Monday, January 10, 2011

The Moment

Why doesn't the dazzling sun of the day
            Tired of its’ daily errand, give way
To a dusk, unblemished and pure
            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure;
With shades of vermillion and yellow
            And tinges of orange and red to follow;
Hinting the longing birds that it’s time
            To fill the air with sweet muttering rhyme
Rejoicing the flight back to their nest
            Forming nebular silhouettes on the west;
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?

Why doesn’t the crescent shaped moon
            Illuminated by an unknown boon
Hide her visage with slender shrouds
            Of freely floating white clouds,
Playfully wafted by the wanton wind
            Of the crazy joyous month of spring
Webbing a vista of mysterious mesh
            Of charming moonlight and shade
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?

Why doesn’t the undergrowth thick and green
            Spread apart revealing a path calm and serene,
And with all its veiled mystery and guile
            Tempt me to tread along it and reconcile
With sights of butterfly adobes with fragrance delightful
            And of grass blades adorned with pearls plentiful,
Leading onto a lake clear blue and pure
            With reflections of trees and the sky azure,
Where playful swans oblivious of pain and pleasure
            Craft perfect symmetrical ripples on the water
Creating the moment
            When it’s not so hard
For my feelings to give vent
            Not uttering a word?

The dazzling sun of the day
            Tired of its’ daily errand has given way
To a dusk, unblemished and pure
            Painting the sky with vivid hues for sure.
The crescent shaped moon
            Illuminated by an unknown boon
Has hidden her visage with slender shrouds
            Of freely floating white clouds.
The undergrowth thick and green
            Spreading apart has revealed a path calm and serene.
This is the moment for my feelings to give vent.

But to whom? I wonder.
Alas, I’ve lost her forever.





Asampurna (Incomplete)

আমি একটি দীর্ঘ কবিতা রচিবার তরে
     ছন্দ খুঁজি ফিরি পাগলের ন্যায়।
শত সহস্র বাক্যরাজি লুকায়ে রয় মনের মাঝারে,
     তাহারা কভু গো ধরা নাহি দেয়।।

যাহার জীবন ছন্দহীন, যাহার হ্রদয় বিদির্ন শোকে,
     সে কি কভু পারে মিলাইতে ছন্দ ও তান?
ঘনঘোর বরিষনের রাতে, ভয়ঙ্কর বজ্রনিনাদে,
     শোনা কি যায় কোনো পাখির কলতান?

তবু সাথিহারা এই আমি মিথ্যা আশার করি চয়ন,
পথ চেয়ে থাকি বসে নিয়ে দুটি ক্লান্ত নয়ন।
সকলি আশার হোক অবসান নিভুক তবে শেষ আলো,
     আজি এই নব ফাগুনের প্রাতে তবে আঁধার ঘনাক কালো।।

মনে পড়ে আমি তোমারে ভালবেসেছিলেম
একটি দীর্ঘ কবিতার মত।
চেয়েছিলেম বহু যতনে করিতে সঞ্চয়
জীবনে ছন্দ-মিল-তাল আছে যত।।

বুনিতে চেয়েছিলেম সকলি তায়,
কোন এক নব সুরের মায়াজালে।
ভেবেছিলেম সে গান গাহিব মিলিয়া দোঁহায়
এক সুদূর দেশে নবীন ঊষার কালে।।

Sunday, January 9, 2011


In the sinister darkness spread across the horizon
In the enclosing whirlpool of impenetrable firmament
In the pain nourished for thousands of years
In the vicious cycle of perilous destiny
In the universal consciousness of vast humanity
In the ominous thunders of dark rumbling clouds
In the anxiety of a rock strangled fountainhead
In the crests of gushing frothy ocean waves
In the ebb and flow of this exhausting life’s voyage
In the murmurs of raindrops on a shadowy night
In the desultory teardrops at hours of tranquillity
The remnants of my self still crave for thee.


দিগন্তবিস্তৃত ভয়ঙ্কর তমসায়
অসীম শুন্যতার সঘন আবর্তে,
শতসহস্র বছরের সঞ্চিত বেদনায়
করাল অমোঘ নিষ্ঠুর নিয়তিচক্রে,
বিশ্বজনসমুদ্রের অদ্বৈত চেতনায়
বর্ষণোন্মুখ কালো মেঘের উচ্চমন্দ্রে,
পাথরচাপা নির্ঝরিণীদুঃসহ যাতনায়
ফেনিল জলচ্ছাসের রন্ধ্রে-রন্ধ্রে,
অবিরাম শ্রান্ত জীবনস্রোতের দোলায়
শ্রাবনের ঘনঘোর বরিশনের রাত্রে,
তৃষিত নেত্রের অশান্ত বারিধারায়
খুঁজে ফেরে মন আজও তাহারে।।

পশিবে কবে তারি সুমধুর তান মম ব্যাকুল কর্ণে,
রাঙাইবে কবে তারি তুলির টান মম রিক্ত মানসচিত্রে?


Does it all end with an orgasm?

The long nurtured passions and desires
That flowed through my senses like
A gushing stream having its own life,
Like the wild restiveness of the Earth’s core
Keen for exploding out and show its prowess;

The thousands of preserved candid images
Of your flawless charming beauty in my memory,
Have been lost, as the radiance of
The magnanimous sun is lost in the
Depth of a colossal abyss, as the
Vista of far-flung hills are lost by
A slowly spreading wet mist.

Amidst the void, springs up never felt
Sentiments of promises and responsibilities
As the first drops of dew appear on the
Morning leaves from nowhere,
As the surfacing of freedom wings terminating
The long confinement of a caterpillar.

It all begins with an orgasm.

English phobia

This weird art of English communication
Has been the source of much of my tribulation.
So many words of various shapes and colors unknown
Flicker and loiter around my vision.
Are they the product of my sole imagination?
Or nebulae of fragments of memory well grown?

The nouns confuse me by their sheer multitude -
Abstract, proper, countable, collective.
My knowledge is evasive of the right attitude
To select the best fit from one of these.

The verbs come as a bit of relief after the torturous nouns
The adverbs being the decor in their crowns.
The adjectives – attributive, predicative, substantive so many of them
I don’t know how, when and where to use them.

Alas, the rhetoric and prosody seems to flee away during my speech;
The alliterations instead of befriending me have pushed me down a ditch.
Shakespearean literature resembles me of the Bermuda triangle
Chaucer and Spencer often clutch me down in strangle.


Will you instil in me the eternal destitute of a deprived soul
And fill my finite head with the infiniteness of the firmament
Shall thou carry me with you to the time marking the beginning of time
And convey to me the purpose of my existence

Will I demolish all the unfathomable distances that separate us
Will I be ever able to touch your unadulterated mind
Can I foresee and rewrite the supposedly unchangeable destiny
Answer me, answer me – Oh my beloved solitude.

An Elegy

Amidst the vast outstretched lush green

At the heart of my city

The milieu used to be so serene

But now it's no more - what a pity!

Oh my fellow city men, - you look so mournful

Due to some unfathomable grief and sorrow plentiful.

I wonder what can be the reason behind this agony

Haven't thou learnt to face the destiny?

Wandering from one corner of the city to the other,

I found the mob in pensive dither;

And finally I came to know the answer.

My fellow city men are bereaved for their leader.

A leader indeed in the true sense of the word.

Whose deeds inspire reverence in a bard;

A leader who has exemplified courage,

Who has been a true icon of patronage;

Stupendifying the entire bunch of country men

With his divine bestowed skills and sheer excellence

But one must realize that nothing can last forever.

Everything in this world be it human life be it success, is ephemeral.

The golden days now lost in the abyss of oblivion,

Should be conveyors of new hopes and sources of inspiration.

Let the dawn of an unblemished era befall on you,

Ending the gloom of nostalgic memoirs and bringing dreams anew.

Let not the spirit of dominance die off from your heart

Because somebody among you is our future leader.