World Poetry Festival magazine 2021

Light and Shadow

Nilanjan Sandilya
The window graings lets in
Subdued rays of light
A patchy pattern on my writing desk
A feeling of uneasiness
I love darkness
Light is tolerable too
But this huddle of light and shadow
Is quite clumsy
It is somewhat
Like the friendship between
The first boy and the last boy in class—
Like the intimacy between
The Director and the sweeper in an office—
Or like the sly exchange of glance between
The slim girl and the obese lady at the bus stop
All are out of place
Still–
They neither care
About what the world thinks of them
Nor about the oblique glances surrounding
Like these gay lines of light and shadow
That lie side by side
On my writing desk

English translation : Author himself

101

’þzIμ¡ xy†þyAÇþy

þ›!îe ôuþ¡

†þ„y‹þy ö¤yly öîûyöì˜ ˆy ™%öìëûöìSé ¢y!¡†þ öîï
†þy!lÅöì¢îû Gþ›öìîû ö†þyíyëû öþ›öì•þöìSé ¤‚¤yîû—
†þ•þÅy!þ öæþöìîû !l •þy¥z ˆèþ#îû xl%öìëyˆ–
†þ•þ †þ# îöì¡öìSé ’þzF‹þ@ýÌyöìô ö’þöì†þ ö’þöì†þ ¤%öìîû ¤%öìîû
öël ¤î ˜yëû ~†þy ~†þy îöìëû ölGëûyîû
ö¤ xþ›)îÅ ’þzþ›ßiyþ›ly •þyîûÐ
öîûyöì˜îû ö¤yly¡# æþy!¡ öîû!¡‚éŸé~îû æþ„yöì†þ îyîûy¨yëû–
ö¤¥z ‡yöìl ‡y!l†þ îöì¤ îöì¤
¢y!¡†þ öîï ¤%öìîûéŸé¤‚¡yöìþ› ’þzy’þü †þöìîûöìSé ¥*˜ëû–
•þyîûþ›öìîû ö¤¥z ö¤yly¡# öîûy˜ ¤yÇþ# öîûö쇖 èþy¡îy¤yîû †þ¤ô–
ö¤ ’þyly öôöì¡öìSé ¥yGëûyëûé ŸŸé
!îöìFSé˜ öë öl¥z ¢y!¡öì†þîû ö²Ìöìô
¤D#!þîû ö‡„yöì ’þzöì’þü öˆöìSé ö¤ þ›)”Å•þyëûÐ
•%þ!ôG èþ!îûöìëû !löì•þ þ›yöìîûy ly !†þ
îÄíÅ•þyéŸé!îþ›§¬•þy ë•þ ¢y!¡öì†þîû ôöì•þy
xyþ›l x!™†þyîû ’þzIμ¡ xy†þyAÇþyëûÐ

102

Desire Bright

Pabitra Mandal
The mynah wife has bathed in the raw gold sun-shine,
Somewhere on the cornice they’ve settled;
It’s of deep reproof, the master hasn’t returned,
So the mistress speaks much chirping at a high pitch and in melody,
As if the entire liability is on her to bear,
A wonderful presentation dear!
The sun-shine in golden slice slips through the railing on to the verandah,
Sitting there for some time, the mynah-wife has emptied her heart in tune
and terms,
Then on witness of that sun-shine and in oath of love,
She flings her wings in the wind
Separation doesn’t exist in mynah’s Love-
She flies away to meet her mate in fullness
Can’t you mend the loss and distress in own right
Like the mynah in desire Bright!

English translation : Author himself

103

›îû†þ#ëûy

xy¢#£ì !ô×

•þyöì†þ xy xyöì¡y îöì¡ ’þy!†þ
ˆyöìSé ˆyöìSé þ›,!íî#îû ö¡‡y
¤î þ›y•þy ~†þîû.y lëû
•þyîû ô%‡ ˜)îû öíöì†þ ö˜‡y
þ›îû†þ#ëûy öô‰=!¡ þ›öì’þüy
î%öìVþ lyG •þyîû †þöì•þy ¡
xyôyöì˜îû ¢îû#öìîûîû ö˜öì¢
¤yîûy!˜l îîûéŸé˜‡¡ƒƒƒ

The Extramarital

Aashish Mishra
I name her luster
Trees keep the scriptures of Earth
(but) Not all leaves share the same color
As I see her from far
Embellished curls of clouds clatter
(You) Feel how wet they are
As on the shores of our skins
A pithy seize hoists colors

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

104

ˆ•þöì§Ãîû ö¡‡y

ö¤ïôly ˜y¢=®

ˆ!’þüöìëû ëyöìFSé ™yîûyîy!¥†þ ¥y•þ•þy!¡
‹þyô’þüyîû öèþ•þîû ö¥öì¤ ’þz‘þ¡ ¼yhsý îy˜%’þü
öæþ’þéŸéxy’þzþ ¥öìëû ëyöìFSé þ›y!‡Ð ~¥zôye ö‹þyëûy¡ î%!öìëû öæþ¡¡ ‡öìëû!îû ~†þþy ö¡y†þˆöìÒîû ö‘þ„yþÐ
xyîû xy¡!èþ ‡%öì¡ îûy‡y †þöìëû†þþy ߺ²À ~‡l ²ÌyíÅly¤‚ˆ#•þ Öîû& †þîûöìî îöì¡ !¤éŸéöôöìîû !‹þê†þyîû †þöìîû ’þz‘þöìSé ~†þþy xˆÅÄylÐ
l#¡éŸé¢y˜y yôy þ›îûy ~†þþy ߺ²À ¡y¥zl öíöì†þ öî!îûöìëû ëyöìFSéÐ
ööì¡öìlï†þyîû öíöì†þ ~†þ˜¡y xy=l èþy!þëûy!¡ ˆy¥zöì•þ ˆy¥zöì•þ ˜Äyöì‡y ~öì¤ îöì¤ þ›’þü¡ ~¥z !îSéylyëû– !‘þ†þ ö•þyôyîû
ô!hßìÜñéŸéöˆy¡y™Å%öì’þüÐ

~¥z ‰öìîû ö˜ëûy¡ ö˜öìî !†þ ö˜öìî ly– ö¤þy xî¢Ä¥z ö•þyôyîû x!•þîÄ!_«ˆ•þ îÄyþ›yîûÐ Ö™% ëî!l†þy þy!.öìëû !˜öì•þ !˜öì•þ
ö•þyôyîû ¥y•þ !èþöì ëyöìFSé– xyîû ‰þôyl î•þÅôyöìlîû öèþ•þîû “%þöì†þ ëyöìFSé ~†þþy ¢#•þ†þy¡Ð ë!˜G ¢#•þ†þy¡ xyôyöì˜îû
xÒ¥z– •þî%G ~¥z îy!¡îû †þyöìþ›Åöìþ •þyöì†þ !î!Séöìëû !˜öì•þ !ˆöìëû ö˜‡öì•þ þ›yFSé– öæÏþyîûöìß›¤G xyôyöì˜îû xÒ¥zÐ

èþ!î£ìĆþy¡ xyîû ~l¡yÅ’þ ¥*˜ëû !löìëû ~†þþy ¥zöìhßì¥yîû xy†þyöì¢îû !˜öì†þ ‹þöì¡ öˆ¡Ð •%þ!ô xyîû öSéöì’þü öîûöì‡ xy¤y
þ›,Ûþyëû !æþîûöì•þ þ›yîûSé ly

Writing from a Previous Birth

Soumana Dasgupta
Perpetual claps roll away
A disorientated bat guffaws within the skin
Birds fade out. Just now the lips of a brown folk-tale sealed its jaws.
And a few dreams with their glottis closed are about to start hymns accompanied
by an organ shrieking in c-major.
A dream clothed in blue and white leaves the line.
From a fishing boat a ball of fire singing Bhatiali songs falls into this bed,
all over your cerebral hemisphere.
Whether you want to put up walls in this room is entirely your wish. Your
hands are getting soaked as you hang curtains, and a winter is creeping
into the present that is. Though we have very little winter, still as you lay
it on this carpet of sand, you realise our floorspace is also very little.
With a future and an enlarged heart, a commercial moves skyward. You
fail to return to the page you were on

English translation : Twisha Dasgupta

105

xy¢y

y¥y!Dîû xyöìî!˜l

†þ# †þöìîû ôöìôyÅkþyîû †þîûöì•þ ¥ëû y!l ly
ö†þî¡ ö¤¥z ²Ìy‹þ#l !¡!þ›îû ‹þyîûþ›yöì¢ ö‰yîûyöìæþîûy †þ!îûÐ
þ›y‘þ ¤½þî ¥öì¡
xèþyöìîîû ¤‚¤yîû ö¥öì¤ ’þz‘þöìî xyöì¡yîû ôöì•þyÐ
ôy xyôyîû x§¬þ›)”Åy ¥öìëû þ›yöì•þ ˆîûô èþy•þ ö“þöì¡ ö˜öìî
öîyöìlîû ¢îû#öìîûîû ’þy¡þ›y¡yëû ’þzöì’þü xy¤öìî þ›y!‡
öôyþy †þyöì‹þîû ‹þ¢ôy þ›öìîû îyîy xyôyîû þ›%öìîûyöìly þ›%„!íîû þ›y•þy G¡þyöìîlÐ
†þ# †þöìîû ôöìôyÅkþyîû †þîûöì•þ ¥ëû y!l ly
ö†þî¡ ö¤¥z ²Ìy‹þ#l !¡!þ›îû ‹þyîûþ›yöì¢ è)þ•%þöì’þü îy¡†þ
¤yîûy ¤¦þÄy ö‰yîûyöìæþîûy †þöìîûÐ

Hope

Jahangir Abedin
I do not know how to find the heart’s content
Just hover around the ancient scriptures
Had it been easier to read
Dearth will turn the dearest as daylight.
My mother will serve hot food on the plates
My sister will blossom with birds around
Having heavy glasses atop his nose, my father will read the old scripts.
I know not how to find the heart’s content
Only a ghostly boy hovers around the ancient scriptures
Throughout the dusk.

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

106

™lÅy

x!èþ!ê ˜_

ö•þyôyîû þ›yöìëûîû l#öì‹þ ¤y˜y þ›y•þy ööìˆ îöì¤ xyöìSéÐ
~‡lG ~†þþyG †þy!¡îû ˜y¤ §Ãyëû!l îöì¡
ö•þyôyîû þ›yöìëûîû l#öì‹þ xyôyîû !lîûÇþîû ¤y˜y þ›y•þy ööìˆ îöì¤ xyöìSéÐ

ô,§Ãëû î#”y– @ýÌyô#” îûy¥„y¤ ~†þöìôöìþ ö˜yöìôöìþ ¡öìþ›„y‹þ韟Ÿé
ö•þyôyöì†þ ‹þÇ%þÜ¿yl †þöìîû !æþöìîû öˆöìSé ¤‚e«yhsý èþ_«þ›%îû&£ì

xyîû •%þ!ô ö†þyl ôsfîöì¡ ö˜î# ¥öìëû öˆSé 韟Ÿéœ

ö†þyöìly!˜l ß%ñöì¡G öˆöì¡ ly–韟Ÿé

xöìBþîû ™yîûG ôy’þüyG!l– •þî%

ö•þyôyîû þ›yöìëûîû l#öì‹þ ˜%éŸéxÇþîû ö‹þöìëû

!lîûÇþîû ¤y˜y þ›y•þy ~†þ¡y ~†þy ööìˆ îöì¤ xyöìS郃ƒ

Dharna

Abhijit Dutta

Under your feet, a blank paper is sitting, awake.
As no menial of ink is born yet
Under your feet, my illiterate blank paper is sitting, awake.

The earthen Vina, rural swan single-layer double-layer watering –
The corresponding devotees have returned after giving you eyesight

And via some chant, you’ve become a Goddess – !

Never had you gone to school, –
Never even touched Mathematics, yet
Under your feet, appealing for a few letters
The illiterate blank paper is sitting alone, awake…

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

107

x!@À

x!èþl¨l ô%öì‡yþ›y™Äyëû

öë ö¡‡y!þ !æþîûöì•þ ‹þyëû x!@À†%þ[þ öþ›!îûöìëû
•þyîû þ›öìí öþ›öì•þ !˜¥z æþ!’þü‚öìëûîû ’þyly
xy¥y †þ# lîûôœ öël •þyîûy öîyly ˆy!¡‹þy ¢îû#îû
xyîûG îûy!‡ †þôö졆þy!ôl#– Ç%þo ¤!îû£ìy ö‡•þ–
xÇþîû¤ô#Çþy xyîû ô,˜%ô¨ îy•þy¤yîû =„öì’þüy
~¤î öèþyöìˆîû l!í ö˜‡yöìî ö¡‡y!þÚ
¤%î”Å ¤ôëû þ›yöìî öþ›!îûöìëû xßË •þyþ›Ú
ly!†þ ö¤¥z ÁÔyl ô%öì‡ μ¡hsý †þyöì‘þîû öSé„yëûy
S%é„öì’þü S%é„öì’þü ö˜öìî ö†þyöìly l˜#îû !l†þöìþÚ
’þzöì’þü ~öì¤y !•þîû
’þzöì’þü ~öì¤y xyôyöì˜îû Çþöìëû ëyGëûy þ›yl#öìëûîû !þ¡y
ö¡‡y!þöì†þ ¡ !˜G– !ßiîû !˜G

!î„öì™ !˜G Ö×*£ìy ö†þyöìly
öë ö¡‡y!þ !æþîûöì•þ ‹þyëû x!@À†%þ[þ öþ›!îûöìëû
xy!ô •þyîû ö†þ’þz l¥z

!Sé¡yô ly †þ‡öìly

108

The Fire

Abhinandan Mukhopadhyay
Crossing the fireplace, the writing, which wishes to return
I spread the grasshopper’s wings out on its way
Ah how soft it is! Just like a starry carpet-body
I put more, O the lady deity, small mustard fields
Survey of words and the powder of gentle sweets
Will the writing show the credentials of these consumptions?
Will it obtain the golden time after numerous afflictions?
Or, will it throw the touches of the burning wood
Near a river, with a face – etiolated?
O arrow, fly away
Fly away, O our decayed hillocks of drinks
Water the writing, offer it stability

Pierce a cure within
The writing, which wishes to return, crossing the fireplace
I’m a nobody to it

Never was I

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

109

!†þöì¢yîû

•þyþ›¤ ˜y¤

öë þ›îûîy¤# x¦þ†þyîû
ˆ)“þü xyöì¡yîû ‹þy˜öìîû
ôy!þ ¥öìëû!Sé¡
xy!ô •þyîû î%öì†þîû þ›„yöìîû
~†þ!þ ôy™î#¡•þyîû ‹þyîûy
îû&öìëû ö˜¥zƒƒƒ
xyöì¡y G x¦þ†þyîû öèþ˜ †þöìîû
x!lîyîû !æþöìîû !æþöìîû xy!¤œ
öë æ%þ¡ öæþyöìþ!l xyG
xy!ô •þyîû ôy™%îû# !î¡y¤#
xy!ô •þyîû x¦þ ¼ôîûœ
ö¤ xyôyöì†þ †þy!¡ëûy ˜öì¥îû þ›yöì¢
~†þy öæþöì¡ ‹þöì¡ !ˆöìëû!Sé¡
ö¤ xyôyöì†þ þ›•þD #îl !˜öìëû öˆöìSé
ö¤ xô,•þ þ›yöìîy öèþöìî
þ›yîöì†þîû þ›yöì¢ ‰%!îû !æþ!îû
þ›%öì’þü ô!îû xyöì¡y G x„y™yöìîûœ

110

The Teenager

Tapas Das
The expatriate darkness
Which turned into soil
Under the esoteric blanket of light
I sow
A plant of Madhavilata
In its ribs…
Penetrating the light and the darkness
I come back again and again!
The flower, which is yet to blossom,
I am the admirer of its pleasantness
I am its blind hornet!
It had left me alone
Beside Kaliya Daha
It had given me the life of an insect
I roam around the sanctifier
I get burnt in the light and the darkness
Aspiring for the ambrosia.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

111

þ›y!‡§Ã

x”Åî ‹þöìRyþ›y™Äyëû

ö¤èþyöìî¥z “þ¡öì•þ “þ¡öì•þ ¤)ëÅyhßì ¥¡– •þyîûþ›îû !î£ì] xyöì¡yëû •%þ!ô !lÅl ¥„y¤ ¥öìëû öˆöì¡Ð ~‡l l%öìëû xy¤y ˜,¢Äþ›þ
öíöì†þ ²Õyîöìlîû ¢· ’þz‘þöìî ¥ëûöì•þyÐ ˜îûöìî¢ þ›y!‡îû ’þylyëû !î¨% !î¨% ¤öì¦þ ôy ¥öìîÐ ö•þyôyîû ˜%éŸéþ›yîû ‡%öì¡ ö˜Gëûy ößËy•þ
ö‘þöì¡ ö‘þöì¡ ×yîhsý# ¢y!’þü î„y†þ ölöìî ÷ߺ!îû”#îû ô%oyëûÐ ¤y!þ›!lîû ôöì•þy x¦þ†þyöìîû– !S駬 öSé„’þüy ˆ’þüöìl lyôöìî y˜%†þöìîûîû
¥y•þ– xyîûG †þ•þ †þ# ‰þöìî ~îûþ›îûÐ ö¢£ì þ›,Ûþyëû xy!ô ~öì†þ ~öì†þ ‡%öì¡ ö˜î– öô˜– ôIy– ¥y’þü ~î‚ •þîûöìDîû ¥¡†þyëû
öèþöì¤ öíöì†þ öíöì†þ †%þ!’þüöìëû ölî þ›y!‡§ÃÐ

The Bird-life

Arnab Chattyopadhay
Sunset went down humbly thus, then you became a duck in the dusky light.
Now the sound of flood may arise from recline backdrop. Droplets of the
evening will be gathered in the wings of bird Darbesh. Pushing the currents,
which set both of your shores free, your rainy saree will take a turn into
the gestures of a lady-autocrat. Amidst a reptilian darkness, the hands of a
magician will come in the shape of a torn structure and many more things
may happen, who knows. I’ll open all my fat, bone, marrow one by one
in the last page and will find the bird-life while floating upon the flock of
waves.

English translation : Haimanti Bandyopadhay & Soham Chakraborty

112

îyîy

öˆï•þô †%þ¡¤#

¤î æ%þ¡ xy¤öì¡ þ›y!‡îû ô•þ¥z ’þz’þüöì•þ ‹þyëû
¤î þ›y!‡¥z æ%þöì¡îû ô•þ ˆyöìSéîû ’þyöì¡ æ%þþöì•þ ‹þyëûÐ

‹þyGëûy þ›yGëûyîû ôyöìVþ韟Ÿé
ˆySé Ö™% ˆySé ¥öìëû ˜„y!’þüöìëû íyöì†þ ~†þyÐ

•þyîû ö†þyöìly ¥öì•þ ‹þyGëûy öl¥z– ߺ²Àþ›)îûl öl¥z
˜#‰y þ›%îû# öî’þüyöì•þ ëyGëûy öl¥z
xyUþy öl¥z– ’þz¥zöì†þuþ þ›y!þÅ öl¥z
!¤!¤!’þ !†þ‚îy ¢!þ›‚ ô¡ !†þFS%é öl¥zÐ

!‘þ†þ öël îyîyœ
¤‡ xyây˜ è%þöì¡ ¤%‡ !î¡y!¤•þy è%þöì¡
¤‚¤yöìîû !lîûhsýîû %!ˆöìëû ëyöìFSél xyîû %!ˆöìëû ëyöìFSélÐ

Father

Goutam Kulsi

All flowers actually want to fly like birds
All birds want to bloom like flowers on the branches of the trees

Between our wants and gains
The tree just stands alone

He has no desire to become anything
He cherishes no dream to come true
Not going to visit Digha Puri
No gossip with friends, no weekend party
Even no CCD or shopping mall

Just like father
Caring least for the pleasures and luxuries
Providing constantly the demands of ours.

English translation : Pom

113

÷¥ôî•þ#

þ›yíÅ!ê ‹þ¨

xy ~¥z Ù¢yöìlîû þ›yöì¢ þ›y!l!¢’þz!¡ @ýÌyô
ö¢£ì !îöì†þöì¡îû ×yî”öìôöì‰îû î%†þ æ%„þöì’þü öîûy˜ ö˜‡y !˜¡
ö˜‡y öˆ¡ ö¤ylyîû öˆy¤yþ›
öì¡îû ß›¢Å !löìëû ¡ Sé¡Sé¡ ö‹þyöì‡ xy†þyöì¢ •þy†þyëû
xyîû xyôyîû öèþ•þöìîû ’þzôy ¥öìëû– ÷¥ôî•þ# îû*öìþ›
“%þöì†þ þ›öì’þü •%þ!ô
¢yhsý ¥yGëûyëû

The Charlotte of Heaven

Parthajit Chanda
Today, at this beautiful village near the crematory
Came alive from the August-rain and Sunbeams
And a Golden newt
Looked up to the sky with a soaked vision
And you, the evening angel, the Charlotte of Heaven, jump into me
With a balmy breeze.

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

114

!ސþƐþ ¡y¥zþ

î!Bþô ö¡þ

îûy•þ xöìl†þ ˜)îû öíöì†þ öèþöì¤ xyöì¤ xyôyîû †þyöìSé
l#¡ îûöì.îû ’þyly •þyîûÐ ¥y•þ G þ›yöìëûîû þ›y•þyëû
lÇþe‡!‹þ•þ ’þz!Íñ– öˆy’þüy!¡ þ›•þöìDîû ‰%.%îû
ö¥ !lëûöìlîû îy!•þhßì½þ– ‰%öìôyG– î¦þ †þöìîûy ö‹þy‡œ
ô¥•þyöìî öèþöì¤ ëy†þ xyôyîû öî’þîû&ô– †þ!æþl
†Ïþyhsýîû!.l ~¥z !¢îû ¤)ëÅô%‡#îû !¢öì£ìîû ôöì•þy
’%þ!îöìëû !˜öì•þ ˜yG Gîû lîûô †þÝîû# ly!èþöì•þ
xyîû ¤†þy¡öìî¡y ¤)öìëÅîû ²Ìyþ›!•þ yæþ!îû ö‡¡%†þ
îy•þyöì¤ ’þz’þühsý x¡öì†þ– îûl#ˆ¦þyîû îûy.y ˆyöì¡

Street Light

Bankim Let
Night comes to me, floating, from far apart
It has blue wings. On its hands and the feet
There are starry tattoos, on its ankles – insect-anklets there are
O the neon lighthouse, you sleep, shut your eyes down!
Let my bedroom and coffin be flooded with moonlight
Let me sink this weary-chromatic head into her tender musk navel
Like the sheaf of the sunflower
And in the morning, let the butterflies of the Sun
Make fringes in the floating hair of the breeze, on the blushed cheeks of tuberose

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

115

ôyöì†þ !löìëû ö¡‡y †þ!î•þy éŸé !•þl

¢Äyô¡ ö˜îlyí

ö’þöì†þ î!¡ xyöì¡yîy•þy¤öì†þ
ôyöìëûîû îû&@À ¢îû#îû öíöì†þ ô%öìSé ˜yG x¤%‡
xöìl†þ!˜l ö†þöìþ ëyëû ô,˜% ¡tþöìlîû þ›yöì¢

x¦þ†þyîû ¥öìëû
þ›y!‡îû ’þyly öíöì†þ !Séþöì†þ þ›’þüy Öèþ¤†þy¡
ôl öèþöì. þ›öì’þü xyöìSé îyîyîû ¢)lÄ þ›öì†þöìþ
öëèþyöìî èþy.y öîû!’þG ‰öìîû¥z þ›öì’þü xyöìSé ‰îû öSéöì’þü

Ode to my Mother 3

Shyamal Debnath
I call light and wind and request to remove all the diseases from my
mother’s sick body.
Days are spent being dark, day by day, beside the gentle lantern.
A spattering morning from the wings of a bird
Lies with broken heart in the empty pocket of my father.
Like a ruined radio stays back in the home - homeless

English translation : Haimanti Bandyopadhay & Soham Chakraborty

116

þ›y•þyëû þ›y•þyëû xy=öìlîû !æþ¤!æþ¤

x!ô•þ ¤y¥y

l•%þl îylyl ö¢‡y ö‘þ„yöìþîû ôöì•þy †þ„yþ›öìSé
î¤öìhsýîû þ›y•þy–
þ›y•þyëû þ›y•þyëû ߺîûî”ÅéŸéöîûy˜œ
’þyöì¡ ’þyöì¡ ÷î¢y‡#éŸéîÄOlyÐ
þ›y!‡öì˜îû ’þylyëû Vþyþ›þ ôyîûöìSé xlhsý ¤½þyîlyœ
þ›y•þyöì˜îû ²ÌFSéöì˜ ‰%!ôöìëû þ›öì’þüöìSé ö†Ïþyöìîûy!æþ¡
ö¥ ߺ²À†þy.y¡œ xy=l ö˜öì‡Sé
˜Äyöì‡y!l ¤¡öì•þöì•þ !l/ߺ ¥Gëûy ö†þöìîûy!¤lœ
xÇþöìîûîû xyd•þÄyöìˆ ö˜!‡ ²Ì!•þ!þ þ›y•þyëû èþy£ìy¤‚öìÙÕ£ì–
¥y¥zöìæþöìlîû ôöì•þy ¥y•þ îy’þüyöìly ’þyöì¡îû
!þ›„þ›öì’þü ¤y!îûöì•þ xyG ˜%!èþÅÇþ¥z x„y†þyÐ
!lèþhsý öôyôîy!•þ öíöì†þ¥z ²Ìíô =ôîûyöì•þ ö¢‡yÐ
îöìþîû V%þ!îûöì•þ ölöìô xy¤y x¦þ†þyöìîû xyöìy Ö!l
!löìèþ ëyGëûy ¤¡öì•þöì•þ xy=öìlîû !æþ¤!æþ¤
xyôîûy ’þz!l¢ƒƒƒ

xyôîûy ’þz!l¢ƒƒƒ
xyôîûy ’þz!l¢ƒƒƒ

117

Fire through the Branches

Amit Saha
Lips are trembling just as the newly learned words spoken
The leaves of springs (now)
with the vowelish sun upon them!
and the charm of summer through the branches.
And Opportunities flapping on birds’ wings!
The chlorophyll on the cover page of the leaves,
Sleeping
Oh poor thing, you have seen fire
But not the burn at its core
The scribble of letter murmurs as fallen leaves,
and scattered branches as meager hyphens
Find famines through the rows of ants.
It’s a candle that lights and burns calmly.
The darkness of the evening shades hum the aria
As smoke hisses to the core of the burned lamp
We are Nineteens...

We are Nineteens...
We are nineteens...

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

118

¢•þÅ¥#l

¤îĤy‹þ# ¥yîûy

lÁË™ç!l !˜öìëû †þyþ›’þü †þy‹þyîû þ›îû
ëyîûy îy öl¢y îy öl¤y
¤yöìí öëyˆyöìëyˆ ‰óöì£ì
öþÆl xyöìl öèþ•þöìîû
xyGëûy xyöìl öîy!¡‚öìëû
lyëûöì†þ
†þíyþyëû
öþ!¡‡%î †þîûöìSé xyôyîû þ›y!‡öì•þG
ôöì™Ä ôöì™Ä¥z !˜G ~†þþy ’þy†þ îy‚öì¡y’þyöì†þîû
xy.%¡
ô%‡ †þy‹þyîû þ›îû
~¥z †þ„y‹þyôy¡
ôyl%£ì ÷•þ!îûöì•þ

‹þ„y˜öì†þ !˜¡yô
îÄy!þ‚öìëû
xylÁË ö˜¢ †þy‹þyîû þ›îû
xyôîûy óôyl%£ìó
èþy£ìöì”

¢•þÅ¥#l

119

Unconditional

Sabyasachi Hazra
After washing the clothes with tender tunes
Who, crazily rubbing the conversations
With the soap,
Brings the train in,
Brings sound in the bowling,
In the word
Hero
My bird is also startled
Give me a call often, I offer the moon
The dak-bungalow’s finger
After washing the mouth
To create humans
After washing the courteous country
With batting
We, the people,
Are unconditional

In speeches…

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

120

¤Á›†þÅ

ö†þï!¢†þ ‹þe«î•þÅ#

¤ôhßì xhsý/†þ¡öì¥îû ö¢öì£ì þ›öì’þü xyöìSé xlhsý öëïîl
öVþöì’þüô%öìSé öîûöì‡ ˜yG ô!¡l ¤Á›†þÅ=öì¡y
¥z!•þ þylîyîû xyöìˆ ¤î†þ!þ xl%è)þ!•þ ëy‹þy¥z †þöìîûy ¤hsýþ›Åö씃ƒƒ

öþ›öì¡ öþ›öì•þG þ›yöìîûy
þ›%îûöìly ¤‚‰yöì•þîû ôöì™Ä Ööìëû íy†þy öˆyþ›l ~†þ•þyîûy韟Ÿ
¤ôhßì !ô!Séöì¡îû x@ýÌèþyöìˆ ‡%„öì öþ›öì•þG þ›yöìîûy !löìîû ²Ì!•þ†,þ!•þÐ

²Ì!•þ!˜l ëyöì˜îû †þ!î•þy ¡y¡l †þîûîyîû †þíy !Sé¡ l•%þl †þ!æþöìl
xy‰y•þ †þöìîû ö‡y¡îyîû †þíy !Sé¡ ‚™îûy •þy¡y
•þyîûy xy ôy!¡¢ †þîûöìSé þ›‹þl ™îûy !l!îÅîy˜# ¢îû#îûƒƒƒ

öëïîöìlîû !‘þ†þ þ›öìîû xyîyîû l•%þl §Ã
~¥z !lëûöìô¥z ˆöì’þü!þ›öì‘þ ÷•þ!îû ¥ëû !l•þÄl•%þl lyöìSéy’þü ¤Á›†þÅ=öì¡yÐ

The Relationship

Kausik Chakraborty
Even after all broken waves, there is a saturated love
I can choose the territory amongst the glimpse of the relationship
Forget about the endless hallucination
Remove the dust of the dream before getting sold off
Find the closer mist across the garden
Every scenario is gorgeous without fear
Lean out the door, look at the mirror
The portrait might be enlarged as before
Everyday we shift the depression upto the coffin
Those who are mesmerised about the poetry
Trying to reveal the deteriorating truth
How do the growth of a new ancestry redefined
The admirable relationship began to disclose.

English translation : Author himself

121

xöìþ›Çþy

¢#öì£ìŨ% þ›y¡

öë ö†þyl xöìþ›Çþyîû lyô ~†þþy þ›y¥y’þü
ö†þyl!˜l •þ„yîû †þyöìSé ößËy•þ ‹þy¥z!l xy!ô
†þ!‘þl ö†þyô¡ Séy!þ›öìëû ¡ ölöìôöìSé ëyöì˜îû
xöìþ›Çþy ¥öì•þ þ›yöìîû ly !†þS%éöì•þ¥z

~•þ ¢· ~•þ •þ#îÊ xy†%þ!•þƒƒƒ
xöìþ›Çþyëû ~†þ%þ l#îûî íy†þöì•þ ¥ëû
Çþ#”öìßËy•þy îöìëû ëyöìî ~†þ
!èþöì ëyöìî ˆyöìSéöì˜îû x˜,¢Ä þ›y

²Ì•þ#Çþy ¤Méþëû ¥ëû l%!’þü þ›yíöìîû

öôy¥îû ôyöìî ö¤ ’þyly öôöì¡ ëyGëûyîû
xy!ô •þ„yîû þ›y˜öì˜öì¢ î!¤– î%Vþöì•þ þ›y!îû韟Ÿé
xöìlöì†þ¥z %þ†þöìîûy xöìþ›Çþy öîûöì‡ öˆöìSé
öìô !ˆöìëû þ›yíîû ¥öìëûöìSé ‡%îÐ

Waiting

Shirshendu Pal

Waiting is the namesake of mountain
Never did I ask resilience from him
Those who offer cascade eroding the soft one
Can never be called waiting

Commotion, frantic fervidity fail to reach
The silence that waiting demands
A rivulet may make its way
To wet the trees’ unseen feet

Pebbles beside record the waiting moments

He collects mohur to have wings
I sit underfoot... I realise
Many a fragment of waiting is left after him
To be piled and form a mountain.
English translation : Author himself

122

öy†þyîû

ö¤ï!èþ†þ îöì¨Äyþ›y™Äyëû

!îîyöì¥îû ²Ì!•þ×&!•þ !˜öìëû ¤¥îyöì¤îû öíöì†þ
xöìl†þ î’þü xþ›îûy™
¤¥îyöì¤îû ²Ì!•þ×&!•þ !˜öìëû !îîy¥ŸŸŸé
öë öôöìëû!þ ~¥z †þíy î¡öìî–
•þyöì†þ ‡%î èþy¡ ö¡öìˆ ëyöìî xyôyîû–
xy!ô •þyîû lyô ö˜îŸŸŸéòö‡y¡yôlóÐ
!î£ìëûþy ö¤þy lëû–
xy¤¡ îÄyþ›yîû ¥¡–
!îîy¥ G ¤¥îyöì¤îû ôöì™Ä–
¤¥zéŸé¤yî%˜ G ¤%ˆ!¦þ †þöìuþyöìôîû ôöì™Ä–
ö†þylG ~†þ !î¨%öì•þ
öî„öìþ öy†þyöìîûîû ôöì•þy ˜„y!’þüöìëû íyöì†þ ~†þlÐ
þ›y•þyVþîûyîû ¢öì·îû öèþ•þöìîû ˜„y’þüyöìly
ö¤¥z !lîû#¥– x!•þ ¤y™yîû” ö¡y†þ!þöì†þ
xyôîûy xylôöìl òö²Ìôó îöì¡ ’þy!†þÐ

123

The Clown

Souvik Bandyopadhyay
Compared to intercourse with the assurance of marriage,
Marriage with the assurance of intercourse
Is a way big crime –
The girl, who’ll say this,
I’ll start to like her to a great extent,
I’ll name her – ‘open-minded’.
That’s not the issue,
The actual matter is that
Between marriage and intercourse,
Between signatures and aromatic condoms,
At some point
Someone like a short clown stands still.
We call the innocent and extremely ordinary man,
Standing amidst the sound of falling leaves
As ‘love’, unmindfully.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

124

†þy†þ•þy’þYëûy

x!‹þhsýÄ ôy#

¤öì£ìÅöìÇþöì•þ ’þzF‹þ!¢îû !†þ½%þ•þ †þy†þ•þy’þYëûy
!îhß,ì•þ ¥¡%öì˜îû l#îûî ’þz˜ˆ#îûöì”îû þ›yöì¢ öþ›y’þüy ¥„y!’þüîû ôyíy
†%þ˜†%þöì˜ îÊáþ†þyöì¡yîû ôyöìVþ æ%þöìþ ’þzöì‘þöìSé
‡!’þüîû =„öì’þüyëû ö¡þ›y ö‹þy‡ ly†þ ˜„y•þ
§Ãô%à•þÅ öíöì†þ¥z ô%‡ öèþ‚!‹þöìëû !¥ !¥ †þöìîû ¥y¤öìSé
†þ˜y†þyîû ô%öì‡ ¡yî”Ä öl¥z xþ›îû*þ› μ¡öìl !îkþ ¥öìëû xyöìSé x„y!‡
æþy•þlyîû ôöì•þy ¥y•þ îy•þyöì¤ þ›•þþ›•þ †þöìîû
†þyÛþ˜öì[þîû xöìD ôëû¡y †þy!l ’þüyöìly
xöì‹þly ²Ì•þyöìþ›îû öyëûyöìîû †þy†þ•þy’þYëûy ¥öìëû Göì‘þ î#èþê¤ ö²Ì•þöìëy!l
¥yyôy‡yy ö˜¥‡y!löì•þ ‰%îû‰%îû †þöìîû xlyôëû xy!˜ô ey¤Ð
e«ô¢ îy•þy¤G hßì¸þ ¥¡
öþ›y†þyôy†þ’þü †þ#þþ›•þD ö†þ’þz †þyöìSé ö‰„£ìöìSé ly
~†þ˜¡  èþ#ôîû*öìþ› x„y•þöì†þ ’þzöì‘þ öˆ„y•þ öˆ„y•þ †þöìîû þ›y¡y¡
ô„îû# öˆ„yyöìly öþöì†þy ôyíyëû èþîû †þöìîû xyöìSé îl!î!îîû öe«y™
xy¥•þ– ’þzaylîû!¥•þ xöìD ô,•%þÄîû îû. Sé’þüyëû
•%þ!ô îà˜)îû öíöì†þ ö˜‡Sé ~¥z ’þz§Ãy˜ xlyöì¡y!†þ•þ ˜%öìëÅyˆ
•þy!îûöìëû •þy!îûöìëû ’þzþ›öìèþyˆ †þîûSé öîûyô¢ ²Ì¡öìëûîû ¢„y¤Ð

125

The Scarecrow

Achintya Majee
In the mustard field there’s a bizarre scarecrow, with its head high
Beside the outstretched yellow explosion
The head of a burnt pot
Amidst the intense cosmic black, the eyes nose and teeth,
Smeared with the chalk-dust, have emerged
From the very moment of birth
It has been grinning
No beauty is there in its ugly face, in a wonderful ignition
The eyes are stuck
Hands tremble in wind like a fishing rod
Across the body of the wooden-pole a filthy rag is wrapped
Strengthened with a unknown prowess the scarecrow becomes
A ghoulish phantom
In its deformed body, a healing primordial consternation
Wanders around.
Gradually even the wind ceased to flow
Even the insects are not coming nearby
Getting frightened enormously, a herd of oxen ran away
With their typical cry
Its sprouted bald head has the
Anger of Banabibi in it
In the injured and non-erected organs, the colour of death is spread out
You are looking at this crazy and gloomy disaster
From a great distance
You are relishing greatly the flesh of the holocaust.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

126

öì¡îû Gþ›îû þ›y¡†þ öèþöì¤ ëyöìFSé

ö¤ïôÄ!ê xy‹þyëÅ

öì¡îû Gþ›îû þ›y¡†þ öèþöì¤ ëyöìFSé
~•þ þ›y¡†þ öë ¡¥z ö˜‡y ëyöìFSé ly
öîûyöì˜îû xyöì¡yëû þ›y¡†þ=öì¡y îû!.l
öël ™yöìlîû Gþ›îû ö¤yly
˜%þ›yöì¢ ¤yîû öî„öì™ ˜„y!’þüöìëû xyöìSé ö¡y†þ
~ ˜,¢Ä ö˜‡öìS郃ƒ
öì¡îû Gþ›îû þ›y¡†þ öèþöì¤ ëyöìFSé
þ›y¡öì†þîû l˜# öël îöìëû ëyöìFSé ˜)öìîû
öyê߬yëû þ›y¡†þ=öì¡y ôyëûyôëû
öël !¢Öîû lîûô xyD%¡
˜%þ›yöìîû ¤yîû öî„öì™ ˜„y!’þüöìëû íy†þy ˆySé
~ ˜,¢Ä ö˜‡öìSé
öì¡îû Gþ›îû þ›y¡†þ öèþöì¤ ëyöìFSé
î%öì’þüy þ›y!‡öì˜îû–
öy†þyöìîûîûƒƒƒ
xyîû ö¥öìîûy †þ!îöì˜îû

127

Feathers are floating on water

Saaumyajit Acharya
Feathers are floating on water.
So many feathers that water is invisible.
Sunlight makes the feathers colourful
Just like a golden harvest.
Both sides are standing people
Observing the scene...
Feathers are floating on water.
As if feather-river is flowing far away.
In the moonlight the feathers look lovable
Just like a tender baby fingers.
Both sides are standing trees
Observing the scene...
Feathers...
Those are of old birds,
Of jokers
And loser poets...

English translation : Author himself

128

ˆêÙ¢yl

ö¤ï!èþ†þ =¥¤îû†þyîû

~¥z x¦þ†þyöìîû ˆyl !¡‡öì•þ îöì¡yÚ
xyôîûy •%þFSé †þíy öíöì†þ •%þFSé †þíyëû ‹þöì¡ !ˆöìëû!SéÐ öîûyöìˆîû þ›,!íî#öì•þ x!hßìc •%þFSé ¥öìëû öˆöìSéÐ
ö‹þly ôyl%öì£ìîû †þBþy¡ xöì‹þly ¥öìëûöìSéÐ xyôyöì˜îû èþëû †þîîû xyîû !‹þ•þy öíöì†þ ’þzöì‘þ ~öì¤öìSéÐ
ö•þyôyëû öSé„yëûyîû †þíy !Sé¡Ð †þíy !Sé¡ ö•þyôyîû ö†þyô¡•þyëû þ›!îûîÊyöì†þîû ôöì•þy †þîûî ¼ô”Ð
xí‹þ xyôyîû ¢îû#öìîû èþëû– ö•þyôyîû ¢îû#öìîû xy•þBþÐ Ù¢yöìlîû öèþ•þîû ˜„y!’þüöìëû xyôîûyÐ ‹þyîûþ›yöì¢ öþ›y’þüy ôy‚öì¤îû ‰Êy”Ð
x×&¡ xyîû ¥y¥y†þyöìîû xy†þy¢ öèþöì¤ ëyëû
~¥z x¦þ†þyöìîû ˆyl !¡‡öì•þ îöì¡yÚ
xy!ô ö†þî¡ ˆyöìl ˆyöìl x¦þ†þyîû !¡öì‡ ëy¥z ƒ ƒ ƒ

World Crematorium

Souvik Guhasarkar
You ask me to write a song in this darkness.
We move from frivolous words to insubstantial talks. Existence is not
worth a rupee in this world of Disease.
We refuse to acknowledge the skeleton of people we know. Our fears have
crawled out of graves and pyres.
We wanted to touch each other so desperately. I had dreamed of travelling
throughout your tenderness like a hitchhiker.
Yet– fear lurks in me and you are terrified. We stand in the middle of a
vast crematorium. Smell of burnt flesh sticks to our nostrils.
Skies drown in tears and cries of devastation
You ask me to write a song in this darkness.
I can just pen down darkness in every song that I write...

English translation : Author himself

129

!‹þ¥«

!îÙ»!ê

¤î!†þS%é ö•þyôyîû ô•þ Vþöìîû þ›’þüöìSé
¤î!†þS%é ö•þyôyîû ô•þ ˆÅlƒƒƒ
òlyóéŸé~îû ôyöìVþG
~†þþy èþyöì¡yîy¤y îyëû íyöì†þÐ
xyîûG l#îûöìî ö‡öì¡ ëyëû–
xyîûG l#îûöìî !¥ôîû_«
²Ì!•þ˜yl †þ‡lG ²Ì!•þ™ç!l ¥ëû ly
Ö™% !‹þ¥«éŸé¥z öíöì†þ ëyëûƒƒƒ

Mark

Biswajit
Everything is falling down like you
Like you, everything is a roar…
Even in a ‘no’
A love is maintained.
More silently cold-blood,
More silently flows
Payoff never becomes an echo
Remains just as a mark…

English translation : Haimanti Bandyopadhay & Soham Chakraborty

130

ö„þ!þ› Séyˆ¡ G •þyîû ™)¤îû !î£ì]•þy

öˆï•þô ¤îû†þyîû

þ›y•þ¡y ¥öìëû xyöì¤ ¢·
èþyîû•þèþyˆ– öîû’þ!†Ïþæþ– ôy’þzrþ– †þ#¤îœ †þ#¤îœ
•þ‡l xy!ô ¤öìî þ›y•þyéŸéˆyè%þîûÐ yôyþ›îûy îëû¤Ð
ö†þySéyëû ö“þöìþ›îû ‡¥z ö‡öì•þ ö‡öì•þ ‡%„!Sé¡yô
xyôyîû ö„þþ›# Séyˆ¡þyöì†þ
Göì†þ îyîû” †þ!îû– •þî%G ö•þyôyöì˜îû ’þyDy!ôîû
‰y¤ Gîû ‡%î !ôöì‘þ ¡yöìˆÐ
ö˜ïöì’þü xyöì¤ xy!†þô%!jl Séîûy
~†þˆy¡ †þþ†þþ †þöìîû ‹þyëû– xy=l ¥öìî îöì¡ ¥„y†þyëû
!†þv
ú ¤î ú ¤î ¢· Ööìl
xyôyîû ö„þþ›# ~†þîyîû ô%‡ •%þöì¡ŸŸŸé
xyîyîû ‹þ’þüöì•þ íyöì†þƒƒƒ

131

The Goat Tnepi and Her Grey Melancholia

Goutam Sarkar
The sound gets faint
Partition, Radcliffe, Mount, Whatever!
Whatever!
I was merely a child then. Age was little.
While eating some parched rice from my lappet,
I was finding my goat Tnepi
I prohibit her, yet she finds
The grass of your land
To be very sweet.
Akimuddin Chhara comes running,
Frowns angrily, Warns that
There may be a fire
But
Hearing all those sounds
My Tnepi just looks up once –
And continues to roam…

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

132

lyþô!¨öìîûîû ˆyl

¤%¡ ¤y¥y

¡ xyîû xy=öìlîû •þ#îÊ ¤¥îy¤ ôy‡y
!lîûyèþîû” ö•þyôyîû ¢y‡yëû ¢y‡yëû xyöì¡yæ%þ¡
ö˜yöì¡Ð ¥yöì•þ öîyly l#¡ ö¤yöìëûþyîû
öþ!î¡ †Ïþöìíîû xyÙ‹þëÅ î%ll ö˜!‡Ð
!߬?þ öîûïoSéyëûy ¡ ¥yGëûyîû l#öì’þü ¤öìæþ˜ ¢îû#îû
yöìˆÐ îûô”#öôy¥l î„y!¢!þ îyy¥zÐ

èþyô !î’þüyöì¡îû ö‹þyöì‡ †þyôîûy.y l˜#
xy•þöìBþîû öô‰ ö†þöìþ VþîûVþöìîû öîûy˜
ö•þyôyîû ˆèþ#öìîû ²Ìy‹þ#l !¢¡y!¡!þ›
!l!îņþyîû •þyîûyöì˜îû †þ•þ †þíy îyöìÐ
lyþô!¨öìîûîû ˆyl ¡ †þyôly
îy¤ly ˜#þ› ¥yöì•þ ö•þyôyöì†þ ly‹þy¥zÐ

Songs Of A Play House

Sujal Saha

Luminous flowers swing in the branches
Of your nude smeared with the cohabitation
Of water and fire- I see the embellishments
Of hand knitted blue sweater and table cloth
Your body wakes nested by brilliant sunlight– water
And air- I toot the flute enticing the lass
The lustful river in the eyes of a civet
The sunbeams peep through the scary cloud
The untold stories of inscription and the stars
Ring in your ravine- I make you dance
illuminated with the songs of a play house
And my volatile desires never end

English translation : Uttam Basak

133

èþyöì¡yîy!¤

x¡!_«†þy ‹þe«î•þÅ#

þ›!îe !†þS%é ˜%/‡ ôyíyëû †þöìîû îûy!‡éŸŸŸé

¤#ôyly S%é„öìëû ëyëû ¡•þyëû þ›y•þyëû
xyîû xßË ö‹þly ¤öì§Ãy¥lîûy!¢–

ö¤yF‹þyöìîû ö˜‡yëû ö¤¥z öô‰¡y öôöìëû
˜%öì‹þyöì‡ ëyîû ôl‡yîûyþ› xyîû
™)öìþ›îû ö™„yëûyîû ôöì•þy ö†þyô¡yD#

lîûô ô%öì‘þyëû ™öìîû îûy!‡ þ›y¢yþ›y!¢–

ö¤„%!•þîû xy!˜ô ˆ¦þ †þöìî ö†þyl ô¥y†þy¡
†%þ!’þüöìëû æþ¤Åy îû. èþ!îûöìëû x„y‹þ¡
öþöìl !löìëû !߬?þ•þyëû þ›y¢yþ›y!¢ î!¤–

î’þü †þîû&” ö¤ öîöì G‘þy
~îû¥z lyô †þ#ƒƒƒÚ

Love you

Alaktika Chakraborty
I bear some sacred melancholic chalice safely on my head...
It touches the limit with shrubs and bushes
And numerous known hypnotic abundance
The cloudy countenance of that lass looks loudly
Sorrow filled both the eyes
Here is as soft as smoke of incense
Let’s hold her amid the palm side by side
Earthen light emits aroma among the space
Let’s pick up the colourful fruits to fill up mother’s sack
Pull her abreast adoringly in sitting posture
So compassionate the Clarion sounds
What her name is...?

English translation : Author himself

134

x!ß¿ öèþyöìîûîû öÇþ•þ

ö¤ïîûèþ î™Ål

x!ß¿ öèþyöìîûîû öÇþ•þ öþ›!îûöìëû
‹þöì¡öìSé xyôyöì˜îû þ›y
Ù¢yöìlîû ¢îöì™yëûy xyöì¡yîû †þyöìSé
öë‡yöìl ~†þyhsýîû ö†þyöìly îû¤ öl¥z
Ö™% ˜)îû ¥öì•þ ~†þ!þ î†þ xyîûG ˜)öìîû
xyôyîû ¥„yþyîû ‹þy!îûþ›yöì¢ ’þzöì’þü ‹þöì¡
öël îöì†þîû †þy§¬y !²Ìëû lëû †þyöìîûy
•þî% †%þëûy¢yîû þ›˜öìÇþþ›†þyîû# ö¤
™î¡ ¤y˜yîû ôöì•þy !l/¤D– ô,•%þÄîû þ›öìÇþ
•þyîû ¼*öìÇþþ› lyôôye ¥öìëû íyöì†þ
•þyîû ’þyöì†þ ˜,öì¢Äîû îû*þ›yhsýîû– xí‹þ
!²Ìëû !l/ߺ ¥y!îûöìëû!Sé xyôîûy韟Ÿé
~öì•þy èþyîû# hßìîû†þ„yþy öèþyîû ~‡l
~öì•þy æ%þ¡ xyôyîû þ›yöìëû
~‡lG ‹þ„y˜ ö¡öìˆ xyöìSé •þyöì•þœ
xlöìhsýîû èþyöìîû x¤¥Ä ¥öìëûöìSé Çþ”
¤˜Ä þ›!îe ¥Gëûy ¥y’þüöìˆy’þü
™%öìëû öˆöìSé ö¤ þ›öìí– öë þ›öìí xöìl†þ ¡
¥y!îûöìëû öæþöì¡ !˜¢yÐ x!ßi !Åöìlîû ‰yöìþ
î#™yl ôyíy‹þyîûy !˜öìëû Göì‘þ– ’þzöì‘þ ˜Äyöì‡
‹%þ!ÍÔîû öô‰ æ%„þöì’þü ²Ìy” ’þzöì’þü öˆöìS韟Ÿé

135

My dawn-field

Sourav Bardhan
My dawn-field is crossing our feet
Near the dead-light of crematory
Where there is no alternating sap
Rather an egret from far to farther
Keep flying around my walk--
As if his cry is not dear to anyone
Yet he’s the one who steps on the fog
As lonely as white, in favor of death
He puts a nominal glance, but
The morphing of the scene at his call
Have lost our dearest woe
Such a heavy stratified dawn it is!
So many flowers at my feet
And the moon is still attached to it
The moment has become unbearable
Beneath the weight of eternity
And the newly sanctified bones
Washed through the way, the way where
Waters lose direction in hap
And at the shore of ossification
The seed looks up with the green-head
And gets the life has blown away
Through the clouds of the furnace--

English translation : Author himself

136

‹þy!¥˜y

!îû•þy !ôe

ë•þþy xyd†þíl !Sé¡ ˆöìÒîû !èþ•þîû
•þ•þþy¥z Çþô•þyîû îÄy!® !Sé¡Ð
xyöì¡ySéyëûy ôy‡y ‹þ!îûe =öì¡yîû !l!˜ÅÜT ö†þyöìly ö‹þ¥yîûy !Sé¡ly ö†þyöìly!˜l¥zÐ
¡Vþöì’þü ¤„yöì†þyîû ’þzþ›îû öþöìl •%þ¡!Sé öþ›y£ì ôyly þ›y ˜%öìþyöì†þ
!†þv ö˜ôyöìˆîû ö‰y’þüy!þöì†þ ¡yˆyô þ›îûyöì•þ îÄíÅ ¥öìëû
e«ô¢ ö¥öì¡ þ›’þü!Sé x¦þ†þyöìîûîû ö˜Gëûyöì¡
‹þy!¥˜yîûy !ô!Sé¡ †þöìîû !‰öìîû ™îûöìSé xyôyîû ߬yëû%•þsf
•þyöì˜îû ¥y!¤îû îyöìl ’%þöìî ’%þöìî öî„öì‹þ xy!Sé ö†þyöìlyôöì•þÐ

Demand

Rita Mitra
As much autobiographical was the story
That much was the stretch of might.
The shaded characters never had any shape, ever.
I am dragging up the tamed-legs upon the foot-bridge
But Gradually leaning upon the dark wall
As it’s hard to rein the Ego
Demands are wrecking my nerves
And I am gasping over their ridicules.

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

137

xöì†Ïþöì¢ ’%þy•þyîû

¤%îÊ•þ l¨#

˜,!ÜTîû ²Ì!•þî¦þ# îû*öìþ› xy¡ ™öìîû ¥„yþöì•þ ö¢‡y–
xîyhßìöìîîû ôy¥z¡æþ¡öì†þ ߺ²À!î¡y¤# ¥Gëûy–
þ›˜Åyîû Gþ›yöìîû îû!.l ߺöì²Àîû #îl!‹þe x„y†þyœ
¤îþy¥z ¤yyöìly ¼ô– xöìôy‰ xy†þ£ìÅöì”îû xyà!•þÐ
y!l xîöì¢öì£ì ¢)lÄ•þyîû ¥y•þSéy!lîû ²Ì!•þ™ç!l–
ôy!l ¡¡yþ !¡‡öìl !îî”Å•þyîû ²Ì!•þ!îÁº x!hsýöìô–
•þî%G #îhsý x™Äyöìëû Séy¥z ‹þyþ›y xl¡ ‡%„!œ
!æþ!l: þ›y!‡îû ôöì•þy xöì†Ïþöì¢ ’%þy•þyîû x!@À†%þuþ¡#öì•þÐ

Diving Easily

Subrata Nandi
Walking across the field being a visually handicapped,
Being a dreamer of unreal milestones,
Behind the curtain, drawing the lively sketches of colourful dreams!
All are pretended illusions, sacrifices of infallible attractions.
I know, at last, there’ll be an echo of the void’s call,
I admit, at last, there’ll be the shadow of pallor in my fate,
Yet I find the suppressed fire inside the living chapters!
Dive easily into the fire-rings like the bird Phoenix.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

138

ôl‡yîûyöìþ›îû þ›yöì¢

ô!¨îûy ö‰y£ì

¥¡öì˜ ö†þyl ôl‡yîûyöìþ›îû þ›yöì¢ îöì¤y
öëèþyöìî î,!ÜTîûy xyhsý!îû†þ ö‡y¡y yl¡yîû þ›yöì¢
x!lîyëÅ ö†þyöìly öô‰ !‹þöìl !löì•þ ¥ëû

†þíyîû xy†þy¢ !‹þöìîû
öëèþyöìî !îKþyþ›öìl “%þöì†þ þ›öì’þü öˆy¡y!þ› þ›y¡†þ
þ›yíîûG %þ†þöìîûy ¥öì•þ yöìl ôy!þîû xl%löìëû
¥y•þ ¥yîûyöìlyîû ˆöìÒ †þy§¬y ôyöìþ› l˜#
~¥z ¤î x!lîyëÅ ’þz_öìîû •%þ!ô
x„y†þöì•þ þ›yöìîûy þ›y!‡öì˜îû x„y•þy•þ
èþyîöì•þ þ›yöìîûy öèþyöìîûîû !¡!îöì’þyöì•þ

!¢!¢öìîûîû ¤æþ¡•þyîû †þíy
ëy !˜öìëû ~†þþy ’þzyl ¤öì¦þ

!ôöì¢ ëyëû öîûyöì˜îû ‹þ!îûöìe

139

By the saddened heart

Mandira Ghosh
Sit by some grieving amber–
The way rains fervently splashes against the pane
And cognize an inevitable cloud–
By scraping welkin of words–
The way a pinkish crest trespasses flyers
If earth bids– pebbles too know how to accede and crumb
And rivers can weigh wails to the tales of loss
To these inexorable answers You
Can etch the accord of birds
And envisage over a dawning lust
The coup of morning dews–
With which the tides of dusk
Fuses with the hues of sun

English translation : Rima Ghosh

140

öîû¡¡y¥zl

x!èþ!ê þ›y¡öì‹þï™%îû#

˜%ó!þ ¤ôyhsýîûy¡ ¡y¥zl
ôyöìVþ xly!î¡ ¢)lÄ•þy
ö†þyíy öíöì†þ Öîû&
ö†þyíyëû îy ö¢£ì
xyly •þyó

Ö™% ˜)îûyˆ•þ †þy§¬yîû à¥z¢¡îy•þy¤ èþy!îû †þöìîû ƒƒƒ

Rail lines

Abhijit Palchoudhuri

Two parallel lines
Unadulterated vaccum
In between
Starts from where
Where it ends
Unknown that is

Only a remote whistle of crying
Saddens the air

English translation : Author himself

141

lyîû# lyöìô l˜# þEnglish translation : Subir Ghosh

æþ!þ†þ ö‹þï™%îû#

lyîû#öì†þ l˜# ¥öì•þ ö˜öì‡!Sé
ö†þôl ö“þ’þz •%þöì¡ îöìëû ëyëûœ

þ›%îû&£ìöì†þ !†þ þ›y¥y’þü î¡îÚ
˜,“þüöì‹þ•þy ‹)þ’þüy !löìëû
öë ˜„y!’þüöìëû íyöì†þœ

l˜# ö•þy îûbˆèþÅy– ˜%¥z þ›yöì’þü
¤î% ¤‚¤yîû ˆöì’þü ö•þyöì¡
¤èþÄ•þyîû §Ã ö˜ëûÐ

x¤èþÄ þ›%îû&£ì •þSélSé †þöìîû !˜öì¡G
¤îÅ‚¤¥y þ›,!íî#îû ôöì•þy
lyîû# ÷™öìëÅ x!î‹þ¡ íyöì†þÐ

~¥zôye l˜#öì†þ lyîû# ¥öì•þ ö˜‡¡yôÐ

River alias damsel

Phatik Choudhury

I’ve seen a damsel to be a river
how it flows admist the ripples!
May I call a man a hill?
that stands still with a stopic pick!
A river is a mother of all Jems,
it creates green world
alongside both the banks.
River develops civilization.
Even a lumpen may tear off a female
but she can keep up her cool
as like the mother-earth
who can bear all pangs.

Thus I’ve seen a river just now
become a women.

142

›yíîû xíîy îîûæþ †þy!¥l#

¢#¡y !îÙ»y¤

•þyîûþ›îû Çþ•þßiyl öíöì†þ þ›y¥y’þü ¤ô%o ˆySé öî!îûöìëû xyöì¤ xyîû þ›öì’þü íyöì†þ xæ%þîûhsý ¼ô”Ð l#¡ ¤öìîûyîîû öíöì†þ þ›p
•%þöì¡ lyGÐ ö†þyíyG ö†þyöìly æþyþ¡ ö‹þyöì‡ þ›öì’þü lyÐ ¡þ›í ö¤¥z ö•þy ö×Ûþ þ›í •þy x×&¥z ö¥y†þ îy ¤,!ÜTÐ ö†þ’þz yöìl
ly †þ‡l •%þ!ô þl þl þ›yíîû xíîy îîûæþ !ôöìëû öæþ¡Sé ¤Á›öì†þÅîû öˆy’þüyëûÐ •þyîûþ›îû ~†þ!˜l ¥y!¤ è%þöì¡ ëyGÐ ¡yèþy
!ˆ¡öì•þ !ˆ¡öì•þ þ›,!íî#G ~†þ!˜l ¢yhsý ¥öìëû xyöì¤ öëôl ¥y¥y†þyîû öæþ¡öì•þ öæþ¡öì•þ ôyl%£ìÐ

Tale of ice and rock!

Shila Biswas
And then mountains, oceans and trees emerge from the wounds, and only
the endless wandering is left behind. Pick up the lotus from the blue lake.
There are no cracks in sight. After all, the waterways are the greatest of
them all, be it the streams of tears or creation. No one knows when you had
accumulated tons of rocks or ice at the roots of our relationship. Someday,
you will forget how to smile. Like the earth comes to a still, all calm and
quiet, engulfing lava day after day. So do humans, gulping sighs and screams.

English translation : Anwesha Ganguly

143

xîy†þ #îl †þíy

˜%ˆÅy˜y¤ !ô˜Äy

x¬ ¤†þy¡ öëèþyöìî ö¥„öìþ ëyëû
ö¤èþyöìî ö‹þyöì‡îû þ›y•þy
xyFS駬 íyöì†þ ߺ²ÀéŸéôyëûyëûÐ
Séyëûyþ›í ™öìîû ‹þöì¡ ëyGëûy ¤ôëû
!löìëû xyöì¤ öë ‡îîû •þyîû †þyöìSé
’þzöì‘þ xyöì¤ ‰îû îSéîû îSéîûÐ

öèþyöìîûîû †þy†þ¡# öëèþyöìî ‰%ô èþy.yëû
¤†þyöì¡ öîûy •þyîû ö‡„y ö¤èþyöìî
†þöìîû ö†þÚ ö†þ¥zîy ööìlöìSé x†þy¡ î¤hsý
†þöìî !æþöìîû öˆöìSé ˜îûyëû †þ’þüy ölöì’þüÐ

èþyöì¡y íy†þyîû ¤ôëû †þ‡l ö†þyl xyöìhsý
¥öìëû öˆöìSé Çþëû ö¤ †þíy Ö™% yöìl
xlyà•þ ²Ì”ëûÐ

Strange Story of Life

Durgadas Midya

The way the fatigued morning walks around
Similarly the eyelids
Are overwhelmed with dreamy illusions.
The time, receding across the milky-way,
Conveys to her the news of
The residences, coming up every year.

The way the morning-chirps dissolute my sleep
Similarly who is watching out for
Her? Who is informed about the fact how
The untimely spring has left after knocking?

Only the uninvited amour knows when
The time of well-being has decayed, unknowingly.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

144

Ö×*£ìy

²Ì˜#þ› =®

öë †þ!˜l öî„öì‹þ íy†þy
ö¤ †þ!˜l èþyöì¡yöìîöì¤ ëyöìîy
ö‹þyöì‡îû ô!”îû ôöì•þy ‹þ„y˜
èþyöì¡yöìîöì¤ ö•þyôyëû èþy¤yöìîyÐ

~ #îl îöì’þüy öî¢# ˜y!ô
öël !èþ!‡!îûîû !èþÇþyîû æ%þöìþy þ›ye
†þ# xyöìSé îûyyîû èþyuþyöìîû–
xyöìSé ‹þ„y˜ œ !èþ!‡!îûîû ¤Áº¡ ~†þôyeÚ

öë †þ!˜l öî„öì‹þ íy†þy
#îl î¥zöìî èþyöì¡yîy¤îyîû ‡yöì•þ
~!öìíÊyôy¥z!¤l ¥öìëû èþyöì¤y Göìˆy ‹þ„y˜
¥G #îl˜y!ëûl# x¤%ßi•þyîû ¥yöì•þÐ

The Cure

Pradip Gupta

As long as we are alive
Will pursue to love
The moon is like the apple of the eye
Will make you float with love...

Life is so precious
As if a leaked pot of a beggar.
What’s to a king?
There’s a moon! The only resource of a beggar?

As long as we are alive
Life will float in the valley of love
O Moon, float, being the Azithromycin
Be the regenerative amidst illness.

English tranlation : Haimanti Bandyopadhay

145

èþyöì¡yîy¤yîû xöì¡ï!†þ†þ c†þ

!þ›ly†þ# îûyëû

öîyöì™îû ö†þyl ¤‚Kþy öl¥z– öël xæ%þîûhsý xy†þy¢
èþyöì¡yîy¤yîû ö†þyl •þ¡ öl¥z– öël ôyëûyî# ’þzqy¤
˜)öìîû !Séöì¡– ~‡öìly •þy¥z– •þî%G î¡öìSéy– éŸ éxy!Sé †þyöìSé ¤„y¥z
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~†þ ë%ˆ ö†þlÚ xyöìîûy ¥öìî öî!¢
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ôöìMéþîû æÏ%þöìîûyöì¤öìrþG x¦þ†þyîû– ~†þ ë%ˆ ö†þlÚ
¥öìî öî!¢ xyöìîûyéŸéŸé ˜)îûöìcîû ö†þylG !æþöì•þ öl¥zÐ
x„y†þyî„y†þy þ›öìí xy!ô lyôöì•þ íy!†þ
ë!˜ ‡%„öì þ›y¥z ö•þyôyîû x•þ¡
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èþyöì¡yîy¤yîû ö†þyl •þ¡ öl¥z– öël ôyëûyî# ’þzqy¤

146

The Empyrean Skin of Love

Pinaki Roy
There’s no connotation for perception, as the unending sky
There’s no bed for love, as a charming glow
You stayed afar, just as you are (now), yet claimed, “I’m here, Dear”
And I love each second falling for the even-time.
Why just a decade, not more?
We had a secret to be drowned into oblivion
But you’ve forgotten, so do I, make myself (forget)
As a firefly loses the glow – where in the sun?
Eyes that host abyss
Are darkened even under the limelight – Why a decade?
May be more – not opted to measures.
I climb down through spiral alleys
to find the depth of yours
Now near, all with suddenness, on my glasses
I find the vegas of your empyrean skin.
Perception has no name, like the bluish myriad
as love, boundless, like adesirous gleam.

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

147

ö¡yèþ

¤%îÊ•þ !ôe îûyly

ë!˜ {Ù»îû xyôyöì†þ ö˜l ˆyöìSéîû ¥*˜ëû
•þy !löìëû !†þ †þîûöìîy öèþöìî!Sé †þ‡öìly韟Ÿé
ë!˜ ö˜l þ›y!‡îû ¥*˜ëû •þy !löìëûGÐ
Ö™% ö¤ylyîû !’þô þ›y’þüy ¥„y¤ ölîly †þ‡öìly
þ›y!‡îû †þ!¡y xyöìSé ¥„yöì¤îû !èþ•þîû
xyôyîû !èþ•þîû xyöìSé xlhsý ö¡yèþ

LUST

Subrata Mitra Rana
I have thoughts what to do
If I am blessed with a tree’s heart
Even if blessed with a bird’s heart
But never cherish for goose giving golden egg
The goose bears a bird’s heart
Mine the eternal lust.

English translation : Shirshendu Pal

148

ô,•%þÄ

•þþ›y !ôe

xyöì¡y !löìèþ ëyöìFSé–
~öì†þ ~öì†þ ¤îy¥z ‹þöì¡ ëyöìFSéÐ
Séyëûyîûy ¤öìîû ëyöìFSé ˜)îû öíöì†þ ˜)öìîû–
™)¤îû ²Ìyhsýöìîû ™%öì¡yîy•þyöì¤
’þz’þüöìSé !¢Ò#îû ’þz_îû#ëû–
ö˜’þz!’þü x¦þ†þyîûÐ
’þzöì‘þyöìl ‹þ„yöì˜îû xyöì¡y öl¥zÐ
ôyVþ l˜#öì•þ x¢yhsý x„y™yîûÐ
!îîlÅ Sé!î ‹þyîûþ›yö좖
þ›y•þy VþîûöìSé–
¢yhsý !lÙ‹%þöìþ› xöì™yˆôl #îöìlîûÐ
öèþöì.öìSé !ô¡löìô¡yÐ
~†þöì†þyöì” ‹%þþ› †þöìîû þ›öì’þü îûöìëûöìSé ¥yîûöìôy!lëûyô–
¤%îû öl¥z– ¢· öl¥z– •þy¡ öl¥zÐ
x¦þ†þyîû îûyîy!’þü
‘þy†%þîû˜y¡yl
!‹þöì¡öì†þy‘þyÐ
²Ì˜#þ› μy¡yîyîû lÄ ö†þ’þz öl¥z xyƒƒƒ

Death

Tapaja Mitra

The light is going out,
One by one everyone is leaving,
The shadows are moving farther and farther away,
Artist’s scarf is flying in the greyish field and dust-air,
Deuri is dark.
There is no moonlight,
Turbulent darkness is in the middle of the river,
There are some grey pictures surroundings
The leaves are falling,
Life of quiet silent decline,
The reunion is broken
The harmonium is lying quietly in one corner,
No music, no sound, no tune,
Darkness is in the royal palace, god’s place, attic
There is no one to light the lamp today...

English translation : Author herself

149

Ö™% xyGëûy ~öì¤öìSé

x!èþ!ê ˜y¤†þôņþyîû

ƒƒƒlÜT lëû– ‰yô Vþ!îûöìëû!Sé
ö¢yéŸéö†þ¤ öíöì†þ !îûöìþ›îû îy¥zöìîû Ö™% ôyVþîûy•þ– xyîû “þ‚ †þöìîû Vþy!þ›öìëû þ›öì’þüöìSé î,!ÜT— †þ# xq$•þ •þyîû ߺy˜œ
²Ì!•þ!þ öæþ„yþy¥z !îëûy¤ lyöìô ö¡‡y
î,!ÜT xy¤%†þ
x¦þéŸéxyöì¡yîû ˜îûyîû þ›yöì¢ !’þüöìëû ™îû&†þ 2!þ xîëûî xyîû îy•þy¤ ö‡¡%†þ èþîûyþ öÄyê߬yîû ¤yöìí
xy l#¡ îû&ôyöì¡ þ›„yöìîûîû Çþ•þ ô%öìSé îûy‡¡yô– ~öì†þ xyîûyöìôîû Séþæþþy!l èþyîy ö‹þyöì‡îû è%þ¡
!‹þÍñy lyô†þ îÝ!þ ë•þîyîû þ›yöìëû ~öì¤ þ›öì’þüöìSé— •þ•þîyîû¥z îûyhßìyîû ôyVþ‡yöìl îöì¤ öˆöìSé xyFS駬 öëïîl
xy¡öìˆyöìSé ö‘„þ¤ !˜öìëû!Sé– Ö™% xyGëûy ~öì¤öìSé èþyîûye«yhsý Séyëûy †þ„yöì™ îöìëû
ö¥ èþˆîyl ¢îû#îû S%é„öìëû îöì¡y– ~îûþ›îûG †þ# xyôyîû 18 îSéöìîûîû •þyêþ›öìëÅ ’þzþ›lÄy¤ ö¡‡y ¥öìîÚ

150