Pressed by the conflict of inequality
This old hour
For new civilizational apparatuses
And have a ‘facial’ with it.
Having borne the burden of civilization
It has already rested
The moons perishing in their death bed
Boasting about their full moon light
Could that speck of light
Defeat the sun?
In the ramp of a desert
The movement of the thirstful
(won’t even cease, probably)
With the sight of a mirage
In the pandemonium to pluck the sky
Time is directionless.
In the laboratory of time
Extracting the hive of present
To taste the nectar of identity
The efforts to draw the fate lines
Are still going on
The naked body of the night
Expects cloth by the morning
But there are in abundance
The false offerings of the full moon night
The shine of the glittering stars
Is eternal/or not
There’s a procession of eagerness
It seems to be outdated
Those references of Hiroshima
By the stick of a man who has lived an era
It has been brushed aside
The atomic menaces.
In the wrinkled cheek of the grandmother
The reflections of Jallianwala Bagh /Kaleybung
Can be seen
The breasts of the truth too
Weren’t spared from being squeezed
By the erotic time.
Could that old stick
Like a statue…?
By the merciless strike of time
It has been broken
The rib cage of faith.
Cursed by the time
The rotten bits of fate
After bathing in Toorsa, Teesta and Rangeet
Have stopped stinking
By betraying the truth
And having carnal intercourse time and again
They have been all contacted by AIDS
Those Mir Jafars’.
At this moment
I see Gandhi standing
Flights after flights
Even at the face of times’ ‘Katrina’
Are adamantly defying, I can see.
(Note: Katrina- a kind of destructive cyclone/hurricane)