Ajit Das Poems

Daybreak: monsoon clouds thicken, sail across the sky,
darkening its blue expanse, blotting out the eastern glow.
Hushed silence; a sudden boom, and rain comes down,
pattering against the window pane; I throw it open.
...

Paper aeroplanes flying over the barbed wire
of Gulag, picked up by passers-by,
posted to addresses indicated there on,
were clandestine letters: the only connection to life,
...

Faith! Which faith do you talk of?
One that offers easy answers
or no answers at all, meaning
submission without any query?
...

When you went away,
you left behind a host of items.

I made an inventory:
...

Coming out of mother's womb,
you met the fate that awaits one born
out of wedlock even today.
Not cradled in her lap, but abandoned
...

I live within confines:
abode, neighbourhood, nation.
I open the closed door,
go out of the surrounding walls;
...

The deep frozen origin drips;
the river collects its mass,
begins the serpentine move
over moss, around rocks,
...

The night deepens;
street lights glint like eerie lamps
in the thickening dark.
Silence dissolves all echoes
...

The dragon of summer spews fire,
draining moisture with its yellow heat.
Chataks holding their heads high up
wait for rain to slake relentless thirst.
...

Like all of you I, too, came into the world
from the womb of my mother,
but with a difference - I was deformed.
I didn't know what it meant to me.
...