Defeat-পরাজয়

  
Defeat 

Our defeats are as bitter as our victories are sweet—
And which of us forgets her worst defeats?
But if, for each defeat, however harsh, 
We also have a tiny victory,
We then might be content—or not aggrieved.

Defeats can come from Nature or events 
Or through our fellows—foes and friends and kin.
The closer the tie, the more the hurt that's felt, 
The worse the conflict that may rage within,  
And the longer it may take to find resolve.

The whims of Nature and the winds of chance 
May let us be—or lead us here or there 
To savor victories that come from luck 
Or suffer from defeats ascribed to gods—  
Whose favors some may seek and others spurn.

A defeat at another's hands is hard to bear, 
But if we've battled as we should, we then 
Can dress our wounds and gather strength to fight 
The battles that we know await ahead— 
As all our pathways run through battlefields.

But when we bring defeats upon ourselves  
From hubris, anger, negligence or fear, 
We then may take these as our lessons learned 
Or lose our confidence and discipline 
And spiral then towards a living death.

For some, a battle is a welcome thing. 
For others, it is something to avoid.
Yet even staunchest pacifists are caught 
In wars in which they battle to survive— 
And life itself must end in its defeat.

When deep in fever and in anguish, we 
May pray for our release—that comes or not. 
But a deeper wisdom may reside in this— 
To see our losses as we do our gains—
And sneak a laugh or two, when facing death. 

2018, September 29th, Saturday
Brooklyn, New York 

Bondi-বন্দী-Prisoner

বন্দী

যা হয়েছিল, তাতে পেয়েছি দুঃখ,
ফেলেছি চোখের জল।
যা হতে পারে, সেই ভাবনায়
হয়েছি সবেতে নিশ্চল।

পেছনে  পুরনোর দুঃখ, খেদ।
সামনে নতুনের ভয়।
মধ্যিখানে রয়েছি আটকে,
সয়েছি জীবনের ক্ষয়।

এদিকে—হয়েছিল, ওদিকে—হতে পারে।
তার মাঝে, দেখো, যে কাঁদে,
যা হচ্ছে, তার ওপর নজর না রেখে,
সে পড়েছে নিজেরই ফাঁদে।

******

কতদিন ভুগেছি, ভাই—
ভেবে ভেবে, হয়েছি হতাশ।
শ্বাস নিয়ে, সকালে উঠে, তাই
এই জেলের থেকে চাইছি খালাস।

যা হয়ে গেছে, তা বদলাবে কে?
যেটা ভেসে গেছে, সেটা যাক।
যা হবেই হবে, তা নিয়ে আরো
বেশি কিছু ভেবে, কি লাভ?

অকেজো কুঁড়েমি ছেড়ে তাই
দাঁড়িয়ে উঠে আজ
করতে হবে, হেসে কেঁদে, এই
হাতের কাছের কাজ।

রবিবার, ২৩ সেপ্টেম্বর, ২০১৮ খ্রি
ব্রুক্লিন, নিউইয়র্ক

Windows

Windows

We were scattered over continents,
With oceans in between.
And those, with whom we'd bonded, were
For long, unheard, unseen.

But now there is the Internet
And mobile phones and more,
And so we're back in contact with
The ones we'd lost before.

But some are gone, and newer ones—
The ones we'd never known—
Now show themselves—in image, text—
On screens we each might own.

We did have phones for quite a while,
At least in urban places.
But calls were few and far between,
Across the global spaces.

But speech can now be cheaply heard,
And the voices from the past—
That still survive—have cadence slow,
In a world that changes fast.

We marvel at these miracles
That seem like science-fictions
And wonder at the spouses, kids
And the old, familiar dictions.

The ones who once were youngsters now
Have grandkids and have wrinkles.
We see on screens these wonders and
We feel we’re Rip Van Winkles.

******

And yet, although we now can peer
Through windows, space divides us.
So most of us can still not reach
And touch the ones not near us.

So when a father has a stroke
Or when a mother cries,
We dare not ask for leaves from jobs,
Unless we trade in lies.

And when a parent perishes
And the other takes to bed,
We're lucky to get half a week
To seem to serve the dead.

******

Some travel every month across
The continents and oceans
On business trips—and also fly
To faraway vacations.

And some enjoy this flying high
But others quickly tire
And wish there was a quiet place
To which they could retire

For leaving those we love behind
To deal with their travails
Is hardly good for good for peace of mind
Or fit when someone ails.

Yet others save for decades for
A trip across the borders,
And most of us will rarely go
Beyond a boss’s orders.

We fly across the world or cross
A desert in the darkness,
But spend what then is left of life
In a job that acts as harness.

We travel to and from our work
In a captive state of mind
And use our phones as windows to
The worlds we’ve left behind.

And some can buy a ticket and
Then fly across the sky—
But most are bound to where they are,
Until they too can die.

2018, September 22nd, Sun.
(verses added Sep. 25th, Tue.)
Brooklyn, New York

   

Tahare Manibo-তাহারে মানিব-That Creed

তাহারে মানিব / That Creed

An English translation follows after the Bengali.

বাংলায় ভুল হয়ে খাকলে, জানাবেন৷ 
------------------------------------------------

তাহারে মানিব

ছুঁত-অচ্ছুত মানি না, মানি না, ভাই।
ছোঁয়া যেখানে যায়, সেখানে থাকিতে চাই।
মানি না, মানি না, কাফির-মুসলমান।
সবারে সদা করিব সমানে সম্মান।
জানি না উচ্চ-নীচ, মানি না শুদ্ধ-হারাম।
প্রণাম করিয়া, সবারে কহিব সালাম।
অপর-আপন জানি না, মানি না আমি।
যেথায় হিংসা, সেথার সিমাতে থামি।
যে ধর্ম-মজবে সবার কদর, ভালবাসা,
তাহারে মানিব আমি, রাখিব তাহাতে আশা।

শুক্রবার, ২১ সেপ্টেম্বর, ২০১৮ খ্রি
ম্যানহাটন (নিউইয়র্ক), নিউইয়র্ক 
------------------------------------------------


The translation below deviates from the literal in some places.
------------------------------------------------

That Creed

Touchable, untouchable, I never will see.
Where there is touching, there I would be.
Kafir and Muslim, I do not accept.
Always, to all, I'll give equal respect.

Higher and lower, allowed and forbidden?
To me, these distinctions, forever, are hidden.
To king and to vagrant, to uncle and niece—
I’ll bow to each humbly and wish them their peace.
  
"My own" and "the other", I know, are the same.
In meanness and violence, I see there is shame.
The creed in which all have our love and respect—
That creed, I'll admire and even accept.

2018 September 21st, Fri.
D train from Manhattan to Brooklyn
New York

Essentials

Essentials

First, there is survival—
which is air, water, food
and shelter, winter-clothing
and fuel for the fire.

It is staying out of danger,
and care for young and old
and those who may be ailing
or need some basic help.

As humans, we have done this,
through the ages, for our own
and even, when it was needed,
for others on our roads.

And then, there are the other things
in which we may delight
or draw upon for sustenance
of soul and heart and mind.

There is learning, which is needed
so that humans may survive—
the knowledge and the wisdom
of the past, in present life—
and more that we may learn ourselves
and pass on to the others—
to add to human knowledge
and the wisdom that can guide us.

There are pleasures—those of senses
and of other parts of mind.
There are satisfactions, needed
so we persevere and smile.

There is joy in our creations,
be these children of the flesh,
or the thoughts that turn to structures
made of wood or paint or words…

We have art and song and music
and all the crafts of Man
and all the games and knowledge
that are passed by mind and hand.

There is pain and there is sorrow
of the body and the mind.
And we each can be of comfort
by pausing to be kind.

There is joy in recognition.
There is sorrow, when we're scorned.
There is peace, in meditation,
In the depths beneath the storms.

There's a sense in us of oneness
with a sentience that is vast—
that knows of pain and pleasure
and of sorrow and of joy.
We are kin to those we're eating
or are eaten by in turn.

We have virtues and have vices
that at times may be reversed,
and the newer ones are layered
on the old that still abide.

There are instincts and emotions
that are primal and that drive
our actions in the present
as they did in ages past.

We had hunger, thirst and lusting,
and the three are with us still,
as those, who were without these,
have left no living trace.

There was bonding, there was friendship.
You can see these extant yet.
Though the trend is to annul these,
they have managed to survive.

There is love—and sacrifice.
There is fear and there is anger;
There is greed and there is hate.
And all of these were present
when we lived in trees and caves.

But in all things, there's a balance
that is lost, when senses close—
the outer and the inner ones
that whisper in the wind.

 

This blocks out all the voices
That are needed to be sane—
the voices of the waters, of the air and of the earth,
and the voices of the beings
that have death and so have birth.

There's the power to imagine
and the logic that's a guide,
and these things were there with ancients
and the beasts that still survive.

But our reason is a pilot
to the destinations which
are set by instincts, feelings
that our logics cannot reach.

These are some of the essentials
that have stayed, in essence, same.
And when these are forgotten,
Then we stoop to acts of shame.

2018 September 20th, Thu.
Brooklyn, New York

The Silent Yelp

The Silent Yelp 

Of all the droughts with which we deal,
The ones within are worst.
These dry the well to which we turn
To slake our inner thirst.

We’re weakened by this thirst within
That leaves us parched and dry.
So those who once had strength collapse,
Without the tears to cry.

So what to do?  I do not know.
There’s Nature, work and love.
Some turn to help the ones in need
And some to gods above.

******

Of all the battles that we wage,
The ones that rage within
Are hardest, since we also lose
The battles that we win.

These rob us of our inner peace
And so disturb the mind
That what we once could fetch with ease,
We now no longer find.

So what to do?  I do not know.
Some brave the inner battle
And others shy from this and yet
Are slaughtered then like cattle.

******

When fear and anger dwell within
And will not go away,
We then are turned from grace to sin,
As flesh and mind decay.

So many sorrows have their roots
In anger, fear and greed,
As envy, hatred grow from shoots
To trees that spread their seed.

So what to do?  I do not know.
Our disciplines might help
But when these each have long dissolved,
Who hears the silent yelp?

******

So there it is.  The ones who wage
The wars they base on “facts”
Have demons they have nursed within
That guide their outward acts.

And those who crave yet more of wealth
And disregard the cost,
In lives of humans, beasts and plants,
To demons, long are lost.

So what to do?  I do not know.
To a demon, we may turn
And say, “How are you then, my friend?
I see how much you burn.”

******

We each must face our devils and
It’s better if they’re friends.
Instead of wars, we then can work
In peace, to make amends.

How many friends and kin are lost
From lack of eye and ear?
How many loves have been dissolved
And turned to rage and fear?

So what to do?  I do not know.
I wish I were a sage.
I pray that you’ll be wiser and
Have fewer wars to wage.

2018 September 8th, Sat.
Brooklyn, New York