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by Romen Basu
The word is a free bird, and it is not possible to cage it within the departments of literature or languages. The word belongs to all, and to nobody. You may groom too wild a word in the class room, but you cannot give birth to it there. Word is nature, human nature at its moments of awakening. Thus, though Romen Basu has pursued an entirely disparate discipline in life than the plough of the pen, he nevertheless has been driven by inner necessity to cast into words his awakenings to consciousness. It is all to the good that poem makers are often not students of literature, but actively participate, and push the wheel of the world. It is from here that the true experience of all art flowers. If, initially, the poetic word expresses the baby's gurgle or cries, eventually the self enlarges, and it takes into its ambit what was seemingly alien. A brush with the larger reality throws up brighter sparks, and by and by the circumference of our vision widens.
About The Author:-
Basu, from all the evidence, is o is poetic pilgrimage through life, and his steps are therefore resolute. In these new poems, there is genuine success in his endeavours to give form to the surprising secrets hidden behind the veils of appearances of our average lives.