All things Language, all things Culture
Do not name your darkness, yet. Speak soft, gently... gently... Take the long way round. Take the stair by the patio, or the passage through the backyard. Cover your lamp, stay close to the bush. Your darkness awaits by the window. It is a lovely window still, if you but squint your eyes and the… Continue reading Hush
I sit up a little straight every time your footsteps approach. Pit pat pit pat they come, and then fade away.Always the same. Saunter. That's the word. The smell the sound the touch. The touch of a saunter is creepy. Yet I always forget that when you touch me. Touched me.I have listened for that… Continue reading The Unchosen
Poison penetrates me, drop by drop. I stand before her gaping mouth and count the rotting teeth. Row upon row of stones dark with ever-oozing blood and pus, and I think of the depths the poison would have to reach before being able to carve out such exquisite pain from their steadfast roots. The roots… Continue reading Purgatory
If the gods were real, what would I ask of them? Riches, comforts, unencumbered health A home with white walls and a courtyard with trees A river to swim, a river to drown A meadow to walk without pain A release, from pain. If the gods were real, should I bow to them or accuse… Continue reading If the Gods were Real
'Jaago Rai' was first published as a series in a Bangla poetry blog, and garnered quite a following. The poems were collected and published in 2013 as a little black chapbook illustrated by the poet himself and created by a little collective of madcap writers and artists who called themselves 'Houdinir Tnabu' (Houdini's magic tent).
On days like this, I don't want the pain to stop. I wake up dreaming of sumptuous steaks in golden platters and my stomach turns. The weak but insistent rays of a late-winter sun struggle against my dusty blue curtain and I try to wipe off the smug faces of my uncle and aunt sitting… Continue reading Love Will Keep Us Alive
In Other Words 