RATIONALITY

The sky is losing its hues
The golden, crimson, yellow or sapphire blue.
Soon, it will be dyed with
Death-black profound.

The vast field will be the arena
For the crawling insect, waiting
Toad and hissing serpent.
Chasing one after the other,
To make the life larger.
For the serpent, it's the
Privilege  to cater with both toad and  insect,
Vulnerable to the mighty tongue.

No stars are there.
To kindle the candle,
In the memory of the departed.
The insect was giving light with life.
And the toad croaked for its mate.
The snake lies on the sand,
With motionless eyes and
Dignified ease.

The  forked tongue has  lashed life,
Defined the contours of death.
The periphery of night deepens
With quietude , and the winding
Pattern of life survives.

Life seeks for  violence.,
To jibe at death. 

TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

The secret strategy demands commitment and submission.
Somewhere to reach for final destination,
I'm there to study back and forth.,
Of the pages of grandpa's book to disclose the myth-
Of being docile is for the sake of
Yours pride, so that you never feel,
How much pain a trespasser would  gain
With variation of space and time,
Only to maintain the line of modesty
And  protected purity, of which
Everybody is boasting of.

Yes, I was there, on the border
At the threshold of new state
That has provided me refuge,
Yet never spared to scratch at back.
I was at that time a mere trespasser,
With three pennies in my hand,barefoot
And eyes full of fear., a stomach seeming like the cauldron of curse.
With the burden of guilt and shame,
I've witnessed the gory hands
Which now even can trigger the memories of
Massacre , that has become the epitaph upon
The greatest blunder.. blunders have been reenacted.
For the refugees, neither the hope, nor the
Dream can bring deliverance.

I was there, in the school,
Hiding my identity as a refugee,
Though celebrating rapturously the fiftieth
Years of Indian Independence.  
Singing in unison the national anthem.
With attempted smile concealing callousness.

I was there, in your arm,
Looking for sustenance beneath the close hug,
I missed the hints, radiating from the eyes
That would take a trial of my quest for
Womanhood consequently leading to  betrayal.
The necessity was there, for you,like
As always. the gripping tale of history
Narrates  the fall of the man
On account of woman's desire.
I used to believe  too
The billetdoux are real expression of unadulterated
Love, promising the new Eden elsewhere,
Not as a trespasser,but feeling angelic
Both would enter into the realm of
Freedom , silencing the tale
Of narrow escape, that
Has tagged me as trespasser,-
The stigma ,not of  mine alone.

I'm now dead, lifeless clod of blood.
Aborted after breathing for six weeks
In the Chaos of uterus.
You wanted to get rid me of,
The "mistake" , committed knowingly.
So it must be omitted from the pages,
Ethics is negotiating the bartering,
With medicine and money.
Compensation will not be granted,
As for unabashed trespasser,
There's no opportunity for solemnity.

The secret strategy demands commitment and submission.
 Trespassers will be prosecuted, codified upon the stone of civilization!

SIN, MISTAKE AND STUPIDITY

Sin demands confession.
Mistakes are repaired by occasional acknowledgement.
The circle of innocence has been curved 
Upon the book of apprehensive compulsion.
Stupidity takes the toll of sheer ignorance.

There lies no second chance, as for the fool
The overwhelming simplicity summons punishment.
A scapegoat of incident may find 
The eternal question jeering at, with piercing gaze,,
Is it all about to be taxed, or to be levied,
In this unequal game?
Life chuckles and leave-
To bleed and weep in silence .

Staggering with the burden of crime.
I've seen many a man have been redeemed.
The eyes of the thousand corpses 
Have been sealed and locked under the innocent  acknowledgement.
For being violent repeatedly, for the sake of self,
In the name of giving civilization a steady progress.
When the purpose is only to hoist the flag-
Bi-colored, tri-coloured, colorful, shaped like rectangular grave.
To hide the deliberate mistake that
Will be repeated again after decade.
The chameleon , too, changes its skin,
Though not by mistake.
Of which we're  more keen
To paint the conscience, leaden with bereavement.

The idiot still dreams of peace.
Sings the dirge of war and wounds.
Seeks for pristine rays,
Which mend imperfections with grace.
To welcome the birds with aubade,
Nor with of society's programmed language.
 Jesus was crucified.
Luther was slained.
They were fools to express love ,
For the mankind!
Yet I'm happy to be fool, befooled in many ways.
The death always pays 
For the fool ,with irreconcilable approaches,
That dares to orchestrate the cacophony of jarring madness.

 
 





 

RECAPITULATING HISTORY

For death, there is no morrow,.
Neither there is refusal,
Denial is unable to detain the kiss,
How much close the embrace is.
As mirror will shatter the dream to be
United again; couching upon the sandy beach,
Beneath the shacks of waves,
Where once we manifested love
For the days to come; with thousands arguments,
So, we stayed and refrained and rehearsed there,
Bullying ourselves with the belief-
"Love would bind us forever"

You've seen how I bled,
Not for once, but so many times
When we used to seat-
On the dusty roof, or played with
The monocle.
Though it was not deceit.
For me ,those long hours of staying apart,
Were replenished with the moments
When in veins, blood was moving fast.

I was taught to believe,
Yet not to depend on the words,
Uttered when you were drunk.
But you grabbed mine arm,
Bruising it with love,
I, too, was intoxicated.
For realizing the dream, to be
Fulfilled with exuberance,
Multiplied with the impeccable ecstasy of
Unbridled leap into volcanic surge.

It was the rule where the “other” losses
As always on the front, one is supposed
To receive the gash upon the chest.
Confirming the bravery, etched upon
The monument of wisdom.
And after the span of thousand days,
Counting the bit of minutes , seconds,
Which have been offering solace,
Me lying upon the table under MRI scan,
Smile with pain to hide the marks,clobbered at my back.

You've ascended on the stand.
With the prized trophies, bestowed for being
Superior; society upholds the values
Which purport sacrifice from woman.
But death will deal with-both you and me,
Only for the sake of snatching away,
Weighing equally trivial and valuable.
Though I desperately need an excuse,
To live for the self.
Let wait for another second to detain
The pace of death , for seeking the confession
Of everything from your eyes.
The history of love yet to be revised.

As for death, there lies no second chance
No scope for twice.

A NEW GUEST

Rain is coming to see me.
They'll be no ceremony.
No one will be there to hold her,
I'll revise the loss.
or the gain the on the shore.
Simultaneously , it'll cross the bridge.
Dancing over the meadows,
Then the splash will reach
To the dark terrace, of light and shadow.
Or in the crevice of my attic old,
Prying the equation.
Based on a primitive formula
Of acceptance and rejection.
Yesterday the sky was blue.
Like the eyes of someone I know,formidable.
Whom I was afraid of.
Today, on the pool,
That mirrors the sky ,
The vision of grey making me enthralled.
Mine eyes, tired of what the sun
Has burnt down with its might,
Delivers me into the realm of
Wilderness-enshrined space ,
Or somewhere to atone the sin of procreation.
Since then, rain breaths for me.
As a part of trivial consolation!

SPEECH, SOUNDS AND COLOUR

UPON MY LIPS, THE SOUNDS ARE STILL,
TO SAY UNSPOKEN WORDS WITH HOPE.
AS I TRANSMUTE YOUR SMILE,
DURING YOUR ABSENCE.-----
THE CLOSE PROXIMITY OF GESTURE AND LANGUAGE,
THE ENMITY BETWEEN SPEECH AND THOUGHT.

SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH IN THE NEW FOUND
TERRACE, THAT CAPTURES THE BRIEF DESCRIPTION
OF FROZEN MOMENTS, THOUGH EASILY TO BE FORGOTTEN.
SO, ,LIFE NEEDS RESTORATION, AS BESIDE GOD I'M
THERE TO EXPOSE THE NUANCES OF CREATION.

LIBERATING THE SILHOUETTES FROM THE LEAVES OF TIME
AND GYRATING AROUND THE CENTRE OF
COLOUR ,FORM AND CONTENT,
IT TAKES ONLY TWICE SIPS FOR LIGHTENING THE CANVAS
WITH SHUFFLING STROKES OF EMPTY BRUSH.

THE LANGUAGE IS IMMUNE TO YOU,
AS IT WAS! BUT MEANING IS PERCEPTIBLE,
MEANING RECREATES VOICE FROM SILENCE THAT
TRANSFORMS THE MUNDANE INTO AN ETHEREAL ONE.

EVEN IN THE MAZE OF DISTANCE.
LANGUAGE STOPS ME TO ABSORB THE ABSENCE.
IN MEANING ,SOUNDS PLAY ,MAKING A ROOM FOR YOUR
INEVITABLE PRESENCE!

HESITATION

AS IT IS NOW, THIS WILL NOT REMAIN THE SAME.
THE HESITATION MAY NOT BE CONCEALED.
BUT IT ALSO THE FACT THAT I DON'T DESIRE TO SPEAK.
EVERY TIME, I MOUNT UP TO MY PROMISE
TO TELL THE TRUTH, THOUGH LIE.
THE AFTERNOON SPENT BESIDE THE WINDOW,
WITH A COFFEE MUG AND A PEN LED TO AN INTRODUCTION-
THOUGH THERE WAS NONE AS FAR AS VISIBILITY IS CONCERNED.
YET MEMORIES, THRONGED AT THE THRESHOLD OF MIND
REMINDED ME I WAS NOT THE ALONE ONE.
THE PATCHES OF LOVE AND PAIN, DEMONSTRATION OF INTIMACY-DIGNIFIED NEEDS TO BE DEFINED.
NOW THE RESIDUES OF MEMORY INVOKE
THE DISJOINTED EMOTIONS, AS IF THESE ARE EVEN TRUE
AFTER THE YEARS' OF STAYING APART.
YOU WERE TO ME LIKE THE SUBMERGED VESSEL
AS ONCE I USED TO BELIEVE SOMEDAY WE'LL FLOAT
IN THE OCEAN TOGETHER.
THE STAIN IS THERE ON THE MUG.
AFTER THE ERRANDS, LISTENING TO BLUES AND
CONSIDERING THE SECONDS, MINUTES AND HOURS OF DISAPPROVAL
I SECURE THE PLACE TO BE FOREVER COCOONED !

TRUTH

IN DARKNESS, I DISCOVER THE TRUTH
TRUTH UNAMBIGUOUS, YET FINITE.
TRUTH. DEPENDED ON VARIABLES,
SO I LIE.NOT CONFIDENTIALLY
BUT WITH CONFIDENCE, I ARTICULATE .
COZ YOUR TRUTH MAY BE NOT OF MINE.
I TOO ONE DAY WILL ENTER INTO THE REALM OF PAST.
MY WORDS WILL BE LOST IN OBLIVION.
SO EVERY TRUTH IS COMPLIMENTED BY AN UTTER LIE!
ANOTHER DAY TO COME
FROM THE WOMB OF THE NIGHT
KNOWING WELL THAT THE PAST WILL BE REENACTED.
AND TRUTH WILL BE IN THE GRAVE OF LIE.
HOPE WILL SPROUT FROM THE GRAIN OF SAND.
AND DESPAIR WILL BE FOLLOWED BY .........!

with a journey across the realm of lie....
to go to sleep and to cry.....
to find the trash..with a hope to be blessed.......
piKin with an old mask, putting of every night
here to say..cheers...for unabashed LIE

নেমেসিস

আরো একবার ভির  রাস্তায় মিশে গেলো কিছু অজানা অতীত।
ধুলোমাখা  সন্ধায় ফিরে পেল চেতনা তার পাপ বিদ্ধ শৈশব। 
মাতৃগর্ভের উত্স্যর দাবি কেড়ে নিল প্রেম ভালোলাগার অবোধ্য শিহরণ।

মানুষ  মৃত হলে সংজ্ঞায়িত ডেড বডি ,
উদাহরণে ফুল ধুপ পোড়া  মালসা ,
প্রগারো  সংলাপে স্মৃতিচারণ অথবা নিয়মতান্ত্রিক ক্রন্দন ৬ মাস   পেরিয়ে গেলে
শুকানো  রজনীগন্ধায় ফিকে বাকি সব। 
মানুষ  মরে বারবার। পেরিয়ে এসে তিন  কুড়ি ষাট। 
রাত বাড়লে , বেডরুম এ হিমায়িত জীবন্ত লাশ। 

 বিভাজিত চেতনার দায় নিয়ে দিন যাপনের খেলায় মুক্ত শরীরের উঠোনে নিকোনো দাওয়ার মতো ,
অথবা বন পথে চলে যাওয়া মানুষের  পায়ের ছাপের রাস্তা যে ভাবে চিনিয়ে দেয় -
সব পথ নিরুদ্দেশে নয়  ধাবিত। 
পরিচিতি মুছে ফেলা সহজ কথা নয় 
আধুনিক কায়দায় এ জীবন যতটাই স্বচ্ছন্দ , ঠিক ততটাই একান্তে অসহায়।

বস্তূত পক্ষে দন্দ মূলক বস্তুবাদের চিন্হিত মল্লভূমিতে 
বাকি সব ক্রমাগত রুপান্তরিত প্রতিক্রিয়াশিলতায়। 
সেই নীতি ফিরিয়ে আনছে বারবার কিছু অগম্য পথের দিক নির্দেশ। 
 রূপান্তর এর চোখ ফুঁড়ে দেখবার সময়ে বোঝে 
নেমে এসেছে মাথার ওপর স্থবির  অতীত।
আদিমতার পূর্ণ আস্ফালন।
অনায়াস অক্লেশে জীবন যাপন দন্দহীন। 
এক মুঠো বালিতে হারালো জলকণা তার ঠিকানা,
অরণ্য দাবানলে ছারখার ,
চুলোয় জ্বলছে কিছু পাতা বর্ণহীন।

চেনা পথ এ নামে রোজ সিসিফাস র পাথরের চাই 
মৃত্যুর সাজানো ঘরে আনুবিস এর প্রশ্নাতীত আধিপত্যে,
নওয়াছে মাথা ব্রম্হার 
পথের পাসে পিপড়ের সুরুঙ্গে 
সস্তা ঠিকানায় সাদা খই।

A PROBE

Moaning beside the crust of bread, One day, I used to give up food.

Thinking of fulfilling dream, I discarded the reality that would

Perhaps excite the excuse of staying alive.

Drinking the floating bubbles over the stream,

And checking the balance of despair lay upon my bed,

I bought the blowing wind that might push me up awake

Till my old love would come and say

“The fresh and decent glimpses of smooth eyes

Have already found its place in the gloomy patches of

peeling darkness.”

Vulnerability stares now with unmitigated fear.

In snooze, I tremble in nightmare.

Smelting the sympathy from long drawn silence,

For a moment, hiding myself under the creased bedspread,

With passive nonchalance, entwining mercy and disgrace,

Somehow, manage to escape the hunger, screaming within the

Tattered existence,

I wait and count the moments to forget the empty bowl,

That seeks for food, that cries for water,

And to be fulfilled with morsel of desire.

For the sake of forgetting, to be buried and redeemed

The soul, that‘s splintered and inert-

I hung upon my old life, reeling in the mire of sloughed despair.

A NEW JUDGEMENT

IS THERE ANY PROMISE OF HEAVEN, IF I DON’T SIN?
OR OF HELL, IF I COMMIT CRIME
IT’S NOT THE PAIN TO BE SHAMELESS.
THE AFFLICTION IS NOT TO RESIGN FROM THE PAST,
BUT TO ACCEPT THE CONFLICTING PRESENT.
AS THE LOVE WRESTLES WITH HATRED OR
THE BLUE VEINS LIE TOGETHER WITH THE ARTERIES CRIMSON,
AMIDST THE DEBRIS, GRASS SPROUTS.
SLURPING THE PARTING KISS OF KINDNESS,
THAT TRANSFIXES THE MOTION OF CIRCULAR TIME.
HERE IN THE CAVERNS OF INFERNO, SCRIPTING THE PARABLE OF LOVE,
THESE WORDS CAN NOT BE MORE SERIOUS AND PROFOUND.
UNLESS YOU FEEL THE SAME PULSE, OF EMBRACE TREMULOUS.
GOD CAN NOT ALONE BE THE JUDGE
OF SIN AND CRIME,
CRIME BEGETS ANGER, SIN IS OF CLOUD NINE!

FUTURE

FUTURE LIES IN IGNORANCE AND HOPE
THE SHIMMERING HOPE...TO REMAIN ALIVE..WITHIN THE EYES
THE HOPE THAT HAS BEEN SPLAYED TO EXTEND THE MEANING OF LIFE
THE IGNORANCE SOMETIMES COMES AS A BLESS
IF IT'S A LOSS OR PAIN, OR REDOUBLED GAIN.
CHANCE THAT HAS BEEN LOST, OR THE WAVES
THAT WHINE AND LEAVE ME TOSSED!
IT'S ALL ABOUT SPACE, AND IRREVOCABLE TIME
WAS IT THE INVARIABLE PAST, IS IT THE CLUMSY PRESENT OR
WILL IT BE THE TIPSY FUTURE AGAIN?
THE MOMENT IS TO LOSS, TO HOPE, TO DREAM.
AND FUTURE IS NOT THE GRAVE BUT TO DRAIN AGAIN !

বৈপরীত্য

মৃত্যুর ছদ্দবেশ ধরে  শুয়ে থাকা....
সময়ের পাল্টে নেওয়া চোখ। 
সবুজ ঘাসে বাদামী রঙ ,
ধুসরতা-বিপন্ন  পরিযায়ী  র সাদা ডানায় 
শহর এর কালিমাখা ছোপ। 

পকেটে  ভরে খুচরোর  আশ্বাস। 
সরলরেখায় নৈতিক জীবন। 
মুহূর্ত আনন্দর পিছনে লুকিয়ে থাকা অনেকটা পরিশ্রম। 
 অথবা 
এক ছুট্টে অনুপ্রবেশের অবাধ্য শিহরণ। 
আলাদা নিয়মে চলে প্রতিফলন এবং প্রতিসরণ !
ভিন্ন আইন এ মরে অপরাধী বা বিপ্লবী !
সংজ্ঞা আলাদা করে বাঁচে মোমবাতি বা চিতার আগুন!

দুটো চোখ

দুটো  চোখ, স্রেফ দুটো চোখ আর ভাঁজ ধরা কপাল উঙ্কি মারছে জানালা দিয়ে। সামনে রঙ্গন ঝারের ঘন সবুজ এর আড়ালে র ওপারে বড় রাস্তার মোড়ে একটা আইসক্রিম ওয়ালা র গাড়ি তে রঙ বেরঙ ছবি। সেসব দৃশ্য ঘোলাটে চোখের ধুসর মনি পেরিয়ে অপটিক লোব এ প্রতিফলিত হছে কিনা আণুবীক্ষণিক বিশ্লেষণের দায়ভার বা মাথা ব্যাথা নেই। চোখ দুটো তাও তাকিয়ে আছে , রোজ ই যেমন থাকে ; দেখে...দেখেই চলে । মাটী থেকে চোখের দুরত্য প্রায় ১০০ ফুট এর বেশি ।

ফ্ল্যাট এর লিফট বেয়ে নেমে এল কিছু লোক। খুব রাগ, গজগজ করতে করতে। টাক পরে যাওয়া একটা লোক বিড়বিড় করে এলোমেলো পায়ে ওদের দিকে না তাকিয়ে দেখে নিল লিফট এর অবস্থান। সেই চোখ দুটো এখনও তাকিয়ে।

ডোর বেল বাজছে। এপার্টমেন্ট এর একটা ফ্ল্যাট এ পার্টি র উদ্দামতা। সুবেশা নর নারি দের ডানায় গভীর হোল শহুরে রাত। পোকাদের সমবেত কোরাস এ র মধ্যেও গার্ড এর চোখে নিভুন্ত কামনার দংশন। মধ্য রাতের শরীর জুড়ে সুরার সহ-বাস।

একটা সাদা গাড়ি র পিছনে কিছু সাদা পোশাকের লোকজন। গার্ড এর সচকিত চাহনির কাছে বৃথাই প্রশ্নের উত্তর আশা।

ঘোলাটে চোখ ঢেকে দিয়েছে মথ এর যূথ। নিবিড় আশ্রয় ঘুমন্ত শহর। নেশার ঘোর কাটার আগেই সকালে লুকাল রঙ্গিন রাস্তা। মুছে গেল জল এর তোরে যাবতীয় অ-সুখ।