There is an uncanny scar
Inflicted upon me,
A sword dangling-
Perpetually threatening
My state of well being.
When anxiety smothers me tight
With its bloodied arms,
Reminds me of my abuses-
One, two, three, four,....
I feel groped right now.
No proof. Absolutely no proof.
How do I prove a rotten mind?
A scummed soul with smiling visage?
A charm of a lifetime
A lie of a moment?
A suffocation never sufficing.
A manipulation ever-serene.
A game only I realise being played.
How do I sustain?

You only know yourself.
You only know that the ground shakes often
And palpitations increase.
You can't blame.
You don't blame.
You somehow sustain.

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.....

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Fear prevailed already.
Tokens and currencies were
On the verge of vanishment.
Locomotion was limited
Within four squares.
Rice and supplements,
Somehow filled the corners of
Their crooked stomach.
Who knew darkness had its deeper shade?
When the roof above the head
Flew away,
The pandemic became a forgotten lore.
Nature in its outrageous incarnation
Seized the little piece of muddy land
That held those four squares together.
Trees uprooted,
Shops demolished,
Hope screeching out its last cries.
My state resembles
A crematorium.

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Because some things are locked
And hid under the carpet
Like layers of grey dust,
Uncared, untouched for months and years.
Like strangers poking you in public,
Bad ogles, worse grins,
As daily as cereals and cornflakes.
And once in a while
A friend you go out with,
A drink or two indicates you're "easy".
So a "easy" girl would laugh
At your lewd jokes/posts.
The depth of night
Brings the devil out of
The "otherwise" human.
The length of dress, plunge of neckline-
Is she asking for it?
Don't you understand?
If I want I will bloody ask for it
If I want and don't ask,
You will just not give it to me anyway.
You cannot.
You better learn to behave
You better know your limits
You better don't mirror people
To get what you want.
You better
Be a human.

-

At times
I lose knowledge of
Bangla, English, Hindi.
Words vanish under
My tongue,
I cannot express
Matters of heart.

-

There's a moon that we see
One half of it is praiseworthy
And poems are scribbled on its glory
Like people know us by our stories-
The happy ones,
The obvious ones,
The ones that radiate throughout.
There's another half
That rarely attracts laugh
The ones we least talk about
Those hardships we barely cry aloud.
The craters dug deep in our soul
Mysteries they hold like Moon's south pole.
And rovers are set up, lander's targeted
Yet some novels aren't ever articulated.
Truth resides in such creases
And beauty of a truth never ceases.

-

Some days I am a bird
And I will be carrying my twigs
To my nest all by myself.

Some days I am a leaf
So I will be waiting for the wind
To reach me to places.

On all days I am a mix of both
The wind will make the wing so light
I will fly to places with you by my side.

-

The best thing is that when humanity
is under threat and demolition,
Science is still the truth unbreakable.
The worst part is that science without humanity is unoperational.

-

There are a few people who understand silence,
Fewer who can maintain it .
For silence is potent,
Silence is meaningful.
Silence is the interval between
two consecutive waves crashing upon the beach.
Silence is the intermediate between
dawn and morn.
Silence is the peace on a hill top.
Silence is gold if you strike a chord.
It's interesting that
What you cannot do with words
You can achieve through silence.
Silence is capable.
Silence is a rhythm.
In a world where reactions are easy to put
And fighting is the way of the gamut
Silence is a medium forgotten.
Silence is a weapon that lies rusted.
It's funny how I have so much to say about silence,
That every sentence in this poem
Has "silence" in it,
Because a realisation has crept about
That you write about things
You generally don't say aloud.

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It is tough to be not able to write.
It is tough to surrender,
For an ego-coated puny heart like me--
To submit to vulnerability.
It is tough.

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