An explanation

What I write
What you call my poetry
Is an answer to my question
An explanation
In my way
For myself
I hate to get interrogated
About it
I hate that after this much of clarity
I have to explain
My explanation
What never meant for you anyway

My freedom
My free will
Self esteem
You are allowed to squeeze it
You are allowed to choke me
When I am a body without my word
Not here
Here I am mine
These, not yours
And never will be

What I write
What I call “nothing”
Don’t find meaning in it
Nothing is way too enormous
Will engulf you
In its never ending space.


Little fear

I have got my first serious job
This October
A year ago
One year has passed
So many things
So many memories

I remember
I was sitting
At the empty shop
Where I used to work
Bored thinking what I was doing
Less clarity what I wanted to do
I was talking to a friend
Continents away
He wanted to come here
Meet me
Discover places
What do I know about my place?
I should have said
“I know nothing of this place”
But clarity.

Year passed
I have stopped talking
To all the friends
Continents away
Leaving the seat
Of the shop where I used work
Finding a better one
Where I am not allowed to sit
“All teachers must stand while teaching”
Another serious Job

And this time
I want to go
Continents away
I want to tell them
I am coming
Little fear Sparks somewhere
Of losing the unknown
I don’t want to let myself know
Which continents
Somewhere in tubes or buses
I will find some other friends


Few years ago,
Photographers used to chase me
Little interested about how beautiful I am
In Photographs
When I am being me
Artistic nudes
Which escalated to self portraits
Of them with me
In bed
Like poetry
Begins somewhere
And ends who knows where
Little does the poet know
Little the pen

For few months
Poets are chasing me
Rhymers, short poets, antipoets, prose poets
Little do they know I loved their clarity
Or what else could they do
With words doesn’t mean anything
Actions do
And us
Little do they know
I loved how it began
And ended like a poem
Or some still going

The almighty pen is no more
Somewhere hiding on my bed
Whilst I start and end my poems
In a white digital screen

“I want to know you
How you see things
What you see”
All those horny poets
Impossible impressing me with words
Or touch
For words I know them very well
And skin hath become my shell
And I am as good
As lure for fishes
In a fishing hook
Who knows
Fish might have gone
Away from the lake of words

-Don’t waste your lazy afternoons
There waits your loved ones.

What does my tattoo mean?

I was holding my brother’s hand
To be precise
Around this time
Years ago
He was lying
The very last time I cried
Then my mother sent me away
From him

I will sleep today
Like I did
Years ago
And wake up
He wouldn’t be here
Since then
He isn’t ever here

I lied to a friend
Couple of days ago
He wanted to go on a trip
With me for few days
I wanted to return early
Making excuses
Tomorrow is my day
I don’t wanna see anyone
Waking up next to me
Hugging or talking

Just the tattoo
On my left arm
My brother’s paw print
The paw I was holding
The very last attachment
I ever had
With a life
Before it was gone

It’s getting dark here
Our canvas printed photo
Is barely visible
I am barely visible
Double locking my doors
My brother would have scratched it
My doors
If he was here
Just to make sure I was okay
I was here
Darkness never bothered us

Last few years
He couldn’t even see properly
His beautiful black eyeballs
Turned gray
And then white
Like night,
Turns into morning

Like tomorrow


Someone Burned the goddess
Her Plastic hair
Polyester saree
And body made of clay

A woman was worshipping
Holding an oil lamp
My mum cursed her
“What was she doing there
The Goddess isn’t alive yet”

Some human
From some particular class
Will read some particular texts
To set life in that clay model
In plastic hair

Few meters away
The lady who accidentally set fire
On the Goddess
Yet to get life
Her husband is beating her
Cursing her

The goddess got burned
And her Plastic hair
Cheap polyester Saree
Everyone ran
Towards the pandal
Passing the perpetrator
Crossing her house
Leaving her
With the punishment she deserved
For worshipping a goddess
Not alive yet

And will never be.

Paradise Lost

Have I ever mentioned
That I hate Los Angeles
The city of Angels
Where the Sun shine bright
Red Orange like hell

I always believed
Sun is our Morningstar
The Creator of life

Have I ever mentioned
I hate that beautiful hell
It has everything
None can find one single thing
Lacking the City of Angels

Just no wings
Lucifer lost it
Sometimes ago
Maybe a long time ago
And all the keepers
Of its feathers
Are almost gone too
Lost the war

God needed a place
To make hell


I don’t know how does it feel
In reality
In dreams
It felt beautiful
I stopped there,
Thinking of some better word
Foreign and more appropriate

Marrying someone
Someone who doesn’t understand you
I could feel I had to let him go

I saw him holding me
In a rooftop doesn’t belong to us
He, Didn’t understand why I do
What I do
He, leaving me
Giving space
With the look in his eyes
“I will be waiting
Of the roof and your high life”

I stopped there
Thinking of some better word
Foreign and more appropriate
But in his eyes,
“Beautiful” would do
Or no words

My mum woke me up,
With bed tea
Very British
And I lost my stairs
Way down
Where he is waiting
With the look in his eyes
-“I am yours”

Rail Gates

There was this rail gate
Near my mother’s home
“Mama bari”
That’s what we call in Bengali
My maternal Uncle’s home
Not my mother’s

I was crossing the rail gate
Of my home
My impossible kids
Will never have
A maternal home
“My home”
Or not mine anymore

The rail gate next to my mother’s house
The gate keeper will shut the gate
When there are two trains
Supposed to pass
One up and one down

Even if the gap between two trains
Are thirty minutes
It will remain closed
I used to see
Pedestrian cursing
Drivers almost breaking the gate
Rikshaw pullers charging extra money
For waiting

I was late
The railgate next to my home
It was open
It takes two minutes to reach
From railgate
To station
So I took slow pace
With my heavy bags
Then I heard train

I ran,
The train waited a few seconds more
For me
Something must have changed
For few seconds,
Or for thirty minutes
People got late
Here and some dozen miles away

All faults
Must go to the rail Gates
For waiting
For getting late
And different gate keepers

Twins, Sisters, yes we are

Southern avenue

My orange ice lolly
And her ice cream cone
And our pointless search fo murals
On walls
At a street
Starts with iron bars
Ends with it

From one edge to the other
How many steps we had taken?
I don’t remember,
I remember my confession
“Being with you
Makes me happy
No other can replace that”

I love the way her expert hand
Making a blunt
At street full of street lights
Few meters away from the place
I first time got stoned

Surrounded by at least thirty cops
Me frozen
She holding weed
One step away
From Jail
We laughed
On a concrete step,
Dirty, uncomfortable

We laughed
Like our college days
Without pretension

Few meters away
From the bed I thought I loved
Soft and comfortable
My arse never hurt there
And new Friends

Hosts and guests,
Dirty uncomfortable steps
Next to a quiet street
Doesn’t know who is who
We are all the same
Me and her

I think I found a new favorite place
A new favorite bed
Where my “me” doesn’t hurt

Our tired legs needed rest
And I needed my favorite blanket
Covering me
Saving me from manmade cold

I laughed like I am finally home
And I am not scared
To let go a few words
When I am stoned.

Jadabpur University

My mum called
She was worried
That I missed the train from work
A place
With political violence
And religious intolerance
“I am at jadabpur
For some work”
I said, assuring her
“I will be late”

For some work.
Watching fireflies
At night
In a quiet place
Called mushroom park
That’s what my Friend said
Will anyone call it work?
The most important thing
I did today.

There was this wooden bridge
Behind us, me and my friend
And his tees
“Time stops”

I could feel the bridge
Being built
And falling apart
I could hear the sounds
Of the broken bridge
The rhythm in the still water
And the leaves of water Lilly
Guiding the hollow
Of the bridge
Making sure
That I don’t fall

They know me very well
Why and how?
Let’s not talk about that.
My friend said me to let go
Let go a few things
Words becoming my greed
In darkness,
Who can see words?

– Silence and a Galaxy without time.