My Elder Brother & Other poems
An important Bengali poet of 80’s, Dhiman Chakraborty was born and brought up in Kolkata. The first edited magazine by Chakraborty was ‘Aalaap’ (Introduction / Conversation). In the year of 1987, his first book of poems ‘Aapnaader SmaraNe’ (In the Memory of You) was published. After that, he authored several poetry-books. ‘Aaguner Aaraamkedaaraa’ (The easy-chair of Fire), ‘Jamoj Paathor’ (The Twin Stones), ‘Saadaa Aashroy’ (The white Shelter), ‘Paakhider Robbaar’ (Sunday of The Birds)… to name a few amongst them. His poetry anthology ‘Dhimaner Charaachar’ (The Universe of Dhiman) was published by ‘Kaurab’ Publications in the year of 2008. He’s the editor of ‘Vinnomukh’ (The Other Face) for more than 15 years. Dhiman Chakraborty bagged many awards for different books. His works are often termed as neo-surrealistic. The poet is still very much active and full of creativity. Here are the translations of some of his poems written in different times of his entire journey with Bengali poetry till now. We hope for his long creative life.undefined
You attached a mat-resting morning
with a few birds
by your hints.
If someone tries to play life
in a low volume,
few circles, wearing new jackets
apply for leave.
It’s good to suffer at intervals.
The wet nail, – making a deep cut
in the bright face
as well as in the river of forest-bungalow.
Not a white button,
an unhooked light blue rolled in,
water coloured lifespan, sometimes.
I count and pick –
a throbbing heart of a rainy-day-wall,
the whistling unknown cheers.
I find you as a disheveled geography.
Or, a simple regular day
when nothing much has happened.
MY ELDER BROTHER
When the darkness signs
the opera-face is besmeared with it.
Behind your back
the roll call has started,
a few glasses of rainy joy.
In the mask of human beings
different seasons are
roaming around these days.
However, they can easily be recognized
by those blind persons
who are waiting with their own lights
in the brightness of the coachmen.
Whenever I go to the roof nowadays
I find my elder brother
carrying his own voice in his palms
a few pigeons
towards the girls’ school in east.
HUMAN BEING – 1
The village of design
Is full of uproarLike the entrapped fishes.
Sea-waves are spreading their shadows
Towards the reverse of the earth
We are running –
If she jumps up
By breaking the back of the shadow
Like a banyan fruit. The mermaid.
Or the wide open mouth
With the strong saw?
The holy eager water of the church
Scripted with charcoal.
Only the man disappears slowly
Amongst all these.
HUMAN BEING – 3
The promotional balloon licks the sky.
You anchored yourself in the yellow skin of village,
After returning to the city –
Today you felt that
Every season is becoming expensive.
You lasted long between the run and indolence.
The city of burnt candles
Piles up on the table,
The fork and the ferocious blade of gas shining,
Every night makes you remember
Your birthday and some residual smiles.
Did you wet your face with water whole night for that ?
MYSTERY OF BIRTH
This is that very dust. Thrashing on the eyes
Through the emptiness, light is soft now,
As if you are wearing
A sleeveless sweater in this harsh winter.
It’s almost evening now.
This city doesn’t have any zebra crossing.
After the children of earth have crossed carefully,
flashing red and green in the dark
will wave hands.
We shall tell the children fun stories back to back
And keep them awakened whole night –
until someone hangs a ball of light
like a wall-clock, in the dusty sky.