Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Comrade Saroj Dutta, Your Ghost

Sitting by the statues that were always there
As fields turn into houses 
and green crops turn into green money
the crops were red with your blood
the money is green with my greed

flowers that never bloom
decorate stairwells of the king's highway
rivers of gold and death spill over
the sun wilts down
the moon wastes away
they carry big men on big black cars
and guards with guns guard the gate of justice

there's a show by the pillars tonight
but men with guns have taken my keys
they'd taken yours too, but you had the guts
to ask it back
so they shot you instead.

i was in a carnival
the music was strong
the wheels were wild
they were to try the killer 
they were to hang the killer
they called out the killer's name
but it was my name
so i hid behind a mask
so they shot my brother instead.

these days, the streets are busy
we have too many bombs to feed
hearts heave booms before heavy iron bars
these days, the nights are haunted
we have said all words
we have heard all sounds
we have dreamed all dreams
now we repeat it all
through tragedies and farces

once there was a lizard that stayed behind a wall-clock
it came out at odd hours
i had named it Newton
but then it fell on a tub of muriatic acid
it's ghost lives by the clock-hands
and eats the flesh of time  

the ghost of this dead reptile
glides by red clouds of midnight
it's always a cold midnight
they chopped you to pieces on a cold midnight
they left you by the pillars of false history
before false judges to determine
with their false teeth chattering in make-believe wisdom
the mist has grown thick ever since
so thick that no foglight can pierce through,
no sniper can aim at

the keys are still with them
but they better be wary 
their guns can't kill dead people
their bombs can't rip ghosts of dead dreams
and when ghosts ride out to reclaim all that's lost
-- it's always a beautiful dream to live and die by.

1 comment:

Soumi said...

This one reminded me of those Naxalist stories in the pujo-shawngkha s I have grown up reading. I used to look forward to my only tryst with romantic violence so eagerly back then!