My subconscious is busy searching for some colored papers, crayons and a few sparklers.
And as my ego silently crawls into that ancient underground temple of acceptance,
I hear the drowsy ballad of a dove perched somewhere beyond my opaque window:
Bland and Blatant and Psychedelic;
Bland and Blatant and Psychedelic and Insignificant;
Bland and Blatant and Psychedelic and Insignificant and Rebellious,
Trying tirelessly to combat Epics and failing steadily.
I peep through a tiny hole in my southern wall
And notice a little Bo sapling making its way through an unnoticed crevice
Somewhere in the midst of an unrelenting empire of bricks and mortar,
Reaching for the sun, defying penury and tales of extinct riverine civilizations.
Millions and Millions of Lights years away from this place,
A decaying stream saturates the surrounding air and this work of flesh, bones and blood
With invisible ,vaporised tears and soliloquy
Despite this fever searing slowly into my soul,
I try to sit up and croon a favorite melody;
Unwillingly, the sunlight and the rain
Slowly make room for some nonsensical scribblings, a few old greeting cards and poetry.....
(Translated by myself, this poem of mine was published recently in a regional quarterly Bengali Magazine called "Bangla". )
