Window-side

 It's a busy day

Somewhere far in the city

Unlike in Belval,

Where the streets are colder

And the offices warm.

A blue sky and drifting clouds

Make merry on their own

As a newer Spring arrives

On dry, leaf-less trees -

Ones who have waited for a breeze.

Or maybe I'm day-dreaming

Soaking in the wetness of life

Or its absence, around me

Where dark clouds have gathered

Outside my large window;

But those trunks, leaf-less

Won't remain dry either way.

And then there's the day of the rainbow

Bowing to one and all,

For what? A fleeting reminder of happiness,

A touch of breeze on your aging face,

A hope for newer drops of rain?

No, no, no, go away from my window

It ain't me you're looking for, babe!

I'm still the old, forgotten light

Lending meaning to darkness.

কবিতা

কবি বলেছিলেন, এমন ভাবে এসো

যেমন বসন্ত আসে গাছের ডালে ডালে

আমি কবি নই; প্রেমিক।

এমন ভাবে এসো, যেমন

কবিতা আসে কবির বুকে ;

স্তব্ধতা দিয়ে যাও শব্দের আড়ালে আবডালে।

চাকা

 প্রগতির চাকায় পিষতে থাকে বর্তমান

কোথাও ছবি হয় ইতিহাস, কোথাও তাও না

ভাগ্যচক্রে খেলা করে প্রজন্ম - 

স্থান-কাল মিলে মিশে একাকার; নির্বিকার 

জীবিকার ভীড়ে তুমি-আমি চমৎকার

কিছু স্মৃতি ফেলে ছুটে চলেছি অন্ধকারের দিকে।

হাত ধরে থেমে পড়ি। নাই বা থামলো সময়।

নাই বা থামলো থেমে থাকার, থেমে যাওয়ার ভয়।।

Fight! Fight! Fight!

 I live in a world that sleeps

When I am wide awake,

And showers in luminous energy 

When my eyes are wide shut.

Hence I exist, merely with myself

Within my box of dreams -

Locked from outside, sold too cheap

In an ancient bazaar of glittering needs.

I travelled through space

Only to be warped in time;

I forgot the rivers, (which)

Once promised to be mine.

Yet, I am; like I should be,

Against the flow, facing the tide;

But stand I must, on feet my own

Until my blood retains my fight.

ঘরে ফেরার দিন

 শনিবার আমার ঘরে ফেরার দিন;

ছোটবেলায়, ছুটির দুপুরে, মধ্য-কলকাতার ছাদে 

শিশু ধোঁয়ার ওপারে স্টীলের হাওড়া ব্রিজ,

আমার অবুঝ, অবাক চোখ, খুঁজে পায় 

আজকের অবুঝ, অবাক  আমাকে। 

একে ওপরের দৃষ্টিতে বন্দি :

'তুমি কি চেয়েছিলে সেদিন?'

 - 'তুমি আজ কি চেয়েছো?'

তোমার পিছিয়ে থাকা দুপুর 

আমার এগিয়ে যাওয়ার হাতছানি -

আমি আর তুমি মিলেমিশে একাকার 

যা ছিল, তারই কিছু আছে; বাকিটা কোথায়?

 

 আয়নায় দেখি পথ বেঁকে যাওয়া জীবন কবিতা

ছোটবেলার উঠোন জুড়ে হেমন্তের ঝরা পাতা।

Criticality

 I'm a man of critical points

You know, the safety of a boundary,

The predictibility of homogeneity,

Yet the gradual approach of a change,

The unevenness of the future,

The risk of sudden change of state;

But not quite the surrender to chaos -

That's where I belong - 

Within the utter mad world of fluctuations;

A divergent being, steadily self similar 

And utterly indifferent to microscopics.

Dipolar

They wouldn't believe it, I dare say

Love, like gravity, bends time and space,

Slowing down relaxation to lifelessness

As eternity diffuses into relative alternates;

Only for lab-based mortals to realize,

Love is but only one part of a dipole,

Where the other end, equally present

Produces a sound repelling force,

And us, mere humans, oscillate

Unaware of either the source, or the end.

Braided Trajectories

 As the Vistula wraps herself on her banks

When the water feels a bit much to handle,

I turn to my words; for a touch of compassion.

Surface waves, signatures of unstable realities

Appear from, and merge into oblivion 

As newer raindrops mimic hope, excitation.

My search for meaning braids my way

Back onto itself, swinging freely in space

But knotted strictly through time. 

Who am I in this grand flow of worldlines?

A diffuser? Or a dancing cosmic string -

With its ends absorbed in a strange dynamics?

As I prepare to sleep in Luxembourg tonight,

Krakow puts a blanket of fog over herself

As if to re-iterate that I took my flight

Last night, when the time seemed right.

Hence, let's move on from the banks

There's a flood-warning, 

Though Krakow's (supposedly) globally safe.

The recent pattern breaks

And the deeper form re-exerts itself.

Beats of silence

There's a silence in here

And I hear it.

It's the silence of my soul;

Looking back at me

With empty eyes

And a deep contempt.

The silence comes from the backyard 

Where the broken cliff yet stands tall

I breathe, and I listen

To the many sounds of the night.

Maybe it's indeed the 'white noise',

The one that appears in literature 

And feeds many like me;

Or maybe it's something else

And I'm left to wonder

How silence is a superposition 

Of myriad random events

Passing by, with a hint of existence.

Within

Come closer, and let your hair down.

Let your poise fill the void, and sit

Eye to eye, for a rendezvous of souls.

Sit, as you truly own the air, and the else.

Let his sight slide to the tip of your nose

And then mildly to your lips; only in brief,

And then come back to your eyes, haunting.

Let him fall. Deep and hard, out of lust

And softly in love with the beats of your breath.

Let him see your fingers that seek to create

And the feet that make you stand.

Let him feel the rhythm of your breasts

And realize that there's an organ underneath

That filters dirt, and keeps you strong.

Let him paint the structure of your womb

An engineering of humility, a device of future.

Let him know that further below there's a hole

Just another, of so many, but one that you love.

Let him learn that there's something beyond rage

That the hole that he sees, is meant for your pleasure.

Let him realize that it's not an issue to be rough,

That you can even reciprocate in kind.

And if only he can let go of his anger,

There's a fountain to drink from, forever after.

Let him see you for what you are,

And what he can be, in love with you.

ভাদ্রকণা

সমানে নেমে আসে বর্ষা, আমার কল-পার জুড়ে

ঈর্ষা হয় আমার, কেন বালতি ভরে স্নান করবো আমি?

কেন বুক মেলে দাঁড়াবো না তোমার ঝাপটার স্রোতে,

কেন মেশাবো না তোমার শীতল ফোটায় শরীর, মন?

আরো নামুক মেঘ, গ'লে গ'লে স্বাধীনতার বার্তা নিয়ে

শূন্য থেকে ঝরে পড়ুক, আমার শূন্যতা মেটাতে।

শুধু তুমি নেমে এসো, এই উর্বর ভূমিকণার ঝর্ণা হয়ে।।