poetry

AGOSTYAGOING
For thousands of years, thousands of doleful shadows
Walk very cautiously.
As if collective caravans of gypsies are moving along
The frontiers of horizon touching skyline.
There in the eyes of children are terror stricken looks,
Young males and females are speechless
Elderly men and women are motionless like stone.
In the ill defined grayish path, in uncertain darkness
Is this Agostyagoing
Or in fulfillment of paternal command
Their perpetual goal is Kamyak forest?
Or from the frontiers of Lumbini, crossing Shailagiri at the call of eternity their beatitude is
Only love tryst to light?
Piercing soundless cave of night
Naked echo drifts in emptiness,
Empathetic fire flies awake sleepless
As endless night guards kindling
Lanterns of light;
Thus passes every barricaded night.
Everything was available here- inside elephanta island
There were thousands of sculptures
And manuscripts of poems like providential light
Hermitage of sage Wrishyashringa was silent in supplication;
Suddenly everything was ravaged by the momentum of the tempest
All earthen lamps of the temple were extinguished
Surreptitious waves drifted plates of worship
Old feathers of desire were torn asunder.
And those who were busy in supplication-
Ordinary, very ordinary people,
They were dispersed like rejected stones of the path
In the divisive light of the day.
Only with blind past, frightened present and uncertain future
Ordinary thin shadows very cautiously fled away to far, far away.
In between there was a gap of just one night.
One night then can change the colour of this earth in a moment?
One moment can change intimate love of human beings instantaneously?
One Dravidian night then suddenly can transform into an Aryan woman?
In one night suddenly Valmiki can also transform into brigand Ratnakar ?
An ocean, aggrieved and wet with tears can also
Change into a desolate desert?
Is this then the last truth?
Accepting this truth thousand doleful shadows run towards another faraway homeland!
Is this then the last consequence of abhorrence?
The debt of past should be repaid thus in mighty blood stream?
This is not your responsibility, still in your shoulder
Lies the debt of blood
In your tears remains the taste of old salt,
In your chest today lies this naked
Heavy weight of unrepayable debt!
TO GET BACK THE STOLEN KINGDOM
It’s dead of night now. See, like a quiet child
Is sleeping romping and mischievous nature.
In this night in Babylon in the banks of the Lemon river
Groan millions of primitive women
Echoing doleful cry of Philomela
Weep banished penniless men and women.
The tale of the helpless king is remembered.
The melody of the first scenario reverberates.
And on looking back Ferdinand sees the doleful face of the father
His unbearable life in the lonely cottage.
Thus pass thousand years.
Where shall we go, in the voluntary journey to death
Is banishment the ultimate fate?
Sign of erosions of past,
Countenance of Birajabala will be left behind;
And lonely Indian nightingale
Against the attack of Tereus?
So I write down the last transcript before
Dropping the curtain.
Looking back I harangue in helpless shouting:
'Come on Pushyamitra'- groans extreme darkness.
Echoes return in emptiness.
To deliver me from the weariness of failure naked portrait trembles.
Drinking water of Mandakini
Does he regain youth?
Today I know not anything.
I sit alone counting my night time with expectation
Banished Pandavas return home after finishing Kurukshetra.
I too will have to go to Kurukshetra, to some unknown city
To get back the stolen kingdom.

I SHALL GO TO THAT WATER
Let the story end here, let it be.
In this night, yet, if this attachment mistakenly falls
On the side of the lake,
If eyes stop inside the light of the mountain;
If blooms your pollen in the thorn stricken chest
In the current of mighty water
With deep affliction beneath the wounded chest,
I shall not be able to carry it further,
Far away;
Only whirling like fire fly
In fragrance of your corpus,
I shall penetrate into your breast,
Sometimes, all of a sudden,
In darkness, in the shade my expanded two hands
Will enter into the inaccessible lake-
Where remains pull of quicksand in the heart,
Will anybody in this full moon night take bath there?
Who is that unknown boy-prince of the foreign land?
I am jealous of him-take me also once for all.
Where will you take me?
- Not in that water?
I shall go to that water, where the name of the river is 'Erosion'.
IN THE SHADE OF THORNS
Far away- in the stars of the western sky
Where I am looking over
None of them are known to me
Nonetheless, why my perpetual love tryst
Persists towards them
I do not know.
Off and on such thirst arises inside me,
When extending my two hands to the moving clouds in distress
I utter: carry me o cloud- watery, ceaseless cloud
Carry me to Uzzoini- where for me wails my exhausted Fiancé.
Ignoring me blind-deaf cloud goes far away to another homeland.
Thus I'm sitting for how many days
Will remain sitted for how many days- know not myself.
Passed winter-summer,
Passed thousands of years,
Sitting beneath the Peepul tree, roots grew over my person-
An anthill grew over my corpus
Still this Ratnakar failed to transform into Valmiki!
Yet, my whole life's ascetism,
My eternal fervent prayer is meant for that.
Clouds did not listen, birds did not listen,
Trees and insects did not listen;
Even mountains-hills or level fields ignored me.
Why then this blind looking of mine
Towards that unrelated star of the western sky?
Why then this naked call towards this watery cloud
With such thirst inside the chest?
Distant cloud does not understand,
Do not understand those unkind city dwellers
with their concrete lives.
So, I groan beside the corpses day in day out
In heedlessness and defamation.
This is not the end I know.
This perplexity, breaking life of concrete, will, one day,
Definitely enter into your sky as bomber plane.
Transgressing frontier, this life will find its own address;
All languages of prayer, disappearing like ancient lands,
Will give birth to some new civilization;
I am waiting for that.
The more you obstruct me in water, soil and air,
How will you fasten dreams
In the artificial wall of horizon?
So, today, breaking everything, see, my world blossoms
In the shade of all thorns of unsmelt rose.
CAUTINARY SIGNAL
You tell that arrogant air, that only drifts me towards the west.
Tell it, that this body is not any light cover of cotton,
So that anybody can take it to distant sky, on demand.
I know, that impolite air can take me to the Bay of Bengal in one thrust;
May be there lies my redemption,
In that lies my perpetual remedy.
Still, you don't persuade it to that arrogant air,
You let me understand bit by bit-
Nothing is sweeter than mother's breast.
Uprooting from the earth, don't place me into alien golden tub-
My redemption is not there-
Don't I have redemption, really?
As a drowning man tries to thrive by catching straws,
With this outer sheath of the corpus, may be, I am living like that!
Only tell that arrogant air- so that it,
Before taking me to the western bank,
Throw me away in the Bay of Bengal;
If, from there, floating and floating, I reach the Sutanoti shore
Or floating and floating reach some other desired port,
Then I shall not hold anybody responsible for my last fate.
But if the bubbles of abhorrence, stored in layers of my wet body,
If sometimes, overflow the unknown ground,
And some unknown silent volcano takes birth there don’t imprecate me.
For who does not have control over his own body,
For any other uncontrolled explosion,
You cannot in anyway hold him responsible.

LOOKING BACK
Flying in the air, let fly moon light wet hair
Millions of star-flowers bloom at night time
Amongst them only one planet-seeing
Hanging on the offshoot of star-
Why you got stunned at the thunderbolt?
Yet, blue fairy is sitting in your golden ribbon
In air oscillates minute's arm, oscillates watch of time.
My heart flies away to faraway lake through it
There bodies of thousands of dancers wet in wine.
Then in my drowsy eyes descends deluge of night
I get infatuated in addiction at your sweat's fragrance.
At nonplussed pull of Mohua breasts,
I perform an unprecedented mistake
After lamp-greeting of night, moon light moist hair
Awakens me- I walk alone in the solitary time
In your light seeing myself time and again.

IN THE FOG OF THE CHILLED NIGHT
Piercing the fog of the chilled night like a sharp spear are
Rushing millions of those fire particles,
To resist them you spread below the abyss of the Bay of Bengal
A secret magic of illusive Marich.
In due time you will surround the whole sky automatically;
Mysterious thick foggy darkness will descend
throughout the whole earth.
Then in the paths at the deep lamentations of silence will groan Shivering mercury bulbs of light posts;
There will be no signs of life anywhere
Resounding foot paths at the foot stroke of human beings
Will not show rhythms of life
As if throughout the whole town terrible terror of curfew
Will make this earth peopleless suddenly.
This thick fog of the chilled night-this chilled air-
Inside it in the bottom of the ocean
Sudden unveiling of a coagulated mysterious woman is pulling me towards a golden coin engraved Netherland,
Where I shall go on searching a lady, full of taste of fresh palm juice
Who piercing all shrouds of fog
Will awake me like that charming young man who longing for the revenge of the insult of the motherland
Will fight till death being a charioteer beside Indra.
Yet, cold is spreading shivering chills and ice bristles through bones
As a cultivator spreads seeds in his field and uproots weeds.
I am getting that trembling existence of mine in that cold sensation;
And feeling inside myself
The urge to get warmer at the touch of the fire ball.
The more becomes the thick foggy chilled night,
The more waves of chilly air destroy the decorated garden
If I fail to advance forwards by breaking the barricade of the severe Stone wall,
Then cold will reign tightly over the body, the body will freeze bit by Bit, inside the cover of ice
I shall transform into an eternal mommy- I shall die.
Your aim is also similar you decided to lull all to sleep by some magical form of mystic work; every morning before sun obeiscence
You will make the whole sky dark,
Imprison me, my beam of light in the foggy net.
But you do not know, you do not have the
Ability to resist the light particles that are moving at a speed of crores of miles,
Neither by foggy winter, nor by illusive magic of Marich.
The dawn that takes birth everyday piercing the shrouds of deep night, Not only you, but your god also cannot resist it.

DREAM
In the middle sky in the raft of clouds stands your-mine house
At night we two are setting sail in that raft.
Seven seas and thirteen rivers- unfathomable water in front
A shadow dropped in that water-very unwavering.
Is that yours, is that mine, or any body else?
Informs old woman of moon, elderly Kengaroo.
Not of yours, not of mine.
Actually a blue fairy was twisting rope of silky hair in the shade of cloud.
In its shade light particles stunned in the water.
Does the raft of cloud float dividing mountain of hesitation?
Pondering and pondering when both of us were running forwards
Then our feet suddenly stumbled on hearing a heart broken melody.
In that melody there is hide and seek game between the cloud and the moon
When we went to see
A pleasant knife of light plunged into the water.
The raft of cloud shattered, and lo! There is nothing no where
Riding raft of the sky river, I lost the trail.

PURNIMA'S MEAT
There are different types of carnivorous animals in the world
Some of them like pigeons
Some like goose, chicken, lamb or cow.
According to religion some choose pork and
Someone tortoise too.
Choice of wild animals is a bit different from them-
Say tiger or lion.
They like dear or young rabbit.
In the chosen list of the forest kings there are many other things.
Regarding diet, possibly, they don't have any choice when they get Chance of attainment.
But that none of them are vegetarians can be declared with certainty.
Is there any scarcity of food materials in the forest now? Not unusual.
The way people are developing colonies by deforestation and the earth Is trembling failing to maintain environmental ecology
Then food is a distant tale,
They are scared of their own existential crisis. Probably that is the Reason why all wild animals are scattered in groups inside human Habitation.
Living inside human habitation their body shape is beginning to Transform into human shape-
So now human beings of colony and wild animals cannot be Differentiated very much.
By now some of them developed changes in their food habits.
In stead of the ordinary fawns and tender rabbits of the forest
Many dishes of human menu are becoming delicious to them.
A matter of wild animals!
Can the time honoured practice be changed so easily?
So aversion of unostentatious protein intake of everyday life
Gradually grabbed them.
But living among the civilized human beings
It is not possible to afford everything within your reach on demand.
But sometimes such opportunity does appear in their lifetime!
For example, this time.
Not in the dense dark night of new moon, smudging the difference between day and night eternities opened for them
An unrestricted forest,
A new world is unveiled in front of their eyes
Where there is no scarcity of food,
City police men loosened the knot;
So frenzied wild animals after starvation of
Thousand, lac and crores of years' lust
Suddenly jumped on soft-suave infidel meat.
They don't have that eye on any other meat
Looking at other calves, for the time being their saliva is not drooling.
Now they are gorging teenage girls' chunk of unsmelt meat's love
Aha! In this country now wild animals like very much
Relishing Purnima's meat!

NO, WE SHALL NOT CRY
No, this is a death valley-this is not my motherland.
This barren blood-stained wilderness I don't know
I have never seen this Bengal,
Wounded by the groaning of the persecuted
This motherland that turned heavy
At the groaning of the raped is not mine.
I have not fought in '71 for this naked nudity
I was not born to see the scandalous mark
On the forehead of the bloody corpus
Inheritance of Titumir and Surya Sen is my pride
My body is wet by the sacrificial light of Pritilata
And innumerable heroic women.
No, by the dangerous stampede of black ferocious beasts
Let my motherland tremble-
I didn't want that
This persecution of our red green flag
This insult of my golden Bengal was not my desire
Groaning of each martyr that
Mixed up with each dust particle of Bengal left me distressed
The air turned heavy at the sighs of
Three million martyrs and two lac heroic women.
Aha! 14th December,
Aha! December the 16th,
Aha! 26th march - forgive me
You are my helpless Purnima,
And I'm your helpless father
Keeping hand over your chilled cold body,
I say, 'O my Purnima, my raped mother,
I failed to protect you from the lust of cruel ferocious beasts-
This is my obligation,
Forgive me.'
No, I shall not go back home with the insult of harassment;
Rape Purnima as much as you can;
Inflict wound, injure the body of Shefali
As much as you can.
In the darkness of night like pests
Offend noisy wilderness in farewell as much as you can
Grab land as much as you can
Bleed the teenage body of adolescents
As much as you can
Wipe the bloody sun like vermillion of Sithi
As much as you can
Brand white sign of widowhood in the corpus of women like white dress
As much as you can.
No, Purnima's will not cry
Shefali's will not go to some other frontier at dead of night.
Let the guards of the frontier
Scorch the chests of fugitive men by thousands of firearms
As much as they can.
I know, we do not have any motherland
We do not have any definite destination.
Aha! For how many days sleep doesn’t descend in our eyes
There is no awakening in our life
Shall we run forever helplessly for a piece of land in this Universe.
Aiming that destination, those lacs of men and women in '71,
Who after residing in a homeless alien country
Returned to their own dreamland after the liberation war,
Are we their descendants, their helpless successors?
No, none of us will cry
Our tears turned into deserts after desiccation
In our cheeks sticks blow of vulture's tail
We are running towards unknown destination
At midnight like Siddhartha;
Who will give us shelter?
Where shall we find our horizon?
Drifted in thousand, lac, crores of Purnima's tears
Innumerable thin soft plump bodies
Refugee heart flooded away in the bloody stream
Emanated from inside the tear stricken body of Shefali.
We are prepared for our fate
Before jumping up in the fire pit
We want to see your body shadow once for all
So that in the fire of our tail
Before ruin of golden Lanka through the interval of time
Your body can never come out.