Advertisement I am a Muslim by birth And you? The cries of the riot victims Wash away colours of time And leave a void in the heart. The stone throwers are in ecstacy The obscene words shouted aloud Have driven away sleep. The sound of the frog jumping into the pond And the cluttering of the loom Have been drowned. Now in Bohag it is time To stand guard in turn. All on a sudden a news comes A newborn baby is found in a dustbin An advertisement is published Inviting its antecedents.
The Words The words dazzle in sunshine They dazzle in the darkness. Everything in the world is relative. Birth and death Happiness and sorrow Sin and piety Smiles and tears. Words sometimes become insipid. Unwanted reckoning. Sometimes they become interesting Like gossips after lunch break in office. Words raise tide To drown many a man. Some words are confined in quarantine centres Once released They loiter in the market place. No word can be buried. Some words are written on the sand To be washed away by the waves. Words are fish in water The predatory bird scoops And snatches away. Words ripen And are conducted By evidence. You cannot tell The friend from the foe. The walls have ears And you have to be careful. Everybody is wearing a mask . Words bring one reward One is beheaded for words You lose your path When the tongue slips.
Translated by Ananda Bormudoi
Geetanjali Borkotoky is an Assamese poet based in Namrup, Assam. She has one collection of poems to her credit.