SHYAMAL MUKHOPADHYAY

SHYAMAL MUKHOPADHYAY

Faked

While scanning mailbox popped-up one from you

So much accusations therein may be my due,

At end “I hate you” your ultimate imposition:

You are unknown to hate’s live interpretation-

Someday ago, on duty to survey faraway terrain,

A cluster of tiny huts standing on land barren

At the fringe few quaggy sheds away from rest

Living as if under threat and vehement protest:

The age when our mission reaching Mars Luna

At our backyard humanity facing vicious trauma;

Sustaining malnutrition poverty forced hunger

Tales of woes no authority appears to hear.

As of now, if you fancy to a remote destination

Hate would expose in atrocious connotation.

Unashamed

Must i say ashamed

Shall we feel devastated

How many times tolerate ferally molested?

Often proud of ancient wisdom, glorious race

On own earth fail to provide Her a safe space;

From where origin to look for rays of light

Butchered the venter flesh in beastly delight;        

But how long we need to condone or tolerate—

Media too may play as long rise TRP rate,

Few more day’s people will sloganeer in agitation

Until one day all would feel sense of frustration,

Authority would make boastful promises

On ground women to survive muffled cries.

Probably desperate time needs demonstration

Wolves, by society be sanctioned castration.

Survival

When darkness spreads over

Night unsavoury to tolerate

When in prescriptible silence envelopes

Serene deep wood

Green valley appears ghost-integrate,

When trust becomes casualty

Faith on humanity eroding

When dogma dictates value judgement

Rationality fast fading;

When perception clouded in malice

Benevolence losing sheen

Unto the journey to purgatory

Sanctitude within brings bliss.

SHYAMAL MUKHOPADHYAY

SHYAMAL MUKHOPADHYAY: From financial arena to pursue passion intruded into the creative space of literature. Contributed poem, short story and nonfiction write ups in various national and international journals and magazines. Used to writing in Bangla and English, occasionally in Hindi. Prefers no frill straight approach as wordsmith-less of ornamentalisations. Sylvan Fragrance—a book of poems latest on stand.