Thursday, September 24, 2015


Pishach, in my right hand i hold a sword
in my left, your Paishach world
Your ghosts are mine,
Your children are mine,
And just, in a dim night, a hut burning by a river,
Foxes barking by Bhula-Masan-marshes – with marshlights
of Maya, of the mist, and of all zero-sum history –
Voices lost in mirages,
in sad fortresses, broken,
like people are broken by guns and tanks,
broken like this while,
sad like this shadow of yours i drag
and this shadow of mine you drag
Pishach, take me where your corpses burn
that i may burn with the corpse of the world,
with the corpses of all sad deaths of the world.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Macaulay & Shantideva:

M: it's gray
S: gray is lucid
M: it's a complex framework
S: made of simple stuff

Thursday, September 10, 2015

king comes king goes

translated 'Raja Ashey Jaaye' (King Comes & Goes) - iconic Bangla poem by Birendra Chattopadhyay (1920-1985), not to be confused with early Communist revolutionary Virendranath Chattopadhyay (1880-1937).

king comes
king goes
king changes
blue robes
red robes
this king comes
that king goes
colours change
days don't

that naked kid dreams to gulp the world down
fights with dogs for rice
shall keep fighting
fire lit in belly
shall burn

kings come and go
dresses change colours
masks change faces
that crazy guy from tagore's books
from this street to that
sings and dances:
'everything's false
everything's a lie'

sees all
is blind
knows all
is deaf
your naked child
is that crazy guy
snatches rice from dogs
claps at starving dogs
they don't change
you won't change

dresses change colours
dresses change styles


all over your pit of sky
where we live where we die
where we laugh where we cry
moon-ferrari wheezes by
moon-ferrari wheezes by!