" nonchalant charminar
ma, i can’t smile well-scrubbed twisted-smirks in your noble society anymore
in the godly dense ocean of kindness with krishna’s duffed up white teeth with studious eyes of the devil i can’t
anymore in a ramakrishnian posture use my wife according to the matriarchal customs
substitute sugar for saccharine and dread diabetes no more i can’t no more with my unhappy
organ do a devdas again in khalashitola on the registry day of a former fling.
my liver is getting rancid by the day my grandfather had cirrhosis don’t understand
heredity i drink alcohol read poetry my father for the sake of puja etc used to fast venerable dadas in our para
swearing by dharma gently press ripe breasts of sisters-born-of-the-locality on holi
on the day ma left for trips abroad many in your noble society had vodka i will
nonchalantly from your funeral pyre light up a charminar thinking of your death my eyes tear
up then i don’t think of earthquakes by the banks or of floodwater didn’t put my hand on the string of the petticoat of an unmarried lover and didn’t think of baishnab padavali ma, even i’ll die one day.
at belur mandir on seeing foreign woman pray with her international python-bum veiled in a skirt
my limitless libido rose up ma because your libido will be tied up to father’s memories even beyond death i this fucked up drunk am
envying you carrying dirt of the humblest kind looking at my organ
i feel as if i’m an organism from another planet now the rays of the setting sun is touching my face on a tangent
and after mixing the colour of the setting sun on their wings a flock of non-family-planning birds is going back towards bonolata sen’s
eyes peaceful as a nest – it’s time for them to warm the eggs – "
― , ফালগুনী রায় সমগ্র
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