Skip to main content

Book Review - The Crossover

Rajorshi Patranabis'  collection of poems "The Crossover: Love Beyond Eternity" published by Biva Publication is a collection of poems with a difference.

All the poems in this collection are about love that's eternal and immortal. They are about love that transcends borders of time, of life and of death. Rajorshi writes about love that cannot be confined within space and time, it flows unhindered and stays in the hearts and souls of lovers even as they cross over to other worlds, to other times.

In the poem "Happily Ever After" Rajorshi says:

Devoid of our bodies and just our souls
Warrants never to hide in holes...
We would flow in the wind and sun,
Just you and me, in sorrow and fun...

The same idea finds voice in his poem "The Crossover" where thus laments a lover-

Your hands so easily, slipped over,
With tears in my eyes,
You managed to Crossover.

The lover goes on to spend his days and nights in the chasm of grief till -

A sudden slip in the chilling night
Relieved my pain, regained all might...

I could hardly fathom, what had happened,
That I realized, that I was dead...

A whisper within told me again,
"Turn around and see me wait".
You stood there, with your usual veil
Asked me, to come and nail,
The story, that remains unclosed.

Rajorshi inspires you to believe that love, fulfilled or unrequited, never fades. It is stored in all its glory in some hidden corner of the universe, for us to discover and re-discover when the time is right.

Rajorshi also weaves beautiful stories through his verses. 

One of my personal favourites is the poem titled "The Nautch", where a woman talks about a lifetime spent in satiating the lust of hundreds of men, and yet searching for her one true love - a search that continues even after she has "crossed over". Rajorshi says

There, stands, the epitaph in my name,
I keep waiting, for my man in vain...

I fly in ether, managing my mane,
Lest comes my man, but all in vain.

There are also elements of thrill in a heart-rending story of a departed soul that carries the pain of betrayal to the other world and must satiate its thirst for vengeance in the poem "Revenge of Sharmila" -

But this was the time to secure
For my disturbed self, a panacea and cure...

"The Redlight", like "The Nautch", brings out the pious beauty of the lovelorn heart of a woman, who, while growing up in a red-light area to be the Queen Bee, dares to fall in love, only to be betrayed by the very man who she had thought would free her from the filth of her miserable life.

I am still bewildered, relieved of my bodily pain
What did I get, did I lose or gain?

And it is in that other world that she is finally blessed with the ultimate wisdom-

Love is a potion that call can heal
So, rise in love, wrong or right;

Any discussion about this book would be incomplete without a mention of the touching, ill-fated love story of an English woman and a native man in the poem titled "Monica" - the woman waiting though decades for her man she lost on a Christmas evening at Park Street.

It has been a century now,
I am Monica, I move around in tow,
The road and lanes in Park Street,
Hustling Bustling cars and fleet,
I still wander with hope no fear,
To find my love, in some nook and corner...

Rajorshi's poems are lyrical, rich in visuals and they tell stories that will stay with you for a lifetime. This is a delectable treat for all lovers of poetry and fiction alike.


Popular posts from this blog

Book Review - Poems by Subhadip Mukherjee

Ernest Hemingway said, “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” Reading the poetry of Subhadip Mukherjee in his book ‘ ছেঁড়া চিন্তার Scribbles’ (Offtrack Publishers, co-authored by Dr. Kausik Ghosh), I am convinced that he is bleeding. And that’s good news. Subhadip is a nagorik kobiyal. His poems hold mirror to the stifling urban life with its rat race, with its mindless pursuit of  materialistic ambitions, and with its consumerism. নাগরিক ব্যস্ততা নানা জটিলতা... দাশু বারবার কিস্তিমাত He mocks the same judgemental urban society right in his introduction when he says: যদি তাকে চিনে থাকো যদি তাকে জেনে থাকো Boss, বেশী . মিশোনা তার সাথে সামান্য নেশা হবে ... তুমিও " খারাপ " হবে দেরি হবে রোজ রাত্তিরে Subhadip’s poems paint love in its myriad hues – from extreme euphoria to brooding despondency. Subhadip depicts the unadulterated purity of love when he says: তুই ক্লাস নাইনৈর খাতার

The Sinners: Extract #1

  Aarti was with Vikram in her one-bedroom flat. It had been raining for quite some time - the dirt washed away, street lights reflected on the wet roads. There were distant rumbles in the evening sky, sounding almost ominous. Very few cars sped down the empty road below. The room was half-lit by a single lamp on the study desk.   It was just the two of them inside the flat. They had returned a while back after dining at the Marriott in Juhu.   “I’ve been missing you for days, Vikram! I don’t remember when we met last,” Aarti’s voice rose a couple of notches, the resentment in her tone pronounced. “And when we met today after weeks, we ended up fighting.”   There were beads of sweat on Aarti’s temples and above her lips. She was visibly tense. There was a bad taste in her mouth, not the kind you carry home after a dinner at the Marriott. Vikram tried to pull her closer but Aarti freed herself and walked away towards the desk. She looked away, trying to hide the tears that were th

Decoding Marriage - An excerpt from 'An Autumn Turmoil'

  Most of us have a glorified idea about love. I think it comes from the staple diet of Bollywood movies we are all brought up on. Couples strolling on the beach, watching the sunset together, whispering promises of eternity into each other’s ear, and making love on satin sheets in wooden cottages overlooking the Swiss Alps. But life does not play out like this. The movies do not show the truth, what happens backstage. The love fades. The promises lose meaning. And the lovemaking goes from being a passion to a duty, something a married couple ‘is supposed to do at bed time.’ Before long, you reach that stage, where you can count the number of times you do it every month on your fingers, with a couple of fingers to spare. And you surrender to the monotony. The husband and the wife start living separate lives under the same roof – all in the name of security, comfort, marital bliss and sometimes, the fear of what ‘everyone would say’. Abhishek and I are fast approaching that stage in our