Poetry
Serendipity
Wake me up every morning as dawn becomes a new day.
WB Yeats’s ‘Easter, 1916’ and Bangladesh’s July 1-36, 2024
What motivated our youth to defy death in order to free Bangladesh from the yoke of a brutal regime?
POETRY / October: An unfinished poem
Glamorous lightweight raindrops from the October sky keep
POETRY / Silence
A star fell on the ground in the windy night
POETRY / Republic of the dead
As if playing a game of chess / Still the world waits for the next dawn
POETRY / Sinking in ink
Don’t you see— I can only write dark.
POETRY / Devi
The first pulse, in the midst of a whipping maelstrom,
POETRY / The wheel of change
Eternity collapses at the wheel of change. / Past is lost
POETRY / Fall
August, marked with dying things. Summer’s end, / My freedom spent
Muse of Melodies
Eurydice, his beloved, lost to the shades, In the underworld's depths, where darkness pervades.
Shokoruno Benu Bajaie Ke Jai
Who is the one playing such a plaintive tune on a flute
Music and the space it creates for literature
I cannot, for the life of me, definitively describe what makes music. Growing up in a family where music of any form was not typically paid any reverence, my exposure to it was tunnelled into mainstream pop songs for the longest time.
IS & WAS
Death dwells between is and was, Riding the final particle of a fading breath.
KA DINGA PEPO
It is odd that nowadays One seldom hears the words
If I Speak
Tell me what to say when I need to speak, If I have to say something, So what can I say: look at that
Moezzi’s ‘The Rumi Prescription’ and Rumi’s relevance in this manic world
Rumi's spiritual and motivational verses not only empower us to confront life's frustrations and anxieties but also illuminate the path to genuine emotional fulfilment and inner peace.
T.S. Eliot and on living in unreal cities
I once again find myself drawn to "The Waste Land"—though this isn’t about just the one poem, not really—where so much of the old world exists in motifs in a tattered landscape.
Silent screams
Let us raise our voices, let us be heard, / Justice for the dead, let their voices be stirred
Reminiscent
I remember the wallowing hole inside of my chest, / hollow and bleeding