Toraye BNadha

(Ei kobita gulo ekta odbhut ratrey likhechhilam. Jiiboney prothom baar Khalshitola theke phirey. Kobitagulo Khalashitolar i)

Porichito

Abosheshey, raastaye hNatlam
Ekhono shoriirey joler gandho,
Ekhono bNeche thaka
Ekhono onekjon manushke aNkre dhorey bola –
“Ami tomader i ekjon!”

Ekhono golar kachhey bashper abchhaya
Ekhono shobbai ke dekey dekey bola –
“Ami bNachtey chai….
Jodio eto bish
Jodio eto kolahol….”

Abosheshey, bujhhlam brishtir bhasha
Chilekothar rattirey, shob muchhey geley,
tara gulo o…. Manush thakey,
Jibonto, aguner matoi….
Kimba manusher mato i….

Hoytoh bolbey eshob koyek muhurter kotha
Mithye, haoar mato….
Karon ami agagora ta i tai – mithye, bhando…..

Ekhono rakto aar pNuj ugrey ugrey uthhchhey,
Kotha boltey gelei….
Tao kotha bolte chaichhi, manush er matoh,
Haat duto nerey….

Ami bNachboi….ami bNachboi….
Jatoi aagun aar bonya ashuk,
Amake ekhaney thaktei hobey….

Tai ekhono akonthho jeebon dhorey,
Ekhono chetona r mukhey turi merey,
Bashor-ghor shajachchhi,
Phool diye…..

Neel alo, haatchhani, bhuley jaoa….
Jani, aaro jani shei dheuer kotha,
Shomudrer, paharer,
Aar srot….Aar bali, dhulo, abolokon…..

Onek kichhu bhuley giyeo, ami, amra,
Aaro onek kichhu mone rakhte chai,
Karon aoaj ta jangoler gobheer theke ashchhey,
Aaro gobheer thekey….. Phish phish korey,
Kakhono ba shwapoder hunkaarer matoh
Kharosrota kono abohoman ke selam janiye…..


Eikhanei bhumika, eikhanei uposhonghaar….


Kotha Bolbo Boley KNadchhi

Amake jakhon bhenge debey
Takhon bolbey notun baganer kotha

Kimba jakhon toiri habo
Kadar matoi,
Mati pishey,
Ektara ta amar jonye jhhuliye rekho
Gaan shuntey chai,
Tao, shob chupchap,
Karon ami amar matoi,
Ager matoi,
Bhadrota dYakhai, ahammoker mato
Aar kotha boli,
jYano ekchiltey rongeen ghuri
Amar chadey
Kothao bujhhi
Palla diye,
Ek dui tin
Amar bashosthan
Andhokaar, chhai ronger pNajor,
Amar, tomar, aar cyclone er…..
Alo ta nebhatey bhuley jeo na,
Eitukui achhey,
Eitukui thaak….


Bastushaper shongey amar shahobash….


Bhoot bonam Drighangchoo

Aaro onek kichhu i likhtey parbo
Emon ki jhhor kimba du’kul’plabi
bonyar kothao….
Chailey likhtey parbo,
Kintu bhashagulo baro elomelo hoye jaaye….

Hok na taatey, du’diner i toh….

Bojhho, ekhaney shomoyer kotha
Keu boley na,
Bolbeo na….

Ekdin nodii hoye eshechhiley,
Takhon bon-moroger jhhNuti te chhilo
laal ronger shurjyasto
Takhono bujhhtey pari ni shondhya naamtey cholechhey,
Kimba shaper phonaye andhokaarer chhaya….

Sheshey shondhya naamlo,
Durbiinito durbiner mato….Naamlo,
bhengeo dilo –
Karon tumi shobuj meye takhon

Aar tomar paye shNaotalii nacher madok
jWolchhilo, aleyar mato, chokher mato….
Adim chhando ektai…. Je jai boluk ….
Chhando…. Tomar paye….


Astaboler Galpo

Ei bhabey toh bujhhini,
Ei bhabey bolio ni,

Bujhhbe na, konodin,
Bujhhtey chao o na….

Kintu taatey amar ki eshey gYalo?

Aloukik Cigarette

Ora tinjon chhilo
Majhhrastaye….
Hariye jaabey boley,
Headlight e takhon odbhut shob ulki
basha bNadchhey,
Rong chhitiye chhitiye holi o khelchhey….
Alo r mukhey takhon guti-bashonter daag….

Abosheshey ora hariye gYalo,
Majhhrasta tei,
Odbhut shob onko koshtey koshtey –
hariye gYalo,
Oi majhhrastatei,
alor bhitorei….

Sheyrakomtai taara cheyechhilo….

Luko-churi

Prochur bhul korechhi,
Khata bhorti laal daag,

Tobey ekhon nodii perochchhi,
Shomoy jiggesh koro na….

Bhorai

Onek holo, ebar chalao ekkagari!
Aar derii noy, ebar jaboi Belpahari!

Bhabchho ami klanto ekhon, bhabchho tumi thhik i
Mithye kothar bahor dekhey, shottyi kothao shikhi

Onek holo, aNshtey gandho – machher muroye
Dubley sheshey shagor hoye, pahar churoye!

Bolbey kakhon uthhbey abar shammohoner daakey
Machhranga der dilam boli, bYasto kaajer phNakey

Notunder Naam

Khun chepey gYachhey,
Phool-gulor naam o bhuley gechhi,
Gola diye aoaj berochchhey na,

Tao jeney rakho,
Karon jeney rakha bhalo,
Jey ami ekhono bNechey achhi….

Khun chepey gYachhey,
Eibar ekta espar-ospar hoyei jaabey bodh hoy!

Fokir Kimba Nartoki

Shamuk hoye egiye jabo,
Golata alor dikey i…
Shamuk hoye bhashbo jani,
Amio bhalor dikey i….

Jodio shomudro ta ogadh

Holei ba, shNatar kaattey khoti ki?

Rongeen Morok, Palok, Oedipus-Gulmolota

Pagoler matoh likhchhi,
Shabdo shajachchhi –
Duchokhey megher bhNaj,
Shantwonar aarti,
Klibotwer dNat bar kora bhirkuti….

Amar kichhui chai na,
Prem noy, shohanubhuti noy,
Adh-jeebh chuk-chuk o noy,
Shudhu shabdo chai, bhasha chai,
Chitkaar chai –
Ekta notun prithibii srijon korbo ami,
Korboi….

Ekhon Bujhhi Shurjyo?

Ekhon klanto, thhiki i,
Tobey herey jaoar kotha bhabtey chaichhi na,
Bhabbo o na….

Halof korey boltey pari – amio jiti, majhhey-shajhhey,
Tai chintagulor kochukata – prosroy aar shoichhey na jey!

Ekhon klanto. Abar jegey uthhbo, abar Ihudi habo….
Baddo ghum paye. Tora agun ta jWaliye rakhish….

Rashod diye gelam, bNechey thak, kha, ghumo,

Aar amar kotha bhabtey hobey na toder.
Chollam.
Bhalo thakish. Shobai.

Yours

Remorse.
Naked hallways
Remorse –
Mine, always.

blank

Apart.

I won’t make it more crowded.

Apart.

Just that.

Potassium Cyanide is Bad for Health

Delightfully dead – like the rain

Like you said – it’s all in vain

Mad and numb and thundered down

And there’s my face – mocking like a clown

Ugly me, the masks were better

Where’s my chain? Oh, where’s my fetter?

And then the fire, sacred and profane

And saints shall whistle to a God, insane

And light is mother and rain brings songs

And home is where my coffin belongs

Now let me dance with my twisted head

For hope is hatred and the trees are dead

Staring down the graves where corpses moan

Deep inside, there’s a telephone

That never rang for a thousand year

The gallows are galleries where blackbirds cheer

Holy books being read

Holy tears being shed

Holy wishes being wished

Holy cockroaches being squished

Dear reader, it’s hidden now

Dear preacher, take a bow

Dear doctor, your medicine cures

Dear monster, I'm all yours

Like I said, it’s all gone by

Close your ears – it’s all a lie!

Words are worthless and rhymes are fake

The snake ate the frog, but who ate the cake?

Torn pages and torn roots and torn flesh and torn blood and torn everything and torn nothing and everything and nothing and nothing and everything and thereby hangs a tale

Kings and Aces

Divine Graces

Queens and Knaves

Fever raves

Dancing with the flame

Shameless, like shame

I know who you are

And everything else is a distant blur….

Forbidden

Like Eden

All these prayers…

Darkness stares

From beneath the stairs

Honestly, who cares?

Dead blankets

Dead trumpets

Dead sunsets

The dead moon masturbates

“Hey, you remember the pain of Resurrection as and when it happened?”

Nah, I was way too busy getting my pencil sharpened

“Do you remember anything else?”

Nothing, but for some distant ringing bells

And of a neonlit sign that read ‘Sex Sells’

And of a warrior princess named Sylvia Plath

And of a storm that left behind flowers in its aftermath

And of blood dripping from a bee-hive

And of a priest named Bob Dylan who died in 1965

And of a god named God who was nothing but a god

And of the Whore of Babylon whose breasts I pawed

And of those creatures of creation – inherently flawed

And of that August-Childhood-Rain that left me awed….

Okay, so now I’m trapped, never to be free

Look into my eyes – can you see me?

And now that all the vows are broken

You can take my love – it’s just a false token

And you can take whatever you want

Bread and butter, dick and cunt

And whatever else, as you may please

As for this breaking down – it’ll never cease…

Finally, it’s time to go

Beyond the pitch-black rainbow

You can either win, or you can lose

Or else, like me, you can choose not to choose…..

Tricked? Aye!

Don't Read This. Please

Three shots –

One for the monkeys

One goes to the stars

And the third one is responsible for all my scars

Three cheers

One goes to the galaxies

One for sex

And the third one is intended to mock at all my mistakes

Three lives

One for light

One goes to darkness

And the third one is for Thanatos being burnt at my furnace

Three stars

One goes to the night

One for words that rhyme

And the third one must swallow me up in due course of time

And finally,

Three homeless old couples huddled together in the rain, with myself pretending not to be bothered because I am way too smart and I have to contemplate on the philosophies of life and death….

Fuck me. Just another jobless asshole muttering nonsense.

And that’s all

Bhuley Jaoa

Hoyto ba konodin eishob michhiler sheshey

PNouchhey giyechhi dekhi neel kono shomudrey eshey

Kimba urechhi bujhhi ghuri hoye megheder deshey

ChNad bujhhi ghum dYay, chhaya dYay, alo dYay heshey…..

Hoyto ba konodin anmona-uthhoner pashey

Rongeen latai haatey boba ek pheriola ashey

Bolechhey onek kichhui, bolbar kotha janey na shey

Tai bhindeshi pakhi hoye pakha mYaley akashey akashey

Tarpor ekdin ekraash chimneyr kalo kalo dhNoya

Giley nilo jato chhilo bhuley jaoa algochh chhNoya

Ekhaney bhishon bhiir, shari shari manusher mukh

Egiye cholar nesha, ekhaney juddho korar shukh

Raatghumey ashbey shey, hoyto ba chinbo na taakey –

Nodii hoye bheshey gYachhey jonakir agochhalo jhhNakey…..

Pakhi hoye urey gYachhey shwopner i bujhhi kono phNakey

Jaakey ami bhuley gechhi, bhuley gYachhey sheo toh amakey….

To Mayakovski

And then the fire

To stare at your necklace

And admire

Those shadows on your face

And then the sudden urge

Of those yellow crumpled leaves

To join the grieving dirge

The day forgets, the night forgives…..

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Desires and that sad geometry – faded, oblong

Times. Shapes. Me. You. Past.

The totem-poles and the mist – all where I belong

Song of life. Everything. Silent. Like a child’s corpse

Winter’s harsh, and where moments flutter to death

Bullet-holes, blood-stains – where my shadow morphs

into a butterfly – a butterfly! a sad song, a mad faith…..

Oh it’s a religion! – they say

I guess they’re happier today

You’ve told me that story time and again

And now it’s my turn to gift you my pain…..

Singular stories, plural memories –

Well, my love, that’s all that there is !

That’s all there is, that’s all there is, oh, that’s all there is !

Poisoned by unknown kisses, slaughtered by ill-famed glories….

Stories, Glories, Memories…..

And then, that cold senile descent

Following the footsteps of some forgotten saint

Into the moth eaten breast of love and fear

I’ll be there…. I’ll be there…Yes, I will be there…..

The Last Assassin

I hear some footsteps rolling by the river

I feel the breeze, I see the leaves quiver

And then, driven by some hopeless hope, the final fall

Like the shadow of the crescent – those towers stand tall

There remained some light, long long ago

Now it’s just this weather-beaten shadow

Eyes to see

Following me….

And then the snakes….

The snakes, the snakes

The sex

The stakes…

Hurrah! For the preacher is dead !

Now sing to me a song of death instead…

This brand new song

It won’t take long

To take the shape

Of some primitive ape

And remain there

With all your prayer

Songs, abound

Glory, and that other strange sound…..

Eyes

The oceans have gone away….

Way beyond that sacred sky

I see eyes…. Eyes….

Eyes of the stars

And the breezes are deep

And all the ships have sunk

In the petals of the bluebell sea

In the harpsichord of some ghostly pale mausoleum

And in the green deserts, you had built me a house

But the house became eyes….ah….eyes

And in the desert nothing grows but for eyes….

And in the river nothing flows but eyes….

It’s cold and lonely out here,

But I’d rather mind my own business,

I’d keep the fire burning

And I’d make my babies strong…..

The flood and the drought breeds eyes as well

And the wounded soldier bleeds in your guitar

So that long after all these I’ll see a kingdom

Where the King, the Queen, the Jack and the Ace are blind…..

My hands are frozen, yet I have to write

My sword is broken, yet I have to fight

Soldiers and windmills all the same

I’m sad for Quixote, and I see a flame….

And in that flame there’s all my life

Marching along the edge of a knife

My faith is broken, yet I have to sing

For my Lord and for my King

The stars have set the night on fire

And before long I’ll light my pyre

And I’ll see you in my twisted dreams

For the smoke is cruel, or so it seems….

All of a sudden I’ve lost my rhymes

I’ve lost my words

I’ve lost my battles

And the eyes are everywhere….

In the frost and breath

In the stale damp cigarette-reveries

In the pages of all the Holy Books I had written for you

In all the midnight charcoal graffiti of my bedroom walls

When everything becomes mad

When the wild flames leap up from the night sky

When the doorknob watches me with its ten-million-year-old cold gaze of death and steel and harmony and silence to eat me up…. To swallow me down the gutters of the unwritten dog-eared history books and my serpent skin is ripped apart by the by the dark dancing shadows of the chrysanthemum leaves on the yellow streetlight fog of my windowpane and everything becomes mist and bereavement and the sacramental waters which we throw up the moment faith makes us sad for Jesus and Ezid and El and Ka and for the final Hallelujah for nightmares naked in the cold and I have to lie to my own flesh and to my own mother and to every other thing till my bed sheet flies away to the moon which is now hidden by the glowing embers of the clouds…. But never to my eyes…. Never….

I had promised to write a poem for you

Now it’s upto me to keep that promise, you know

And I won’t keep my promise

I won’t hide my promises in a treasure trove

I won’t bury my promises deep into the skies and give you a treasure hunting map expecting you to dig out some rotten corpse of poetry

No.

I won’t write a poem for you

I will write you through a poem

Through this poem, perhaps

I will create you with my sighs and with my flames

I’ll chisel and curve you with my hopeless tears that never flow

I’ll burn you with my very own blood

I’ll create you…. I’ll be your Creator, your God, your Father, your Son, your Holy Ghost

I’ll fill up your skies, your oceans, your rivers, your everything….

But not your eyes

It’s for you to sketch out your own eyes….

Like two dark and endless wishing wells of time –

Holier than your breasts,

Holier than your flesh,

Holier than your Faith,

Holier than your Hope,

Holier than your Love

Holier than your Mother…..

And as for the child who mourns for the morning star –

Show him those skulls and skeletons

that dangle from the black petals of the Lotus that blooms on the Blue river of wine and poison and death and love….

And you’ll get that sweet scent of pain that plays hide and seek with his cold breath…..

For everything has eyes

Everything…. Everything…. everything….

Even the child’s chocolate wrapper flag that flutters proudly against the sky

and declares war against Heaven.

And I loved you once

And I still do love you….

Madness and Mayhem - the Wintry Delhi of my Life

Well, I was off to Delhi for the last one month. It was like a whirlpool. Time and cigarettes burned fast over there in the December chill and life....

I had written a few poems there, on hallucinated nights spent tucked up in a 8 feet by 8 feet attic room whose windows couldn't be fastened where I spent much of my time with friend and fellow Comrade Somdutta, a few bottles of Old Monk, a few packets of the quintessential Pataka biri...

Most of these were written under the effect of the atmosphere and a few other things, often sitting in a pool of puke and thinking myriad thoughts which ranged from "Do the trees have eyes?" to "Alas, I've got no lover to love me and leave me alone and love me and leave me alone again..."

Here goes these little-big words and moments of epiphanic madness.....

And the last one was written on the First of January of this year, at four in the morning, perched atop a three hundred year old dilapidated mausoleum in South Delhi

Nests

Is this everything?

Or is it just that good old you and me?

Is everything for my own?

For my very own satisfaction?

Even the old half dead moon?

Everything like shame

Like the last crime of unwritten sleep

And of those vacant dreams of the last trees

The whole night

And of the silence

Walking through… Just the walking trees

And of the mute songbirds

Tired… tired….

Evening….

How long ? Oh how long?

Tired evenings

Evenings are always tired

Are they not?

They remind us of old cities

Don’t they?

Old colours

Birds

And insects

Face

Face

And other faces

Old faces

They’re meant to laugh

The boy

His face on her lap

Old face

Isn’t it so?

Not even a dream

Neither peace

Hands and thoughts
and the final zero

Like empty men

And the face of life and

Life of the smell of salt, of dreams, and

Peace

Over the splashing

Of our heads

Shall we?

No!

We gave birth

Of our very own children
of Loneliness

Of stars

I fell in love

How many girls?

And how many stars

And salt

And gods

And salts

And salts

And peace

And sleeping all alone

In the twilight

In the twilight that

Ever exists…

And all feelings

All those feelings…

They never exist

Do they? Do they?

And olden rotten

Me and you

Love… Love…Love….

Dear Poet

No one’s busy anymore

Like thunder, moving life

Winter nights

If I see her again then

When the moon will come

with branches and leaves

and twigs on her mouth

She wants to build a nest all for herself

Selfish her….

Where shall I hide myself?

In the golden wings of the vultures,

In the fog of that fear and night

Miles and miles…. Beside the walls

And the breeze, kissed by the kerosene

And bowstrings of the dynamos

Kings….and kings….

Like our marching faith….

Like every night that breathes a thousand more

With the smell of salt, love and alcohol….

And the guava trees…. A single star still lives

Like the blue wine of Nile…..

Red fire, death flowers….

The sky…sky… all around

Tearing off the mornings, the rain….

A strange sound

Old cigarette stories

Bullet marks, older than all crimes

And crimes older than sleep…

The eternal, innocent sleep…

A thousand mornings came

On a thousand wild horses

So many rivers have changed courses….

So many suns have set…

Yet, the lighthouse stands tall, oh….

All my songs….

All my leaves….

Let’s sleep….

The dew and moss on my chest

since the beginning of time

The water never knew me

Never knew… never knew….

Silent storms, silent flames, silent stars

I’m that priest of all the dead stars

You’re the taste of life

and the pain of death in my eyes…

That’s all for peace….

Life-story-smell… beside the lake

And then, for the lost tides of the mist

The Blue… the wings of the sky,

of the kingfishers, of the deepest sorrow….

Someday you stayed on the rivers

When the feathers fell…

when the leaves fell…

when the storm came….

Wintry Separation

The last cloud

The tired fishes

Unsaid sleep

Grass and glass and birds

Peace, in the flight….

The last separation is happy now

It’ll grant all your wishes…..

Indebted to the stars as we are….

Indebted to the dust….

Come, let’s walk away…..

The Sea

Ask the sea whatever you have to ask

For the sea knows all the stories

The word-webbed days, pale green nights –

arose, from the womb of the sea, like time, like mist,

like stars, like you and me….

The sea is a weaver, the sea…. The old mother

Her womb smells of the dust of history….

Make love to the sea when the pain makes you mad

For the sea is that sad lover who haunts the broken relics

of our dreams

For the moonlit sands pine with desire for those timeless waves

when a thousand violins set the days and nights on fire

Enter the sea…. Let the sea enter you

And bear the child of tomorrow for her…for him….

The child of love and sea….

Whose breath smells of salt, and eyes

glisten with all the radiance of four million new-born Suns….

And when the twilit evening makes you sad and lonely

Go to the sea….

Sit beside the sea….

The sea is lonely as well

And the sea is blind

She can not see the twilight,

Though she can paint it for you

Tears.... Idle tears….

Her crimson breasts

Harpstrings…. Playing the music of

Eurydice-evening….Life! Holy life! Tender life….Morose life….

Go to the sea and confess your Raphael-petals and

drunk imageries

For the sea forgets…..

The sky forgets….

Abandoned ships, abandoned birds…..

Eternal clouds……

Sink….Sink….Sink…

Evening approaches….

Nurir ChNad

Nurir chNad

Petechhey fNad

Gobhhir klanto shei akashtar tolaye

Athocho meye

Akash chheye

Shomudro, megh, aar byatha-bhora golaye….

kNadchhey…. kNedei cholchhey….

Our Shadows Rove

For a thousand years

Just the shades of you and me

And me?

And I don’t remember

What I asked next…

Ask me….

Revolution awaits…

Rebolution….Revolution…. Revolution…

Revoluton…

On Getting Drunk a Thousand Kilometers Away From Home

Freedom

I never cared what it means

But for this dizziness

And what it means

Just this and this

Old Gods of hallowed spirits

Let the stars set this night on fire

That’s my only wish

My only solemn wish

Nightchild

That same old pain ringing out all throughout

That same old pole star

That same old west wind

And nothing else, just these moments for us to melt away

And these burning nights… I’ve seen many of these dying

And I’ve seen your wings spreading out across the skies

Blue seas with swollen wombs… carrying our children

Beyond the mist of the wooden tomorrows,

And those Mayan statues of darkness

My castle stands tall and proud over the quicksand

And I’ve gifted you my pack of cards

Keep them well, and keep my children well

For they’re your children too…