Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist,
an award-winning poet, an editor and a literary curator. Her poems have been
translated into forty one languages and have been widely published in Indian
and international journals and anthologies. She has ten books to her credit.
Paramita promotes peace, multilingual, global and indigenous poetry. She also
promotes awareness of climate change and conservation through poetry. She is
the President and Initiator of the Mumbai Chapter of IPPL and also the Cultural
Convenor and Literary Coordinator (West India) of ISISAR. She is passionate
about painting and photography.
The Invisible Magic Wand
I have an
Invisible Magic Wand.
With one
swish I heal many hearts.
With a hug
and a kiss I bring back a smile on a child's face.
With a hand
on the shoulder I bring back confidence in some.
I have an
Invisible Magic Wand
I circle it
round to bring peace
I circle it
to stop all fights
I circle it
to stop all strifes.
I have an
Invisible Magic wand.
Wherever I
go with it, happiness spreads.
Wherever I
go with it, eyes twinkle.
Wherever I
go with it, sounds of laughter rolls.
I have an
Invisible Magic wand
One sweep
of the wand and the sun shines.
One sweep
of the wand and the leaves flutter in the breeze.
This magic
wand in the hands of a simple woman makes her magical.
Tram ride memories (dedicated to the 150th
anniversary of tram services in Kolkata)
Calcutta, trams and
nostalgia.
The ting-ting bell of
the tram
My sister and I sitting
in the wooden seats
Our heavy school bags on
our laps.
Sometimes worried that
we will reach late to school.
The ticket checker in
khaki uniform
With a black sling bag
full of clinking coins.
Now living in a
different city, a different era
I don’t know the fare of
a tram ride.
But the 20 paise tickets
are still so fresh in my mind.
Then in my youth, our
college group travelling in trams.
Rolling in peals of
laughter over silly jokes.
Sometimes having jhaal-
muri* after a hectic day
Gulps of water with it
to ease the spicy taste.
The tram trundling along
the Maidan*.
Greenery and tall trees
all around.
Tram played a lovely
role in my courtship days.
Talking sweet- nothings
in the long tram rides.
Two souls in love
meeting each other after a work day
The slow speed of the
tram providing respite after a hectic day.
Gradually tram rides
became rare due to my busy schedule
Dodging between home in
the trappings of a newly- wed bride
And doing research
experiments in the university.
Tram rides were too slow
to cope with my many schedules.
But it again became my
most favoured ride
When I was to become a
mother.
When a new life was
forming in my womb.
The speed of the tram
ride which irritated me before
Became my best friend
for safe travel.
Calcutta, trams and
nostalgia.
*jhaal-muri—a spicy
mixture of puffed rice
*Maidan—a huge stretch
of green in the heart of Kolkata (Calcutta)
Morning
has broken
Morning has broken like
the first morning.
The sea breeze is on my
face.
The trees are swaying.
The leaves are
fluttering.
The birds are singing
nature’s grace.
Morning has broken like
the first morning.
The squirrels are
scampering all around.
The crows are cawing on
the trees.
The elusive nightingale,
singing away sweetly.
All creatures, a new
day, a new happiness have found.
Morning has broken like
the first morning.
The parrots are
screeching and fleeting by.
The sunbirds are dancing
in the palm trees.
The sweet breeze is
dancing with the leaves.
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