Being one with no glee...

I want a gush of monsoon air,
A tender touch of winter sun,
A comfortable rhythm of breathing,
And everything that makes beings
Believe that they are alive -
For those who keep
The felicity of their heart green,
Even while fighting for their lives.

Isn't it supernatural
How they just add
Almost four teaspoons of sugar
In this journey's bitter cup of tea,
And drink it up even without a flinch?
As if waiting for life until it's easy
Before deciding to be happy,
Isn't their own cup-of-tea.

-

I press the pillow tightly
Against my chest
In order to get a grip
On my reckless heart rate.
The heart rate that often
Chokes me down.

-

So, for once, just for a change,
I'm resting a bit...
Finally, calm and tranquil.
Waiting here patiently,
Not caring about
Running out of time...
Cause, "it's you, it's always you".

So, for once, just for a change,
I believe that
Time truly is standing still.
We're the two dots in motion...
As they keep on saying
In the classroom,
Beyond "the linearity of time".

So, for once, just for a change,
I'm floating on the fluid,
Willing to be with you...
After all, it feels good
To not be alone in the ocean.

-

And then I Flinched... after ages.
Enraged, Angry, Hurt, Tired, Scared...
Seeing no one else flinching in the room.
I saw a dying troop of countless wasps.
Only noise and nodding of
Mass affirmation with no grief...
As if Wilde was merely a name
Or something that was made
Of alphabets, not of flesh and blood.
Or maybe they thought,
His shackles were like blankets
That gave him enough comfort to sleep.
Then I hope, they also didn't know
What spitting on a being's face means.

Was I a fool to experience
An arrow breaking open
My forehead then?

Why in universe, everything about that
Again led me to my own emptiness,
And craving for your embrace?

I went back to slumber anyway, though.

-

Although you know too well
That I always perceive myself as
One of the newest souls out there...
But there are moments when
I can't help feeling that
Maybe... just maybe
Poetry was written by me
Even one or two hundred years ago too.

-

Now when I'm numb out of weariness,
So much that I can't even feel
The pain of my overstretched
Ear piercing's wound...
Let me ask you again,
Arguably the most cliché question:
What is Love?

-

এখনও তো দোয়াতে আছে কালি,
মহাকাব্যের আধখানাটা বাকি।
এইতো সবে একটি দশক পার,
কয়েক'শো খান শতাব্দী আজও বাকি।

এখনও তো ওষ্ঠে আছে প্রাণ,
নিঃশ্বাসেরও থমকে যেতে দেরি।
জোনাকিদের ঘুম ভাঙাতে হবে,
রাতের আলোয় জাপটে ধরা বাকি।

তারপরে তো হারিয়ে যাব কোথায়,
বৃষ্টি শহর বা ড্যান্ডেলায়েনের মাঠে।
হঠাৎ কোনো ভায়োলিনের সুরে,
বোধহয় নতুন রূপে প্রাচীন আলাপ বাকি।

-

Isn't it utterly unjustified
That I don't have control
Over the steering wheel
Of the bloody vehicle of Time?
It doesn't make any sense,
Especially when I myself
Am sitting on the driver's place...

-

Living inside a vortex isn't fun,
Trust me.
And, if you ask for proof,
I can be
Your existing witness...

-

The night you stayed
At my place,
We locked the rest
Of the world
Inside your laptop bag...

-