When the search ends, dreams are touched no more, the empty anxious street resounds no homecoming feet, at the soft bends and known turns...
When the moist words of longing drizzle down the dusty window pane, with a sudden afternoon rain leaving behind, a rough scribbling like that of an unfinished poem...
Drowsy senses sail away through the delta of wrinkled nerves; the sea of undisturbed solace waves in rhythm with monitored beeps, writhing heaves finally rest in peace.
Yellow leaves carry the scent of time; broken promises ,forgotten deadline, like torn strips of medicines, shine. Flipped pages of magazines flutter in crisp air of emergency unit of care.
Trapped in its own thick web the shocked spider, writhing and wiggling in the sticky net of its own desire feels insecure and goes haywire.
Entangled as a poisonous gesture it suffers a throbbing death that never do expire; the dark mildewed corners shelter and suspend its cold breath.
The woven spit of its tension hanging in the smoky mesh of fear and protection, imprisons its own delight. His unsure limbs creep in sooty light.
The cleaner's sweeping bash wraps up its outstretched trash from the corners of doubt and misery; the drowsy cobwebs are forgotten, sunken eyes of depravity sleep rotten.
Are you bewildered to see my wounds blooming ! See how the deep sores of adversity swathed in love, has started to heal, and the leaking pride of death, seal !
Look at the desperate blood that had gushed out once like flood, now choking the birth canal of the sun with wads of gunpowder clods; from heaven unheard prayers return.
Leaning on each other's shoulder success and failure share a lit cigar in between their confident fingers. Trudging through the remnants of war they stumble on the rubbles of power.
Fatigued graves gently smother the wind pipe of violence and terror. Burning and fuming patience,raped, gives birth to another naked sun. Breath meets life at a sudden turn.
Patience endures the blaze of violence, Thunder slits the dark in flashes bright. But it has its brevity of significance, Tiny sparks can't flame mellowed light. Wings of flight scorch in fatuous glory, Ignited tomorrows sizzle like embers; Fatigued fumes of pride rains ordinary, Tolerance left in silver ash smoulders.
Choked dreams murmur in dry leaves, Pregnant corpses breed bloody peace. Brewed life strain through rusty sieves, Flooding terror stagnate and freeze. Tongue of thunder stammers in anger, Washed in a shower, light outlives fire .
My bengali poem Basundhara, which means ‘The Earth’, brings out the green essence of the earth. The earth never ceases to ooze out its blessings and love in spite of the severe tortures on it like the draughts, floods, volcanic eruptions, earthquake, bombing, shelling etc.
The poem was originally written in Bengali, but one of my dear friends felt the urge to make it universal and to spread its fervent spirit also beyond the circle outside the language barrier. Both the versions are presented below
What's the worry! Here I am, touch me ! My open far grown fields nascent green, shy Call you by your nickname; Your loving names long forgotten, that are as ancient as the sky. Come, send your hissing roots in numerous sigh into my oblivion depth. Let your flowers bloom out my breath through your dewy despair, year after year.
How long will you carry the skeleton, age-old, on your shoulders, weary? The skeleton gets heavier, in pride and desire, leaving life,– a mere spectator. Lost your path? What's the worry! Losing is gaining as mystic as raining. Shells explode, fire-flowers bloom smell of gunpowder fills empty pride nourishing gloom.
When wars will fade into the walls of the borders, I will bear a child, coming into life with a dumb scream of the burnt green, fatherless; I will germinate green, - merciless. The primordial joy of creation helpless and shameless, will sprout in my breast. God will be born in my virgin lap, once again.
Blossoms are bound to bloom; Neither for a duty divine, Nor for adorning a bride, Or to daze the scent of departure Of a lifeless pride On the shoulders of corpse bearers.
Blossoms have to bloom; Purposeless, relentless. Their whispers of fantasy Enclosed in whorls Bud into simple floral freedom. Neither for love or despair, Unaware of pleasure, Sorrow or wisdom.
Blossoms can't help blooming; Can't refuse or restrain From coming into fragrance ; They bud self-contained, Fearless and careless of Any suffering or prayer For the day ahead.
War appears blind Like Homer; the lines of control shimmer like Helen, to stay alive here is fancy smitten. Every moment of suffering, staggers inch by inch, crawling. Dumb breath facing blanket firing feed the helpless flame of human cry.
To choose between ration and ammunition, Sustaining life is only an intuition. Food packs or bullets a burning irony to select. Triumph in war flutter in the wind beaten National Flag Victories and defeats, history discover in green silence of graves, long after.
Consuming fragments of streams, patches of clumsy meadows and dreams, Some chunks of valleys and hollows a few border settlement follows, blasting off ancient towns, demolishing relics and monuments, war crowns victory hoisting fame and sacrifice patriotism boils in more spice.
My sudden home coming with my legs amputated, my sprained life hesitated in the sudden change tossing and turning in my awful existence. The absent limbs throbbed pulsing and fluttering, they sobbed helpless at the hacked off ends.
How blissful and simple is to be able to walk without being disable. In the sudden change my living became a plight. I spread as a dark ray of light through the corridor of time's flight, through a void of being alive.
On the careless lane of dusty days Unsure were the footsteps, Busy were some strides of haste And some were strolls Of scented leisure. Treasure Of the profound waste Of empty times.
Wider grew the lane And longer, its trail.... With dust of nothingness, frail. The untamed weeds of wilderness Measured time.
Visions grew hazy Until the dusty lane disappeared In a whispering dot At the wavering line Of the glistening horizon.
Moon Drops creations 