Art.Suvro.Ghosh

P1895 গুন্ডা আমি ভালো না

গুন্ডা আমি ভালো না,

খুন খারাপি করি.

মাইরি বলছি হাসবেন না,

ফাঁসিয়ে দেবো ভুড়ি.

পকেটএ যদি কিছু থাকে,

বের করে ফেলুন তাড়াতাড়ি.

নইলে খাবেন সিগারেটের ছ্যাকা,

ঘামও মাখিয়ে দিতে পারি.

দুর্গন্ধ ভর্তি মুখের চুমু যদি চাই,

পটলচেরা চোখের দিকে তাকান.

নকল মদ খেয়ে এসেছি,

আমার চিত্তে শুধুই গান.

ভালো গান নয় অবশ্য,

সব গালাগালিতে ভরা.

কুকুর বিড়াল গরু,

নিরীহদের পোঁদ মারা.

যা করি আমি নেতাদের জন্য,

খুনের হারিয়ে ফেলেছি খেই.

ভূত ও ভগবান দুটোই নেতার হাতে,

ক্ষমতার সঙ্গে তর্ক নেই.

অন্ধকারই বন্ধু আমার,

আলোতে হয় চর্মরোগ.

স্যান্ডো গেঞ্জি খুললে দেখবেন,

দগদগে ঘা ছোপ ছোপ.

ছুরি মারা নিয়ে করেছি পিএইচডি,

তাই করবেন না সময় নষ্ট.

মানিব্যাগ পেলে হামি দিয়ে ছেড়ে দেবো,

নইলে বেজায় কিন্তু কষ্ট.

P1891 করছি হাগু করছি হিসু

করছি হাগু করছি হিসু,

রাস্তার ধারে বসে.

পেট ফাঁকা না করলে ,

খাব কি করে .

বমিও আমি করতে পারি ,

তার জন্য খেতে হয় ঘাস .

কোনটা আমার জায়গা ,

বেড়া আমার হিসুর সুবাস .

নেতাদের মুখের ওপর ,

করব হাগু ভেবেছি .

আমার মালিক লাজুক ভারী ,

বলছে খালি "ছি ছি".

নেতাগুলো দেশটাকে ,

লুটে নিচ্ছে ল্যাংটো করে .

হিং টিং ছট আর ভগবানের নাম ,

বলে নিজের ব্যাগ ভরে .

অরাজকতায় দেশটা ভরা ,

মধ্যবিত্ত নর্দমায় .

মানুষের হাসপাতলে হাগবোনা আমি ,

ঘাস ছাড়াই বমি পায় .

মিথ্যে কথার মায়াজালে ,

নিজেরাই নিজেদের পোঁদ মারে .

ভাগ্যিস মানুষ হয়ে জন্মাই নি ,

খুব বাঁচা বেঁচে গেছি এইবারে .

P1890 ঘুড়ি ওড়াতে পারলে

ঘুড়ি ওড়াতে পারলে কিছু আর চাই না,

কিন্তু সত্যিই কি শান্তি আছে ভাই?

পোঁদে ফুটবে কাটা বা ছোবল মারবে সাপ,

বা না হয় যদি ছাদ থেকেই পড়ে যাই.

কিন্তু কিবা তাতে হবে করি প্রশ্ন,

বড়জোর মরে যাব.

এমনিতেই কিবা উদ্ধার করছি,

খালি ভাবি কি খাব কি খাব.

সাপটা কামড়ালে ওর বরাত মন্দ,

আমার চর্বিতে ভেঙে যাবে দাঁত.

ডেন্টিস্টের জন্য ছটফট,

শাপ শাপান্ত করবে দিনরাত.

ক্যাকটাসের হবে ভারী লোকসান,

ওর কাটা ফুটোতে হারিয়ে যাবে.

পাছাড় ফাঁকে টর্চ নিয়ে খুঁজতে,

পুলিশের অনেক ধৈর্য্য লাগবে.

আর পড়ে গেলে তো ভূমিকম্প,

ভারী শরীরের তলায় বিস্তর লাশ.

বালি আর জালি দিয়ে বানানো বেআইনি বাড়ি,

ভেঙ্গে হবে সহজেই ধপাস.

P1889 I inspect my shit

I inspect my shit, quite a bit,

It's a good way to break your brain.

Thinking about a microscope now, somehow,

To resolve the details plain.

The percussive fart, a form of art,

Resounding in decibel glee,

I hold the power, the height of the tower,

The proud master of all I see.

No trace of sin, just shreds of skin,

There's a whole lot of yellow in me.

The turds are good, once good food,

Now just overbearing spaghetti.

Unexamined shit is an unexamined life,

You can't get more clueless than that.

At least, if you see what comes out,

There's some satisfaction with getting fat.

Well, people think I'm mad, it's sad,

They ought to respect their shit.

It tells you of the time you've got, or not,

There's information in every bit.

The losses and ravages of time,

Show up in the smears of bloody red.

The sugar in the piss attracts,

Sweet-toothed ants queued to be fed.

The place stinks a lot, steaming stench pot,

The neighbors aren't at all happy.

I think I wear out their thin patience thinner,

When I proffer my stories of poop glory.

The gods never shit they say, nay,

They must then be hideously full of it.

I find it funny, my nose all runny,

Unlit the pious and puny dimwits.

When the gods explode, the only road,

Can lead to a room without a fan.

Their shit when the fan it hits,

Will be worse than this overflowing can.

I don't count my blessings, but my turds,

They speak only truth to me.

Today was a day, blessed I'd say,

The freshness of being shit free.

I ate a lot, this overflow a holy spot,

Many flavors of worms to see.

I touched one, it went back in the turd,

Its convinced I'm a hairy banshee.

P1876 Fluttering flags

Flag = Patriotism, national pride, true something etcetera.

I think the more we confuse words with inventive expectations unrelated to their original interpretation or intent, the less likely India will make headway as a nation.

While a logo, or a certain geometrical arrangement of shapes and colours, represents a country's uniqueness in the roster of other such combinations on the world stage, these patterns are mere understanding, or placeholders, or shortcuts to convey the impression of something that is much more complex, interesting, and bigger in scope where the representation or proxy is needed.

And even inside the border, feeling one with an assortment of parts of a country, culture, and language that are largely just an accommodation of our imagination, we do indeed look for a crutch.

But after the festive theme has elapsed, these items will end up jamming landfills, sewers, and rivers, not to mention strewn across thoroughfares, where most people will either step on them or find them as just another irritating inconvenience.

At this point, a little thinking, which has become an extremely difficult exercise these days, will reveal that the core component of national unity is to realise that we are a small cog in a big machine. If we do our part right, chances are the whole hulk of metal won't come screaming down. Even highfalutin concepts eventually come down to mundane realizations, which unfortunately aren't all that glamorous and require work and personal sacrifice. But here we can't turn to the leaders for precedent, or at least for honourable ones.

And it is only after we depart from the flimflam that we realise that the ministers are really pulling fluffy wool over our eyes. We should recognise that encouraging a few rituals infested with ulterior motives and tribal fanfare is really just a deceptive diversion. And it doesn't alleviate any of the existential anxieties that come with living in a poor and extremely corrupt country that, thanks to the minister and alliance, is plunging headlong into a one-way abyss.

And this is what should worry us when the flag-fluttering euphoria subsides, and we find ourselves none the better.

It's fascinating how many of the tricks that politicians play are as old as the earliest civilizations. Yet, the sad part of our education system is that it doesn't teach us how to be more rational, or where our blind spots are, our cognitive biases. The majority fall, time and again, for the same lies, pretenses, and superficial amity, where there's nothing but a hollow shell of deception.

We flutter flags but don't think, don't ask the hard questions. This nation could be one of the best countries in the world, but it's not. We are still a poor, underdeveloped, and extremely corrupt country, no matter how high we flutter the flags or its size. The realisations are strange and the contradictions are sad.

Don't forget to fill your head, or you're dead,

For that please eat my shit.

Silly ignominious goats you, now no longer few,

How I rape and gape you ass do think it is true

Pay all your tax on time

Or I whip your ass a shade of blue.

Yes you're right, the emotions of fright,

Are all made just for your slavish lot.

Under my sandals, while away your life,

Then you die on a squalid cot.

I spin the stories the way I see fit,

Ain't no such thing as fair.

I plunder your rights to exist, under your nose,

I snatch it from the air.

No time to chat please carry the scat,

I charge an usual rate.

The turds turned big, I dance a jig,

Take it to seal your fate.

All for general good, my shit's your food,

But never expect you'll use my soap.

The life I lead, eat only gourmet seed,

Some of it still in the shit I hope.

Your kids eat my ticks, get beaten with sticks,

Mine practice how to shit in your mouth.

The country is mine, in pleasure I shine,

While you die in a dirty ditch due South.

Fuck your ass, I repeat for glee,

Fuck your stupid fucking ass.

You live like dirt under me,

Your air is my putrid smelly gas.

My legs are tired and stiff.

If you tell health by smell,

The rot's ready for a sniff.

A heavy foot for example, could easily trample,

Splatter my silly guts for everyone to see.

Either I'm hopelessly behind the times,

Or the times are hopelessly behind me.

My shit's tight, the days full of fright

The turds are somewhere caught.

My farts are rare, or just plain air,

I miss the stench quite a lot.

Once danger my dick, now thin as a wick,

The females are fucking around.

The gods have gas, I see their classic ass,

My eyes can't turn to the ground.

When like this, you get sprayed with piss,

You're really treated like stale shit.

Now negative in the pecking order,

Your flaws focused in the light that's lit.

Or imagine a ball of vomit

Hurled by impetuous hate.

The bolus assisted by gravity,

Surely will suffocate my fate.

Or the spitter spatter of spit,

All at my face they're aimed.

Imagine the degree of disrespect,

For a rotation that was framed.

I wonder about all the assholes

My wet tongue could have licked.

Or the phalluses for which

My own I should have lubricated slick.

What castles will I be crawling then,

Or would they be all made of card?

Ambition can often be a stale delusion,

That like feces has gotten really hard.

I die like shit, this is really it,

Getting up is an impossible goal.

Staring like a fool, all I do is drool,

Just another defeated asshole.

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