INDEPENDENCE
Rivulets cross paddy
fields... vacancy of vermilion in thy forehead... the evergreen
moon & the squirrel.... Fish girl hugging a lighthouse......
Strange wild horses
spreading gallops &
posters.... In the evening of Iftaar, do
come here....
Come here when God is in
His worst of times.... Oh! long living
ballader, come in the horseroastpyre , Sanctuaries wiping off illness of
butterflies.....
Come thru the brushes of
unploughed cultivations... thru
the holikas of fug & long march...
thru crusades, Bible & the barricades, & batteries of words of Renaissance.....
Come in a literary seminar... in workshop on poetry favoring an electoral campaign.
Oh ! poet, come forth crushing the march-past of th bullets & the
ballots.
See, -- Moon flying high
the flag in reddish Sun.... Cartridge
rain cannon washing hands in tulsi lamp
n Nadia Jaman . See, the wings of
thousands of laughter manifesting in millions
of bullets & billets... and
we, black horses of Maheen, shall play
sarod thru the bayonets...
Someday, overcoming
slogans in flames , all our hearts shall
branch out in 21 gunpowder.....
Someday, world's all the dynamos shall turn around, and all humans----
shall be named "INDEPENDENCE"
PROHIBIT DEATH
I think so. And as I open
my eyes, and unzip the xylem, an unbelievable prayer hovers.. over the St
Paul's Cathedral, --- candles light up
the holy altar... Like a holy
altar... Like a proud SAP abapper
, ...or a software professional ... death comes running---- in search of very
precious perks....... incomplete
I ... no praise to my two hands, ... get a crash....more crash under the
heels of the Church.
Too many permutations with chromosomes,..--- makes & breaks , ruptures &
incarnations---- Oh! Christ the
great soul, hasn't thou cughed up
ur nectar glass? Yet?
... The ceiling of the earth
& the rooftop... piercing in the cloudburst of iron,.. & steel... and I, one dead face on another ....
writing the history of TB sheets in a suit case. Listen Jesus, hear me, I am
calling from the inside of a prison... voicing from the larynx &
pharynx of grasses.... you bring in a corrigendum
bill... an amendment for the
humanity....
Don't be late, Jesus, do ot....
Prohibit death from tonight.
I WANT TO BECOME GOD
Last evening I went to temple...
---the moonlight brightening a seven monk lamp & the moonstone...... conch sounds piercing the dusky
horizon..... Jhanvi music moving in
& out of my heart into
sacredness.....
God was addicted still...
---to the melody of Bitophen... By then
have I sunk... swimming... searching & taking out the crust n trough of
humanity----at the end of incessant pain,
so unbearable.....Inevitable was
that Eureka--- Kalpataru
salvation after years of quest....
God wakes up in the hymns of music,... serene melody--- Pacific's
wave less waves in both of His
eyes,.... His lips abound in
smileys of childhood & innocence
of laughter... He asked me, "
What do u want? The melody of the
dearest bird... the whispers &
invites of the sky .... or the comedy of a rivulet? "
I can't decide what to want, what
I should .....
Before the eyes of God ,
slowly I find the slew of disappearing
men.... shadows of men & women
... At
the feet of the immortal
hermit , I offer my momentary prayer... like swears
piercing another age full
of intoxicative affinity....
I kneel down before Him
.... in prayer .... like tempest come
out words from my core, --my ultimate wish,...
I want to become God.
[TRANSLATED FROM ORIGINAL BANGLA BY ANINDO GHOSH]
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