Life of timeless moments!
We wait everyday
Living in empty pleasure
Of our strange society,
For the end.

As eyes shall learn of age
In the years of uncertain future
Wet glasses on brown pages,
Burnt leaves from a lost journal
Shall return to life.
"Tearful eyes when looked at the stars
Never knew when they would come down."

Derelict are the gates
We enter life through;
And Fate arrests this ever-going
Strangeness of life
And sends us to some lost heaven.

Remembrance of some lost significance
Breeds memories spent with
Old friends;
Like March they come,
And like December they depart.

Round we go about this world of contradiction
On a rudderless ship of cards
Sailing where the wind takes us,
Lost in the ghastly seas
Or reaching the oceans to drown
Or reaching our own door
All over again.

I am sick of the dull consequences
Of blunt imagination!
Holding the sun in your hand
Or being afraid to step outside.

And even now:
There are children
In closed houses
Within closed walls
Who the fear the sound of thunder.

September, 2012.

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Quite En Regle

I walk in drenched evenings

Following the smell of April twilights

And the faint sound of destiny

Lingering in the distance.

Dead skeletons shout slogans of

Emancipation

From overpopulated graveyards;

And hounds of the night

Cry.

Quite en regle.

They are

Sights

That torch our eyes.

Words

That scar our hearts.

------

Photographs in closed cupboards

Housing hundred memories

Are bedaubed with the blood of lost years:

Life's Ignis Fatuus is full of

Smoke:

Yellow Smoke that rises

From this muskeg

Of ghostly lights

And truthful liars.

Cacophonous gramophones

With their musical clap-trap!

What emotions?

What life?

What death?

What humanity?

We are but a soulless group of souls

Groping in the mud

For some lost coin.

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Untitled Images....

“Bring not suspicion's candle to the glass

That mirrors a friend's face to memory.”

-Edwin Arlington Robinson

When cold times will resume into the shadows,

You won’t see me smiling in the sun.

The days are drying out

Like wild flowers in beautiful gardens

And the songs of joy are fading into the nights.

When you shall feel cold (although I know you won’t)

You won’t see me smiling with warmth.

The truth has faded away

And the facts are no more

And winter freezes every drop

Every night.

Amid the ceremonies of confused happiness

I looked to find a sign of truth;

But I found emptiness.

Scatter a pinch of salt over this ocean of falsity

And drown with the crowd.

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চলে যাও অনেক দূরে

আমায় ডেকোনা -

আমি দুঃখ বিলাসী নই ।

থরথর করে বুকের ভেতরে  কেপে ওঠা  ব্যাথা 

আমার নয় ।

আমার স্মৃতি বলতে তোমার সেই হলদে ছবি । 

রাত্রি যখন ঘনায় টিকটিকি রাজার গলায় 

হাসির হাহাকারে ভরে যাওয়া সব কিশোর জীবন 

চোখে শুধু ভাসে ।

দেখেছি শুধু ধ্বংসস্তূপ ;

প্রাণ দেখিনি । 

যাও চলে বহু দূরে  :

কিংবা 

ভুলিয়ে দাও এই বেদনা 

মুছিয়ে দাও পৃথিবীর চোখের জল 

তুলে ধরো ভাঙ্গা নৌকোর পাল ;

বাঁচাও  ।

তুমি নেই ।

কোনদিন ছিলে কিনা তাও জানিনা ।

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The Blind Boy Played

In the barren battlefield

Of bloodied corpses

Lying unidentified

Amid the raging of hundred guns

A blind boy was playing his mandolin.

By the barbed wire

That divided them

The blind boy was resting.

Grenades exploded

Machine guns roared

With every strum of his mandolin.

But like Jimi’s guitar

The blind boy played on still.

Unaware

Unheeded

He was escaping big bullets

But he played on still.

Where the sandstorm was raging

And the shuddering cries of death

Turned the desert into an ocean of blood,

Shell shocks could be felt in the blind boy’s strings.

Tunes of erstwhile glory

And heroic deeds

And Mozart and Bach

With napalm

Vibrated through the air:

When the blind boy’s strings snapped

And he fell to the ground

Collapsing into a mound of dust,

The battlefield sounded no more

And all the soldiers died.

He was blind and couldn’t see.

All that he had heard

He had played.

He had no dreams.

He was a child like you or me

He was a child like you or me...

The mandolin was sinking

In warm blood......

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Turn on the lights....

No I don’t have hands filled with rice

I have ten hands with various weapons

Since I am God.

Glide into reality. When you see handicapped hawkers looking for people before the idol, caress your rich tongue more and more. When happy children in happy uniforms flock the marquees, motherless children watch from behind bushes, the mercy of their goddess. What has religion done for mankind? Crippled humanity. Shattered to pieces millions of lives.

But I heard the sound of the drums receding into blue haze

When I saw tears falling from eyes.

From the turns

Turn your gaze

Towards the place;

You see flickering candles

Before empty chairs

And noiseless smoke.
You see only a black dog
On green grass
And emptiness.

You knew it was all over.

The melody is over friends.

The melody is over.

But if I return

I will bring the old days

Back to you

Don’t cry:

You are not alone in this big world

You live with me

You die with me

You listen to Apache.

You live.

"Now gather up sea shells, 
And write down brave words 
Your prayers are unanswered, 
Your idols absurd 
The seaweed and the cobweb, 
Have rotted your sword 
Your barricades broken, 
Your enemies Lord."                                 -Broken Barricades, PROCOL HARUM.


P.S.: SUBHO BIJOYA!

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Burning Elegiac Corns

“Those who have crossed

With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom

Remember us—if at all—not as lost

Violent souls, but only

As the hollow men

The stuffed men.” 

                                              (The Hollow Men, T.S.Eliot)

I

Burning elegiac corns were staring at dazed eyes

On glittering footpaths

As the smell was growing familiar.

Hearts were pointing out like sharp stones

On wet streets

And evening was crying out in still silence

About the day’s daylight.

Emotions were wobbling like foam

In the vessel of stone:

Which then followed the gutter.

I retreated like heavenly shadows

Into tunnels of choking smoke

Dying to forget everything;

But the odour of lost days

Died to kill;

Cried to kill.

II

Sharp hearts

Bleeding feet

Streets wet with blood

Dead strangers

Heavy skies

Falling tears

Reventons blowing might

Children tasting smoke

Women tasting rape

Dead days

Dead people

Dead families.

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