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A Leaf's Tree

  I was a glowing life, sprouting of the earth, A symbol of hope and future at birth. I worked all day to keep you bright, To make you tall and strong, as your right. When the roots dug deep, it made me sing, To watch you sway in the breeze's swing. I was your shade in the sun's hot glare, Your trusted shield when the thunder declared. I bore the frost, so you were spared, The seasons came along in all their flair. Through every turn of joy and strife, I was the friend through your life. Now that my glow has dimmed away, Others will crown you, fresh and gay. I'll be withered; we'll soon be parted, You will forget me once I've departed. The moments of golden glee flash from the past! All my life, I remained yours, ’til my last. — Prayut Mandal
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शोर से विलीन

इस सुगबुगाहट में मेरा मन क्यूँ सन्नाटे सा विलीन है ? क्यू इसे सिर्फ शोर ही दिख पड़ता है ? क्यू ये सिर्फ धड़कनो को गिन रहा है ? ये मोर की ताल पर ठुमक क्यों रहा है ? क्यों इसे रोशनी की आहट नहीं आती ? क्यों इसे हवा की ठंडक नहीं दिखती ? क्यू ये पपीहा के गान की माला नहीं पिरोता ? क्यू ये भुट्टे की अंगार को नहीं सरोता ? क्यू कल कल करती बूंदो की खामोशी नहीं समझता ? क्यों ये फिर मस्त मौला नहीं होता ? क्यू ये अपनी ही बुदबुदाहट में गुमसुम है ? क्यू ये सुगबुगाहट से नहीं निकलता ? मैं चातक सा अविरल हूँ करता हूँ प्रतीक्षा की कभी इस सुगबुगाहट में मेरी धौकनी नरम सांस बन जाएगी इस शोर के बीच धीरे - धीरे खामोशी भी गायेगी ये टूटा मन एक दिन अपनी ताल बनायेगा , मोर की ताल के साथ मिलकर फिर दिल को थिरकायेगा रोशनी की आहट पंख से हल्की जब लगने लगेगी। हवा की ठंडक इठला - इठला उंगलियों को छू जाएगी , तब पपीहा के गान की माला आप ही पीरो जाएग...
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The Burning Wick

  I'm a burning wick, shining bright since I was light. They always said the lamp is light, But it was only me, burning bright. Now I'm exhausted — my oil runs out. I'm more of a flicker than a shining bout. I'll be gone soon; only ashes will remain. They'll clean up the lamp and wipe all my memory's stains. This is life I've accepted. I remained an honest light — this can't be dejected. I hope the wick of my wick burns brighter than me, And lights the world around and beyond with love, kindness, and glee. — Prayut Mandal
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The Last Street Lamp in the City

  It was a beautiful autumn morning. Birds chirped, butterflies fluttered, and children trotted alongside their parents on the way to school. Winnie's Bakery had a line of office-goers waiting eagerly to grab breakfast to munch on during their walk to work. Across the street, in front of Sam’s Deli, the clock chimed eight times. It was 8 o’clock. Jackson should have been here by now to clean the black stains off my glass. I wondered what was keeping him. In a short while, the street would be bustling with people, and then it would take him longer to do the job properly. Just as these thoughts rushed through me, a little boy walking past with his grandfather gave me a tight hug and said, “Thank you.” His grandfather chuckled warmly. “Jimmy, you’re so sweet! You did this because I told you my story — how this light helped me when I was a kid, all alone on the street. I used to read books thrown away by people. I worked all day and ate whatever little I could buy with the money ...
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