Author Archives: Chaitali Sengupta

About Chaitali Sengupta

Chaitali Sengupta is a writer and a poet by passion, a financial analyst and a language teacher by profession. She’s a translator and volunteer journalist, based in the Netherlands. “Cross Stitched words”, her debut collection of prose-poems, has been recently published by SETU publications, USA. Her two translated works (from Bengali to English) are “Quiet whispers of our heart” & “A thousand words of heart”. She has contributed largely to esteemed international anthologies and online/print literary journals, including Café dissensus, Different Truths, Borderless Journal, Muse India. Her translation of a human interest documentary for the Dutch TV channel was widely appreciated.

A soul reborn

In this flawless, placid lake of healing

I come to take a bath,

as the bright canvas of blue above me,

Whisper a symphony of silence.

The calm blue lake, a moving mirror,

like a sacred vision,

invites me within its quiet stream,

crystal and pure, in its depths,

I’m like a soul reborn.

In the hidden energy of the limpid water

My broken spirit rejoices with me.

Looking back

Looking back, I see the overcrowded past

looping over and over,

trailing like footprints,

on the snow, stamped with regrets,

stuttering, like a garbled echo,

of what could have been.

Looking forward is uncertain

and, looking back is now looking inward.

Birthing Hope

In the dark world of the earth,
rainbow was her light,
the resonance of her soul,
a promising, inspiring arc that whispered of a neon world beyond,

lifting her spirits, in a lofty sight.

Their echoing laughter and colliding love lit millions of fireflies in the sky,
their hearts blended,
birthing hope,

in the bosom of the earth.


The trembling breeze,

The rustle of leaves,

The cooing of birds,

The droning buzz of flies,

The babbling of brooks,

The melody of the wind,

The pouring of rain

Nature’s pre-dawn concert,

a vibration of fleeting moments.

A single chord of stillness runs through the universe,

An endless hum, 

through which Nature whispers

in the voice of God. AUM. 

Immortal desires of the mortal men

Each regal wave surges
whirlpools of mushroom-like foam.

A tiny, slippery drop, like a moment in time, 
straggle out.
Perfect in its roundness,
it catches the rainbow colors,
of the setting sun.

Against the ruthless time,
it slides on my fingertips,
like a borrowed moment,
like immortal desires
of the mortal men. 

Torn Apart

     Under the rain,

    rimming over a monsoon-swelled river, 

     the brooding bridge stands,

     like a solitary heartbeat stopped,

     saluting the aggressive river, 

     in her stride,

     frothing, teasing his curled-up cracks,

     built to span her springing tide.

     The bridge is a waiting, a muffled sob.

     The river, a noise, forging forward.

     The bridge stands, poised, wordless,

     its roots steadfast, rolling in the

     luxurious limb

     of the river.

       One and yet torn apart.

By Chaitali Sengupta