শায়রী 


অনেক  কিছুই  বলার  ছিল  হয়নি বলা 
অনেক  কিছু  জানার  ছিল হয়নি  জানা 
দুরের  চাঁদ  আর  আকাশ  ছিল  স্বপ্নে -ঠাসা 
শুন্যে  ছিল  পূর্ণ হবার  শেষ  ঠিকানা !
২৪ /১২/১১

শ্রী  অরবিন্দ 


তুমি 
মশাল  হয়ে       জ্বলে  উঠতে ই
আমরা হাত  সে   সেকতে  সেক তে   বলে    উঠলাম  
এ বার  শীতে র   বুকে লাত্থী   
বু নো  ভাল্লুক টাকে  তুমি
আগুন আগুন  চোখে ভয়    দেখালে !


আমরা    
বিস্মিত হতে  হতে
উত্তপ্ত সাহসে পা  বারালাম


তার পার ,---তুমি
উ ল কা   হযে         আক়া শ    -  মুখ -এ             




আমরা জে নে  গে লাম 
কোনো হিংস্র অন্ধাকার্ কে -ই  আর 
 ভয়    পা বা র     কা র ন   নেই !
একদিন আমাদের  হাতের মশাল ,--তুমি  ছিলে 
 এখন , নক্ষত্র -দুরত্বে , -তুমি ভাস্বর   !
( র চনা  - ১ ৯  ৬৮-৭০ এর  মা ঝে  কোনো    সময় ) 


আমরা  রাত্রির  সৈকতে অপেক্ষা  করছি   

আলোর  সমুদ্রে  স্নান করব বলে !
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
( written sometimes between 1968 &' 7o; was pubished in Samayanug, a monthy POETRY- magazine, calcutta )

My Question to Myself  and my Answer from  within :

Q.:What is the worst crime ? /  Ans ; To allow POVERTY  in this 21st Century.
Q :What is the best  Religion ?  Ans: To evolve  One-self  up-ward from the state of where he is.
Q What is the Global  Offence ?   Ans:  exploitation  of one Nation  by another
Q:Should  there be Churches , Temple and mosques ?   Ans;  Only  if they are open  to all people for all the time
Q :  Does one need have Religious Identity , -to be spiritual ?  Ans: Not at all. there are men more spiritual than even  very famous Religious personalities.
 Q: What is the Value of Name and fame ?    Ans:  To be bound and conditioned by others'  opinion.
Q:  What is the most difficult job for some one in life ?  Ans ;  to remain 'Normal' and calmposed under any situation.
( Out of my note-Pad dt. 31.03.o7 )

THE MURDERED MOON

MURDERED MOON
Saw the murdered moon,---beyond the cornice of the roof
don't remembermer the date ;but not so distant in time
and so vivid , ike a picture , in mind
for , it was the day -when
on the ground-floor, the drunk husband kicked his wife
and came out, with another dream baked on his hungry eyes
And more, --at the wine-shop , near by, -feeding media songs
and keeping the crowd warm or hot !
And a young dandy with a cigarette buning betwix parted lips
tempting the painted girl of a costly car.
From this roof , -could see many a tragic scene
and the sickle -moon murdered by Time
her naked pale body , -covered by bed-spread cloud.

The tragic scene ,--still so bright in my memory--for
the police came when the news spread
that the the pregnant lady from another roof
jumped with assured hope of not to live any more
And the murdered moon was visible still
half-covered by a piece of cloud,-even then
on the lap of puzzled sky !
( Translated by Umanath Bhattacharya from Bengali and published in
the book "Murdered Moon and other poems ", from Delhi, India ,1983;
revised and edited ,now, by the poet)

DEATH OF A BEGGAR

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

DEATH OF A BEGGAR
DEATH OF A BEGGAR
[Experience: Saw a DEAD Beggar at the crossed -Road ,Karol Bag, DELHI in winter ,1962 '. The poem was composed between 65--'66 ]

Alas ! ---Oh GOD ----
how to console you !
Your failed creative effort ---- now ashamed
and printed on the dead-open eyes , ---of the beggar Dead !
Yet the man was born , (-by your choice) like , in human -way !
Even the stray- dog of that tobaco -shop
is wagging his tail with indulgene of the owner there -and
that beggar , now dead , could not get even a little of that !
But what pleasure did you derive, -tell
By shaping off his tail in your evolutionary -Joy
In his life , strugging to survive , in -spit- of
insects , mosquitoes or rain
and indifferent ,adverse civillised world
now paid back all his dues -to you
through his last instalment - his breath and silent HEART
exhaling out his last and poisoned breath , -on your face
for -- revenge !
And I was there and witnessed it

In his final DEATH, all his unpaid credit-dues --- repaid in full !
Betwix the partig lips --dry and dead
'PEACE ' that he never got in life, is resting now !
In puffing out of his final breath
and , now , he paid you back-the LIFE
that you gifted, knowing ,even - so fake !

The cold naked body ----lying stiff
while slammed and shut its doors ,--on your face
there I could see --all your creative Seasons, --summer, spring or rain
kicked out like UN-wanted guests, --from his ife.
And --
the leucodermic , leperous Day
refused by his indifferent -poise
or ,-even from his opaque- eyes
like kicked -out stray dog with tail , betwix legs
ran out of his way !
(Transcreated to- day from the Bengali poem , published in CACTUS [Bengali -book ], 1969, Calcutta)

THE SUPREME GAME

The Biologic ROBOT
with injected life and 'Consciousness- lumination '
beyond Visible LIGHT or EMF -TRICK
Subtler than any " thing'
and the GAME
sprayed over all the Cosmic Field
by the whim of a lonely JEST-ER
ever ---UNKNOWN !
Because
He or she or IT
liked to feel amused - being ever alone
with ETERNITY ever, -within !
*********
Betwixt the Waste -pipe and the Swear
the JEST-ER designed and hid
the treasure-trove of
Passion and Love
suffused with the spectrum of hormnal flow
for perceptual joy.

The eternal 'Play 'or the Game
can never end nor snap like ,- DREAM !
For ,-----otherwise
the Desigher will have none to meet
or to mate
and would be bored , ever within
with the sef
Himslef-herself or Itself
with NONE to be with -and
with no ----OUT or WITHIN !
even to ESCAPE !

A DRAMATIC MEETING

Of Phani Basu,I confess, I had no knowledge at all about -who he is, what he is or what place he hails from , though I have rendered into english a large number of Bengali poems, including about fifty beautiful pieces of poet Phani Basu.
Thus happened that historic event;
One fine morning in October 1977, after finishing the translation of a poem of Phani Basu (whom I never yet saw, or knoew), that appeared in the Puja nimber of ' SAMAYANUG' of that year, I was absorbed in reciting it with verve, as was my wont,when to my pleasant surprise, Sri Deb kumar basu, the Editor of the SAMAYANUG, announcd himsef.
With him was a gentleman with soft feature and an artistic aroma about him.When Debkumar Basu introduced his companion as his friend -Dr.phani Basu M.d, I jumped to my feet with excitement and exclaimed 'is he by any chance a poet also ?'
As my editor friend noded, affirmatively and the poet looked on, I spread before his view the translation of a romantic piece of his "Ami Taari Paakhi"(I am her Bird) just completed and the ink was not dry til then! Presenty I embraced him warmly.
The effect was tremendousy dramatic! Whoever dreamt that the poet would come and grace my study and discover his own poem translated on that very hour of histiric day of our first meeting and the editor from whose Magazine the piece was , would also witness it !,"
Umanath Bhttacharya
S-v/49 , R.K Puram, new delhi- 110 o22