call away.”
Polarized in thoughts and neglected by the times,
My sighs, your cries, our silences – trailed along in beautiful rhymes,
Vanilla skies to our eyes when we still call it a day
Gently reminding one another that we’re just a call away.
Never unblemished was this relation, nor will it ever be
For perfection sleeps in the grave, not in a life lived with glee,
Sturdy as the oak tree yet boorish as the breath of May
All voids filled with passion anew at the thought of being just a call away.
With you, my dear friend, the December snow’s an absolute cheer,
Far from the maddening crowd, the jubilant bells toll loud and clear –
A message to write a new chapter in a world where you and I stay,
Let each soul bear this promise today that we’re all just a call away.
On a strange precipice
The Scarlet kisses the Night
And a few lonely arms, raised –
Invoking a prayer parched in plight
The zephyrs in consternation
As the cirrostratus come in sight.
Ripples in the hungry tide
Cower the valiant along the ride.
The golden crest of snowy peaks
A dulcet dream this humble mind seeks,
From farthest fathoms below as you rise
To a new world that we all surmise,
Another Eden – all sparkling bright
A divine creation awaits a whole new light.
balmy is the mildewed west
as you put that day to a gentle rest
symphony of the surging waves
is all your heart humbly craves
rising in the warm sand
many a castle lofty, grand
your worries in the present wind
tossing, a past to slowly rescind
amidst the low briny breeze
a dream your eyes possibly seize –
messianic, lucid, pure, benign
a moment for which you indeed pine
couched you’re in a sweet rustle
far away from a maddening bustle
a zephyr’s touch from the purple haze
a life to reset with a scarlet gaze
the foliage fans from the bowed boughs
a crop to yield by he who ploughs
the cradle holds the dulcet times
this lay ends again in splendid rhymes
What do you carry little one?
Pressure of growing up
With countless memories to be lost and won
And a thousand fleeting expectations to be met, done and undone.
How do you do my teenage friend?
Meeting eyes at home and outside
With dreams that know no end
Why is a lily on your brow?
In love, they say ‘what’ but fail to show ‘how’
From Lochinvar to Romeo, this journey ends for me now.
Allow me the knowledge to the frown on your temple –
With anxiety rippling and lips doing a tremble,
Crashed hopes and false promises make the trudge long
Heavy are these intangibles, where fiction doesn’t belong.
What weighs you down, gentle warrior?
More than the cannon
It’s Death’s fangs at the rear
Where grief weds guilt; flickering hope gives in to fear,
With the magazine emptying, a heaviness descends near.
You look not well, O harvester!
As anguish cripples and tightens that noose
The yoke is shifted; now, a prayer on loose
With failure cradled in poverty and pain,
That last goodbye – can either of us restrain?
What droops your shoulder, O honourable man?
Manipulation and Deceit
Have got you a perfect tan
Where honesty breeds contempt and ignorance begets shame
Where sorrow is hilarious and true love a riotous game
Trust is murdered, Faith is assaulted and Hope is scratched
By that acerbic tongue that weighs upon the timid world
In a form mostly wretched.
Where incendiaries will hardly wipe great civilizations,
Such petty intangibles will wreak total obliteration.