BIO Dr Sujata Chatterjee is a post graduate in Anaesthesiology from Tata Memorial Hospital.

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  • sujmamchat 1w

    "JAI HIND"

    I left home when I was in nineteen
    To pursue my studies for which I was keen
    I joined the army to save my nation
    "Jai Hind" was my favorite quotation.

    Along came the time of war
    I led my regiment wide and far
    Made the enemy retreat away
    My chest full of pride every day.

    Then came a day, when the enemy did advance
    Through a secret tunnel when they had a chance
    I was called to lead the forces once more
    Full abreast of the gun shots inside my core.

    I fought with might and all my senses
    Worshipped my motherland and her fences
    My mom and wife did pray for me all night
    As longing with desire to hold me tight.

    I came home wrapped in the flag of motherland
    No tears were shed, when they held my hand
    My mom did hold her head high with pride
    My wife did follow her in her stride.

    So I was dressed as a martyr in my coffin
    Many accolades posthumously did I win
    My countrymen in need I did save
    They said I was courageous and brave.

    @Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 2w

    Sun and Moon

    Blazing hot the ball of fire
    Imparts to the moon, its desire
    Crimson and saffron at twilight
    And moon glows silvery at night.

    Slowly the cradle of galaxy fluorescent
    The luminous moon born as crescent
    Peeps at the sun in the early dawn
    Whose orange radiance fills the morn.

    Like a see saw, the sun and the moon
    Play hide and seek, like little ones, at noon.
    The moon hides behind the horizon
    And brightly shines the fiery sun.

    Soon the moon beams glitters in the sky
    She is the bride who is rather shy.
    Bold and dashing, daring is the sun lord
    Burns all hills and the flowing fjords.

    Such are the couple, the sun and the moon
    Cannot live without each other which is a boon
    To the earth who is born from the remnants of the sun
    The earth is their child, their little one.

    Dr.Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 2w

    When House becomes a Home

    Where love abides by the rules of the heart
    Where life is nurtured and born at the start
    It's me the house so full of laughter and gaiety
    And so complete with satisfaction and satiety.

    I was a monument of bricks and stones
    Cement and sand conglomerated in various tones
    But when fed with raindrops and sunlight
    I became a house with a heart overnight.

    My walls are made strong to bear any heat
    They give shelter from the storms that beat
    My roof is built to give all the shade
    Whether it rains or not or the sunlight fades.

    The family that resides in me do stay
    With love, peace and harmony every day
    They have made me a cosy comfortable home
    Where inspirations and aspirations do roam.

    They study and play with desires divine
    Their joys and woes are woven fine
    Peace reigns with emotion and passion
    Where everyone paints others with devotion.

    Mother and Father are treated with respect
    The spine of myself (home) which does stand erect
    Siblings do care for each other forever
    The core of the home will perish never ever.

    Such are the souls of the man and his spouse
    Which made me a home from a stony house
    A dwelling that does rise above any mocks
    The home that ever always does rocks.

    Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 6w

    Does it matter ?

    Does it matter that she is dark ?
    That on her face she has pock mark
    That she has a short and stout structure
    That nobody is interested in her picture?

    Does it matter that she is a woman ?
    Not at all so strong like a man
    Does it matter that she cannot earn
    Even if her energy does burn ?

    She learnt that it never does matter
    To tie a maiden up in fetters
    To cut her wings, so she cannot fly
    To never notice her, if she does cry.

    It never matters, when she is raped
    It is only how she is shaped
    Does she wear a shorts or a skirt ?
    What if she is so much hurt ?

    Women are achievers, no one says
    They are intelligent in their own ways
    It doesn't matter if she is on the top
    What matters is men are the ones who shop..

    Women are just objects of desire
    In just any dresses or any attire
    Men shop for the damsels in despair
    It doesn't matter, they do not care.

    Times have changed, women carry their weight
    They have worked hard to shape their fate
    It matters now if they hold the chair
    It doesn't matter anymore if men don't care.

    @ Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 6w

    The Night Sky

    Behold the night sky above us
    That is like a canopy which is vast
    Twinkling stars and fluorescent moon
    Things of the present and past.

    The luminous moon hides behind
    A white fleecy cloud just overhead
    Peeps through the ball of vapor
    Gently with softness as she treads.

    Stars and starlets blinking together
    Beams of moonlight that show
    Stardust like the numerous fireflies
    Scintillating and gleaming they glow

    A tinge of saffron in the horizon
    Dusky and dark is the sky
    Borrowing the light of the sun
    Is the moonlight so shy.

    She comes in various sizes and shapes
    As she reflects the rays of the sun
    Shining like a silvery jewel
    She is the promise of the platinum.

    Night sky is a colossal dome
    An arc of enormous cloak.
    The galaxy of stars, planets and moon
    Which in the gases of space do soak.

    @Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 6w

    Night Sky

    Teeming with light, is the sky at night
    Stars shining with luminosity
    Moonbeams follow, with the lights she did borrow
    From the sun, that had shone with glee.


  • sujmamchat 6w

    The Caliginous Soul

    In the depths of your being is a caliginous soul
    Which wants to devour your pride as a whole
    Or is it a melancholic song
    That sings to the heart from times so long ?

    The notes are deep, dark and doleful
    They cling to my soul like a tune so mournful
    Some mystical strains of sadness and sorrow
    Can stain the painful days of tomorrow.

    She sits with contempt, derision and disdain
    With pursed lips that speak in scorn and vain
    She listens to your chords that haunts me
    In profound silence of the misty valley.

    Her heart is cold, white and chilled
    Her eyes are with contempt filled
    Ne'er ever she utters a word of sympathy
    To you, after hearing your songs of eternity.

    I lend my ear to your intense tunes
    But to me you are so immune
    I feel the thoughts that you play with passion
    And forget the pulses of her aggression.

    Still you yearn for her more than you miss me
    She hurts your soul, but still beloved is she
    Her hardened heart has made you pensive
    But your songs of woe, have made me live.

    @ Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 8w


    Behold the man with the flute
    Listen to his melodious tunes
    He comes and goes as he pleases
    To the crowd he is immune.

    His melancholic notes will make u cry
    Salty tears mixed with sweet melody
    Heart wrenching, soulful with deep pitch
    You will wonder if he was in a tragedy.

    Early morning as you meditate
    The notes come floating in the air
    They fill your soul with yearning
    For a true soulmate so fair.

    Has he lost a dear one now ?
    Or never found his maiden yet
    What is it that makes his music ?
    Pinning for a damsel you met.

    Beneath the birds chirping on trees
    He sits and plays his wooden flute
    One by one all village women appear
    Holding their tiny kids so cute

    They listen to the rapturous tones
    Showing their menfolk what music means
    Tapping their feet with the beats of the notes
    Are all the boys and girls in their teens.

    The pied piper whistles on his flute
    Oblivious to the emerging crowd
    His eyes closed, he reaches a feverous pitch
    Yet he neither cares nor is proud.

    Some maidens collect the coins for him
    As he is absorbed in his lilting song
    He blows his flute with a passion
    As they carry his notes in their hearts for long.

    @ Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 8w


    I remember the first time, I took my son to school.
    I made him learn all the P's and Q's and also the rules.
    Holding my finger, the little one walked
    Not knowing what was in store for him as we talked.

    I told him of the playmates he would meet
    All teachers and the headmistress on the seat
    In the premises, a beautiful garden, a park
    Where he would, on his first journey, embark.

    Lovely fairies in colorful dresses (girls)
    Looking so innocent with their hair in tresses
    Tiny elves who would play around (boys)
    And loiter in the classes and in the ground.

    There would be colorful blocks and vibrant toys
    Available for all the girls and the boys
    A blackboard where the teacher would show
    Figures of numbers and alphabets kids know.

    Hearing all this the little one said
    "Mom I am not at all afraid,"
    "But tell me mom, will you be there ?"
    "To cuddle me when I need your care ?"

    To this, my silence was heavy with remorse
    "I am always there for you, for better or worse."
    "Just call me and I shall be by your side."
    "To love and care for you, I shall abide."

    We reached the school and I bid him adieu
    Handed him over to the security guard in blue
    He whimpered, as he was taken away,
    "Mumma, mumma, where are you today ?"

    My heart did cry and my soul did weep
    I knew he was hurt inside very deep
    He was searching for his mom, who wasn't there
    How would he receive her love and care ?

    What about my promise to be by his side ?
    When he called me, why did I hide ?
    Behind a tree, to avoid seeing the sight
    Calling his mumma to hug him tight.

    When this memory haunts me down the years
    My voice does break and my eyes have tears
    The first time when my son went to the school
    I taught him the P's and Q's and the rules.

    @ Dr. Sujata Chatterjee

  • sujmamchat 8w

    The Windchimes

    Listen to the tinkle of the windchime
    It's like a poetry which does rhyme
    Like a cuckoo bird which tells us the time.

    It's a sound of music that touches the soul
    Each of its limbs, always engaged in a role
    As if the windchimes are aiming for a goal.

    It is said, wind chimes bring us blessings and wishes
    Is it a baby girl blowing her kisses ?
    Or is it, the luck brought by turtles and fishes ?

    It has the bells which rings out with pride
    Hanging by the door, swinging with the tide
    Sweet smiles of a lovely, shy bride..

    The gentle zephyr makes it go around
    Making the merry tinkling sound
    Cherishing, the new life, that it has found.

    Reminds us of the luxurious, windy breeze
    Blowing in and out of the door, to please
    The windchimes, whose motion does never cease.

    It hums like a child who has found a treasure
    In a calm moonlit night, which adds to pleasure
    In the vastness of the beach, having no measure.

    Good fortune, the windchime forever sings
    Like a peace loving dove which flaps its wings
    And tidings of good luck it always brings

    @ Dr. Sujata Chatterjee