Revelation

When the sun fell on my bed I was in love with my dreams.

I knew, like any other day, I would have to stop.

Be under the influence of the alcoholic sun,

would have to forget I was struggling with dark words

showing faces, calling names; they suddenly fainted, vanished

blue horrors became fake, like the y2k,

everything seemed okay, sky didn’t fall, though I imagined

the sun to fall like a shooting star, on this earth, to change things

I got up, ran into the day, met people, walked my brown steps

wrote and talked about meadows and sparrows

ignoring, overlooking many stories of oppression, hatred, deceit

the rays have an effect; until evening, moon rose like a white flower

in the dark, everything’s so clear, I walked into my bed like a somnambulist

dead with words; my insomniac eyes waited for the fresh sun

in the middle of many nights, for the hope-drops, to discover on grasses…
simple, unmasked, eureka of Archimedes; wake up from this waking state,

purely mine, no sunny impact, drowsy eyes,

to read the same stories of treacheries, another unfulfilled journey

sleeping on the other side to be over-written; but now, huh ‘now’

this state of sleepy sleeplessness walking over me; several nights, like waves

waking up, sleeping are being in the blue; sea and ocean;

with the moon, there’s a longing to be gone

see a shooting star, imagine it as the falling sun

all sins of the world, refusing to wake up, will burn.

Selected for the Amaravati Poetic Prism Anthology 2017

Révélation

Révélation

Quand le soleil s’est effondré 
sur mon lit,
j’étais encore ivre de rêves.
Je savais—comme tous
les jours—qu’il me faudrait
m’arrêter.

Sous l’emprise de l’astre
alcoolique,
j’ai oublié mes luttes avec
les mots sombres,
ces ombres qui prenaient
visage,
qui criaient des noms,
puis, d’un souffle,
s’évanouirent.

Les peurs bleues devenaient
illusion,
comme le bug de l’an
deux mille—
le ciel ne s’effondra pas.
Et pourtant, je l’avais imaginé :
un soleil en chute libre,
comme une étoile filante,
percute la terre
pour tout changer.

Je me suis levé.
Marché dans le jour,
rencontré des visages,
arpenté mes pas couleur
châtaigne,
j’ai écrit—parlé de prêtres
et de moineaux—
ignorant mille récits
d’oppression,
de haine, de silences
trahis.

Mais les rayons ont
leur effet.
Le soir venu,
la lune s’est élevée
comme une fleur blanche.
Et dans le noir, tout
devint clair.
Je me suis retrouvé—
somnambule—
dans mon propre lit,
mort de mots.

Mes yeux insomniaques
attendaient l’aube fraîche,
des gouttes d’espoir
sur les herbes endormies.
Un Archimède sans cri
trouve son eurêka :

Se lever,
non pas ébloui du dehors,
mais d’un feu intérieur,
purement sien.

Mais les mêmes récits
reviennent—trahisons,
départs sans au revoir,
un autre voyage inassouvi.
Et l’on s’endort de l’autre
côté du sommeil,
repassant le monde.

« Maintenant », dis-je.
Mais l’instant n’écoute pas.

L’insomnie endormie marche
sur moi,
comme une marée d’ombres
lentes,
des nuits nombreuses,
où je suis à la fois veilleur
et naufragé—
bleu d’océan,
bleu d’absence.

Avec la lune surgit
le désir de fuir,
de voir tomber une étoile
et croire qu’il s’agit du soleil,
pour que le monde,
dans ses péchés répétés,
refuse enfin de se réveiller—
et brûle.

Selected for the Amaravati Poetic Prism Anthology 2017

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কাজের কথা

ইতিহাসে বাঁধা, কথা আর কাজ

চিরাচরিত দ্বন্দ্বে আছে  আবদ্ধ সমাজ

সত্যি কথা বলো, তাই যতই কথায় বলি

কাজের বেলায় শুনি আমরা  মুখে মিথ্যে বুলি।

সৎপথে চলো থাকে কথার কাগজে

কাজের বেলায় অসৎ পথই আসে যে সহযে

যুদ্ধ থামাও! শান্তি আনো, সারা বিশ্ব বলে

অস্ত্র শস্ত্র কেনাবেচা চুপিচুপি চলে

আয় ফাঁকি দিওনা, শুধু নিয়ম কথা বলে

কারচুপি করছে আইন, আড়ালে আবডালে

এর ফলে অবিশ্বাস আর হিংসাজালের ফাঁদে

আমাদেরই প্রাণপাখি দুঃখ্যে-কষ্টে  কাঁদে।

ভাল শিক্ষা পেয়েও আমরা যুগযুগ ধরে

নিঃশব্দে কথার খেলাপ করছি একই ভাবে

আজকের শিশুরাও তাই একই পড়া পড়ে

পড়বে তারা আটকা বূঝি একই জালের প্রভাবে।
কথা-কাজের যুদ্ধ থেকে বিশ্ব মুক্তি চায়

শিক্ষা যদি এই দুজনের ভাব করিয়ে দেয়

শান্তি আসে মুক্তি আসে স্বস্তি ও সম্মান

কথা-কাজের মিলনপথের করলে সন্ধান।

Selected for the Amaravati Poetic Prism 2017

Sisters and brothers

Such a small handful of people

are they more powerful than us

sisters and brothers

of the world?

We are millions and trillions of us

who wouldn't want wrathful wry wars

we want the dry weapons

removed from the hands immediately

don’t we?

Then how is it that such a handful few

do not lend their ears to us anew

are we blaming them all the time

pushing them more towards the crime

those confused leaders

aren’t they also one of us

sisters and brothers

of the world?

No more peace organization can do the magic

no more lines of poems can perhaps undo the tragic

unless we placed truth over logic;

of all the sentient beings

only humans invented wars

others kill only to eat,

for them, there is no winning nor defeat

all this while we thought of war as natural

it’s untrue, it’s false, it’s plastic, it’s artificial

from our minds we need to kill wars for good

in the name of an inclusive humanhood

for peace and prosperity

for growth, for our birth-right liberty

can’t we organize ourselves to rid of this fuss

ye sisters and brothers

of the world?

Weapons to rest in peace in museums

wars that troubled the floors for years

to be scrapped as bad debts of our universe

o sisters and brothers can’t we win with love a handful few

for they are our sisters and brothers  too!

We need to wash the frozen hatred clean

gift the world, charming countries within

its warm nature serene

the leaders, they are so few in numbers

by us they need to be influenced

if we convinced them on things that made sense

we take the responsibility on our shoulders

of restoring peace in our winsome campus

going forward, an emphatic ‘no’ to weapons and wars

the tortured earth will profusely thank us

let us convince the leaders

we need no more of wars and weapons

we can make it happen, as sisters and brothers

of the world.

I become my stories

The page is my dais

the infinite stage,
my universe;

retelling in words

in prose or in verse
I come back to the leaf
for the compulsive relief.
In ecstasies, agonies
I become my stories.

I walk without steps

jump over the fence
fly without wings

with sky in my head
stars all around
clouds on the ground
I whisper without breath

I dance in a trance

I speak without letters
with minutest details
that form into words.
In hopes and in despair
the loving lines appear.

The wrongs and the rights

of the borders and the fence

with its numerous tales

I sing without notes
its tender cadence

life's moving moments

in abundance, decadence

through days and through nights

I come and I leave

willing in delight
the forever lying leaf

I touch every sense

through the gaps of silence.

With its worries and glories

I become my stories.

অমূল্য রতন

টাকাকড়ি সোনাদানা জিনিস রাশিরাশি
মানসম্মান, প্রতিপত্তি থাকুক ঠাসাঠাসি
সবই বেকার মনের মাঝে না যদি রয় খুসি
আর সোবার আগে সবার মুখের সহজ সরল হাসি

মিথ্যে হাসির মেকাপ ক’রে ক্লান্ত হয় যে মন
সত্যি হাসি ভিতর থেকে কাঁদে সারাক্ষণ

এই দুনায়ায় সবকিছুই কিনতে পাওয়া যায়
রকমারি বাইরের সুখ সবাই পেতে চায়
এত পেয়েও কেন তবু মনের হাহাকার
ফুটে ওঠে মুখের ওপর নিয়ে অনেক ভার

আমরা যে তাই খুঁজছি দেখ তাদের দিনেরাতে
জিতে নিতে পারছি কোথায় দুঃখী ভূবনেতে

বল দেখি কোন পথেতে আসবে গো সেই হাসি
কেমন ক’রে মনের মধ্যে উঠবে ভ’রে খুসি
ভিতর যদি নির্মল হয় সুচিন্তার বলে
সে পথেতেই ফুটবে তারা সকালে বিকালে

মনটা খুলে রাখো সদাই চিন্তিত ভাই বোন
ভিতর থেকে পাবে সবাই অমূল্য রতন

Relationship

My child

related to me through blood

not my spouse

but both, equally important!

What a loving lesson

on relationship I learn
in the very home I house!

Keep it up

Keep trying
in autumn or in spring
in times smooth and rough
the terrain might be tough
write your lines
and keep writing
in the open page of life
keep doing

keep failing, falling
in every season
in the leaves that unfold
in the obstacles
of stories unheard, untold
that appear as lessons
read them through and through
whether they’re false or true
keep reading

keep listening
the guide is sure to find
nesting in the mind
singing the tender tone
the bell so sound, so own
keep loving, keep looking, keep moving
keep going, keep growing, keep glowing

keep travelling
being in the journey
is the key
winning, losing we equally brave
we emerge not as a slave
but as a queen or a king
keep your chin up, your faith high
to reach the touching sky
keep smiling

seven stories in three lines

my ears
heard enough tales
return to the mountains

the ash has fire
a gray-haired man sees
on heaps of burning leaves

useless promises
on barren fields
winds buzzing shame

blank page
looks at the monsoon sky
stories rain

an old pond
a child plops a stone
frog leaps in time

flowers blooming
cajoling the wired borders
spreading friendship out of control

my eyes
seen enough stories
return to the seas

In the company

It was at a party – at night
I watched the stars
drink, dance, dream
their eyes awake
blinking, twinkling, winking
soft music played the wind.

Friends, they could be guests
I must have held some hands
stars hung beside the moon
the sky became the room
I was a little high.

Woke up late drowsy
still in trance on the floor
remembered how I danced
I stole myself out
with shoes in my hand
stories in my mind.

Thinking of birds asleep in their nests
I yearned for life!
Drove back home with the moonlight.