WHAT LIFE SEEMS

LIFE SEEMS TO ME LIKE A SKYSCRAPER, DAUBED IN DREAM.

LET ACID THE DAYS WITH TEARS.
LET MIX THE SORROW INTO HAPPINESS.
LET'S FORGET, THERE ARE THOUSAND REASONS TO SMILE,
AND ACKNOWLEDGE, PAIN SMEARS SUNSHINE.

WHEN THE LIFE GETS THRASHED UPON THE GROUND, 
FROM THAT TOWER, I'VE SEEN THE BLOOD BOTCHED HANDS
THAT ONCE PAINTED SUNSHINE, SECONDS AND MINUTES TINGED 
WITH HUES....

DEATH WAS A DREAM FOR HER.
AND  SHE SIMPLY WANTED TO MAKE IT REAL.

SO, IN MORGUE, NOW,THERE SHE STARES WITH HALF CLOSED EYES.
AS IF TO PLUNGE INTO THE OCEAN FOR FROTHING STREAM.

HOW MANY TIMES I'VE PRESSED THE SIGNS TO DECIPHER,
TO GET THE MEANING OF DEATH.
DOES DEATH BRINGS REDEMPTION
OR SIMPLY ELUDES TO FAIL?
IN SMILE, I'VE WITNESSED THE  RELIEF OF CONVERSION,
FROM LIFE INTO DEATHLY ASHES.
SHE WOULD SPEAK WITH THOUSAND 
TWINKLING OF EYES-PERHAPS REELING IN PAIN
NEEDS DEATH, TO ESCALATE ; TO FEEL THE TEARS OF WHOM,
SHE USED TO EMBRACE.

SO LET CROSS THE FINGERS,
LET ASSIMILATE AFFLICTIONS ,
LET MAKE AN ODE IN SPITE OF  
DEATH'S CLAIM ON DIRGE.
LET SURRENDER TO THE INQUISITIVE KNIFE.
LET HUNGER BE SUBDUED AND
RATTLING BONES FALL APART.

LIFE SEEMS A WORDLESS SPEECH, DROWNING BREATH.,
IN THE HANDS OF UNDERTAKER.





 

টিকটিকি

টিকটিকি  টা  বেশ আছে ,
আমার ঘরের দেয়াল  জুড়ে তার অবাধ বিচরণ।
ওকে দেখেই শিখেছিলাম খাদ্য পিরামিড।
অন্য গোত্রে প্রগৌন খাদক।

টিকটিকি র অনুসঙ্গএ  মিশেছিলেন  ডারউইন ,
অস্তিত্য লড়াই এর মল্লভূমি সেই দেয়াল।
টিকটিকি শেখালো বাস্তব।
অন্য নাম এ হিংসার দ্যোতক।

টিকটিকি নাকি ভবিষ্যতও  জানে।
তবু টিভি তে জোতিষীর আসর.

টিকটিকি টা রোজ আমায় বাঁচতে শেখায় ,
টিকটিক ঘড়ির কাঁটায়।
টিকটিকি দৌড়াচ্ছে  অবিরাম,
অসাধারণ গতিময়তায়।

WHEN SPEECH NEEDS NO WORD

ON THE RAZOR'S EDGE,
HOPE AND DESPAIR.
WALK HAND IN HAND.

FROM THE PARAPET
RAIN DRIZZLES
MISTAKE NEEDS TO BE ERASED.

BEYOND THE RELATION
LIES THE SOLUTION,
TO TERMINATE PAIN.

UNDER THE SCAR,
IT’S SADIST'S DESIRE.
THERE VIOLENCE LIES.

BEHIND THE MASK,
TRUTH HIDES.
HONESTY DIES.

BETWEEN THE LIPS,
AND CLAIMS OF LOVE,
HANDS PERSPIRE.

RELATION,
CAUSES OBLIGATION
AND DESERVES SUBMISSION.

UPON THE HILL
BESIDE THE RILL,
LOVE SHAMBLES.

BELOW THE MOUNTAIN,
SURVIVES FOUNTAIN.
SO, LIFE NEVER GIVES UP TOMORROW.

FOR JOY, TEARS REQUIRE.
ON LIFE'S TERRAIN,
STRUGGLES PREDOMINATE.
AND IN MIND,
MUSIC RESONATES.

TOWARDS THE SCARLET HORIZON,
THE KITES HOVER,
RAYS ON THE SOLITARY PATH,
UPON THE LEAVES,
FLICKER THROUGH.

NOW, SPEECH NEEDS NO WORD.

ANYO RONG

LAAT KHAWA GHURI HOLE BESH HOTO ,
ANEKTA ORBAR POR EKTU JIRONO,
ABAR ORA, TOBE EBAR AKASHE NOI,
DHULO MATI MEKHE,
JOL E VIJE JAWA.

AMAR JE RONG ,
HOTHAT DEKHLAM JOL E GELO MILE,
BEGUNI AR LAAL MAKHA MAKHI.
TUI BOLECHILIS
'DUTO RONG MISE GELE,
JONMABE NOTUN RONG.'

EI NATUN RONGTAR AMI NAM JANINA,
NAM DITEO CHAINA.
NAM DEWA TO PURONO AVYASO!THAKUK NA SUDHU NOTUN
RONG HOYE, EKTA NATUN PORIDHI
AR AREKTA KENDRO, SUDHU TO OR NIJER I.

EBAR PALTE NEWA JIBON TAKE.
NATUN JIBON FOSOL TOLAR SOMOY DHER DERI.
CHARA GACH DICHHE UNKI,
SEI KADAI MAKHA MAKHI,
SOB KICHHUI.
NATUN RONG MISE JACHHE TOR MONE.
RONG BENCHE JITE GELAM,
NATUN JIBONE ANYO NAM E .

SECRET OF HAPPINESS

For us, it's to stay in a relation.

You've told the bond

Is necessary utmost.

Adjustment you say.

And for me it's struggle.

The dregs are going to get dry.

And the saliva has seeped in,

Where once was love, exhilarating

Now, for god's sake,

It's simply the onus,

To bear away with, brows drooping.

For you, it's simple to ignore.

As soon as you've curved my destiny

[As if you think you've done me favor]

The validity of being the master of somebody,

Is the complacency,

Which makes you to think,

Like the food, and drink,

Me, too, taken for granted ,

Can repeatedly used and molested ,

How many times your bloody

Spirit does permit you to wrench.

 For me, it's compromise.

Since, the family bears your name.

And the tensed moments turn the 

Equation from "we' into "I",

I have to beg the apology

For making everything fine.

So, it remains there,

Happiness ever lasting.

That's called the peaceful coexistence,

In family-the mythical shrine.

খুচরো

পকেট এ খুচরো  নেই,
খুচরো  কিছু জীবন নিয়ে হাঁটছি।
ভাঙিয়ে নিয়েছি একটা একটা করে বড় নোট ,
সময়ের খাতায় ধার বাকি থাকছে তাও.
কি খাচ্ছি সেটা যদিও বড় নয় ,
কি দেখাচ্ছি  সেটাই ব্যাপক।
খুচরো  প্রেম গলছে ফাঁক তালে।
খুচরো  যৌবন নদীর স্রোতে,
খুচরো  পয়সা ভিখারীর থালায়,
খুচরোর ঝংকার পুরোহিতের থালায়।
ব্যবসা বাড়ছে খুচরোর  ,
মার্কেটিং এ রিটেল এর ঠেলায়।

খুচরো  খুচরো  কিছু ছবি ,
ভেসে যাক জীবনের ভেলায়।

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.