Earth beats well

Self defense, a clutter

Tumor in the mind

That markets the need

For disaster,

Plants the seed

Turns the pious, poisonous

Creates machines with forbidden purpose

Is clearing away.

A strange dark light lifts a feather-weight table

Waiting in good humor, places it

In the banks of a forest fountain

Willing to expand, accommodate, explore

Align with the rhythm of the defenseless star

Once and for all, with love.

Dedicated to all my siblings who died on the streets, in the fields, with bubbling lives

The superfluous

O child! It’s time, it’s time

Grow up from your addictive rhyme

With your gun-games you still scare

And ‘frighten the little mouse under the chair’?

We are faithful to war

Learnt in the jungles,

Primitive still is our attire

In modern cover-up jingles!

War and weep

With your uptight juvenile head,

Incomplete lives will sleep

In the delinquent scarlet bed.

Weep and war

With your hesitant heart,

Revenge and anger

Will mimic the conceited craft.

Mourning speeches

Would write and be read,

Holy screeches

Would mime the world red.

Candles will burn

Operas will chime,

History will learn

To mirror in time.

But if we all sat together

With collected heart and head,

Wars and its terror

Could freeze and be dead.

Dedicated to all the leaders of 233 beautiful countries of my world.

Shifting the focus

Inescapable

Ages of turmoil,

Sad episodes grim the moon’s face,

Confused at her rising and hiding

Silver rings as teardrops break

into the waters,

Talk to the fallen petals

They must have been flowers, a while ago

In the stillness of darkness,

Redolence falls,

Pearly silence tends to surface.

Changing the prosaic demeanour

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

I am an American, a European,

An African, an Asian, an Australian

All at the same time

I am an Afghan, a German
A Pakistani, a Brit, an Indian
A Mexican, a Canadian, a Russian
A Japanese, an Algerian, a Chinese
All at once, all at ease. 

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

Ever since I was born, I had been fighting with reflection

The sister or brother

Camouflaged as the other

Till date, I have created weapons to destroy, kill

I have never even thought

That it’s possible to survive without weapons

This need, I did never feel...

Never have I even considered this!

And I call myself intelligent? A scientist? A leader?

My priority has been to war? For the sake of peace!

We’d shift our need.

This is the real change.

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

Leaders and scientists would fossilize weapons

Store them in museums

We’d all skilfully kill insecurity

The stranger, real foreigner, the intruder, our real enemy.

It will be uprooted from our minds, from this heaven.

This is the real change.

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

Greece! O Greece! What marvellous philosophers you gifted

To this world... it is a shame that you are struggling now

With hedge funds... wait...you will get back your grace

Economists will show us how

It is a shame that Beijing and Delhi cannot breathe

Wait... scientists will purify your air and water

Will show us how you’d succeed

No more focussing on other planets

All intelligences will converge towards this tent.

This is the real change.

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

Africa! O Africa!

Scientists will invent mud technology to understand

The pattern of your earth

Make every inch of your fifty-eight countries reap wealth

They’d give you a hand

Instead of loans,

Loads of affection, support and effort will pour...

You will be as rich as Australia...

And for this, other continents won’t be insecure

The need to grab will cease, the urge to empower will emerge.

This is the real change.

Like this, all our self-created problems

To win over others will dissolve

We will win this ‘other’ and consume all of it in us...

Different, yet as brothers and sisters

It will prevail in this world, my world, our world

Instead of weapons, we’d flaunt wealth

Celebrate camaraderie and happiness

This is the real change.

I belong to the world; this world, my world, our world

I am an American, a European,

An African, an Asian, an Australian

All at the same time

I am an Afghan, a German

A Pakistani, a Brit, an Indian

A Mexican, a Canadian, a Russian

A Japanese, an Algerian, a Chinese

All at once, all at ease. 



Dedicated to the peoples of all the 233 beautiful countries of the world.

Promise

It’s time’s promise to me that I would also grow old

It’s my promise to time, with age I will never be bowed.

The sacred and the scared

You are unafraid to die, what a skill!

But you are also unafraid to kill!

Are you afraid to love and live?

Are you afraid to believe?

You are afraid of your guide,

You are afraid of the pages,

You are afraid of your pride,

You are afraid of other sages.

You are unafraid with weapons,

You are unafraid with arms,

You are unafraid of the killings,

You are unafraid of allarms!

You are afraid to heal,

You are afraid to be friends,

You are unafraid to steal

You are afraid to mend.

You are unafraid of your hides,

You are afraid to be kind,

You are unafraid of your sides,

You are afraid of your mind.

You are unafraid to be sacred,

Afraid to alter dead thoughts

Unafraid, but you are scared

Afraid to deliver from your corps.

You are unafraid of your folly,

Unafraid to kill the unarmed dead,

Your arms are unafraid and holy,

To turn the green sack red.

You are unafraid to die, what a skill!

But you are also unafraid to kill!

Are you afraid to love and live?

Are you afraid to believe?


One typo in the poem can be excused as a licence to demystify the present crisis. Thank you.

Hands

Hands, an online bridge, rising from the hearth

Albeit homework for destruction around, connect with the earth,

Nimble fingers clear clouds from the brain, smile with the rain

Despite wars all the time, twenty-four by seven

Solidarity will right and rhyme with heaven.

Dedicated to the peoples of all the 233 countries of the world

ইতিকথা

কথার অন্জলী দিলাম

দিয়ে কথার জলান্জলি

কথার মরণসন্ধিতে পেলাম

কথাম্রিতের ঝুলি

A year that was, will be

This year passed in confinement.

Detached eyes and ears,

It also passed in sublime seclusion,

Time spent with me, myself

Many times in days and nights

I died and I cried

I also laughed and smiled

I did resurrect.

I lived through my virtual pen

That brought to me loving eyes and listening ears

This year, like the year that was

Without much attached rules and laws

My breathing space of hope and despair

Went... in an unheard fulfilment.

Content.

I have nothing to look forward to

Past is the future without a hint or clue.

Time is the predicament.

Nothing will change

In the minds weird, strange

Hunger for anger all around

Distaste for peace

Starving the poor without ground

Wouldn’t be closer to bliss

That, my pen would reflect.

Except for the sky on which I’d walk

I know the earth would feel

The flowers with whom I’d talk

I know grasses will see

Leaves will drop to heal

Their touch and their smell would come to me

I know, in the form of family and friends

With bones and flesh

Alive and lively for the sake of a few

My heart would beat next year too

With love, without repent.