3
" :Öleceğim, öleceğim, öleceğim
:Derim, ateşten bir coşku içinde
:Nereye gideceğim, ne yapacağım bilmiyorum; hastayım
:Sanat’ın her türlüsüne tekmeyi basıp, Shubha’ya ulaşacağım,
:Shubha, bana izin ver, gidip yaşayayım pelerinli kavununda
:Safran perdeyi mahveden karanlığın dağılan gölgesinde,
:Diğer çapaları topladıktan sonra, son çapa da beni terk ediyor
:Artık dayanamıyorum, milyonlarca cam kırığı korteksimi yırtıyor,
:Biliyorum, Shubha, rahmini aç, bana barışı getir
:Her bir damar, kalbe gözyaşı taşıyor,
:Beynin bulaşıcı taşları, sonsuz hastalık dışında bozuluyor
:Anne, beni neden bir iskelet şeklinde doğurmadın?
:Bir milyar ışık yılı boyunca gidip, Tanrı’nın kıçını öpebilirdim
:Ama şimdi hiçbir şey beni memnun etmiyor, hiçbir şey kulağa iyi gelmiyor
:Bir öpücükten fazlasıyla midem bulanıyor
:Cinsel birleşme sırasında kadınları unuttum ve ilham perime döndüm
:Güneş renkli idrar torbasının içine,
:Tüm bu olan biten ne bilmiyorum ama hepsi oluyor işte,
:Her şeyi yıkıp paramparça edeceğim
:Açlığıma Shubha’yı çizip, onu yükselteceğim
:Oh Malay
:Kolkata ıslak ve kaygan organlar korteji gibi bugün,
:Ama ben şimdi, bir başıma ne yapacağımı bilmiyorum
:Hatırlama gücüm sararıp soldu,
:Bırak da ölümün karşısına tek başıma çıkayım,
:Cinsel birleşmeyi ve ölümü öğrenmek zorunda değildim
:İşedikten sonra son damlayı dökme sorumluluğunu öğrenmek zorunda değildim
:Gidip, karanlıkta Shubha’nın yanına uzanmak zorunda değildim
:Nandita’nın göğsüne uzanırken, Fransız derisinin kullanılışını öğrenmek zorunda değildim
:Gerçi, Aleya’nın taze çingülü rahminin sağlıklı ruhunu istedim
:Nihayet beynimdeki tufanın ilticasına teslim oldum
:Neden hala yaşamak istediğimi anlayamıyorum
:Sefih Sabarna-Choudhury soyumu düşünüyorum
:Yeni ve farklı bir şeyler yapmak zorundayım
:İzin ver, son bir kez Shubha’nın göğsü kadar yumuşak yatağımda uyuyayım,
:Şimdi, doğduğum dakikanın keskin parlaklığını hatırlıyorum
:Vefat etmeden önce kendi ölümümü görmek istiyorum
:Dünyanın Malay Roychoudhury ile yapabileceği hiçbir şey yok,
:Shubha, izin ver birkaç dakikalığına zorlu, gümüşi rahminde uyuyayım
:Bana barışı getir, Shubha, bırak huzura sahip olayım
:İzin ver, iskeletim, günahım senin mevsimsel kan akışınla yeniden yıkansın
:İzin ver, dölyatağında kendi spermimle kendimi yaratayım
:Başka ana-babaya sahip olsaydım böyle olur muydum?
:Bambaşka bir spermle ben Malay olabilir miydim?
:Babamın başka bir kadınının rahminde ben Malay olabilir miydim?
:Shubha olmasaydı, kendimden, tıpkı ölü erkek kardeşim gibi profesyonel bir centilmen yaratabilir miydim?
:Cevaplar… bırak birileri bunları cevaplasın,
:Shubha, ah Shubha
:İzin ver de dünyaya senin şeffaf kızlık zarından bakayım
:Yeniden yeşil şiltenin üzerine gel
:Katot ışınlarının, mıknatıs görkemliğinin samimiyeti ile emilmesi gibi
:1956’nın nihai karar mektubunu hatırlıyorum,
:Klitorisinin çevresi aynı zamanda kurnazca süslenmiş
:Güzel kaburga-yıkıcı kökler göğsüne doğru azalıyordu,
:Aptal ilişkiler, anlamsız ilgisizliğin geçitinde şişirildi
:Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
:Ölüp ölmeyeceğimi bilmiyorum
:Sefahat, kalbin ayrıntıcı tahammülsüzlüğünde gürlüyordu
:Bozup yok edeceğim
:Hepsini, sanat uğruna parçalara ayıracağım,
:Şiir için intihardan başka bir yol yok
:Shubha,
:İzin ver, ezelden beri kendine hakim olamayan vajinanın dudaklarına gireyim
:Acısız çaba absürdlüğüne, "
― , Poems of Malay Roychoudhury
6
" What was the name of that editor of Janata? 1961:
On the front page, he wrote: “Won’t last, won’t last!”
Him? Maybe he is called Mogambo.
Then 1962, 1963, 1964, 1965, 1966
Who was that short man, wrote in the daily literary supplement
“That? How long will that last? Won’t last.”
What was his name? That man, at the Esplanade book stall
Can’t remember? Where did he go, that man?
In a famous little magazine he wrote—
Him? Maybe he is called Dr Dang
Then 1967, 1968, 1969, 1970, 1971, 1972
Can’t recall? Thick glasses, a swift stride—
Him? Maybe he is called Gabbar Singh
Why can’t you remember the names their fathers gave them?
Forgotten in just 50 years? Where did they go?
And that fellow who wore loose trousers and a bush shirt
And wrote so many times: “Won’t last, won’t last.”
Then 1973, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1979,
1980, 1981, 1982, 1983, 1984, 1985,
1986, 1987, 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1992,
1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999,
2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007,
2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014
What? Can’t remember yet? What a strange fellow you are!
So many writers, editors, poets repeatedly
Wrote: “Won’t last, won’t last, won’t last too long
People will forget soon.” And yet you struggle
To recall their names? Then let it be!
Let Mogambo, Dr Dang and Gabbar Singh
Be their names in the history of Bengalis. "
― , প্রিয় পচিশ - কবিতার বই
7
" He asked you not to like me,
So why did you, Neera?
Even now, I perform breaststrokes in caterpillar-stuffed north eastern clouds
He didn’t ask me for any poems for 50 years,
So why are you asking now, Neera?
Even now, standing in 10-foot-deep water, I wield icy rods
He wrote an editorial on my sub-judice case,
Turning an editor, why are you asking for my writing, Neera?
Even now, I love flatbreads stuffed with smoked penguin fat
He did not confess to being my anthology’s publisher
Why did you confess, Neera?
Even now, I have family-pack yawns in the face of families,
He didn’t like pronouncing my name
So why are you telling it to youths, Neera?
Even now, in bloody waters, I join the Bollywood chorus of tiger sharks
He had said I have nothing of a true writer
So why do you think I do, Neera?
At Imlitala, I knew rat roasts don’t taste too good without charcoal smoke
He said I have nothing creative in me
So why do you think I do, Neera?
Having burnt bank notes worth Rs 5,000 crore, I smelt death
He said I’ll never write poetry
So why do you think I have, Neera?
On the banks of Amsterdam’s canals I have heard doddering old men sing limericks
He transcended from sorrow to anger and anger to hate
Why are you so generous Neera?
Please don’t tell my grandmother. "
― , Chhotoloker Kobita
14
" Love is like that girl, who
had to drop out of school;
Three-and-a-half days each month,
Must wear dry grass tied in cloth;
In monsoon, the grass is green,
So, ash wrapped in cloth,
to soak up the blood,
seated quietly, alone, book-less. "
― , Chhotoloker Kobita
16
" Can’t say my Uttarpara ancestral home isn’t my homeland,
I know unidentified bodies, their eyes plucked out, float by in the Ganga.
Can’t say my aunt’s Ahiritola isn’t my homeland,
I know abducted girls are bound and gagged in Sonagachi nearby.
Can’t say my uncle’s at Panihati isn’t my homeland,
I know who was killed, and where, in broad daylight.
Can’t say my adolescent Konnagar isn’t my homeland,
I know who was sent to cut whose throat.
Can’t say my youth’s Calcutta isn’t my homeland,
I know who threw bombs, set fire on buses, trams.
Can’t say West Bengal isn’t my homeland,
I’ve the right to be tortured to death in its lock-ups,
I’ve the right to starve and have rickets in its tea gardens,
I’ve the right to hang myself at its handloom mills,
I’ve the right to become bones buried by its party lumpen,
I’ve the right to have my mouth taped, silenced,
I’ve the right to hear the leaders sprout gibberish, abuse,
I’ve the right to a heart attack on its streets blocked by protestors,
Can’t say Bengali isn’t my homeland. "
― , Chhotoloker Kobita
19
" Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die
My skin is in blazing furore
I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick
I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha
Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon
In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain
The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted
I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex
I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace
Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart
Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness
other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton
I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass
But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well
I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss
I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse
In to the sun-coloured bladder
I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me
I'll destroy and shatter everything
draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger
Shubha will have to be given
Oh Malay
Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today
But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self
My power of recollection is withering away
Let me ascend alone toward death
I haven't had to learn copulation and dying
I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops
after urination
Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness
Have not had to learn the usage of French leather
while lying on Nandita's bosom
Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's
fresh China-rose matrix
Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm
I am failing to understand why I still want to live
I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors
I'll have to do something different and new
Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of
Shubha's bosom
I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born
I want to see my own death before passing away
The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury
Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your
violent silvery uterus
Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace
Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream
Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm
Would I have been like this if I had different parents?
Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm?
Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father?
Would I have made a professional gentleman of me
like my dead brother without Shubha?
Oh, answer, let somebody answer these
Shubha, ah Shubha
Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen
Come back on the green mattress again
As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance
I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956
The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished
with coon at that time
Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom
Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
I do not know whether I am going to die
Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience
I'll disrupt and destroy
I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art
There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide
Shubha
Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora
In to the absurdity of woeless effort
In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart
Why wasn't I lost in my mother's urethra?
Why wasn't I driven away in my father's urine after his self-coition?
Why wasn't I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm?
With her eyes shut supine beneath me
I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize S "
― , Selected Poems
20
" ডোমনি
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, খয়েরি চাউমিন তাপের খোলসে
জিভ দিয়ে পড়ে থাকি, টাকরা মন্দাক্রান্তা ছন্দে কাঁপে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, চরণ বিভক্ত তোর মধ্যযতি দিয়ে
ঠোঁট চেপে পড়ে থাকি, বানভাসি ঢেউ খেলায় নদী ঢুকে আসে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, টানপ্রধান অনুষ্টুপ তোর তরল পয়ারে
মুখ দিয়ে পড়ে থাকি শ্বাসযতি শ্বাসাঘাতে ছন্দখেয়ে টলি
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, বুকের স্তবকে রসের স্পর্ধা এনে দিস
নাক দিয়ে পড়ে থাকি হরিণেরা কস্তুরি নাচে চৌপদীলঘু
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, স্বর্ণলতা কোঁকড়া চুলের আয়েসে
কান দিয়ে পড়ে থাকি, বাণের বাকসম্ভোগী ডাক শুনি
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, আদি আলুথালু ক্রৌঞ্চী তোটক তৃণক
গাল রেখে পড়ে থাকি, ত্রিগুণবারি বাকসম্ভোগে ঝরে কামচণ্ডালী
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, চাপল্যছাক্কস দ্রুতছন্দের আদিস্বরে
গোঁফ দিয়ে সুড়সুড়ি দিই তোর কালিকাগহ্বরে, ধামালি দিগক্ষরা ওরে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, আমি খালিপিলি আকখা বিরামচিহ্ণে থামি
মাথা গুঁজে পড়ে থাকি, অভেদ খুলে যায়, বেরোয় সিঙ্গলমল্ট মধু
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, স্হিতিস্হাপক লঘুদ্রূতি স্বরধ্বনি ওঠে
হাত রেখে পড়ে থাকি, গোলাপরঙ ধরে, তোর মোহন আবসাঁথ উঁকি দেয়
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, অঙ্গটায় সুখ নেই, অঙ্গের চৈতন্যে পুরো সুখ
বুক রেখে পড়ে থাকি, রঙমহলে ঢুকি, রিপুকে দমন করে নদীর রক্তমুখ
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, মন বলতে যা বোঝায় তা ওই দেহযজ্ঞখেলা
উরু তুলে পড়ে থাকি, দেহমাতাল হই, মানবিক দেহযজ্ঞে ফারাক করিনে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, শরীরে রসের ভিয়েন, কামেই কাম নিবারণ
সারাদিন স্বভাবঘোরে ঠেকায় সুরবাঁধা, গাধার পরজন্ম হয়, আমার তো নেই
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, দেহরস উর্ধগামী করাই সাধনা, অন্ত্যমিলে কোনো মিল নেই
স্হানের অর্চক আমি, ডুবতে চেষ্টা করি, মাংস ছেড়ে প্রেমের স্বদেশ নেই কোনো
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, ফাটলের গান না বেরোলে বহু কষ্টে রাতদিন কাটে
যতো ঝড় সব খামোশ তোর ও-তল্লাটে, চাতক প্রায় অহর্নিশি, চরণদাস আমি
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, লোকলজ্জার ভয় কাটিয়ে দিয়েছিলি সেই ষাটের দশকে
তেকোনা মানবঘর আজব কারখানা, বন্ধুরা শত্রু হল শাঁখ-গেঁড়ি-শামুকের চেলা
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, মলয়দাস ভণে, শুনো গাণ্ডুগণ, কয়লাঅঙ্গ কালোলাল
চাপান-ওতোর চলে, বিরল তিমিরজালে, মশকগৃহিণী বসে শত্রুদের নিতম্বপরে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, কৌশলে সাড়া দিস, বীজরস শুষে নিস, যেন চোরাবালি
অনল-হিল্লোল-ধারা, মাথাথুয়ে বর্ত্মফাঁকে, বিচিত্র আলোকোদয়ে চাটি রসমধু
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, অলক্ষ্মী অলকায় যাক, অলক্ষ্মী অমরায় যায় যাক
মাংসের ছটায় মজে, কালো পদ্মফুলে সেজে, চটচটে মাত্রাবৃত্তে অন্ধকার হবি
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, ঢুলু-ঢুলু দুই চোখে, ছটফটাস বেওকুফ মাস্তানের ঢঙে
হাঁফাস আর বলে উঠিস, করুক্ষেত্র কোথাকার, ভেতরে ফেলিস না কেন
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, আমি তো বাউলক্ষ্যাপা, ওরে এটাই আসল শিক্ষে
মলয়হাংরি বলেছেন জোয়ার ভাটায় চলে ফেরে সাগর কিন্তু শুকায় না রে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, কী করিতে কিবা করি, বীর্যে বোঝাই তরি
ছিলুম কোথা এলুম হেথা যাবো কোথায় কার সনে প্রেমের উর্ধলোকে
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, মনের মানুষ বলে কিছু নেই, সবই দেহের মানুষী
আদিশক্তি পরম যুবতী আমার দেহ চালাস তুই মানুষ আড়তরসিক
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, সাধনসঙ্গিনী, বিরল তিমিরজালে ফাঁসালি আমাকে
বাবা বলে কেন ডাকিস, আমার আলজিভ নেই, গানের কন্ঠস্বর নেই
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, তুই কালচেদেহ, ডাগর দু'চোখ, চেরিফল বুক
মা বলে ডাকতে পারি না তোকে, মনে হয় ইনসেসচুয়াস এই বাউলসম্পর্ক
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, আলোজ্বলা এ-সম্পর্ক, ক্ষ্যাপাহাংরি সহ্য করে বেমালুম
মাবুদ মজুদ তুই এই শরীরে থাকিস, তোকেই ভজনা করি আমার কবিতায়
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, মলয়দাস বলে মিছে গণ্ডোগোল ভবে এসে শুনতে পাই
এই যে বীজ বা বীর্য, এর কী আলাদা কিছু আছে ? চাঁদ সবায়ের এক, চাঁদের আলোও
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, মানুষের বীজে হয় না ঘোড়া, ঘোড়ার বীজে হয়না প্রজাপতি
হিন্দু শিয়া-সুন্নি মুসলমান খ্রিস্টান বৌদ্ধ জৈন শিখ আহমেদিয়া ইহুদি অনাস্তিক
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, খাজাবাবা খাজাবাবা মারহাবা মারহাবা, মস্ত কলন্দর ওরে
ইশকের গাঁজা ফুঁকলে হয় রুহ তরতাজা যেন নৌকা চরস টেনে চলেছে মাতাল
ডোমনি, তুইই দয়াল, সুকুমার চৌধুরীকে বল দেখি আশেক হলে মাশুক মিলবে ওর
পড়ে থাকুক জিভ ঠোঁট মুখ গাল বুক ঠ্যাঙ হাত দিয়ে মন্দাক্রান্তা আমিষাশি বীর্যকবিতায়... "
― , Selected Poems
