“জীবনের ফাঁদে
নিজেকে হারাই
খুঁজি, খুঁজি, জীবন নাহি দেখিতে পাই।”
যে জীবন চাই, আর কাজের চাপে যে জীবন পাই, এই দুজনের সংঘর্ষের নাম : ধাঁধা।
“পথ হারাব বলেই এবার, পথে নেমেছি, সোজা পথের ধাঁধায়.... ”
হায় রে দ্বৈত জীবন, তোমরা খালি সুখ দুঃখের হিসেব করো, আমি বরং ধাঁধা গুলোর হিসেব করি।-
To
The Harbinger of Happiness
You were wind, you tended to blow
You came and unveiled me
All my scars, my pains, smiles and tears
heaps of lies, now seem to be picayune.
Your wind showed me the thin alignment
of everyday chaos.
I am the same, I was the same.
Now I know the place of each
and dispose the dross in abyss- mind.
But you were wind, I knew
There was no illusion in dreams, I shall never wait for you.
The world echoes unrivalled heart breaks,
Every time I shift my gaze, some hearts are in the midst of patching up,
then they turn into breezes.
But you were not the breeze, I hope you become one day.
Though your storm had calmed me, I hope you are not spiralling again.
-
A PROSECUTION
Keep aside, just take it all and leave me in a lie,
a lie so foaming, frothing, yet less venomous than your reality.
Or is it the vengeful perception of yours?
Why you have set up this unfinished game of life and like?
There is no joy in
pushing someone like pendulum.
I hate oscillation, still at the most wanted
moments I find my improvisation still lacking a skill.
Should I sit more with your truth?
Or let my night come on my heavy eyelids
to let it all forget, not entirely, but the momentary confrontation of time against truth.
Hold your tough words, I being a straw, let us not be waiting for the dangerous weapon to choose the owner.
Wait till I end everything with “until”,
That word- my despairing hope.-
REFRACTION
Put all the pains in the words and
I have let them fly, opened the cage so far;
to save myself.
But the shadows of dark decisions,
struggles and fear, they hold on,
a close follow up.
Is it a slow poisoning?
Engulfed by their quicksands,
the shadows they have left on purpose.
Striking my mind and soul with cruel blows, those sharp axes.
Is there no escape?
The imageries are not
what they mean...
they fly high to give you
a refracted view of escape and freedom.
They are still there, deceived views.
Haven't moved a bit from the places,
ushering false hopes.
-
MISERY
The song of youth is not a bunch charming roses.
It doesn't change overnight to a sweet dream of old hearts.
It costs pains and dreams, satires and sweat.
The youths are shimmering stars; stars so cold
because of promises the age has taken from them.
It rises among hustles and acceptance, it smells like Petrichor in a heavy air.
It craves for the love that liberates but is entrapped in the static life.
Who told these songs are pleasant? Wishful thinking of old hearts,
who forget their miseries once the threshold is crossed.
The time is the pied piper, lures to miseries and frees with perceptions.
The labyrinth is a mythical thing since
antiquity.-
DENOUEMENT
The fascinated youth worships the death.
While that is burdened with experiences
sighs a fear, responsibility or hatred.
Paint some colors.
Put some filters.
Build and break
build and break.
A dead man's mouth, how the intrigues
speak of hope and joy, inside they burn;
a holy ritual to uplift the soul.
Warm blood dries, the serpent sleeps
coiling in a corner, now the mind's turn;
Praise be Lord! A prey to ghoul!
Let age take away the voice, not my mind
where I wrote them well, on walls, of all kind.
Run and hide, and forget the love, leave everything behind.
The passionate youth curses the life,
while that has known the years
leaves the mark and tries to strive.
Paint some colors.
Put some filters.
Day and night
day and night.
— % &-
THE STOLEN VERSES
I want to dive deep inside
you and find the verses
that drip out of your
soul as honey.
The verses are not exactly mine,
but I know that feeling
they are my words.
I suddenly feel no urge,
by some strong prayers the ornaments
are shifted to you.
Gifted to you.
Joyous indeed,
but is it stolen
Or is it the universality of pathos
that nourishes them,
each, within every soul.
And the chance play happens......
— % &-
TOSKA
(If there is a soul, if it is a heart)
May be this restlessness
inside me, which is a slow poison
but stinging now and then
needs a outlet...
the streams of tears that runs
through pale cheeks,
have created the best
design on the pillow, one can know.
It is the day of shadows, and
I am searching for clouds,
the rain must fall
not only to nourish the ground
but to save the sky.
The clouds must get heavier
to remove the burden of the sky.
I never knew I embraced shadows
for the sake of creation.
The creation, which perhaps
will be lost in time.
The winds!
Always take me to wrong direction
for the sake of my well-being.
Am I resting too much on them?
I just wanna be happier
Is it too much to ask for?
— % &-
প্রিয়তমা,
হ্যাঁ, প্রিয়তমাই বলব তোমাকে, কারণ আর পাঁচজনের মতো কোনো দিনই তোমাকে ভয় পাইনি, তোমার কাছ থেকে পালানোর চেষ্টা ও করিনি। হয়তো বা ভালোবেসেছি, কিন্তু প্রেমে পড়িনি। প্রেম আর ভালোবাসার তফাৎ টা আগে বুঝিনি, তুমিইতো বুঝিয়েছ। মানুষ জেনে প্রেমে পড়ে, কিন্তু ভালোবাসাটা কেমন করে যেন হয়ে যায়।
জন্মের পর যখন মা আমাকে ছেড়ে চলে গেল তোমার সাথে, সবার কাছে কত না কথা শুনেছি। ওফ! আমি নাকি আমার মা কে খেয়েছি! আচ্ছা, নিজের মা কে খাবে? কেন খাবে? শুধু কি এই? আরো কতো গালমন্দ শুনেছি, অর্ধেকটা তো মনেই নেই।
থাক সে কথা, সেই গালিগালাজ গুলো শিশু মনে প্রভাব ফেলে ছিল বৈকি। অনেক বয়স পর্যন্ত তোমার উপর খুব রাগ ছিল, ভাবতাম, কোনো রকমে বড় হয়েই মা কে তোমার কাছ থেকে নিয়ে আসব আর দেখিয়ে দেব আমি মা কে খাইনি।
বাবার সঙ্গে খুব একটা সখ্যতা ছিলনা। বাড়ির একমাত্র পুত্র সন্তান হওয়া সত্ত্বেও তার আদরণীয়া স্ত্রীর মৃত্যুর কারণও হওয়া তে তিনি আমাকে খুব একটা পছন্দ করতেন না। কাকিমার কাছে শুনেছি, তিনি মা কে খুব ভালোবাসতেন, দ্বিতীয় বার বিয়ে পর্যন্ত করেননি। ইস্! হিংসে হচ্ছে বুঝি।তা করতেই পারো, আমি জানি তুমি মা কে অনেক ভালোবাসতে, খুব রোগে ভুগত আমার মা, তবু বাবা হাল ছাড়েননি কোনো দিন। কিন্তু আমার বেলায় বুঝি শিকে ছিঁড়ল না। মা যেতে চায়নি, নিয়ে গেছ, তার ইচ্ছার বিরুদ্ধে আর তার বদলে ছেড়ে গেলে আমায়
(ক্যাপশনে)
-
UN-BEAUTIFUL
Scared of reflections
because my destiny lacks peace of mind.
I have fallen in love
with the winter crescent moon.
Sometimes one's own emotions
are hard on oneself so much,
Why to look for God when one
cannot spare oneself.
I have started opening ornaments
one by one, from the verses.
They will soon appear as raw, as direct
but less complex than the emotions.
Things that are invisible eats you up.
All your fears, without it you are
just a beatbox.
I have not kept the ornaments in the
respective shelves, guess they are scattered;
like my soul.
Blue blood dripping from the ornaments,
no more beautiful.
-