Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 5, Number 2. November 2022. ISSN: 2581-7094
Quest
to life (জীবন
সঙ্গমে)
I rose from the ashes once again,
The downpour washed away all your
fiery voices,
With a broken heart I await in the
lifeless station,
The train takes me away into an
unknown destiny searing the darkness beyond,
The paths dilute into confusion yet
I move on,
Your insular money-mindedness
reminds me of the hyena’s lust,
In the industry of selfishness
twisting this society, my voice craves utterance,
No matter how much I try,
breathless I stand suffocated by serpentine clenches
As the coffin carrier travels this
city, the neighbour's newborn lets out her first cry
The
sinister nightmare (ভয়ঙ্কর
দুঃস্বপ্ন)
Talking numbs me these days,
What I see, what is heard, mums me;
crutches on my mind
I shut the doors and windows, let
no voice escape
Storm rages beyond, reckless,
slowly it ravages
They shout a democracy, yet there
are silences
The reserves are depleting,
awaiting bankruptcy,
Every breath kills us, no voices
raise us,
Jailing their conscience, they
throttle us
Oh king can you sleep in peace
anymore?
In the land where beggars may, your
wealth shouts encore
Deflowers
before blossoming ( বাসী
খবর
)
For a bowl of rice,
She wandered nightly, down the
lanes of the hungry metropolis,
Tired, helpless, slept she
listless,
A tiny babe without a childhood.
Her father had left her, her mom
eloped,
But what never left her was hunger,
And the lustful paws which preyed
on her nightly,
The dawn with its golden rays
kisses the city's havens
Gradually Nature gathers round her
frailty
A line of blood trails down her
thighs diluting into the city's lanes
She deflowers before her blossoming
Comes the heads, comes the leaders,
Stories get printed, stories get
posted,
For sometime
Then she vanishes under the weight
of breaking news,
Reminds us all, she was an urchin,
not a millionaire.