Hothath

Boye cholechi koshter srote

aadhkaapore, aadhshorir ey

jeerno aami jeernotaa theke aaschi

bhenge churmar aadhpagol, aadhmaatal

dourochhi haatrachhi roktote bhaaste bhaaste

aaj aamar nei thikana nei keu baari feraar 

faanpa aami beche aachi
bechei aachi, osthir, chur chur

kompito panjor ey

shihorito chaamrae

koshto pele hoyto bhaalo laagto

eta ki?

shunyo bukey shukno chokhe

jolche dau dau kore mon aamar

mathaae baari thanda rokto upchhe pore

kul kul kore boe

kothaae janina kul nei taar

pipashito kontho aar khudito kaanta

gilte hoe chire naame 

chachaale keu shonena ondhokaar ondhokaar

taao chachaai gola chire jaae

rokto gulo je kaalo aamar

bibhotsho bhoy tomaake shonaar por

shob i kaalo

ato taratari je aami jete parbona

ki hobe taader?

ki hobe tomaar?

aar kota kaaj please...

kintu firey gele bhaalo hoto ki?

na 

akla raastae pichhol kheye thokor kheye

ylte pore ramdhonu aar khuje paaina

shopner shei diya nibhe galo ak jhaaptaae

nil shikhaa taao nei

hoeto aar paarbona shira gulo klaanto

hridoy ta shorirey khuje paaina taake

dhongsho aami bibhotsho ak byaapar

aaj bhenge gelaam

aar nei aami aamaate

jei tukui baachie rekhechhilam

aar nei

aar nei

niye cholo aamaye din er sheshey

tomaar koley tomaar haathey

haath bukiye daao mathaae ektu

rokto gulo haathe na laage...

5 gram bojha

Thakur,

koshto to tumio peyecho

koshto ta besh khaarap jinish

aamar koshto kirom hoe jaano?

darao boli

maane...ki bolbo

aadh ghonta boshe aachi...bhaabchi

je ki bolbo

parchina

na....aajo parbona

bujbe ektu? chotto ektu

5 gram.

The Black Hole

Impregnated by silent words

I stare blankly at the computer screen

words still reverberating

dashing to and fro

melting, burning...piercing

am i weak or am i not

body i have and a hollow soul

memories i wish to avoid

filtered memories are burnt again

I gather the ashes to survive

planting the saplings of my desire, of yours

only to watch it trampled and crushed

some insignificant brambles, with thorns I failed to see

I pick up the ashes everytime and stare at the blank hollow

inside

only to realize an understanding

and work accordingly

swallowing my pains bitter, sour...rancid

sweet were they a moment ago

sweet they will be a moment after

this intermission is dry and black

I lose my strength and tear apart

falling falling in a bottomless crevass

trying to grope and clutch your hands

My dreams are not mine

My desires are not mine

nor are my actions, nor my thoughts

I am one who cannot be one

explaining in my dreams to you

still in the dark black of abysmal nullity

suffering, squinting, unable to move my limbs

sunlight waits, but I cant reach it

I have lost all my ability to function on my own

Neither do I work on reserve power

a nobody with a shattered soul

no drops of pity left for myself

but a quaint ray of hope glimmering at a distance

Only if I can reach it

hold my hands...

Footsteps

I hear footsteps behind me

Seizure grips me with its chilly paws

biting into the nerves, sinking into the heart(s)

A plunge beneath the below 

takes me to those olden days...

when the sun was bright, dazzling and shining on me

when from the rusted painted grills of the seperating window

I could see the honks of the cars and 

hear the sun reflecting on the nauseating

dull windows of the ambassador

A constricted view, small in height I was.

The early morning scenes of the marwari on his cycle

chanting "Hare Ram"

making his way, slicing the cool breeze of the summer morning

the newspaper boy fighting against time to 

have an early brunch at 10 o clock

when the chilly sun of the afternoon 

dries the moist shreds of pickle

aroma attracting flies

a pillow to rest your head on and doze off 

away from the trials of the day...

I turn back to look

6 o clock

6 o clock

light fading in the reddening sky

waking up to the dim embers of some leftover sun

dragging toward a violet evening

dazzling streets and watered avenues

artificial

of a soulless existence of an evening

battered by the waiting for a glimpse

waiting for the bus on an empty street full of people

alien faces, disturbed soul

of those midnights when a lurch interrupts a devastating sleep

full of black blacks and black whites

shadows crawling  tickling 

the inner recesses of the mind

and bruising the hearts

the sun is lost in a profound haze

tried to be solved by many a guru

There is nobody

I return, I return, I RETURN, I return...