World Poetry Festival magazine 2021

Domestic of a Rental House

Sumit Mondal
All those I possessed were – the window towards East,
A small rental house and a Tulsi plant.
On the Simul tree, adjacent to the house,
In the evenings –
White egrets and an old owl gather.
Amidst the loneliness, they tell the story of the dimmed city.
This winter, everyday in the morning
A myna sings. As soon as the evening turns up –
Comes the old landlord to share the stories of his life.
A neighbour gifted me in the birthday
A wind, touching my body
Two eyes, waking me up amidst the winter sun.
After the landlord left, everyone returned to their own rooms,
It’s time to change the house once again.
All that’s left as my own is – a Tulsi tree.

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

201

¢)lÄî: 1

îûy x!™†þyîû#

ôyíyëû !¢’þz!¡‹þyîûy þ›%„öì•þ!SéÐ xy!ô ‹þy¥zöì¡ ¡y¢ þ›%„•þöì•þ ôyîû•þyô–
!†þv Äyhsý ¡y¢ ¥öì¡G– ö²Ì!ô†þ ö•þyœ †þöìëû†þ ˜#‰Å†þ!î•þy îSéîû þ›îû–
xq$•þ ¤¥ öíöì†þ ‹%þþ› ¥öì•þ !¢öì‡!SéÐ ¤½þyîlyîû !˜öì†þ öë •%þ¡¤#•þ¡yëû
ö†þylG ~†þ ¤yàéŸéî™) öîûy ’þz_yþ› !˜•þ– •þ„yîû ²Ì!•þ ²Ì!•þöì¢yöì™
xyöì¡y μyöì¡!l xyôyîû ¤Á›†þÅÐ
þ›!îûëyëû#îû lyöìô öë¤î îûyhßìy ö•þyôyîû !˜öì†þ ~„öì†þ!Sé¡yô–
öë ¢¥öìîû ö•þyôyëû ¢#öì•þîû öîûyj%îû ö˜öìîy îöì¡!Sé¡yô–
xy ö˜!‡ ¤î ˜æþl îy•þyöì¤ îy %ëûyîû •þyöì¤Ð
¢)lÄîöì: ö•þyôyîû öæþyl lyÁºyîû æ%„þ!þ›öìëû †þ„yöì˜Ð
ö²Ì!ô†þ ¤îû#¤,öìþ›îû y•þ xy!ô î%öìVþ öˆ!SéÐ
î%öì†þ ‰öì£ì ¥„yöìþ xîö쥡yîû îûyhßìyëûÐ
‰öì£ì ‰öì£ì ë‡l ¥*˜!þ›[þ !löìöì˜îû !Sé„öì’þü !Sé„öì’þü
%öì’þü ölGëûyîû †þíy îöì¡— ôöìl þ›öì’þü– ô¡öìôîû îylyl è%þöì¡ öˆ!SéÐ

Blank-box 1

Raj Adhikary

I’ve sowed a Siuli plant in my head. If I wished, I would have killed someone
to sow the corpse,
But, even if I’m a living corpse, I’m a lover at the end of the day! After
some years of prolonged-poetry,
I’ve learnt to be silent, while being astonishingly simple. Towards the
probability, in the Tulsi-stage,
Where some Sahoo-wife worshipped every day, being revengeful to her
My relationship didn’t light up.
The paths I had drawn towards you in the name of the migrants,
The city where I promised to gift you winter-sunshine,
I see, today, they all are buried in the wind or in the gambling cards.
Your phone number weeps in the blank-box.
I’ve realized that lovers belong to the species of reptiles.
Crawl over the paths of negligence.
Vigorously rubbed, when the hearts speak of adjoining them
After tearing apart; I remember that I’ve forgotten the spelling of ointment.

;English translation : Soham

Chakraborty

202

ô¡yþ

xô•þÅÄ !îÙ»y¤

~†þ îy!uþ¡ !î!’þü î„y™öì•þ î„y™öì•þ †þ‡l öë þ›í Çþöìëû
öˆ¡ ö˜‡öì•þ þ›y!îû !l
‹%þþ› †þöìîû íy†þöì•þ íy†þöì•þ †þ‡l öë ¤î è%þ¡öì•þ !¢öì‡!Sé ylöì•þG þ›y!îû !l
‰%öìôyöì•þ ‰%öìôyöì•þ †þ‡l öë ¤î ߺ²À ¥öìëû öˆ¡
î%Vþöì•þ¥z þ›y!îû !l
¢y¤öìl ¢y¤öìl †þ‡l ö¤ ’þy†þ î¦þ ¥öìëûöìSé
Ölöì•þG þ›y!îû !l

¤)e è%þ¡ †þöìîû †þ‡öìly •þyöì˜îû ¤yÇþyê ¥öìëû öˆöì¡
ô%öìSé öæþöì¡ !˜G ˜%!˜öì†þîû ôy™ÄôÐ
ëyîI#îl î¦þ ¥yöì•þîû •þy¡%öì•þ ™öìîû îûy‡yîû ô•þ †þy!îûˆîû ¤î þ›¡y•þ†þ ¥öìëû öˆöìSé

•þy¥zöì•þy
!ôöìíÄ ¼ô †þy!þöìëû xyöìîûy ~†þîyîû ¤¥ ¥öìëû ëyöìî
ly þ›yGëûyîû î¨îû

Cover

Amartya Biswas

When a bundle of bidis is tied– that path erodes
Couldn’t see
I didn’t even know when I learned to forget everything while remaining silent
All of that became a dream when I fell asleep
Couldn’t understand
When the regime has stopped calling him
Couldn’t even hear

If the source ever met them by mistake
Delete the media on both sides.
All the craftsmen have been on the run–
holding on to the palms of their hands for life

That’s right
It will be easier once again to get rid of false illusions
No power port

203 English translation : Author himself

†þ!î

²Ì•þyþ› ¥y¡˜yîû

†þy‹þöìþ›y†þy!þîû ˆyöìëû öîûy˜ î’þü ‹þMéþ¡
xyôyöì†þG ö‡!¡öìëû öî!’þüöìëûöìSé
!†þÁºy îöìlîû !˜öì†þ öô‰ ™îûöì•þ !¢öì‡!Sé
öë ô!¨öìîûîû †%þöìëûyîû öì¡
‹þ„y˜ ölöì‹þ!Sé¡ †þíy†þ!¡
²Ì†,þ•þ ô,•%þÄ ¥öì¡
ö†þ ö˜‡öìî ~¤îÚ

Poet

Pratao Halder
The sun is very active on the glass-beetle
He made me play too
Or I have learned to catch clouds in the forest
In the well water of that temple
The moon danced like Kathakali
In case of actual death
Who will see this?

English translation : Author himself

204

xyöì¡y !î£ìëû†þ lëû

l#¡y!o ö˜î

~öì¡yöìôöì¡y ~†þþy ¥yGëûy– ’%þöìî ëy!FSé
öèþöì¤ ’þz‘þöìSé Séyëûy– xyôyöì˜îû ¡y¢
²Ìyþ›!•þîû ’þylyîû x„y‹þöì’þü ‰)!”Å
l˜#öì¡ ô%öì‡y¢¥#l ²Ì!•þ!îÁº x„y†þöì•þ ¥ëû
~îûþ›îûG
xy.%öì¡ ö¢£ì !îöì†þöì¡îû xyöì¡y ~öì¤ ¡yöìˆ

Not about light

Neladri Deb
A random wind– sinking
The shadows are floating– our bodies
The whirlwind came with butterfly wings
It is feared to cast the shadow of a maskless face on the river
Even the aged light came on the finger

English translation : Author himself

205

îy!’þü

’þzIμ¡ ö‰y£ì

îy!’þüîû !èþ•þîû xyöìSé ¤ô%o ÷¤†þ•þ—
îy!’þüîû !èþ•þîû xyöìSé îûyyéŸéîûy!l— lî#l xyôÅy’þyÐ
îy!’þüîû !èþ•þîû xyöìSé ¤¥ x!èþëye#—
îy!’þüîû !èþ•þîû îûy•þ– îûyöì•þîû !èþ•þîû
†%þëûy¢yô¢y!îû– ö“þ’þz— îûy•þˆöìÒ ‰%ôÐ
xyöìSé öîûy˜Vþ¡ô¡ !¢Öîû ˜%éŸéö‹þy‡—
xyöìSé x!èþëyl– ö†Ïþ˜ Çþëû ¥z’þzöìîû†þyœ
îy!’þüîû !èþ•þîû xyöìSé ¤ô%öìoîû ö¢£ìÐ

The Home

Ujjwal Ghosh
The beach lies within the home;
The king and the queen too. Lies the young armada
With fellow mariners within the house.
Night within; fog wraps the night
And then the sprightly waves; nightly tales induce sleep.
The infant pair of eyes burn bright.
It’s the voyage, fatigue, weariness and oh eureka!
The ocean ends here, within the house.

English translation : Kaushik Mondal

206

xöìþ›Çþy

!l•þÄyl¨ ˜_

îLy¥•þ ö†þyöìly ö†þyöìly ˆySé ‡„y ‡„y ¢îû#öìîû ˜„y!’þüöìëû íyöì†þ ²Ìy”þ›”
þ›y!‡îûy î¤!•þ •%þöì¡ !löìëû ëyëû xlÄ ö†þyöìly ˆyöìSé
öˆy‹þyîûöì” †Ïþyhsý îûy‡y¡ xyîû ôyíy îûyöì‡ ly ~¥z î,Çþô)öì¡
!îîû!¥”# î„y!¢ ¥y¥y†þyîû †þöìîû ly þ›%öìÜ›– þ›ÍÔöìî
ôyöìVþ ôyöìVþ ~†þ!þ ¡%¸þ ¢†%þl ôˆ’þyöì¡ îöì¤ xlÄ ö†þyöìly ô,öì•þîû ¤¦þyl †þöìîû
•þî% ˆySé ߺl¥#l ˜„y!’þüöìëû¥z íyöì†þ xy²Ìy”
xöìþ›Çþyîû xlhsý ‡%öì¡ öîûöì‡ ¤yîûyîûy•þ ööìˆ îöì¤ íyöì†þ
ë!˜ ö†þyöìly!˜l ~†þ!þ ²Ìy”îhsý þ›y•þy ôyVþîûyöì•þ ‹%þ!þ›‹þy!þ› !æþöìîû xyöì¤ ˆyöìS郃ƒ

A waiting

Nityananda Dutta
The thunder-struck tree stands abandoned with utmost effort
The birds shift their nest to some other tree
The weary shepherd no more keeps his head at its shade
The bereaved flute never wails with the boughs and blossoms any more
At times a greedy vulture looks for some other corpse from its topmost branch
Still the solitary tree stands tooth and nail
Stays awake all night with eternal waiting
In the hope of a sprightly leaf returning quietly at the darkness of night

English translation : Dipanwita pal

207

öë l˜#þyîû lyô öôy¥ly

ö˜îöìÄy!•þ †þôņþyîû

~öì†þîyöìîû l˜#þyîû þ›y’þü ö‰„öì£ì ˜„y’þüyöì¡ •%þ!ôœ
•þyîûþ›îû èþy.öìlîû ë•þ ¢· ö¢‡yöì¡ xyôyëûœ

~•þ ˆèþ#îû Çþëû ’þzöìþ›Çþy †þöìîûGŸŸé
l˜#îû †þyöìSé xßË ¢· öîûöì‡ ëyG ²Ì!•þ!˜lœ
xy!ô ö¤‡yöìl¥z S%éöìþ ëy¥z îyîûîyîû
xlhsý ×yþíy •%þöì¡ xy!l ~¥z xîy™Ä ö‹þyöì‡

öèþ•þöìîû xyôyîû îyöìîûyôy¤ î¥zöìSé öë l˜#
ö•þyôyöì†þ ö˜‡yîû xöìþ›ÇþyëûŸŸé
!¡‡öìSé ôyí%îû–
•þyîû !‘þ†þ þ›yöì¢ þ›öì’þü xyöìSé xyôyîû ¤î !lÅl Vþ’þüœ

The River Named Estuary

Debjyoti Karmakar
You stood on the river’s edge
Then you taught me the sounds of erosion
Disdaining such deep decay–
Innumerable sounds– to the river–
You leave everyday.
I rush there time again–
Pick up incessant rainy tale in my errant eyes.
The river that flows within me–
Waits impatiently to see you–
Writes poems of estrangement
Beside that lies all my deserted tempests

English translation : Author himself

208

öëèþyöìî ÷†þöì¢yîû ö¢£ì ¥ëû

x‰ÅĆþô¡ þ›ye

G¥z öë öôöìëû!þ– Séyöì˜îû ’þzþ›öìîû
x„y‹þöì¡ ˆyl öþ›öì•þ îöì¤ xyöìSé
Göì†þ xy!ô î¡öì•þ ‹þy¥z
‹þöì¡y– xyôîûy ¥y¤þ›y•þy¡ ¥¥zÐ
!lîûyôöìëûîû Séyëûyëû ˆöì’þü ’þz‘%þ†þ–
xyôyöì˜îû æþ¤¡¤‚¤yîû
öôöìëû!þ ˆyl ˆyëû
öôöìëû!þîû !‡öì˜ þ›yëû
öíöìô ëyëû ˆyl
~î‚ xyôyîûG !‡öì˜ þ›yëûÐ
!‡öì˜ öþ›öì¡ !æþöìîû ëy¥z
îyîyîû ¤‚¤yöìîû

209

The way adolescence ends

Arghya Kamal Patra
There’s a girl on the terrace
Who sits with a song on her lap,
Until it settles at the fluttering end of her saree.
I want to let her know, to tell her-
Come, let’s become a building together-
A hospital perhaps.
Let our world grow
Like golden crop
Under the canopy of rapport, of care.
The girl sings.
But when hunger overwhelms her,
She stops.
The song also stops.
Unlike her,
When I too feel the tinge of hunger-
I return.
I return back
To a little domicile,
The humble abode
Where my mother waits.

English translation : Anandi Kar

210

ö•þyôyöì†þ 8

xy!îîû ô%öì‡yþ›y™Äyëû

¤%¡èþ ö¢ï‹þy¡öìëûîû ô•þ
~¥z xyôyîû xq$•þ #îl
x¤‚‡Ä †þyöì¡y ôyíyöì˜îû ˜D¡
xyö줖 xyîû ¥y!îûöìëû ëyëû
~îû¥z ôyöìVþ
ˆDyöì˜î# ¤yÇþ#
ö‹þöìëû!Sé¡yô •%þ!ô
¤Á›)”Å !lîûyôëû ¥öìëû ~öì¤y
ë‡l î¡öì•þ¥z ¥ó¡ òèþyöì¡yîy!¤ó
’þy†þöì•þ¥z ¥ó¡ †þyöìSé
~•þ ö˜îû# †þîûöì¡ ö†þlÚ
öë ¢îû#öìîû ²Ìy” öl¥z
•þyîû †þ# xyîû
!lîûyôëû ¡yöìˆÚ

211

To you 8

Abir Mukhopadhyay
This is my life, bizarre
Like a public toilet
Crowd of innumerous black heads
Comes and gets lost
Amidst this
Gangadevi witnessed that
I wanted you
To come as a complete cure
You had to say ‘I love’
You had to call me closer
Then, why did you do that so late?
Does the body, lifeless,
Require a
Cure, at all?

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

212

xlĉîû

ö˜îîÊ•þ ôy¥z!•þ

˜)îûcþy xyþ›!l ë•þþy èþyîöìSél
¥ëûöì•þy ˜)îûcþy !‘þ†þ •þ•þþy lëûÐ
~¥z ™îû&l ˜¢ ¥y•þ– xíîy î’þüöìyîû îyöìîûyÐ
~ôl¥z ~†þ ˜)îûöìc ~†þ!þ !lôÅ#ëûôyl æÏþÄyöìþ
~†þþy xyöì¡y μ¡öìSéÐ
xyöì¡yþyîû öyîû ~ôl lëû ëy
ö“þöì†þ ö˜öìî x¦þ†þyîûÐ
!†þv öë ‰öìîû xyöì¡y μ¡!Sé¡
ö¤¥z ‰öìîûîû !˜öì†þ •þy†þyöì¡ ö˜‡y öë•þ
!†þS%é ôyl%£ì ¥z„öìþîû Gþ›îû ¥z„þ ¤y!öìëû öˆ„öìí ‹þöì¡öìSé
‰öìîûîû !èþ•þîû ~†þþy xlĉîûÐ

Another house

Debabrata Maity
The distance is as far as you think
May be the distance isn’t exactly that.
Suppose, this is ten hands, or atmost twelve.
In a flat under construction at such a distance, the light is on.
The emphasis of the light is not, that covers darkness.
You could see it by looking at that room
Some people building bricks on bricks.
Another house is being built.

English translation : Author himself

213

ˆlˆ!l

Ööìkþ¨% ‹þe«î•þÅ#

•%þ!ô öl¥z xyÐ •þy¥z ~†þy¥z ~öì¤!Sé
þ›yíöìîû îûy!‡!l þ›yÐ lyôöìîy ¤yî™yöìl
¢#¡yî!•þ l%!’þü ¤‚@ýÌ¥
¢#•þ¡•þy öîöì’þü ‹þ¡ xyîûGÐ
•%þ!ô öl¥z xyÐ •þy¥z ~†þy¥z ~þ›öìí
!¤„!’þü öîöìëû ölöìô xy!¤ e«ô¢ è)þ•þöì¡
˜y!îþ›e ölöìô xyöì¤Ð ˆy¡yîû öôy¥îû
ôySéîûy.y þ›y!‡þyîû ö‘þ„yþÐ

•%þ!ô öl¥z xyÐ •þy¥z !¡‡!Sé ~†þy¥z
xy’þüyöì¡ ¤!îûöìëû ölöìî ¢y!’þüîû x„y‹þ¡
xy!ô ô¥y†þy¢‹þyîû# ¥öìîyÐ
xyîû ôye †þöìëû†þþy þ›y

Gangani

Suddhendu Chakrobrty
You are nowhere today. So I came alone... Not even touching the stones...
I’ll get down carefully to collect the pebbles... O coldness, you grow up more.
You are nowhere today. So alone in this route, I gradually come down to
the ground, walking through the stairs... Requisition comes down. Wax seal
seems like the Halcyon’s beak.
You are nowhere today. So I am writing alone...
You will hide the fringes of saari. I’ll be an astronaut.
Just a few steps more to come

English translation : Haimanti Bandyopadhay & Soham Chakraborty

214

l˜#

¤öìhsýy£ì ‹þe«î•þÅ#

•þîû# ’%þöìî öˆöì¡ èþy!î
~¥z ö
l˜#!þ †þ„yö옜
¤%öìëyˆ ¤¦þyl# ¤„yöì†þy öíöì†þ ö˜!‡
xþ›îû !îþ›˜ ¤‚öì†þ•þ!þÐ

îÄíy ôyöìl !†þœ ö†þôl öî˜ly ö•þyôyîûÚ
xy†þZþ ¡ xyîû èþy¤yöìlîû ’þz§Ãy˜lyœ
~ îëû¤ ö˜yöì£ì ë!˜ îy èþy¤yëû ö•þyôyöì†þ
èþy£ìy î%öìVþ lyGÐ ‘þ„y¥z ˜yG
~ #îl !lSé†þ èþî‰%öìîûÐ
~èþyöìî ¥yîûyëû öë¥z
!Sé¡yëû †þyþyîû ôöì•þy xy‰y•þÐ
xß³%þöìþ î!¡– ö†þôl ôyëûyî# l˜# •%þ!ô
•þîû#!þ ’%þöìî ëyëû– •þî% †þ„y˜öì•þ ö¢öì‡y!lœ

River

Santosh Chakraborty

Once the ship sinks, I feel
It’s better!
The river weeps!
From the opportunistic bridge, I see
The other alarm.

What is pain? How is your pain?
Waves up to the neck alongside craze of immersion!
If it’s the age of being washed
Feel the voice! Offer a shelter
(As) it’s just a vagabond life.
Thus, is lost
The wound of the bow.
I murmur, how magical river is thou
(Though) The ship sinks, (you) no not how to cry!

English translation :Tapabrata Mukhopadhay

215

öôöìl !lG

÷¥ôhsý# îöì¨Äyþ›y™Äyëû

¤!•þÄ¥z !†þ !†þS%é îy!†þ öíöì†þ öˆ¡Ú
~¥z ôyëûy!î£ìy˜ ö‰îûy þ›,!íî#îû ~†þöì†þyöì” îû*öìþ›y¡# †þy¡ x„y†þy öô‰îû‚ Séy’þüy xyîû †þ#èþyöìî öî„öì‹þ íy†þy ëyëûÚ
‰yöì¤îû ’þˆyëû îûy‡y hßì¸þ•þy– l˜#îû l#¡ xyîû xîû”Ä Séy!’þüöìëû ˜)öìîû öˆöìSé ëyîûy– •þyöì˜îû ôöìlîû ö†þyöìly lyô öl¥zÐ
!‘þ†þylyëû èþy.y èþy.y xÇþöìîû ö¡‡y– óö¤¥zîyîû !æþöìîû ëyî îöì¡G ö•þy ~öì¡ lyó
’þz_îû ëyëû ó~¥zîyîû þ›y†þyþ›y!†þèþyöìî ‹þöì¡ ëyî– ¡²Ìþ›yöì•þîû l:yîû xy˜öì¡ó
~ôl ’þz§Ã%_« öî¥yëûy ’þzöì‘þyöìl ölöì‹þ ölöì‹þ ‰%öìîû öî’þüyöìly þ›y!‡þyîû ¤yîûy ˆy ‡„y‹þyëû “þy†þyÐ xyîû þ›y¡†þ– ’þyly– ö‘þ„yþ ‹þöì¡
öˆöìSé •%þ£ìyîû !’þ!.öìëûÐ
xyôîûy Ö™% ~†þ!˜l öôöìl ölî– ’þzöì’þü ëyGëûy ¤î ²Ìyþ›!•þîû¥z !‘þ†þyly xîû”ÄÐ

Acknowledge this....

Haimanti Bandyopadhay
Is it something yet to come?
In this whole world of affection how can we survive in a corner without dusky colour?
Those minds are nameless who have crossed stillness at the tip of grass,
blueishness of river and forest...
Obscure words are written at the address box, ‘you haven’t come anymore
even after promising’
Reply forwards ‘This time I’ll go definitely with the similarly of waterfalls’
In this uncovered yard, that bird is covered with cage and all of its wings,
beak have faded gradually after snowfall
The only thing we will acknowledge, every birds’ destination is forest.

English translation : Author herself

216

ݒ

ö¤y¥ô ‹þe«î•þÅ#

†þöìî ö†þyl ôy‘þ– †þöìî ö†þyl ‡y¡!î¡
l˜#!þîû þ›yöì’þü ~†þy ¥óöìëû ëyGëûy îþ
†þöìî ö†þyl îy!’þü– †þöìî ö†þyl ¥z¢†%þ¡
þ›yîû ¥óöìëû ¥óöìëû ö¥„öìþ ~öì¤!Sé¡ þ›í

†þöìî ö†þyl öèþyöìîû– †þöìî ö†þyl ôyVþîûyöì•þ
ö¤¥z þ›í ™óöìîû ö¥„öìþ ~öì¤!Sé¡ ö¡y†þ
†þöìî ö†þyl @ýÌyöìô †þyîûy †þyîûy !Sé¡ öël
ë•þ ö¥„öìþ xy!¤– îóöìëû îóöìëû xy!l ö¢y†þ

†þöìî ö†þylþ ›öìí èþþ‹þy!ëÄîû öôöìëû
¤y¥zöì†þöì¡ öë•þ– •þy¥z ö˜öì‡ ö†þëûyô•þ
ˆyl !¡öì‡!Sé¡ †þöìî ö†þyl !‹þîû†%þöìþ
!Sé„öì’þü öˆ¡ ö¡‡y– !Sé„öì’þü !Sé„öì’þü öˆ¡ þ›í

ö¤ þ›öìíîû ö¢öì£ì xy™‡yGëûy öVþyþ›Vþy’þü
èþþ‹þy!ëÄîû xy™‡yGëûy öôöìëû– hßìl
ö†þöìþ îûy‡y þ›yö좖 ö¤ þ›öìí¥z ö¥„öìþ öˆöì¡
æþöì•þôyîû îy!’þü !‘þ†þ ö‹þöìl xOl

xOl ¥„yöìþ– xOl ö¥„öìþ ëyëû
†þöìî ö†þyl !lè,þöì•þ– †þöìî ö†þyl !èþöì’þü
†þ# öël î¡yîû !Sé¡– î¡y ¥ó¡ ly ö•þy
†þöìî †þyîû S%é!îû ~öì¤ î%†þ!þ›‘þ !‹þöìîû

!löìëû öˆ¡ †þíy– öþöìl !löìëû öˆ¡ ¡y¢
öîyl!þöì†þ !löìëû öˆ¡ öîþ›y’þüyîû ˜¡
†þöìî ö†þyl ö˜öì¢ ö†þylþ ›y’þüyþ›’þü!¢îûy
!löìëû öˆ¡ !èþöìþôy!þ– †þ„yíy†þÁº¡

†þöìî ö†þyl îyˆyöìlîû ö†þyl æ%þ¡ˆySé
†þöìî ö†þyl ’þzöì‘þyöìlöì•þ !îSéyöìly xy‹þyîû
•%þ¡¤#•þ¡yëû ö¢£ì ²Ì˜#öìþ›îû xyöì¡y
xy ~¥z !löìèþ öˆöì¡ μ¡öìî ly xyîû

†þöìî ö†þyl ö˜öì¢ •%þ!ô μóöì¡ !Séöì¡ xyöì¡y
†þöìî ö†þyl ‰îûöì˜yîû– èþy.y ô!¨öìîû

217

x„y‹þöì¡îû ôyëûy †þyîû ¤öì¦þîû ¢„y‡
ë•þ öæþöì¡ ëyëû þ›í– xyöì¤ !æþöìîû !æþöìîû
!æþöìîû !æþöìîû xyöì¤ ö†þyl ˜)îû lþ›˜
ë•þ ö¥„öìþ xy!¤ xyöì¡y ¥óöìëû xyöì¤ †þô
†þöìî öël !löìèþ öˆ¡ xyôyîû !‘þ†þyly
xí‹þ îöì¡Sé ‹%þþ› íy†þy¥z !lëûô
èþþ‹þy!ëÄîû öôöìëû ‹%þþ› †þóöìîû !Sé¡
xOl !Sé¡ ‹%þþ› S%é!îû!þîû ‰yéŸéëû
‹%þþ› †þóöìîû íy†þy ¤î þ›y’þüy– îy!’þü‰îû
þ›yîû ¥óöìëû þ›í ö†þyl ö˜öì¢ !löìëû ëyëû
ö†þyl ö˜¢– ö†þyl ö˜¢– ö˜¢ ö†þyl‡yöìl
ö†þyl ö˜¢– ö†þyl ö˜¢– ëy !Sé¡ xyôyîû
‹%þþ› †þóöìîû xy!Sé xy!ô– ‹%þþ› †þóöìîû íy!†þ
~†þ%þ xy=l ¥óöìëû ²Ì˜#þ›!¢‡yîû

218

Path

Soham Chakraborty

Oh! That field, those ditches and wetlands,
That isolated banyan tree across the river-bank,
Oh! Those huts and schools,
The path came walking away, crossing them.
Oh! At that dawn, at midnight,
People came walking along that very road,
Oh! That village… I remember some people were there…
As we come walking along, we pick up woe.
There was a time when Bhattacharya’s daughter
Used to cycle down that road,
Seeing that, Kiyamat had once scribbled an ode,
Those letters got torn… so did the road.
The road now bends at the nipped wilderness,
And the gnawed Bhattacharya’s daughter,
Her breast ripped from bone… that road
Leads to Fatima’s home, Anjan knew well.
Anjan walks and walks…
Somewhere in seclusion or in the crowd
Were unspoken words, long forgotten now,
Their razors cut through his veins…
And snatched the words and the corpses,
His sister lost to strangers…
Those neighbours of that land came
And snatched from us our lands and belongings…
Our everything…
That last nameless bloom,
That last lick of the empty jar,
The lamp will shine never again,
After that last flicker at the altar.
O’ye lamp, when have you glinted?
O’ye flame, where have you shone?

219

Which corners of which humble houses and phantom temples?
The folds of drapes? The resounding couch
The faster you walk away, the harder it clutches…
Some far city comes back time and again.
The light gets dimmer as I progress.
On some day the last imprint of my left out address also gets erased…
But you have said : ‘Keeping silence is the norm!’
Bhattacharya’s daughter was silent.
Anjan was silent from a knife injury.
Silent remained the colony, its houses…
Across the path, to which country does it take?
Which country, which country, which land is it
Which country, which land that was mine…
Silent was I and so will be,
Remaining the flame of the nightlamp.

English translation : Aesha Lahiri

220

†þy˜yôy!þ

²Ì¢yhsý ¤îû†þyîû

†þ¡Bþ¡ yöìl þ›öìpîû ¤%îû!èþ ö¤y¥yˆ
àîà ¼ôîû öël
†þyöìSé ~öì¤ S%é„öìëûöìSé îû!.l
xyîû öl¢y •þyîû Vþöìîû öˆöìSé
xôy!ëû†þ– ¤„y•þyöìîû ¤„y•þyöìîû
èþy¤ôylƒƒƒ

xí‹þ ö•þôl ¡ îöì¡ !†þS%é öl¥z
¤%²Ìy‹þ#l þ›yíîû ˆyöìëû ~ôl¥z ’þz˜¼yhsý ˆySé
¤%îy¤ !Sé¡ ly
•þî% ¤„yG•þy¡ öôöìëûöì˜îû ˆyöìëû ö˜öì‡y
’þz!Íñîû öîôylyl æ%þ¡ æ%þöìþ xyöìSéÐ

Mud

Prasanta Sarkar
The stained water knows the scent of lotus
As if bees
Came and touched the colourful
And the intoxication flown down
Smooth, floating across
Swimming
However there is nothing like watery
Direction less trees in ancient rocks
There was no scent
Still look at the Santhal girls
How flowers in tattoos bloom on them

English translation : Debadrita Bose

221

à¥z¤¡

•þöìþ›yîÊ•þ ô%öì‡yþ›y™Äyëû

~¥z öë xyþ›!l !îÙ»y¤ †þîûöì•þ þ›yöìîûl 韟é ~î‚ þ›yöìîûl ly– ~îû ôöì™Ä ~†þþy ²ÌFS駬 ¢)lÄ îûöìëûöìSéÐ xí‹þ xyþ›lyîû xy˜ÄÇþîû
Öîû& ¥ëû ²Ì†,þ•þ xÇþîûôy¡y !˜öìëû ~î‚ ¤‚‡Äy•þ_´ !l•þyhsý ‡%‹þöìîûy ¥öìëû öìôÐ ~öì•þ è%þ¡ öl¥zÐ ‰yô xyöìSéÐ Gl îöìëû
öî’þüyöìlyîû ô•þ !þ›!FSé¡Ð xî¢Ä xyþ›lyîû ö¤ ¤î ly èþyîöì¡G ‹þöì¡Ð xyþ›y•þ•þ !¤ˆlÄy¡ öþ›öìîûyöìlyîû ¤ôëû Ö™% !†þS%éþy
†þl!æþ’þz¤’þ 韟é ~îyîûG ˆy!’þüþy öSéöì’þü öˆöì¡y ly ö•þyÚ
öë à¥z¤¡ îyyëû– ö‹þöìëû ö˜‡öìîl– öþÆl lëû– ~†þ !èþöì’þüîû ô•þ ¤îû¡ƒƒƒ

Whistle

Tapabrata Mukherjee
Thus, the fact that you believe, and disbelief, is equal to zero. Yet, your name
starts with a prominent alphabet and you find the numerology similar to counting
pennies. Nothing’s wrong with it, (but) there’s enough sweat to wipe off. Heavy
as carrying weights all day long. But you can forget it for now. At this moment,
you’re a little perplexed while crossing the rail tracks, has the train left again?
See, the one honks from the train, whistles (at you), is just as simple as a
crowd.

English translation : Author himself

222

˜y˜%

Öèþ˜#þ› ö¤l¢ôÅy

xyôyîû ˜y˜%– xyôyîû †þyöìSé ¤‚‰£ìÅ¥#l xy†þyöì¢îû ôöì•þy
²Ìy‹þ#l ¥z!•þ¥yöì¤îû öSé„yëûyëû #”Å ¥öìëû ’þz‘þöìSé xyôyîû ˜y˜%îû ¢îû#îû
=!þöìëû ëyGëûy ˜y˜%îû ‹þyô’þüy ö˜‡öì¡ ôöìl ¥öìî †þ•þ †þ•þ ¤ô%o¡
G„îû Gþ›îû !˜öìëû îöìëû öˆöìSéÐ ~•þ îSéîû þ›îû ~öì¤ öîyVþy ëyëû
˜y˜%îû ö†þyöìly x•þ#•þ öl¥z

’%þîhsý öîûyöì˜îû ôöì•þy ’þzIμ¡ ¥öìëû μ¡öìSél xyôyîû ˜y˜%
xyôyöì˜îû îy!’þüÐ xyôyöì˜îû ¤‚¤yîûÐ xyôyöì˜îû x¦þ†þyîû !þ¡yîû ôöì•þy ‰îû
˜y˜%öì†þ ~‡l xyôyîû þ›Äyöìuþyîûyîöì:îû ôöì•þy ¡yöìˆÐ ˜y˜%îû ô!îû‹þVþ„y!þ› ¥*˜ëû–

!•þîûylîç¥z î¤hsý öþ›!îûöìëû xyG ¥„yþöìSél ¢•þ î¤öìhsýîû !˜öì†þÐ
xô!¡lèþyöìî !l/¢öì· ~!ˆöìëû ëyöìFSél !•þ!lÐ

¤yôöìlîû !˜öì†þ ~!ˆöìëû ëyGëûy ˜y˜%– †þ‡l öël xyôyîû ‹þ¢ôyîû xhsýîûyöì¡ ¥y!îûöìëû ëyëûÐ

Grandpa

Subhadip Sen Sarma

My grandfather is just like a morning sky
The touch of an ancient time is melting his body
The shrunk skin seems like the waves of the ocean
Passed along for years. After so many years, we feel
My grandfather had no past.
The dazzling grandeur of the setting sun is he
At our home. Through our lives. Rooms like darkened dunes
Make him appear as opened Pandora’s Box. His bleeding heart
Gradually passed Ninety-three springs to Hundred.
Unscathed, unbiased, and unsound.
A forwarded, lean grandpa, I never know when
Alleviates in the midst of my vision.

English translation :Tapabrata Mukhopadhay

223

!lôÅy” G !lôÅy•þy

öôï!ô•þy þ›y¡

!èþöì•þ !èþöì•þ ¤yîûy#îl öSéyþ †þíy îöì¡!SéÐ
ôîûyˆDyëû ߬yl ¥öì¡ !Çþ²Ìˆ!•þ ö‰y’þüyîûy
S%é!þîû î„y†þ ‰%öì’þü öˆöìSéÐ
™)•þÅ ‰%‰%îûy !ôöìíÄ †þíy îöì¡Ð
x¨öìîû öëöì•þ ¥öì¡ ~†þ ¤y!îû ˆySé–
ly ¥öì¡ @ýÌ¥” ¡yöìˆ ¤)öìîûÄÐ
xydßi xyôyîû þ›öìí !lÅl•þy !èþ’þü †þöìîû
þ›e¥#l öþ›ï“þüŸé•þy¥z ¤î% †þ¡þ›Ð
xyþ›y•þ•þ xy!ô¥z îy îöì¤ íy!†þ ö†þlœ
!¥¤yî !˜öì•þ ¥öì¡ !î!lôëû ²Ìíy xyôyîûÐ
ô!îûéŸéî„y!‹þ ëy¥z ö¥y†þ
xyþ›y•þ•þ Göì˜îû ‹þy¥zÐ

A Creation and the Creator

Moumita Pal

And I forever nibbled on words under the drizzles.
Impetuous broncos took the turn towards furloughs
Cunning serpents make spurious claims.
A grove to go across to enter within,
Or else, the sun would get shrouded.
Silence shrouds my path,
shrivelled oppidan-canopied in green
And why may I wait!
I proffer an exchange for a tale
May I live or die
But now, I wish them...

English translation :Tapobrata Mukhopadhay

224

îy‚¡yö옢
Bengaladesh

¥y¡‡y•þy

öîûy’þz!jl ސþy!¡l

¤%¢#¡ ¤ôyöìîû öl•þy
xyîû •þyîû ¤‚ß,ñ!•þôly öôöìëû
¤yöìí î,!þ¢ ߺyô#
÷î¢y‡# ’þzê¤öìî î_,«•þy †þîûöì¡l
!î£ìëûŸŸŸéú!•þ¥Ä îûÇþy G ¥y¡‡y•þy
öôöìëû!þ ˆy¥z¡ŸŸŸ~öì¤y ö¥ ÷î¢y‡
öl•þy þ›öìîûöìSél ‡jîû
xyîû öôöìëû!þ •þ¤îû
¤˜Ä !îö옢 öíöì†þ xyly

Halkhata

Rezauddin Stalin
Leader of the civil society
And his culture-minded daughter
With her British husband
Gave speeches in the Baishakhi festival
Topic–Preservation of tradition and Halkhata
The daughter sang–Eso hey Baishakh (O Baishakh, come)
The leader wore Khaddar
And his daughter Tasar,
Newly imported from abroad

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

226

›y¡

¥y¤yl ôy¥ô%˜

y!l–
¡y!æþöìëû ‹þöì¡ öˆöìSéy G¥z!˜öì†þ
!æþöìîû– ¥yîûôyly þ›y¡y†þyöìîûîû ôöì•þy¥z
xy!ôG ö˜ï’þYöì•þ íy!†þ ‡îûöìˆy¢ ²Ìyöì”
†þy!Séô Séylyîû ôöì•þy öîûy˜ †þ•þ ôyëûy !˜öì¡yœ
•%þ!ô Ö™% ö•þ¡yöìþ›y†þy– ¤¦þÄy!²Ìëû x!èþôyl#îû ôöì•þy
!æþ!îûöìëû !˜öì¡ ~¥z †þ„y†þ’þüy þ›y’þüyëûƒƒƒ

¥yëûœ x!èþlëû¥#l x!èþöìle#–¤‚¡yþ› G Séyëûy¥#l
†þîû&”y G †þöìîûylyîû öSéyî¡
¤ôyhsýîûy¡ ööìlG •%þ!ô !èþlö옢# ¤yÁ›yöìl
•%þöì¡ !˜öì¡ ~¥z þ›y¡ƒƒƒ

The Sail

Hassan Mahmood

I know,
Like the defeated playwright, you’ve gone
Over there – jumping, I also
Keep on running with the heart of a rabbit
The sunlight, like the baby tortoise, gave me such tenderness!
A mere cockroach you’re, like a touchy dusk-loving entity
You’ve returned me to the vicinity of crabs…
Alas! You, the actless actress, deprived of
Shadow and dialogues,
Inspite of knowing that the sting of remorse and Corona
Are parallel, sailed your
Foreign vessels…

English translation : Soham Chakraborty

227

•,þ•þ#ëû •þ¡y

ö˜îîÊ•þ ˜y¤

îy’þü!•þ !†þS%é ×!ô†þ ¡y!ˆöìëû þ›%îûöìly îy!’þü öèþöì. öæþ!¡Ð
x¤½þî xyléŸé†þy¡‹þyîû !Séöì¡y
ö¤¥z ¤yöìí V%þöì†þ!Séöì¡y ô™Äîûyöì•þîû !˜öì†þ
öôöìVþöì•þ ~†þþyG þ›,!íî# !Séöì¡y ly
Ö™% öSéyþ› öSéyþ› !l/¤D•þyé
xyîû •þ#îÊ öˆ„öìëûy ߺèþyî#

ë!˜G xyôîûy¥z ¤îyîû ö¢öì£ì èþy.öìl ¥y•þ !˜öìëû!SéÐ
xyôyöì˜îû þ›y’þüyëû l•%þl !’þy¥zöìlîû ‰îûîy!’þü
î¤öìhsý ¤î îû!.l ¥öìëû ’þzöì‘þ
Ö™% xyôyöì˜îû îy!’þü!þ ö¤öì†þöì¡îû–

˜,!ÜT¥#l !Séöì¡y–
ôöìl ¥öì•þy þ›%FSé¥#l xy¥•þ ôëû)îûÐ
•þy¥z îÄy‚†þ öíöì†þ ¥y’þz ö¡yl !löìëû
îy!’þü!þ †þöìîû öæþ¡¡yô
l#‹þ•þ¡yëû îyîy éŸé ôyöì†þ l˜#îû ‡%î †þySéy†þy!Sé öîûöì‡!Sé
öël þ›yþ›éŸéþ›%”Ä †þyþy†þy!þ ¥öìëû ëyëûÐ
xyîû !m•þ#ëû •þ¡yëû xyôyöì˜îû öëïí î¤îy¤Ð
~‡l ¥zöìFSé †þîûöì¡¥z !¤„!’þü öîöìëû Séyöì˜ ’þzöì‘þ
‹þ„yöì˜îû ¤yöìí îûy•þ †þyþyöìly ëyëû
†þ# þ›!îûþ›y!þ ‰îûéŸéö˜yîû

†þy¡‹þyîû èþyî !löìëû ˜„y!’þüöìëû xyöìSé
öôöìVþöì•þ ¤ô%o ö‰£ìy !îhßì#”Å ’þzþ›îl
xyîû ö¤yly!¡ ¢îû#öìîûîû †þöìëû†þ!þ xy†þy¢
þ›y¢yþ›y!¢ ˜„y!’þüöìëû xyöìSéÐ
èþyî!Sé xyöìîûy!†þS%é îy’þü!•þ ×!ô†þ ¡y!ˆöìëû

•,þ•þ#ëû •þ¡y †þô!²Õþ †þöìîû öæþ¡öìîyÐ

228

The Fourth Floor

Debabrata Das
With a few more daytalers, I crush down the old edifices.
Preposterously nonsensical,
And leaned towards the midnight
As no Earth was there on the floor
Except splashy solitude --
with a strenuously rustic nature
Even though at last, we, ourselves, took part to demolition.
The new designer houses at our lane,
As they gleam during the springtime
It’s just our home had olden patch,
Unseeing,
Seemed as a wounded, featherless Peacock.
So, I took a home-loan from the bank to complete the building.
My parents are nearer the stream now, downstairs, so that
it crisscrosses through the sins and virtues.
And we are together on the Second (floor).
It’s easy to climb up to the roof to have words with the crescent moon
whenever we wish
The neat and clean rooms now
are standstill with cultured-sense
There’s a stranded sea-side forest stretched on the floor
Besides the gleaming golden expanse
With a few more daytalers,
I am thinking of completing the fourth floor by now.

English translation :Tapabrata Mukhopadhay

229

’þz_îûy!™†þyîû

›ö쥡# ö˜

²Ì†þy[þ öîûy˜ ôyíyëû †þöìîû xy†þy¢
öôöì‰îû †þy!¡öì•þ !¡öì‡öìSé ’þz_îûy!™†þyîû
æ%þöì¡ þ›ÍÔöìî èþöìîû Göì‘þ #îöìlîû ‡y•þyÐ
þ›öìíîû î„yöì†þ î„yöì†þ þ›öì’þü íyöì†þ Séyëûy
ö‹þyöì‡îû ôyöìþ› îylyöìly þ›,!íî#
x„y¡y èþ!•þÅ •%þöì¡ xyöìl l˜#
~†þþy xyëûly¤öìô•þ yly¡yîû †þyöìSé
¡%þ ¥Gëûy öèþyöìîûîû ˆÒ Ööìl Ööìl
þ›y!‡ ¥öìëû ëyëû ôl
þ›y¡öì†þ ö¡öìˆ xyöìSé þ›í ¥yîûyöìly Çþ•þ
†þ•þ îûy•þ !îþ›öìí öˆöìSé †Ïþyhsý¥#l !î˜?þÐ
ö߬öì¥îû î%öì†þ îy¤y î„yöì™ îþ– xÙ»a– yôîû&¡
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x¤y’þü ¤ôëû Vþöìîû ëyëû Vþ”Åyîû ô•þ
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‰%!’þüîû ¤yöìí þ›y‡y öôöì¡ ¤¦þÄyîû xy†þyöì¢

Ö™% •%þ!ô xyöìSéy îöì¡
~‡lG ߺ²À ~öì¤ îy!¡¢ þ›yöì•þ !¢ëûöìîûÐ

230

Inheritence

Poheli Dey
Having scorching sun upon the head, the sky
Has marked inheritance on the clouds
(and) A life (is about) to be bloomed with petals and greens.
At every corner, it shadows the life
Earth measured at a visual topology
Brings up a handful blessing of the river
Near a mirrored window
(As) the mind spreads wings as the tale
Of a vandalized dawn ends,
With bloody wings, bearing marks of the lost traces
(of) Nights, untraced, those passed relentlessly at once
Love sets strong as banyan, peepul, or Malay Apple
Love finds nest at the core of August
Timeless periods fall as falls
(As) A washed butterfly flies to live after the struggle
And wings along with kites of the evening sky
As you are here,
Dreams still pillow my sleep.

English translation :Tapabrata Mukhopadhay

231



èþyîû•þ#ëû ¥z‚öìîû! èþy£ìy
Indian English Language

Kasba, Kolkata

Sampurna Chattarji

i.

Today my love is the space between the buildings where the restless walkers trance
And the rikshas in and out in and out through the loops made by the tooting horns
Bulbous sound between fingers billowing
Little brown-skinned girl in black undies leaping onto a red plastic stool
To dance a little jig of dry-me-now air after my bath
Stun me silly new almost-summer sun
The man with the newspaper spread on his lap like a lover
Sing to him, radio-song, fill the weeds and rubbish with dance
The mad woman does her accounts on the wooden bench
The man in the wheelchair is not in his wheelchair covered demurely with a
cloth
Whisk it away frisk it away where could he be
Muse of the afternoon slowly building up
Stay put, my love, so I can watch and watch endlessly this intimate gathering-dispersal
This sound from the house named Rebecca of the tea-cups under the stilts
‘Bijoya, purono torkari acche?’
The girl with a kurta over her skirt up and down up and down in her lilting voice
Giving her married friend six months with that man
Probirda will clobber him to pieces
To pieces this day, my love

233

ii.
Today they shuttered it down and took it away
fire under the pot smoke in the air hot pink dress
hanging loose in the wind thick slices of bread
toasted on coals took it all away and left a hole
with upturned benches and unlit stove in the wall
Shut it down the conversation over muri and tea
cups so tiny you could barely see them between
your fingers took away the bread van the riksha
man the regulars stopping for a plate of this and a bowl
of that took away the takeaway option in a plastic bag
Took away the madwoman’s breakfast lunch and tea-
time took away the gamblers let’s have a flutter mates
at free-time took away horibol hubbub and hullaballoo and
left instead this vacant lot of wood and brick this is the end
my friend of a lovestruck spring now hardluck summer begins

234

†þ¤îy– †þ¡†þy•þy

¤Á›)”Åy ‹þÄyþyÅ#

xy xyôyîû ö²Ìô ¥ó¡ ˜%óîy!’þüîû ôöì™Ä†þyîû þ›í
x¢yhsý þ›!íöì†þîûy öë¥z‡yöìl ¤ôy!™ßi ¥ëû
xyîû– !¢.yöìæþ„y†þy ¥öìlÅîû x!¡ˆ!¡éŸéyöì¡ î¥ôyl !îû:y=!¡îû
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xyôyöì†þ hßì¸þ †þöìîû xyˆ•þ @ýÌ#öìÜ¿îû öîûy˜ !löìîyÅ™– l•%þl
G¥z öë ö¡y†þ!þ– ‡îîû†þyˆ
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Gîû öìlÄ ˆyG– öîû!’þGéŸéîû ˆyl– ~¥z¤î
xyˆySéy xyîû Oyöì¡îû hß)ìþ› þ›)”Å †þöìîûy lyöì‹þ
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þ¡ô¡ ßñyöìþÅîû ’þzþ›îû †%þ•þÅyéŸéˆyöìëû öôöìëû!þîû ˆ¡y îöì’þüy Séöì¨yôëû
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235

2

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‹þyéŸéô%!’þüîû †þí†þ•þy ¤î öël hßì¸þ ¥óöìëû ëyëû
xy.%öì¡îû æþ„yöì†þ !‘þ†þ löìîû xyöì¤ ly ~¥zöì¥l
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ö¤¥z ôyl%öì£ìîûy ëyîûy !lëû!ô•þ íyô•þ ~‡yöìl
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!löìëû öˆ¡ %ëûy!’þüîû ¤îy¦þî xî¤îû†þy¡ !löìëû öˆ¡ ¥!îûöìîy¡ ¥yÍÔyöìîy¡
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öþ›y’þüy †þþ›yöì¡îû @ýÌ#Ü¿†þy¡ ‹þóöì¡ ~¡ ~¥z

îy‚¡y xl%îy˜ ö¤y¥ô ‹þe«î•þÅ#

236

Bengal in My Blood

A.J. Thomas

The great river, with its muddied stream the colour of mixed decanted tea
Loomed up like a ghost through a rent in the clouds
As the plane prepared to land. Bengal throbs in my heart…
The thread-like rain falling without stop
Is the connection between the heavens and the earth.
Down on the ground, misery, want and uncouth inefficiency
Quicken my Delhi-wrath; I fail, groping for the words of a language
I lost decades ago, lisp and try haggling with the taxi man, to no avail,
But it’s unbelievably cheap as it turns out!
What turns me off is the sight of man-pulled rickshaws in the veins that lead out
From the heart of Kolkata; three decades and more of humane governance!
Intransigence, complacence, egotism, arrogance, mediocrity, apathy, sloth
Set against the brazen inhumanity of the new ‘ivory towers’ of the MNCs
Choke me….
The food is leaden on my palate; the fear of cholera
Forbids my thirst….
Dakshinesvar beckons me…
Kali Ma blesses me…
The great temples of art and learning,
The icons of the nation
Reassure me…
This is our Bengal…our Kolkata
Take heart….

***

Four decades later, a visit in driving rain and sleet…
To this haven green in memory and
Oft visited in dreams and reveries over the years as the heart
Quickened in nostalgic anticipation…

The House no more, only the buildings remain
The ancient venerable Bandel Church face-lifted into
A gaudy, garish ‘basilica’….the maidan shrunken, decrepit…
A priest, years junior to me in the House
Fearful, hesitant to offer bonhomie. The river’s invite
Still irresistible. The path that led to the riverbank
Slushy, the sticky mud hugging the shoes

237

The tiny fishing village, with cute, black boats
Tucked away in the inlet-stream. The greenery
Of banana tees, colocasias, mango-trees and drumstick trees
The misery of the shacks and hovels, all unchanged
In spite of the few new terraced buildings.
The road to the station is the same; same the lump
In the throat that rose as I left on a cycle-rickshaw
For the station last, four decades ago.
The heart of Bengal
Still draws me close; the squalor and hopelessness
Of the villages and towns and the metropolitan streets
Of Kolkata save for me a familiar wag of humanity’s tail.
I, like Yudhisthira, look towards it…
the end of trials and tribulations.

238

îy‚¡y xyôyîû îû_«™yîûyëû

~ ö þôy¤

ö²Õl!þ lyôyîû ’þzþ›e«ô †þîûöì•þ¥z
!îîûyþ ö¤ l˜#– Sé„y†þy ‹þyöìëûîû îû. †þ˜Åôy_« ¡
öôöì‰îû æþyþ¡ ˆóöì¡ ’þzöì‘þ xyöì¤
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l#öì‹þîû ôy!þöì•þ ˜%/‡– xèþyî xyîû xyÙ‹þëÅ x˜Çþ•þy
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˜îû˜yô !löìëû xö쥕%þ†þ !î’þü!î’þü †þó!îû– îÄíÅ ¥ó¥z ‡%„öì öþ›öì•þ ¢·=!¡ŸŸŸé
îà ˜¢öì†þîû þ›yöìîû öæþöì¡ xy¤y ~†þ!þ èþy£ìyîû–
•þî% ¤î!†þS%é x!îÙ»y¤Ä ¤hßìy ôöìl ¥ëûœ
†þ¡†þy•þyîû ¥*˜ëû öíöì†þ Sé!’þüöìëû þ›’þüy !¢îûyþ›í öîöìëû
ôyl%öì£ìîû !îû:y þylyîû Sé!î xyôyöì†þ !îô£ìÅ †þöìîû— ôyl!î†þ ¢y¤l
!•þl ˜¢öì†þîûG öî!¢ ¤ôëû xyœ
l•%þl ¤î îày!•þ†þ òˆ˜hsý!ôlyöìîûîûó xôyl!î†þ•þyŸŸŸé!î²Ì•þ#öìþ› •þyîû
xhsýô%Ň#l•þy– xyd•%þ!ÜT– x¥‚†þyîû– kþ•þÄ– ô™Äöìô™y– ’þz˜y¤#l•þy xyîû x¡¤ ëyþ›l
xyôyîû Ù»y¤öìîûy™ †þöìîûƒƒƒ
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²Ì!•þ¥•þ †þóöìîû îûyöì‡ xyôyîû !þ›þ›y¤yƒƒƒ
’þy†þ ö˜ëû ˜!Çþöì”Ù»îûƒƒƒ
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xyôyîû ¥*˜ëû ö†þöì’þü lyGƒƒƒ

ƒƒƒ

‹þyîû ˜¢öì†þîû þ›îû– îîûæþ G î,!ÜTîû ôyöìVþ ~öì¥l ¼ô”ƒƒƒ
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öîöì’þü Göì‘þ x•þ#•þy•þÅ ²Ì•þ#Çþyîû îö좃ƒƒ

îy!’þü‰îû xyîû öl¥z– Ö™% ¥zôyîû•þ xyöìSé
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ö¤¥z ˆ,öì¥ ÷ìl†þ •þîû&” ëy†þ

239

¢!Bþ•þ– ¤¥y¤Ä xyþ›Äyëûöìl öël !m™yÅîûÐ
•þî%G l˜#îû ’þy†þ
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’þzöì‘þ xyöì¤ ˆ¡y– ‹þyîû!þ ˜¢†þ xyöìˆîûÐ

îy‚¡yîû ¥*˜ëû
†þyöìSé þyöìl xyôyöì†þ ~‡lG— ¢¥îû xyîû @ýÌyô xyîû ô¥ylyˆ!îû†þ
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xyôyîû lÄ öël ôylî•þyîû ô,˜% þ›%FSéöì˜y¡y
¤Méþëû †þóöìîû îûyöì‡Ð
¤ôhßì !î‹þyîû xyîû ¤%†þ!‘þl ësf”yîû ö¢öì£ì •þyîû !˜öì†þ
•þy!†þöìëû íy!†þ xy!ô– ë%!™!Ûþöìîûîû ôöì•þyƒƒƒ

îy‚¡y xl%îy˜ ö¤y¥ô ‹þe«î•þÅ#

240

Wave

Kanjalochan Pathak

That is born and that dies 
In the seas and oceans, 
Swaying the ships, dancing 
To the tune of the wind and storm,
In ripple after ripple,
Visibly and invisible, proving
That even waters are alive.

Unseen, that crawls to 
The ears and consciousness 
Bringing news and tidings, swaying 
The heart and the mind, proving 
That lives are alive and
So is an earth, and an earthful.

Invisibly, that travels piggyback 
To the eyes to make all visible, giving 
Meaning to the eternal saga of
My soul however sullen
And to your smiles, that glow it up,
And the heavenly things up above.

Unseen, that connects your
Mind with mine, mind with mind
Thing with thing, everything.

And, stealthily, that sweeps 
Across a mighty land, carrying,
Seeds of sorrow, unseen by the sun,
To blow out light after light
On the way, to leave
a trail of darkness till somewhere,
The dark tunnel will end on a sunny day.

241

ö“þ’þz îy‚¡y xl%îy˜ ö¤y¥ô ‹þe«î•þÅ#

†þOöì¡y‹þl þ›y‘þ†þ

ëy §Ãyëû– ëy ôóöìîû ëyëû
¤yˆöìîû– ô¥y¤yˆöìîûîû î%öì†þ–
ö˜y¡y !˜öìëû y¥yöìîû ˆyéŸéëû– ölöì‹þéŸéölöì‹þ
Vþ’þü G ¥yGëûyîû ¤%öìîû–
¡¥îû#öì•þéŸé¡¥îû#öì•þ–
x˜,öì¢Ä– ˜,¢Äôyl•þyëû– ²Ìôy” †þóöìîû
öì¡îûG #îl xyöìS韟Ÿé~¥z%þ†%þ †þíyÐ

x¡ÇþÄ– =„!’þü öôöìîû “%þöì†þ þ›öì’þü
†þyl !˜öìëû öîyöì™îû !èþ•þîû
‡îîûéŸéx‡îîû xyöìl– ö˜y¡y !˜öìëû
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˜%/öì‡îû î# îóöìëû îóöìëû– xyîû
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242

=îûy!þ èþy£ìy
Gujrati Language

ડાબ-ંુ જમણું

કમલ વોરા

અમારો એક ભાઈબધં
ડાબા હાથે લખતો તને ી જાણ
અમને છેક તર્ ીજા-ચોથા ધોરણમાં થઈ.
અમારા અક્ષર અમે સરખાવી જોતા તો
ડાબો હાથ મોતીના દાણા વેરતો
ને જમણો ઝાકળ-ટીપાં ઝરતો.
મા કહેતી
પ્રસાદ અને સોગદં જમણા હાથે જ ખવાય,
એના આશિષ જમણે હાથે વરસતા;
ઘડિયાળ ડાબા કાંડે બધં ાતી,
તાવીજ જમણે બાવડે.
કેટલાકં કામ ડાબા હાથે જ થતા.ં
ઉબં ર બહાર પહલે ો જમણો પગ મકુ ાતો,
ડાબો અંગૂઠો પાકતો તય્ ારે ગોખમાં દીવો કરાતો.
જમણા પગનો લબકારો
ડાબા સાથળના મૂળમાં થઈને
પિડં ીમાં ઊતરતો.
ડાબી આખં ફરકતી તય્ ારે
અમે ઘાઘં ા થતા અને
આછી આછી ખજં વાળ આવે
તો જમણી હથેળીને ચમૂ ી લેતા.
ઘરની જમણે સાકં ડી ગલીને છેડે
અમારી નિશાળ હતી અને
એની ડાબે રમવાનંુ મદે ાન.
કર્ િકેટમાં કોઈ ડાબોડી
કોઈ જમણોડી એની ગડ વહલે ી બસે ી ગઈ હતી
પણ એક ભેરુને
ડાબા હાથે બટે િગં અને જમણા હાથે બોલિંગ કરતો જોઈને
અમે પહેલવહેલંુ મઝૂં ાયેલા.
એક વાર તાળી પાડતાં પાડતાં
ટીખળ ખાતર
માસ્તરને ઉખાણંુ પછૂ ી બઠે ેલા કે
તાળી કયો હાથ પાડે છે ત્યારે
એકનો જમણો કાન અમળાયેલોે,
બીજાને ડાબી અડબોથ પડેલી.
જમણો હાથ તણાઈ તણાઈને ઊગમણે પહોંચતો
અને ડાબો આથમણી કષ્ િતિજ ઝબકોળતો તય્ ારે

243

મુઠ્ઠીઓમાં સમાઈ જતા સરૂ જ-ચંદર
હથેળીના પોલાણમાં એકરંગી થઈ જતા અને
એકમકે માં પરોવાયલે ી
અમારી દસે આંગળીઓ રણઝણી ઊઠતી.
ડાબું-જમણંુ ડાબો-જમણો ડાબી-જમણી કરતાં કરતાં
અમે થાકીને લોથ થતા ત્યારે
મા અમને એક થાળીએ જમાડતી.
પછી રમતાં રમતાં
સાવ રમત-રમતમાં
ડાબોડી-જમણોડી અમે
ડાબેરી-જમણેરી થઈ ગયા.
હવ,ે ક્યારકે , અચાનક જ
ઊંચે, વાદળો વચચ્ ે મરકતા માસ્તર
અમને કટૂ પ્રશન્ પછૂ તા રહે છે :
બોલો છોકરાવં ,
આ તાળીઓ
કયો હાથ પાડે છ?ે
તય્ ારે ખાલી થાળી જેવડો સરૂ જ,
ખાલી થાળી જવે ડો ચાદં ો
સામસામું, પાસપાસે ગગનભદે ી ખખડ્યા કરે છે.

244

Left and right

Kamal Vora

It was in the third standard --
Or was it the fourth?
It was as late as that
when we found out
that one of our friends
wrote with his left hand.

When we compared our handwriting,
we would see that
the left hand produced strings of pearls,
while the right, elegant streams of dewdrops

Mother would say,
Use the right hand
to have blessed foods
and make solemn promises.
We would always be blessed
with her right hand.
The watch would always be
worn on the left,
the amulet always
on the right.

Some things had to be done
only with the left hand.
While stepping out of the house,
the right foot had to be first;
when the left toe suppurated,
a lamp had to be lit before the deity.

The throb of the right leg
would echo in the left calf
via the base of the thigh.

We would panic when
the left eye flickered and
kiss the right palm
even if it itched just a little.

245

On the right of our house
at the end of the narrow lane
lay our school and
on the left
our playground.

While playing cricket,
we had realised early
that some players
were right-handed and
some left-handed,
but we were confounded
like never before
when we saw a friend
bat left-handed and
bowl right-handed.

Once, just for fun,
when we had clapped in class
and asked the teacher
a riddle: which hand is clapping,
one of us had his right ear twisted,
the other received a left-handed slap.

When the right arm would stretch out
to the rising sun
and the left dip into the horizon
with the setting moon
our fists would contain the sun and the moon
that fused in our palms,
as our fingers, all ten of them,
tingling with excitement
entwined each other’s.

Left and right, 246
left-handed and right-handed,
lefty and righty
and on and on...
When we were exhausted
from our play
Mother would serve us
dinner in the same plate.

Then, while playing
just another game,
we were no longer
left-handed or right-handed,
we became Leftists and Rightists.

These days, once in while
the Teacher smiles among the clouds
and riddles us:
The applause that you hear,
tell me, children,
which hand is clapping?

On cue, the sun,
as large as an empty plate
and the moon,
as full as an empty plate,
face each other.
The roar can be heard across the heavens.

Gujarati Translation : Naushil Mehta

247

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248