Posts

Rat Trap

In emptiness I grope for dreams, footsteps fall unknowing into a lotus field. A tree of images rises— yet mud and silt strip me bare, shred me into filth. Wherever I look— distance, only distance. A tunnel appears, thick with stench. A cunning rat— its one-pointed life hums a tune of debauchery. It searches for holes, slick with fraud, treachery sharpened like instinct. Night shadows coil over lotus fields, while the rat leaps, chasing the comfort of an easier life. But every tunnel leads farther away, lotus drifting out of reach. In the hope of selfish survival one day that greedy heart will be caught— inside the cage, the machinery of the rat-trap snapping shut.

Searching for a Tunnel

I found a tunnel in the wall, and the mind longed to crawl inside.   So many days in hiding already, eyes avoiding eyes, slipping toward the shelter of darkness.   Ants enter— one by one, in strict procession, carrying food for their winter sleep.   I too fragment, become smaller, as small as possible— as if arrogance itself were peeled away.   At the mouth of the tunnel I strip off the body’s so-called divinity, push aside the armor, become a sliver, barely human.   Yet if a man finds a tunnel he too will slip inside— not as a hero, but as a fugitive.   Into the eternal hiding place, following ants, step after step, toward the vanishing.

Old Age

On an evening walk the mind opened its wings, while dormant existences lingered waiting for some ambush along forgotten paths.   If there were words to tell, they could not be fabricated. On a lakeside bench Subodh Babu asked— “ How are you?”   How to answer truth with more truth? Too much of it becomes unbearable. I said—“I’m fine,” though eavesdroppers multiply like shadows. No oil, no salt— doctor’s orders. This burning inside the body has no other reason.   Time drifts away in hunger, a single plate of rice at noon— not insufficient, yet not abundance either. This is life.   From years of struggle so much was earned, yet nothing essential. Perhaps life could have been lived without all this— the medicine, the clinging to survival.   Labor consumed the body, but never became the reason to live. The household stayed orderly, each member in their own delight. A “successful life”— they call it. Anyone might have rejoiced in it, dreaming their sky in colors. ...

Jungle

The banyan’s hanging basket builds its home on the clay ridge, above the grass’s chest. Sunlight breaks into fragments of glass, opaque, uncertain, trembling.   In this impossible jungle of half-darkness, life’s morning stirs with secret breath. Two young bodies, raw and ungoverned, slip between trunks with savage intent.   They twine, serpent-spiraled, their embrace like the banyan’s roots descending. The forest closes around them, a chamber neither holy nor profane.   In that tangled clasp, unmarked by law, tomorrow gathers itself—seed in shadow.

Night-Jasmine

I knew at the tip—  a flicker,  a micro-light,  already gone. dreams / calculate / themselves:  how many must ignite  before a star-eye  registers—presence? centuries collapse:  light-years → ache-years →  I glimpse (too late?)  what love might mean. I grew dew—  beads on leaf-edge,  a geometry of falling. then suddenly / your body /  around mine: flame → wick → Shivaratri midnight. your skin = yellow smoke,  climbing trees,  an incense trunk. I burn—  joy, grief,  womb of fire. sleepless / tonight / equation:  what penalty = desire + spark? Night-Jasmine sweats:  each drop = tenderness,  each drop = betrayal. a moth—dark, wing-frayed,  released—  flies blind /  straight into fire. I—burn—  locked room / of love /  no exits. yet— I turn to be held was enough. knowledge remained,  like a shard in the mouth: before the sprint →  death is rehearsal,  a wound of love  never ripening,  never closing. immortality =  dying / once /  with you. ...

Slippery

The sculptor’s homeland abandoned— long before I was poured into this geography of pain. In the oily lattice of a womb where the umbilical flower is clipped like scrap metal, a flesh-chisel jerks awake— fatherhood delayed along the slippery corridor of uterine clay. Birth rings out: its cry fused with the sculptor’s hammer, a deep genital resonance— indistinguishable. Life swirls across slippery floors of space, renouncing nations, renouncing inheritance. I tried to walk the gentler avenue— the avenue of pleasure, but its soft exhibition never revealed itself. So I waited, like a penniless bird, beak sharp against emptiness. One day the passage of birth will close— and in hunger for another orbit I will carve new sorrow into the soft mud of earth. Here I remain, eyes pressed to the uterus, guarding the embryo of tomorrow— as though the sculptor’s hand still shapes me from the residue of his own disappearance.

āĻŽাāϤৃāϏ্āύেāĻš

  āϜীāĻŦāύ āĻāĻŽāύ āĻ…āĻŦাāϧ্āϝ āĻ­ূāĻŽিāĻ•া⧟ āϧāϰা āĻĻিāϞো āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ āĻ›িāϞ āϰৌāĻĻ্āϰেāϰ āĻ•োāϞে āĻŽাāĻĨা āϰেāĻ–ে āĻļু⧟ে āĻŦāϞāϤাāĻŽ āĻŽা āĻ­াāϤ āĻĻাāĻ“ āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āωāĻ—āϰে āφāϏা āĻāĻ•āϟুāĻ•āϰো āϏ্āĻŽৃāϤি āύি⧟ে āĻŦāϏāϤাāĻŽ āĻ…āĻŦিāĻŦেāϚāĻ•েāϰ āĻŽāϤো āϜāύ্āĻŽ āϰāĻšāϏ্āϝāĻ•ে āĻ—ুāϞি⧟ে āĻĢেāϞāϤাāĻŽ āĻ–িāĻĻেāϰ āϏāĻ™্āĻ—ে āĻŽা āĻŦāϞāϤো āϏুāĻĒাāϰি āĻ—াāĻ›ে āωāĻ ে āφāĻŽাāϰ āĻĒাāĻ—āϞী āĻŽাāĻĨা⧟ āϚেāĻĒে āĻŦāϏāĻŦি āϤুāχ āĻুāϞে āĻĒ⧜া āϤীāĻ•্āώ্āĻŖ āϏ্āϤāύেāϰ āĻŦোঁāϟা āϧāϰে āϟাāύāĻŦি āϤুāχ āĻĻেāĻ–āĻŦি āĻŽাāϰ āϘāϰে āĻ•āϤ āĻ…āύ্āϧāĻ•াāϰ āϰাāϤে āĻ•োāύ āĻ­ুāϤুāϰে āĻļāĻŦ্āĻĻেāϰা āφāϏে āĻāĻ•āĻĻিāύ āϘাāϏেāϰ āĻŦুāĻ•ে āϞুāĻ•ি⧟ে āĻĨেāĻ•ে āĻŽিāώ্āϟি āĻĒাāϤাāϰ āĻ—āύ্āϧ āĻ–েāϤে āĻ–েāϤে āύāĻĻীāĻĒāĻĨে āĻĢেāϰা āϏ্āύাāύāϰāϤ āĻŽে⧟েāĻĻেāϰ āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻšā§ŸāϤো āĻ•āĻ–āύো āĻŽāύে āĻšāĻŦে āĻ“āχ āϤো āĻŽা , āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻĻেāĻ–ে āĻāĻ—ি⧟ে āϝা⧟ āϜীāĻŦāύেāϰ āĻ…āϜ্āĻžāϤাāĻ•ে āϚিāύে āύেāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻŽা⧟েāϰ āĻļāϰীāϰ āφāϰ āĻŽāύ āĻĻি⧟ে āφঁāϚāϞেāϰ āĻ•োāĻŖ āĻŽুāώ্āϟি āĻŦāĻĻ্āϧ āĻšাāϤে āϧāϰে āĻļāĻ•্āϤি āϏāĻž্āϚ⧟ āĻ•āϰে āύেāĻ“ā§Ÿা āύিāĻļ্āϚিāύ্āϤে āϏāĻŽāϏ্āϤ āĻļāϰীāϰে āϏেāχ āφঁāϚāϞ āϜ⧜ি⧟ে āϜীāϰ্āĻŖāϤাāϰ āĻŽাāĻে āϜীāĻŦāύ āφāϏে āĻŦাঁāϚāϤে āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āĻšāĻ াā§Ž āĻŽāύে āĻšā§Ÿ āĻšাāĻŽা āĻĻি⧟ে āĻ•োāϞে āωāĻ ে āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖাāĻ™্āĻ— āϝুāĻŦāĻ•āϟি āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϰ āĻ•াāϜে āĻāĻ—ি⧟ে āϚāϞাāϰ āφāĻ—ে āĻĒা⧟ে āĻ•াāϟা āĻĢুāϟে āĻ“āĻ াāϰ āĻŽুāĻšূāϰ্āϤে āĻ…āϏ্āĻĢুāϟে āĻĄাāĻ•ে āĻŽাāĻ—ো!

āĻ…āĻ—্āύিāĻĒāϰীāĻ•্āώা

  āύাāϰী āĻ›িāϞ āĻāĻ• āĻ•োāĻŽāϞ āĻŦāϰāĻĢ āĻĸাāĻ•া āĻŽāϏৃāĻŖāϤা āĻšিāĻŽাāϞ⧟েāϰ āϚূ⧜াāϰ āĻŽāϤāύ āύিāϰ্āϜāύ āĻĒিāĻ›āϞ āĻŦুāĻ•েāϰ āωāĻĒāϰ āĻŦুāĻ• āĻĒেāϤে āĻĒিāĻ›āϞে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āϝেāϤ āϜাāĻšাāύ্āύāĻŽ āĻ…āĻŦāϧি āύাāϰীāϰ āĻŦুāĻ•েāϰ āϤিāϞেāϤিāϞে āϤিāϞ āϚুāĻŽ্āĻŦāύ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻেāĻšেāϰ āĻ…āϤāϞে āĻĢেāϞে āĻ…āϏāĻ™্āĻ—āϤ āϜীāĻŦāύāϝাāĻĒāύেāϰ āĻ–াāĻĻেāϰ āĻ­েāϤāϰ āĻুāĻ•ে āĻĒ⧜া āĻĻুāϰāύ্āϤ āĻ—āϤিāϤে āĻļāϰীāϰেāϰ āϤāϞা⧟ āϚাāĻĒা āĻĢেāϞে āĻ—āύāĻ—āύে āωāύুāύেāϰ āϜ্āĻŦāϞāύ্āϤ āĻ…āĻ—্āύিāĻļিāĻ–া⧟ āĻŦāϰāĻĢেāϰ āĻŽāϤো āĻĻ্āϰুāϤ āĻ—āϞে āϝা⧟ āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟ āĻ…āĻ—্āύিāĻĒāϰীāĻ•্āώাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻ“āϰ āϏাāĻĨে āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āύিāϰ্āĻŦাāϚিāϤ āĻ•āϰো

āĻĻেāĻšāĻšীāύ

    āϞোāĻĒিāϤাāĻ•ে āĻŦāϞāϞাāĻŽ , āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻĻেāĻšāϟা āĻāĻ•āϘে⧟ে āĻšā§Ÿে āĻ—েāĻ›ে। āĻāϤāĻĻিāύ āĻĻাāĻ“ āĻĻাāĻ“ āĻ•āϰে āφāĻŽাāĻ•ে āϝে āĻ•āϤāϟা āĻ āĻ•াāϞে āϤা āĻ­েāĻŦে āĻĻেāĻ–āϞে āύা। āφāϜāĻ•াāϞ āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻŽāύে āĻšā§Ÿ , āĻুāϞāύ্āϤ āϏ্āϤāύāĻ—ুāϞি āĻ–ুāĻŦāχ āφāĻ•āϰ্āώāĻŖী⧟ āĻ…āĻŦিāĻŦাāĻšিāϤ āĻĒুāϰুāώেāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে। āϝে āϤোāĻŽাāĻ•ে āĻĻীāϰ্āϘāĻ•াāϞ āĻ­োāĻ— āĻ•āϰে āĻ—েāĻ›ে āϤাāϰ āĻ•াāĻ›ে āĻāĻ•ে āĻ—ুāϰুāϤ্āĻŦ āĻĻেāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϟা āχāϚ্āĻ›াāϰ āĻŦāĻļ। āĻĻে⧟া āύে⧟াāϰ āϏāĻŽ্āĻĒāϰ্āĻ•āϟা āφāϜ āφāϰ āĻ…āϤāϟা āĻĒ্āϰ⧟োāϜāύী⧟ āύ⧟। āϝৌāύ āĻŽিāϞāύেāϰ āϏāĻŽā§Ÿ āφāϜ āϤাāχ āĻŦ⧜ āĻĢাঁāĻ•া āĻĢাঁāĻ•া āϞাāĻ—ে। āĻāϤ āϘāϰ্āώāĻŖ āϤāĻŦু āωāϤ্āϤাāĻĒ āĻ“āĻ ে āύা āĻāϤāϟুāĻ•ু āĻāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āĻŦ⧜ āϞāϜ্āϜিāϤ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻĒ⧜ি āĻŽāϰāĻŽে āĻŽāϰāĻŽে āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ­āϰাāϟ āĻļāϰীāϰ āφāϜ āĻšিāĻŽāĻŦাāĻšেāϰ āϚু⧜োāϰ āĻŽāϤāύ āĻļাāύ্āϤ āĻļীāϤāϞ।   āϤোāĻŽাāϰ āĻ­াāϰী āϏ্āϤāύāĻŦৃāύ্āϤ āĻĻুāϟি āĻĻেāĻ–ে , āĻŽāύে āĻšā§Ÿ āφāĻŽাāĻĻেāϰ āϏāύ্āϤাāύেāϰা āĻĒৃāĻĨিāĻŦীāϤে āĻāϏে āĻ•াāĻŽāύাāϰ āϏ্āĻŦাāĻĻ āĻĒে⧟েāĻ›িāϞ āĻĒ্āϰāĻĨāĻŽ āϜীāĻŦāύে āφāĻŽি āĻ•্āϞাāύ্āϤ āĻšā§Ÿে āϝাāχ , āĻ āϜāĻ—āϤে āĻĻাāϤা āφāϰ āĻ—্āϰāĻšীāϤাāϰ āĻŦাāχāϰে āφāϰ āĻ•িāĻ›ু āĻ–ুঁāϜে āϝে āύ āĻĒাāχ। āĻ…āύ্āϝ āĻ•োāύো āĻĒāĻĨ āϝāĻĻি āĻ›িāϞ āĻāχ āĻĻেāĻšাāύুāĻ­ূāϤি āĻ›া⧜া , āĻāĻŽāύ āύিāϰ্āϜāύ āĻ•্āϞাāύ্āϤি āĻ•āϰāϤো āύা āϤা⧜া।   āϞোāĻĒিāϤা , āĻ•ি āĻĻি⧟েāĻ›িāϞে āϤুāĻŽি āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟েāϰ āĻ•াāύা āĻ—ুāϞি āĻĒূāϰ্āĻŖ āĻ•āϰে āĻĻিāϤে āϝে āĻĒাāϰে , āĻĻেāĻ“ā§Ÿাāϰ āĻ•্āώāĻŽāϤা āφāĻ›ে āϝাāϰ āϏেāχ āĻĒাāϰে āϤাāϰ āĻŽুāĻ–ে āĻŽাāύি⧟ে āϝা⧟ āĻāχ āĻ•āĻĨা , - āϤুāĻŽি āφāϰ āĻ­াāϞোāĻŦাāϏোāύা āφāĻŽা⧟ ? āϝাāĻ•ে āĻŽাāĻĨা āϤুāϞে āĻĻাঁ⧜াāĻŦাāϰ āĻ…āύুāĻŽāϤিāϟুāĻ•ু āĻĻাāĻ“āύি āĻ•āĻ–āύো āĻ­াāϏāϤে āϚে⧟েāĻ›ে ...

āĻŦāύ্āĻĻি

  āϏাāϰাāĻĻিāύ āύেāχ āύেāχ āĻ­াāĻŦāϟা āĻŽāύে āĻŦāϏে āĻĨাāĻ•ে āĻĒ্āϰ⧟োāϜāύে āĻ…āĻĒ্āϰ⧟োāϜāύে āύাāχ āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻāĻ• āϏāĻŽাāύ্āϤāϰাāϞ āϜ্āĻŦাāϞা āĻ–িāĻĻেāϰ āĻŽāϤো āϤা⧜āύাāϰ āĻ–াāχ   āϜাāύাāϞাāϰ āĻĒাāϞ্āϞা⧟ āĻāϏে āĻ­োāϰেāϰ āĻāĻ•āϟুāĻ•āϰো āϰোāĻĻ্āĻĻুāϰ āϞাāĻ—ে āĻ…āύেāĻ• āĻ—ুāϞো āĻŦা⧜িāϰ āĻ›াāĻĻেāϰ āĻ•াāύা āĻĻি⧟ে āϜা⧟āĻ—া āĻ•āϰে āύে⧟ āϘāύ্āϟা āĻ–াāύেāĻ• āφāϞো āĻĻে⧟ āĻŦাāϤাāϏেāϰাāĻ“ āφāϏে āϏেāχ āĻĒāĻĨ āĻĻি⧟ে āϧাāĻ•্āĻ•া āĻ–েāϤে āĻ–েāϤে āφāĻ•াāĻļ āφāϰ āϘাāϏ āĻ āĻ…āĻž্āϚāϞে āύেāχ   āĻ…āĻŦাāĻ• āĻāĻ• āĻļাāύ্āϤিāϰ āĻ•াāϰāύে āĻŦুāĻ•ে āĻŦ্āϝাāĻĨা āĻšā§Ÿ āϝা āĻ•িāĻ›ু āύেāχ , āϝা āĻ›িāϞ āύা āĻ•োāύোāĻĻিāύ āϤাāϰ āϜāύ্āϝ āϞাāĻ—ে āϭ⧟   āĻāĻ–াāύে āĻ•াāϟি⧟ে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻļুāϧু āĻ–িāĻĻে āύি⧟ে āĻĒেāϟে āϏāϤ্āϤ্āĻŦাāϰ āĻ—ুāϟি⧟ে āϝাāĻ“ā§Ÿা āĻŽāϧ্āϝāĻŦিāϤ্āϤেāϰ āĻŦেāĻļে   āĻĻেāĻš āϜু⧜ে āĻāχ āĻ–িāĻĻে āĻŽāύেāϰ āĻŦিāĻ•াāĻļেāϰ āĻ…āύ্āϤāϰা⧟ āĻšā§Ÿে āĻšাāĻšাāĻ•াāϰ āϰ⧟ে āϝা⧟ āφāϜীāĻŦāύ āĻ•াāϞ āφāĻ•াāĻļে āĻŽেāϘেāϰা āϧা⧟ āĻŦিāĻĻ্āϝুā§Ž āϚāĻŽāĻ•া⧟ āĻ…āϤৃāĻĒ্āϤ āĻšৃāĻĻ⧟েāϰ āĻ–েāχ āϚাāϰিāĻĻিāĻ•ে āϚে⧟ে āĻĻেāĻ–ি āĻ•েāω āύেāχ āĻ•েāω āύেāχ   āφāĻ›ে āĻļুāϧু āĻļেāώ āĻŦিāĻ•েāϞেāϰ āĻāĻ• āĻĒাāĻ–ি āϜাāύাāϞা⧟ āĻŦāϏে āĻĨাāĻ•ে āĻ•িāĻ›ুāĻ•্āώāύ āϤাāϰāĻĒāϰ āĻ‰ā§œে āϝা⧟ āφāĻŽি āϏংāϏাāϰে āĻĨাāĻ•ি