kousik Adhikari: A Woman Never Sleeps Before She Dies
poems on our dead world
What is poetry? Poetry is wish, it is prayer and it is life. This collection includes poems mainly on the salts of life and if there are some sugar coats that often vanish when the life becomes on And ultimately if it is possible why life is called life and if not why love is called love.
Night at Balasore
The night at her fashion-less wedding
On the nude streets of Balasore,
Beggars hunting sleep
After day's wrecks,
Trees luckless at their
Mid-widow life, yearns
For a rainy day's dance-
Men with their salted tragedy
Women meaning grammar
At their heyday, wearing roses,
God forbids sleep.
Only the Dark perching
On the top of tree
Washing hands till
The tinge of blood out
Shrill cry of street girl
Heard, hunger strikes
Empty breasts, abdomen at once
With both his hands of thorns
Till the night grows green,
Till Dark's washing finishes
We can speak about
Avenues, roses or
Empty smiles' nude parade.
Note-Balasore is a small Indian city in Orissa, reputed for its culture.
Now she sleeps like the last octopus of this yellow sea Who wished to cling to earth,
Perfect sad, perfect white face mirrors the soot-ceiling,
Hip dismount thighs from worlds,
Who could discern different years, lying cold, dull before those peaks?
She sleeps when the idea of woman; stretched, stretched and torn,
Now the entire Milky Way shall sing ballad of stars, lullaby.
Only no sleep will descend, no sleep will come out Of the churned metamorphic sea;
A woman never sleeps before she dies.
A dustbin is not a dustbin before it's stuffed and stuffed and spill.
Now the sea can doze a little before hunting a new octopus?
(written after reading a news of an infant female child raped on December, 2015)- excerpts from the book