SHAHID QUADRI[1]
Senses
(To Mahbub Hasan)
Shalikh dance on the telegraph wire
Palm-size leaves of Kathal tree
Dawdling of light on the shrubs on the bank of the pond
Here comes the Aswin
My days emptied
Why does the days are empty?
On the borders of snow-white clouds
Whom does the sky send its own sapphire dazzles?
Here comes the Aswin
My days emptied
Why does the days are empty?
When did the Shefali dropped down to somebody’s courtyard?
Can flavour of young-boyhood days be remembered?
Like those clandestine manifestoes that are distributed by young hands
The large city is greatly busy
Here comes the Aswin
My days emptied
Why does the days are empty?
49
Insurrection
In the garden of Manzul Elahi
We are sitting in the dappled evening
A few of us. We talked, of many a subject
Some said of Bangabandhu,
In this connection about murdered Allende and
Some commented about the history of the of upraise of Chile’s army.
However, subjects of Iran and Iraq were also discussed.
Uncertain future of Cuba after Castro’s departure
Dominance of unscrupulous traders
And about the distress of the people of Bengal,
Lifelong starvation, we all talked about all these
While chewing cashew and drinking coffee.
Gradually night descended
Like silent steps on black cat
The fireflies blinked around the tables and chairs
As if they will remain blinking for ever.
We went to the dinner table
Manzur Elahi repeated, Rifle is the source of all power.
Classless society can not be achieved without bloodshed
Nobody gives up the class interest.
I looked through the window
And saw the entire garden of Manzur Elahi was captured by the fireflies.
Without a battle, without bloodshed.
Coherence
(To Respected Amio Chakraverty)
Wild boar will find favourite mud,
The kingfishers will find desirous fishes
Nights, deep and dark, will be white in heavy rain.
The pea-cock will dance in the dense forest
Lover will make live with partners, positively
But shall never be happy, never, never . .
The lonely traveler shall return to his home
In the empty pot
White boiled-rice will shine like the stars
The rhymes of the forgotten songs will by sung in your voice
Lover will make live with partners, positively
But shall never be happy, never, never . .
Parades will come to an end in the army barracks
Hungry tiger will grasp a buffalo
The winds will blow through the villages
Bringing melodious tunes
You two will get shelter in a single room
Lover will make live with partners, positively
But shall never be happy, never, never . .
[1] Shahid Quadri (b. 1942), first book of poems ‘Uttaradhikar’ was published in 1967. Awards: Bangla Academy Award, 1973.