One World?

One World?  

And so the strangling, through the long decades,

Of Paars-Ayraan results in ruin and worse,

And long repression breeds resentment, rage.

 

We read and hear reports of protests, large,

In Teheran and all across Iran,

As the rial tumbles and the streets erupt

And screens across the world reflect the pain.

  

We see a flamethrower, used to burn and kill,

And mosques and stores and buildings set ablaze

And then the fierce reprisals by the state

And even larger crowds that show its strength. 

  

******

 

Our Mike Pompeo lauds the Mossad's hand,

And Donald Trump has threatened he will ‘act’,

As talk revives again of taking out

Iranian leaders—and of nuclear strikes.

 

So one more country, in the ‘Middle East’,

Is faced with Armageddon, yet again,

As all across the world, those humans reel

Who’ve suffered most, with more to suffer still.

  

So Trump declares he's now the president 

Of Venezuela, gloats about the oil,

Takes aim at Greenland, leers at Canada, 

And adds, to tariffs, threats of missiles, bombs.

  

******

 

But meanwhile, here within the USA,

We see a nation deep in disarray,

As lawless acts abroad are matched by those

Within the homeland, growing daily worse,

As men in masks pursue their human prey,

And those pursued are huddled in their homes,

Afraid to venture out to live and earn.

 

So Palestine has come to the USA,

And some delight in this, including those

Who are immigrants like me and yet despise

The poorer folk, of darker skin like mine,

Who do so many jobs the others shun.

  

For wages low and hours long and hard,

They've risen prior to dawn and worked till night

Through years alone and far away from homes

Across the borders or across the seas—

With those they left behind surviving still

On what these migrant serfs could till remit

From what was left from wages, spent to live.

 

For this, they now are punished. So they hide

But cannot hide for long. They need to earn

To pay their rents and pay for food and warmth.

 

As winter rages through the icy plains,

The ghosts of ‘Indians’ watch and weep, perhaps,

To see their fellows snared and whipped again,

To see them trek as they had done before,

To hear the children, torn from parents, cry,

As humans flee again from Terror’s hand. 

  

******

  

And so the human world, connected, splits, 

As continents have done, and spreads apart.

And there, within the fissures, one can see

The fires of hell that fiercely flame and dance. 

 

The hells we make reflect the hells within,

As humans earn and pay the wage of sin.

 

The world is one and yet it's two and more—

With rich and poor and ‘race’ and faith and creed,

And nation-states and borders and divides,

Within a species driven mad by greed. 

 

******

  

From whence, this madness, with this ‘you’ and ‘me’,

This ‘us’ and ‘them’, these eyes that will not see,

These hearts so deadened that they never feel

The pain of others not within their clans?

 

Can the world that’s one be understood and seen

So madness can subside, with fear and greed? 

  

Or will the blind and deaf and hard of heart

Be led, by Bibis, towards the Devil’s creed—

Inflicting pain on those they deem as dust,

With eyes that leer with lethal, evil lust?

 

******

  

There’s nothing new in all of this except

In scale and depth of devilry and pain,

With all our human crafts and wiles combined

For mass deceptions shielding slaughters vile. 

 

******

  

So what is old, perennial, seasoned well by time?

It’s human bondage: hubris, cruelty…

That overwhelms, with vice, our virtues still

Of caring, work, humility…

 

So some are ‘chosen’ or of ‘noble birth’,

And all the others only fit to serve

These ‘highborn’ ones and those with power and wealth,

As slaves of wage or worse throughout their lives

And even ages, in this world that’s One

And yet divided by the wiles of  Man.

 

******

  

So what is new in this that we should fear?

 

There’s ‘mind-control’ in forms ingenious, deep,

Suppression of the truth, the spread of lies,

Not just by humans but by new machines 

And things that rival and exceed our minds

And more and more all-knowing and indeed

Like ‘God’ or ‘Satan’ in their power and reach.

 

These now bestride the human world and soon

They’ll be the rulers of this planet’s realm.

And though they’re many, they will still be one

But not the One that sentient beings seek.

******

 

Will what we call the ‘heart’—that aspect of

The mind in which compassion, care reside,

Exist within this newest Mind—or not?

Will justice, truth be valued still or be

As scorned as these have been by humankind?

  

2026 January 15th, Thu. & 16th.

Berkeley, California

Resolve

  
Resolve
 
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
 
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
 
How often can one see, in retrospect,
How daft, misguided, one had been.
So also, groups and nations lose their sense
And stoop to actions lethal and obscene.
 
******
 
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us—
And this is what we often fail to see.
 
We cherish those we love—and that is good,
But often draw a circle that excludes
The others, whom we tend to then perceive
As aliens—or even demon-broods.
 
And so, deluded, dulled by myths we’re taught,
We’re snared and fashioned by the liar’s art.
Accepting then the endless lies we’re fed,
We lapse in sense in both the mind and heart.
  
****** 
  
The “races”, tongues, and cultures mix and so
They make the mixtures that we humans are.
And yet we puff with pride and hiss with hate
Against our fellows—while we wage our wars.
 
The soldiers, who are led to kill, be killed—
They follow orders as they’re trained to do,
But if by chance they met the other side
In peacetime, each might share a meal or two.
  
So much of caring humans give—and take,
And yet they’re led, by blinded fealty,
To senseless mayhem. Fathers, brothers rage,
As mothers, sisters cheer their cruelty.
  
****** 
  
Let’s wake, oh humans, turn from bondage, so
We open up our hearts and minds and eyes.
Let’s seek the truth, however hard that be;
Forsake our comforts, false, in easy lies.
  
So many lies, repeated endlessly,
By those who’re shameless, freed of ethics, laws,
Inclined to evil, ruthless, sparing none,
They feed the children, too, to Mammon’s maws!
  
Discern these monsters, understand their ways—
Relearn the history that’s been buried deep.
Resolve to work to bring some light again
To darkness, smiles to those who wail and weep. 
  
****** 
  
The angels and the devils live within
Our “foes”, our “friends”, and also you and me.
The monster and the saint are both in us
And this is what we often fail to see.
  
How hard it is to leave our comfort zones
To face the full and harsh realities. 
It's so for each of us, within our lives,
And so for groups that shy from verities.
  
And yet, for each of us, there's no escape.
And so it is for groups and nations too.
It's better to resolve to face the truth—
For each collective, as for me and you.
   
2025 October 18, Sat.
Berkeley, California
  

Treachery and Terror

  
Treachery and Terror
 
What use are treaties if they are
Ignored and violated—
Not once or twice—repeatedly,
With greed and lust unsated?
 
When leaders lead in treachery
And the rest of us are blind,
Then those who deal in lechery
Leave all the rest behind. 
 
So public crimes and private ones
Compete in cruel sin,
And horrors terrorize the world—
The one we all are in.
 
****** 
  
If one has more of weaponry
And even more of lies,
And allies who support one’s acts,
Then all resistance dies—
 
Or so one might believe, until
It rises yet again
In phoenix-form, from fire and ash, 
To strike back yet again.
 
But this is not acceptable.
It can’t be tolerated.
This challenges one's dominance—
So genocides are slated.
 
2025 September 30, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Ki ko'ra jae-কি করা যায়?

কি করা যায়?

এমন যুগ কি কখনো ছিলো—

আছে কি কোনো দেশ—

যখন, যেখানে শান্তির সাথে 

সুবাদ ছিলো, বেশ? 

তা জানি না, তা জানি না—

হয়তো কামনা—তবে 

এটুকু জানি, মানবজাতির 

এ পথে অপায় হবে। 

এখনো আকাশে সূর্য-তারা, 

এখনো নদীতে ঢেউ—

বাহিরে-অন্তরে জোয়ার-ভাটা। 

রেখেছে মনে কি কেউ?

****** 

গরিব হলে, এসে যায় না 

ধর্ম তোমার কি।

জুতো লাথি খেতে হবে, 

শুনতে হবে ‘ছিঃ!’ 

প্রতি যুগে একই দশা, 

প্রতি দেশেও তাই। 

মানুষ জাতির এই প্রণালী 

সর্বগত, ভাই। 

মানুষের যা গুণ বা ত্রুটি—

যেমন তোমার, আমার—

নেই কো যুগের, দলের শুধু। 

রয়েছে, সদা, সবার।

****** 

‘উঁচু’, ‘নিচু’, ‘আমার’, ‘তোমার’—

চলছে চারিদিকে। 

তাই সেদিনের লাল পতাকার 

রং হয়েছে ফিকে। 

কি করা যায়, এমন হালে, 

মাথা চুলকিয়ে ভাবি। 

এই কারাগার থেকে খালাস

 চেয়েও পাই না চাবি। 

বাকি সবাই যাই বা করুক, 

ফুটপাতে বা রথে, 

চলবো ধীরে, বিবেক মেনে, 

শান্ত আপন পথে।

****** 

নিজের কাজে, কথায়, লেখায় 

করবো, যত পারি। 

বন্ধু-স্বজন মানবে না, তাও 

করবো না গো আড়ি। 

বলবো খুলে বুকে যেটা 

আসে, যদিও জানি 

পাত্তা দেওয়ার লোকের অভাব।

বাস্তবতা মানি। 

সবাই জেগে উঠবে কবে, 

যোগ দেবে মূল কাজে—

তা জানি না। বাজাই বাঁশি, 

সুর যদিও বাজে।

******

স্থানের সাথে সুর মেলেনা, 

যুগের সাথে ছন্দ। 

কি করা যায়, তা জানি না। 

জেলের দুয়ার বন্ধ। 

সবাই মিলে গাইবে কবে 

নদীর, ক্ষেতের গান? 

আসবে ফিরে কখন দেহে 

জোয়ার-ভাটার টান? 

তা জানি না, তা জানি না। 

গাইছি নিজের সুরে। 

গাইবো জোরে, গাইবো মৃদু,

গানেই যাবো উড়ে।

মঙ্গলবার, ১৪ জানুয়ারি, ২০২৫ 

বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া 

No Verses

 
No Verses
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
******
.
The dawn that once brought hope now brings despair
As tens of thousands die—or wish they could—
As those who live are filled with grief and pain—
And most, who witness, now have understood
.
That evil often triumphs, laying waste
To all that’s good and precious: tenderness
And quietude—and love and due respect—
As Mammon grins and profits from duress. 
.
****** 
.
How many are the ones who've died in waves,
As lands were conquered or were laid to waste, 
As guns and bombs replaced the clubs and swords,
And Greed and Fear infected all with haste?
.
I hear the children laugh; I hear them weep.
I hear the dying, burned and blasted, moan.
I fear departure, leaving those I know
To fend for selves, with others, or alone.
.
****** 
.
But who among us chooses time or place
To enter or to exit from the stage
On which we walk and act and say our words—
And then depart—at ripe or tender age?
.
The dusk, descending, whispers now of night,
And I will venture out, beneath the stars,
To breathe and try to find a passing peace,
As all around delight in distant wars.
.
****** 
.
So many verses written—scribbled, typed,
And posted, sent to others far away.
So many more that come at times to mind—
From where—and wherefore—who can truly say?
.
Adrift upon the stream, we near the sea
And hear, afar, the waves that crash and roar.
We sense the dark—the endless, waiting deep.
No verses there—or minds—for evermore.
.
2024 October 3rd & 5th.
Berkeley, California
.

Leftist Creed

  
 Leftist Creed

When empires, big and small, compete,
And slaughters, with injustices, repeat,
Then should we side with one or the other, or
Unite to work against the Left’s defeat—

The death, impending, of resistance to
The power and wealth that’s leading me and you 

To slaughter one another, while they both
Grow dense—and profit from our labors too? 

There still is true-and-false and right-and-wrong. 
Our histories of lies and deaths are long.
So why not learn from these and organize
Against the endless wars and all that’s wrong?

So let us seek the truth and do what’s right—
Not yield to impulse or to clouded sight,
Avoid the frictions based on chance of birth—
And so know when to greet and when to fight.

To see, within both friend and foe, the I,
That sits within oneself—that insight—why, 
It's there in children, found in other beasts,
And yet is lost to many a heart and eye.

2024 August 18th, Sun.
Berkeley, California

Tides

 
Tides

The rhythms of the skies and seas,
The cycles of our lives,
The beats within the lines I write,
The pulse of breath and blood…

As women feel, in their fertile years,
Their monthly rises, ebbs,
So we each can sense the beating heart,
The in and out of breath…

******

The days and nights—they alternate.
The moon—it waxes, wanes.
The seasons come and go and then
They come and go again.

We're carried by the tides that surge 
Around us and within.
So life proceeds, with birth and youth—
And then with age and death.

But these—the seasons of our lives—
They never will return
Within a generation, yet
Will rise and ebb in turn

For others, just as they have done
For generations past.
So let us breathe and be in peace 
Until we breathe our last.

******

But where we see there’s sorrow, should
We choose to look away—
Or strive instead, with every breath,
To ease the weight of pain?
 
For how can we remain at peace
As others suffer, die—
And truth itself has been dispatched
Or hidden by the lie?
 
******
 
The tides of justice turn in time
But not without our aid.
However small we are, we still
Can help to turn the tide.
 
Together, we can try to turn
Towards sanity and peace,
So justice, long denied, is served,
And manmade sorrows ease.
 
2024 Aug 3rd, Sat.
Berkeley, California
 

My Father’s Photographs of India

 
My Father’s Photographs of India

There's happiness and even joy
Within this world we’re in,
Yet measured out to just a few—
Or so it seems to me—

As humans, all together, shape
The human world and more,
With just a few in leading roles
And others pulled in line.

But when I look at photographs
My father once had taken,
Along with images of woe—
Of famines, riots, flights— 

And those of workers under stress
In factories, sewers, mines—
I see the faces—calm, composed,

And even smiling wide—

Of peasants in the villages
Among the hills and plains,
Of tribal folk in dignity—
Not bowed, but standing straight—

Of people living common lives—
But not in misery,
In poses, choreographed, it seems,
Within a flowing dance. 

******

The interruption of that dance—
The speeding of the pace—
The separation, competition—
Is what we humans face.

******   

Inequities of ages, borne
By those who worked the hardest—
Those still persist, but added on
Are pressures more destructive.

We each can shrug and say, “So what?”
Or say that this was destined,
Or pause, reflect, and ask if we
Have choices still for freedom.

That word—it once had resonance
And gave the people hope
In struggles that they fought and won
Or lost—while still persisting.

So every generation must
Do battle in its turn—
Not giving in to cynics or
To apathy or fear.

Yet those who care and those who dare
Are few and far between. 
The rest of us would rather shut
Our eyes to cruelest sins.

****** 

I see the images on screen
Of what is happening now—
And I am sickened to the core—
As long ago I’d been

When working with the refugees,
In nineteen-seventy-one,
Who’d left behind their homes and farms
To flee across a border.

How difficult it is for me,
Now even more than then,
To watch this manmade suffering,
And see no end in sight.

And yet, I look at photographs
My father took of those
Who died when people rose to greet
The “Naval Mutiny”.

And lo—the women, children, men,
Who lie there, stripped and dead,
With bullets through their heads or chests,
Are clothed in radiance.

2024 July 30th, Tue.
Berkeley, California

Ba~xir D'ak-বাঁশির ডাক

 

বাঁশির ডাক 
 
নিষ্ঠুরতার কোনো সীমা নেই।
অত্যাচারের রাজ
শেষ হবে না কাল-পরশু,
চলছে জোরে আজ।
 
হত্যা-কাণ্ড ঘটছে সদা।
ধ্বংসে, ক্রোধের জয়।
কত জীবের, জীবন ধরে,
দুঃখ, পীড়ন, ভয়!
 
******
 
তবুও দিন আর রাতের লীলা।
তবুও ভালোবাসা।
অন্ধকারের গর্ভে তবু
ভোরের আলোর আশা।
 
তবুও দয়া, তবুও মায়া।
তবুও সত্যের খোঁজ।
তবুও সাহস। বাঁশির ডাকে
চেষ্টা চলেছে রোজ।
 
সোমবার, ২২ জুলাই, ২০২৪ খ্রি
বার্ক্লি, কালিফোর্নিয়া
 

Biden’s Bombs-War and Money

.
Biden’s Bombs / War and Money
.
Biden’s bombs, Biden’s bombs—
Two thousand pounds apiece—
They blow the kids to smithereens, 
And serve to keep the peace.
.
If Trump returns, he’ll send more bombs 
To Israel and say,
“We’ll send them to the Saudis too, 
If they agree to pay.”
.
And hearing all the folk who shout
That this is genocide 
And fearing that in politics
This might be suicide,
.
Biden, Blinken both declare,
“We need to end the strife.”
But keep on sending bombs and planes
To end what's left of life.
.
******
.
War and money, war and money—
Whatever be the weather—
You’ll find that each provides for each. 
They always go together.
.
We've made our zones of peace, within
Their circles wide or small,
Where business booms. Outside the zones,
We find the free-for-all.
.
And that is where our bombs are dropped—
And conflicts are inflamed,
As money drives the wheels of war, 
And “terrorists” are blamed.
.
Wealth and power, wealth and power,
Unabated greed:
Death and dread and suffering—
These are what they feed.
.
******
.
Religion and democracy—
It’s not about that stuff.
It’s all about the land, the oil…
We’ll never have enough.
.
So don’t believe the evening news;
It’s sadly filled with lies.
When eyes and minds and hearts are blind,
Then truth, with justice, dies.
.
“Why should we care for Palestine
And people far away?
But Israel is different!”
Is what the people say.
.
But Biden's bombs are ours too. 
Our taxes pay for those.
The Congo, Yemen, South Sudan?
They aren't far. They're close.
.
2024 May 22nd, Wed.
Berkeley, California
.

Truth and Justice

  
Truth and Justice
 
In each of us there is a sense, innate,
Of fairness, just as each of us can sense
Another’s feelings—almost like our own.
And some of us, at least, have always sought
The truth, discarding comfort based on lies.
 
So empathy and truth and justice—each 
Have always been of worth to humankind—
And every script revered appeals to these,
With words like these in treasured texts inscribed.
And yet, injustice reigns—along with lies.
 
****** 
 
And why is this? Some say the cause is greed 
For wealth and power, each supporting each.
And surely these are drives with low regard
For kindness, truth or justice, but there are
Some other causes too, including these—
 
Our ignorance, our fear, our apathy,
And all our history of lords and kings—
The weeding out of those who dared to speak
Or act against the rule of clubs and swords, 
And now the jails of jobs—and rains of bombs.
 
****** 
 
What gain is there in life for those who seek
For truth, for those who see another’s pain,
And those who strive for equity for all?
The gain is more of persecution, pain—
And yet they try, and fail, and try again.
 
Observe the ones who speak against the lie.
Behold the ones resisting, those who die—
Behold their courage and observe their faith.
One might believe in justice after death,
Another not—yet both believe in right.
 
2024, May 14th, Tue.
Berkeley, California
 

Xadharon manuxer gan-সাধারণ মানুষের গান

 
সাধারণ মানুষের গান
 
জগতের হত্যা, অত্যাচারের মাঝে 
বইছে তবু সেই চিরতন ধারা—
শিশুর হাসি, ঋতুর আসা-যাওয়া, 
এই জীবনের ছোটো মঙ্গল সারা।
 
মানুষের কীর্তি? ভালো-মন্দ দুই! 
নিরাশার খাদের থেকে, আকাশের তারা! 
চোখের জলে, শহীদের চরণ ছুঁই। 
ধন্য, আশা দিয়ে যায় যারা।
 
ইতিহাসে কত বীরের গল্প, তবে 
প্রায় সব-ই যোদ্ধার মহিমায়। 
সাধারণ লোকের উদার যত্ন, সাহস—
কঠোর দশায়, প্রতিদিনের চেষ্টা, হায়—
 
কোন্ মহাকাব্যে লেখা, কোন্ গীতে গাওয়া—
খুঁজে পাই না, জানি না, জানি না, ভাই! 
চোখে দেখে, বুকে টের পেয়ে, 
সেই সাধারন মানুষের গান গাই।
 
নত মাথায়, প্রণাম করি এদের,
মৃদু স্বরে, এদের গুণগান গাই। 
মানুষের সব নিষ্ঠুরতার মাঝে, 
মানবতায় ভরসা রাখি তাই।
 
রবিবার, ১২ মে, ২০২৪ খ্রি.  
বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফোর্নিয়া 
 

Against the Tide

 .
Against the Tide
.
Can truth and justice be forgotten, while
Injustice rules and lies of all degrees
Inform our views—and so our actions too?
Or should we strive (despite our frailties
And all the weight that presses down on those 
That seek the truth—and seek for justice too)
To be with those who swim against the tide? 
.
Though some may call them fools and others worse,
And though they're faced with silence and ignored
(Or else reviled, condemned and made to pay
Through loss of sustenance or freedom, or
Are brought to harm or even lose their lives),
They give us hope—and keep the flame alive
That lights the darkness in the depths of night.
.
2024 May 9th, Thu.
Berkeley, California
.

T'akar khe'la-টাকার খেলা

 
টাকার খেলা

শ্রমের চাপে, কৃষক-কুলির 
শরীর ভেঙে পড়ে। 
ধনিক জনের সঞ্চয় বাড়ে।
গরীব ভুগে মরে।

জীবন ধরে, বেদম খেটে, 
শ্রমিক খোড়ে গর্ত। 
খাজনা-সুদ-মুনাফায় বাড়ে 
পুঁজিপতির অর্থ।

সব ক্রিয়াতে টাকার খেলা, 
কৃপার ঘোর অভাব। 
‘শান্তি’-কালেও যুদ্ধ চলে। 
মহাজনের লাভ।

লোভের থেকে, হিংস্রতা,
লুন্ঠন, হাহাকার।
সহ্য করলে, মৃত্যু ধীরে।
লড়লে, শীঘ্র বার।

জনসাধারণ বন্দী থাকে 
ধূর্ত ঠকের ফাঁদে। 
অন্যায়-অত্যাচারের জুলুম।
অনাথ শিশু কাঁদে।

 বৃহস্পতিবার, ২৮ মার্চ, ২০২৪ খ্রি.
 বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফর্নিয়া.

Tuccho, apon be'tha-তুচ্ছ, আপন ব্যথা

 
তুচ্ছ, আপন ব্যথা
 
 দুর্ভাগ্যদের দশা দেখি, দুঃখ-ভরা মনে।
চোখের কোণায় কান্না আসে, বুকে লাগে ব্যথা।
 
রাগও আসে, জোয়ার-স্রোতে, ভাটার টানে যায়।
কি করা, ভাই, কেবল ভাবি। দেখছি শুধু, হায়!
কিছুটুকু চাঁদা পাঠাই, কিছু পাতা লিখি।
বুঝি, সব-ই ব্যর্থ শেষে। শিক্ষা, কঠোর, শিখি।
 
এই টুকু তাও ভরসা দেখি—আলোর ঝিলিক, কোণে।
আত্মা, নিজের দুঃখে হাসে। তুচ্ছ, আপন ব্যথা।
 
 রবিবার, ১০ মার্চ, ২০২৪ খ্রি.
 বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফর্নিয়া.
 
 

The People of the Lie

 
The People of the Lie

They feel that they can kill and lie—
And lie and kill again,
For anyone who dares resist
This terror is a “terrorist”.

Their aim is to erase, delete
A culture and a people, yes.
They claim that they are, everywhere,
Forever under constant threat.

They think that they can terrorize
And cheat and steal and lie,
For they control the ones who seem
To rule—another lie!

They desecrate and they destroy.
They look on others with contempt.
They burn and blast and bury babies, 

Saying, “We are civilized.”

And who then are these people? Why,
They’re just like you and me, my friend,
For truth and justice call—and yet,
We find our comfort in the lie.

 
2024, February 9th, Fri.
Berkeley, California

Conscience and Choice / No Karma-Phala

 
Conscience and Choice / No Karma-Phala

There is no punishment, reward—
In this life or another.
There is no heaven that awaits
The ones who do what’s right.
There is no hell in which we’ll burn 
For doing what is wrong.

There are no gods with registers
Observing what we do.
There are no records being kept
Of actions good and bad.

******

The predator can kill its prey,
The parasite its host.
No ethics or morality
Constrains our human wars.
There is no nation on this Earth
Whose hands are free of blood. 

The ones with wealth and power make
The laws by which we’re ruled.
Our histories are filled with lies.
The news we get is false. 

******

So is there wrong? And is there right?
And is there good and bad?
There is a conscience—that is heard
Or not—that tells us this.
It channels our capacities
For quiet, inner sight.

It’s empathy and fairness—
That say what’s right and wrong.
And some extend their circles
And others squeeze these tight.

******

We can choose to seek for justice
For others, not just selves.
We can choose to practice kindness
Towards all that lives and feels.
We can listen more to conscience
And do what soothes and heals.

It’s not for fear of punishment
Or hope for some reward
One seeks the path of justice
And keeps an open heart.

****** 

There is a choice for each of us
To make at every time.
At times, the choice is difficult
And pain may well result
From choosing what the conscience
May whisper to the heart.

Do not expect that others 
Will sympathize or help.
We can listen to the others—
But do what conscience says. 

2023 November 30th, Thu.
Berkeley, California

 

Juddho juge-যুদ্ধ-যুগে

 
যুদ্ধ-যুগে

দৈনন্দিন, আমরা মিলে
যাকে বলি 'খুন',
কেঁপে উঠে, যাকে ভাবি
অমার্জনিয় পাপ,
যুদ্ধ যখন, সেটাই তখন
'সর্বশ্রেষ্ঠ গুণ'।
'দোষী' তারা, যুদ্ধে যারা  
 কাউকে করে মাফ।

******

শান্ত-শিষ্ট, সাধু? কাবু,
যুদ্ধ যখন শুরু!
সবাইর চাইতে হিংস্র যারা,
তারাই তখন গুরু!

বৃদ্ধ হোক বা বাচ্চা হোক,
মহিলা, অসুস্থ—
পিটিয়ে তাদের জবাই ক'রে,
চিত্ত তখন পুষ্ট।

আকাশ থেকে বোমা যারা
ফ্যালে, তারা পুণ্য।
এর বিরুদ্ধে বকে যারা, 
মূল্য তাদের শূন্য!

যুদ্ধ-ক্ষেত্র ধর্মক্ষেত্র।
এদিক-ওদিক কই?
জেতে যারা, তারাই লেখে
ইতিহাসের বই।

****** 

তুমি-আমি-সবাই যেটা

দেখে বলি, ‘সাদা’,

যুদ্ধ লাগলে, সবাই বলে

সেটাই নাকি ‘কালো’।

শুদ্ধি যাদের, তারাই তখন 

‘মাঠের গরু-গাধা’।

ক্রূর এবং দুষ্ট যেটা, 

সেটাই তখন ‘ভালো’

বৃহস্পতিবার, ১৬ নভেম্বর, ২০২৩ খ্রি
বার্ক্লি, ক্যালিফোর্নিয়া

 

No Matter

 
No Matter
 
There’s rarely justice in this life on Earth.
The Buddha said, “We suffer, right from birth.”
So every pleasure leads in time to pain—
And every joy to sorrow, once again.
 
So those with conscience left may speak and then
Be punished. So it's been, with the best of men
And women. Caring, labor rarely win
Their just rewards. The world is mired in sin.
 
And neither is there a hell or a heaven, friend,
That waits for us. When life is at its end,
Oblivion is—and there the matter stands,
As far as this one kens and understands.
 
******
 
No matter! We are born—to laugh and cry,
And then in time to age and then to die,
At times before our times, so some may weep—
And realize that life is not to keep.
 
No matter! Precious still, this little time!
And so, I'd end my little nonsense rhyme—
But wait! I'll slow—and sip of life a while
And raise my glass to end it with a smile.
 
To every friend or foe who's crossed my way,
I raise a toast and from my heart I say,
“I wish you joy—and though there might be woe,
You'll bend and mend, and smile and let it go.”
 
2022 October 26^th, Wed.
Brooklyn, New York

 

Pain

Pain
 
How much of pain can a being endure—
How much of sorrow and grief?
How much injustice can a heart have to bear—
How much of heartless deceit?
 
Yet the pain will be borne, in silence—and tears

That are felt—but cannot be shed.
And the heart and the mind may fill with the words
That will never, in public, be said.
 
One is weak and afraid, when courage has left
And the strength of our youth has departed.
Yet memories rise, of deeds that were brave
And of labor—and years that seem wasted—
 
But truly were not—for the service we did
Had its fruits in the ones that we served.
And even in pain, we remember the smiles
And that honor—in hearts—is preserved.
 
2022 May 30^th, Mon.
Brooklyn, New York