Eyes

Eyes

my stars

blinking, staring

looking

through moments

in light and darkness

beauty, bounty

poverty, animosity

generosity

through difference and strife

rolling in circles

in the circus of life.

Eyes

I have a myriad of them

shining inside, like gems

as witness;

music played,

stories written,

images painted,

on the canvas stage

eyes at ease

pumping heartbeats

watching hatred,

guilt without wit

magnanimity and kindness.

Eyes

I have them

in my bones and flesh

they run through

the bloods

the veins

I have them adorned

in my ears

like shining jewels

listening

to the sound and silence

of cries of hunger

lies and betrayals

masked as friendly walls

standing in between

created and cremated selves

eyes break them all.

Eyes

everywhere

have fire water and air

running in me

stars oceans breeze

will never ever cease

to see

to see

to see.

Eyeing life

however hard you may try

the stars will befriend you

enrich you

fill you with happiness

from the holes

you have buried them inside

eyes

will help you rise.

Then you could come back to me

Clarity,
are you with me?

I am seeking the roof
speaking from the ground
in my hat and my feet
I have your sounds around
gray clouds thunder used words
bounded beliefs
have covered the brown book
leaves need to be free;
but clarity
are you with me?

Warm gestures
spreading the heat,
dead with still, immobile strength?
Skeleton words re-opened from the vault
overwriting its own obituary
yet talking of liberty
seeking the sky
grounded, buried
in words;
overlooking the beggars
claiming to eradicate poverty
are you still there with me,
clarity?

With what amazing foolproof reasoning
you stayed mute
in front of the court
where the lady was disrobed,
because they were molested by her spark?
On the hidden field
a disciple’s thumb was butchered,
because he was sharper?
To the hilltop
a shepherd had to carry his wooden bed
because he was talking of love
in a language you did not understand?
All this happened
under your behest,
in full sanity.

Oftentimes, now
stories are burnt
deforested, tonsured.

How long, for how long
will you stay,
freeze the blood,
choke the breaths,
make humankind helpless
in the name of a pervert process
why don’t you make your way
and let things be?

See
without you
clouds will whistle and sail
rainbows will shine after the rain
the world will glow in delight
the sky will not fall.
You standing so far like an inert wall
would you ever be overwhelmed with shame
come out of your lies
would you,
despite stony ears and eyes
clearly hear and see
horizons stretching in harmony,
could you endure the sight
of the roof and the ground
secure and sound
without wrath, bloodbath
taking a different path
without you
for a different journey.

Then, with nothing,
you could come back to me
For then
I could be in your company.

Men at work

I was happy in my virtual world

editing, chatting, working

playing with engaging words.

When all of a sudden

I find the net disconnected.

Work stationed! Didn’t know what to do

waited blankly for an hour or two,

I saw something, can I ever forget?

By chance I met

those corporation men

out of nowhere

shredding a tree

and with it, they cut for free

my helpless wire

hanging lost, in indifferent air

red with anger I was on fire!

How did this happen you tell me hey

they just said sorry and went away.

Countless phone calls waited with pain

for the men to come and connect me again,

it happens only in India said my friends

when surprises trap you from end to end.

I'm happy to be here smiling with you

they came late, but connected me anew.

Now, I keep a close watch on those men at work

​​​​​​​so they don’t cut me off with a virtual jerk.

Averse to judging a verse

Averse to judging a verse

At the temple

is the gate to liberty;

judgement is the lock

gratitude the key.

Let me write poetry

let me spare the bard

under the greenwood tree, on the road

his angst let me store, be free

in the infinite peaceful abode

follow his advice, quit the dry books

with heavy looks

drink his words of worth

keep them all around, inside me.

Hold your tongue please,

let me love; read and write the lines

on the leaves, brown and green

wherever the heart lies

in vices, virtues, at every scene

let me take them in, at ease.

O what do they care

those budding fruits

blooming flowers

meadows and showers

rainbows, seas, thunders

O what do they care

those chirpy singers

let me read and write the lines

look at them without infliction and lies

embrace them just as they are

not scratch them with an incompetent scar.

If words express the chaos and cadence

with truthful pain and pleasure

not with designed pretence

then with gratitude I will

hug them and treasure.

In the journey of life as I

move along

my forehead locks

to judge the songs;

it unblocks, loving the lines,

their hues and cries

as gratefully witness

my ears and eyes.

ওহে বনলতা

Google images

  

ওহে বনলতা

তোমাকে স্বাগত জানায় দেখ

তোমারি কলকাতা

ছোট্ট শিশুটি ফুটফুটে শ্বাস

নিয়েছিল যে মাটির বুকে

রূদ্ধ করা সংসারের গ্রাস

চাপা ছিল এতদিন অন্ধকারে, 

নিদারুণ দুঃখে

তোমার শহর থেকে কাল হরণ করেছিল তোমায়

তার ক্ষুদ্র হিংসুটে প্রয়োজনে

আজ তোমারি জন্যে

সেই মহাকাল, হার মেনে
ফিরিয়ে দিচ্ছে দেখ, 

তোমারি আদরের আলয়ে

সমুদ্রের ঢেউয়ের মত পূর্ণ সচেতনে

তোমার অতি পরিচিত মহানগরের আলোয়

প্রাণ খোলা আকাশে, বাতাসে বিশ্বাস নিয়ে

তাই উন্মুক্ত কর নতুন সবুজ পাতা
লেখ এবার তোমার নবজন্মের কবিতা
ওহে মহিয়সী, ওহে বিদূষী, ওহে মেয়ে

ওহে কালজয়ী নাটরের আহ্লাদি বনলতা

তোমাকে স্বাগত জানায় দেখ

তোমারি সতেজ, প্রাণবন্ত কলকাতা

অনেক বছর পর, একটি আদূরে, আহ্লাদি মেয়ে তার বহু পূরাতন শহরে ফিরছে। তার এই ফেরার আনন্দে কবিতাটি লেখা হ’ল।

No it is not strange

Strange.

People who talk of kindness

only talk

get accolades for placing the words

like jewels, ornaments

but kindness smirks at them for sure

gift them with ego
remaining beyond the reach
from users of words so kind and rich.

On the other hand

there are these Janes and Johns

slogging and sweating it out, off and on

for days and nights, like dalits*

without any act of kindness 
from people who talk about it.

Strange.

There are these people 
who never talk of unkindness.

Note: 

dalits* (in the traditional Indian caste system), dalits are members of the lowest Indian caste. They are even lower than the shudras, considered as untouchables. For a long time, in India, toilets were manually cleaned by them, and they had to, under strict instructions, wear a bell around their necks, like cattle, so that Brahmins and other upper castes could keep safe distance from them. It was considered a sin to touch them, even their shadows, therefore the bells.

offering

I have happily come to realize

that I have no specialty

nothing to offer to the world

that is of any worth

friends here succeed

but I have no regret

I do have my tears to support,

to take me to a far off land

where 
I could here the fulfilling murmurs

I could weep to my heart’s content

merge my salty pearls within you
I have borne the sorrow of the entire race

let me moan into the ever accepting blue

on behalf of all my friends

the wealth of losses has made me stand out

they my stepping stares

to reach unto you
they my scattered shells on the beach

to weave a necklace for you

the goldfish and the sun

how is this possible

a goldfish unable to swim

a sun struggling to shine

there must be a pond

or a sky

somewhere

where

with open arms

waters befriend the born swimmer

sky succors the star not to succumb

the sun-flower smirking at the sun

the sand molesting the fish

even in their blues

the golden creatures in me

keep glowing

in the hope

of a patient ocean

catapulting a pleasing sky

the goldfish and the sun

waiting to be

Flash

Google images

Flash

I was seeing my eyes

In thousands of those blinking stars

In an instant they become candles

Inside me

Eyes closed
clouds prepared to fall in love
with the peacock dancing

Glint of colors
silvers and yellows

Glow

Every little life flowing outside

Burning senselessly

With great care

Destroying pure desires into smokes, ashes

Prosecuting hosts as intruders
Myriad eyes

With inextinguishable flames

Gushing ceaseless drops

Soften the embers

As fillings in the holes

For a split second they turn into eyes

Like bubbles, and become blind again

My eyes have the strength to push the rock
relentlessly, relive the mirthful moments
in those flashes

Memories

It will not wither

It's not a newspaper

Like a novel it's to stay

Not disappear in yesterday.

It will not burn

It’s not a candle

Like the sun it's to flame and remain

Light up your dark space again.

It will not come and go

It’s not a sporadic rainbow

Like a canvas with its glow and hues

It’s sure to rest inside you.

It will not sing only in Noël*

It’s not a carol by a seasonal Koel*  

Like the daily chirps whistling into years

It will ring and nest in your ears.

Memories murmuring moments

Mellow, merge, misunderstand, marry

Meanings, moods meander, mock, melt
Moving minds, mingle, mar, make merry.

Note:

1. Noël - Christmas

2. Koel - The Asian koel (Eudynamys scolopaceus)is a member of the cuckoo order of birds, the Cuculiformes. It is found in the Indian Subcontinent, China, and Southeast Asia. The Asian koel is a brood parasite that lays its eggs in the nests of crows and other hosts, who raise its young. They are unusual among the cuckoos in being largely frugivorous as adults. The name koel is echoic in origin with several language variants. The bird is a widely used symbol in Indian poetry.