One Day at Pitalkhora

One day at Pitalkhora I was listening to the

constant breeze.

You had a lot of things to talk about...

I was putting my ears to hear a noise

                                that was frozen for two thousand years.

Through the constant breeze

I heard many things

I couldn't hear what you were talking about... 

Matchstick Monologue

Image: from a hokkolorob action, against police atrocity in Jadavpur University

I was a matchstick,

I remained useful for many-

In many ways.

Many people removed the wax from their ear with me

here and there.

Many people used me to clean their teeth

after the meal.

Young ladies made many decorative

before they get set for marriage.

And when there was an electricity wiring problem

I fixed the loose wires to the

switchboard.

I showed many games! Many magic!

many mathematical equations I have solved

and explained geometry very well.

I was a matchstick,

and I remained useful for many.

But the things for what I was born:

I didn't do.

Even after serving so many purposes

I didn't do things that I were meant to do.

I couldn't put fire in your hearts

for what I came on earth.

Yeah! I was a matchstick otherwise. 

I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world

I heard, some war is happening somewhere in the world

Many lives might have lost there.  There might be loses of

many properties, many memories in the sudden attacks...

People could not make a war-free world

with antiwar songs and poetry so far.

Or the matter might be different,

some people could not make time

for music and poetry

till date...

Property Dealing

Let me make the deal on your favor.

I gave you all the corners of half opened doors

where I used to cry in my childhood.

All the empty walls of my sobbing murky evenings are yours.

All the agonies that even the termites could not destroy are yours.

I made almost everything on your name.

Jungle, parvat, basti, sahera,

Ashiq, ruswaan, shaayar, Insha all is yours.

After giving everything I had so far away I am not a destitute yet.

After emptying my both hands I just kept you for mine.

Disposable Sun: A talk with the Sun

I was talking to the sun

About doing something new.

The sun was making face like an ignorant

 I was little irritated at his pretentious behavior

Still I was explaining things.

I was saying about the history he had gone through

About the boring repetitions and the annoying stuff of life and universe

I was explaining how boring it was

To set in the evening and rising in the morning

Without a fail

I was explaining how imperfect it was

To be so perfect

‘Sorry’, the Sun said to me,

I understood very little of your words.

I know very little things; in fact, I don’t have any idea about any other day.

I just woke up this morning

This is the only day I have a life

To live, to die…

To repeat, to remember… 

Corporeal

[Entre la peur et le confort]

There was no moon. No ocean nearby.

Somewhere there was, albeit

A persistence for a sudden tide.

There was no cloud. No tempest.

Nobody was playing a flute that night.

The two bodies were looking for nothing

Other than the bodies.

There was no word. Nothing was promised-

Neither any of them  was expected.  

The moment when we were sensuous touching each other

There was no sense of hesitation, doubt or fear.

There was an orange tunnel.

There was a path for the sun to come down all of a sudden.

You were murmuring a lullaby

We didn't have a country that day... 

Death of Kankhowa

                       [Thi khabar garam ki ghalib ke udenge purje

                        Dekhne toh hum bhi gaye the magar tamasha na hua]

Kankhowa died, a word spread over the village.

Immediately I prayed to the unseen one.

I came out for the funeral.

I took some incense sticks and fragrant flowers with me.

All the relatives came.

Jati banh, the bamboos were being cut.

Lament was there all over the courtyard.

Everybody came. No one was left to came.

Since everyone came to the funeral;

buying a white cloth Kankhowa came as well.