In medias res

I can dance in the middle of a war
like a cattle in the slaughterhouse,
I can sing in the middle of greedy
hunger for power, like a severed
rooster; I can die in the middle of
pious talks on global peace and
harmony, I can drown myself in
guilt and shame in the middle of
theoretical cacophony;
I can be mesmerized at the autocratic
insistence on growth and development,
when millions starve under the indifferent
firmament; I can chant spiritual mantras
in the middle of inequality and caprice,
like a gang-raped teenager, seeking justice,
I can dance in between the designed gap
of word and action, and listen to volumes of
discourse on integrity, on one hand, I become
rich, and on the other, I breed poverty.

Freedom

When you go to 
a wise person,
seek love, do not 
seek wisdom,
an invaluable lesson
that can deliver
absolute freedom.

Intelligence

In the human world,
everything that has no 
sense makes sense;
intelligence is blinded 
by the visible, deafened 
by the audible, while the 
one that’s holding it
is cosmic intelligence.

Human beings are, in
essence peaceful in nature,
but they are also insecure;
intelligence is the way out,
but it is also the trap,
the key is to unlock the gap.

A purposeless visit

I went to the neighborhood
where I grew up, just to
see if the condition of the
house where I lived, the field
where I played with friends,
the forbidden place beside
the ganges where I smoked
my first cigarette.

Everything about the locality
had changed, I felt like a stranger
there, I was kind of expecting a
familiar face, I found none.
I was also worried about the
small talks of the big people,
what to say if I met anyone,
why was I there, what would
be the credible purpose! 

But I walked past many times,
felt like running but my knees
didn't permit; the open field,
transformed into a multi-storied
choked me completely, I was
wiping my tears, thought would
have come with a makeup,
but no one could recognize
the weeping child wiping the
moist eyes in front of a high rise.

I didn't realize that my age
was my natural disguise. 

Some small poems

Waves...
caressing the beach
album of memories

Sky...
holding the clouds
moist eyes

Autumn...
falling leaves
heaps of stories

Morning sun
on my plate
beside slices of bread

Crickets, fireflies
jungle speaks
bedtime stories

Blue sky
twinkling stars
an owl eyes a frog

Alas!

In a world full of wonders,
twinkling stars, singing birds, 
wandering rivers, bountiful
seas, oceans, mysterious
forests, majestic mountains,
in the midst of all the 
mesmerizing, nature-abiding
sentient beings, only the
supreme of all is accursed. 

Alas! Alas! Alas! 

If any spell could deliver
me from this shame and guilt, 
I'd turn into a rat or a bat, 
an ant or an elephant, or into
any other being beneath the 
patient, priceless, paradise, 
I'd live merrily here before 
I fell prey to hunger or greed
or simply died on the earth
where I could breathe and breed. 

Ashamed to death

I'm ashamed to be born
as a human being, 
doubly ashamed to be born
as a man, I wouldn't choose
to end my life, 
but I'm waiting to die. 

A welcome decision

The day is not far away

happiness is here to stay! 

Leaders decided to stop fighting, 

to the world they'd do justice;

as protectors of all sentient beings, 

they'll no longer die for power

they'll work together to live for peace.

A coping mechanism

Why do I still weep

like a child at the

outcry of wars, I 

should've been used

to it by now. 

I should've known

by now that it's okay

to kill your neighbours

who are, mostly, your

enemies.

I've learned it at every

step of my life;

it's read, heard, tested, 

no matter how high

you fly, like an eagle, 

keep looking for the weak

prey, kill and survive. 

It'd be strange if I thought 

it was a poor example

of an innocent hungry bird

looking for food, to be abused

as an excuse to rage

war, be condemned to it

for ever and for good? 

How did civilization invent 

this mechanical game as

a coping mechanism I wonder, 

it destroys not only the stage

but all the actors in the play

dying for power. To discover

peace, wouldn't it been easier? 

We breed wars perhaps

because abortion is not okay. 

Why then when I see the stillborn

I cannot help crying. I should've

been used to it by now, as a 

coping mechanism. 

মায়ের কবিতা

এই ত সেদিন হলি, 

আমার কোল আলো 

করে, কখন তুই এত্তো 

বড় হয়ে গেলি রে 

মানিক? যে আজ তোর

বিয়ে হচ্ছে! 

ভালো থাকিস, সুখে থাকিস

বাবু আমার। 

তুইও তোর জীবন দিয়ে

আমারই মত অবাক হয়ে

একদিন এই একই কবিতা লিখিস।

ভালো থাকিস সোনা আমার

সুখে শান্তিতে থাকিস।