The End of the World Project is now published. The book and the free pdfs are available at http://www.moriapoetry.com/ebooks.html
I’m honored to be part of this project.
My part is here:
Destination: Nature Roy
Yet at our very beginning we had great unification. Today I could only see, breaking the fundamental particles, solitary quarks are coming down into our homes. Now home means a single room with a lonely man, at the door of which I could see only a shaved Krishnachura tree. From the small window when I look into the vast sky, I could see only dreadful threshold crossing Celsius. The definition of world has been changed to a carbon catalog today. And containing all of these, our great universe is in its ever expanding way. Yet we are seeking for a quadruped globalization with intense affection! Yet we are seeking for a civilization which is chanting Hare Ram Hare Krishna! We are getting delayed my Dear Reader. Could you hear the inarticulate noise from the Suicide Squad of Plantae Kingdom?
I could see the migratory body of the melancholic clouds
Yet I couldn’t find its coloured feather
Only dominating biped on the expanded lap of the world
Its poisonous steam is expanding its hood
Water-mark from the lips of cloud getting dried up by bitter kiss
The corners of rainbow becomes greyer and grayer
Yet the flag of Bali-Roadmap flies with a smile
Mother Earth is still in bow in its rotational obsession
Drunken with a fistful abeer[1] at the end of the day
Celebration everyday
Spring-show in the twilit balcony
When the bugle of spillover Celsius touches our deep skin
Debate-forum overflows the luxurious wine glasses of our cities
Takes an oath to become Jamuna[2]
Diluted third world becomes warmer and warmer
Under the skin-cover of controller’s furnace
Ta-ta-thoi-thoi[3]dance between the horns of dilemma
A portion of oxygen still exist in the nook and corner of the termitic cot
The suicide squad of Plantae kingdom is working
There’s no first, second or third world
A call for few minutes of strike by the Plantae kingdom
Tughlaqi[4] taste will wake up on the satisfied palate of biped’s knowledge
The geometrical God will start dancing joyfully on the graves of
Manu’s[5]sons
Oh, My Dear Reader, just listen to that singer, “Oh Allah, Give me
cloud give me water give me shade…” The world is blazing my dear artist.
The whole world is in flame. Your surrounding is shaking with explosions.
My ears are filled brimful with cries of Mother Earth. Yet tune of prayer
is ringing in your voice! Please stop, stop, stop my dear artist. There is
a scarcity of water drop for your dried up throat. Just listen to the
rhythm of Lord Shiva’s Tandava dance. A shadow of famine is appearing in
the wheel of time. Endangered Nature. Sitting inside the adverse
rain-philosophy, still my restless dreams place their eyes along the
placenta of the pregnant clouds. Memory of light smell of lemon grass
is flowing through the fold of my cerebrum, worn out with ultraviolet rays.
When I cross the aqueous humour, I could see mad dance of truncated goblins
in my blind spot. Heads of the murdered trees fell down from their body
into the river. A loud laugh of river is rolling through my REM sleep.
When I get up with frightened and confused noise, sighs of millions
and billions of trees get entangled in my inhaled oxygen. Alluvial
plasmas gradually become fossils. I place my thirsty eyes towards my
beloved sky and could read the Suicide Note of Sabita.
My Dear Reader, You’re singing Ashavari[6] in the blooming sunshine.
From the ghostly window of Tamas[7] I’m thinking about the sun which will
also expire someday. I would like to go to future with you to see the
suicide note of Sabita[8]. Keep your Time Machine ready please.
Suicide Note-1
During long lustrous days I spread out all fuel by opening my fist
Today everything is reminiscence on the canvas of my memory
So I kept myself out of your main sequence in disregard in abandon
You gave me the avatar of white dwarf only for name sake
Tell me frankly how far you reveal my identity
By reading the note your tears become uncontrollable. Roof of old-age
home, sprouted like fungus, is hanging in aqueous humour. Sitting at the
corner, finger is counting wrinkles of the skin.
Suicide Note-2
There was free stage
The three dimensional love was extended over the universe
I could remember so many fusions in my hands
I could remember so many smiles, songs and waves of delight
So you bowed to live together with me
Celebration has been stopped today
Only backward movement towards the navel-root
Towards the deep suicide goal at the end of the period
By reading the note you’re suddenly remembering your NRI offspring.
Father is the heaven, father is the religion and father is the final
cause – indistinct voice on the lap of grandfather. Left side of your
chest becomes blue with pain. After a single ringtone for
‘Bijoya-Pronam’[9], a deep silence exists everywhere.
Suicide Note-3
Today all futile sighs has been solidified to iron
When too much to bear
I’d become void and dissolve in cosmos
There’s also your love for Rohini[10]
Oh! Chandrashekhar[11], your limit has stopped my journey towards zero
By reading the note, bell of suicide is ringing at the Navel-root
of separation’s sorrow. But summon of justice is still awaited.
Suicide Note-4
How much could you observe in your telescopic eyes?
How much could you touch boundless infinity?
Love is another name of Absolute
Touch to see the naked star
By reading the note, your heart’s door has been shut down to open the
door of suppressed emotion. As a result your own suicide note remains
undefined.
My Dear Reader, are you frustrated by reading our written history?
How long can we bear with this unchangeable destiny written on our
forehead? Let’s look for an alternative history, where there’s no
boundary, where we can walk with ourselves…far…very far away...
At starting your foot has been tied up with information-loss paradox.
Your halted steps are thinking that all your old histories will be lost
in the black-hole in absence of you.
Yes that’s the blind-hole keeps light to an eternal prison forever
At one end there’s the black-deer eye of quantum beauty refusing to
lose her information
If memory of old love gets wiped away, she will have only pencil in hand
Again at the other end, listen to the exultation of relativity
‘I’ll not leave my needle-point field without fight’
As a result you’re confused. Don’t get upset please. There’s
a solution in Hawking’s finger
Fill your palette with your playroom’s colours
Keep nearby brushes of different degrees of relationships
At the end of your daylight, engrave the white canvas with formless
sighs of dead feathers
Then fill the vacant space with memories of first love
Now imagine a three dimensional hologram
Imagine that how light and darkness has poured explosive below our ribs
with the uncertainty of our position throughout the life
Granular egotism in the blood-stream has cut vein and overflows on
stony path
You’re free when the canvas becomes full
This’ll survive in the event horizon of black-hole in absence of you
Hologram may be distorted
Let it be
Still there’s a freedom in another sky from the naked darkness of prison
Freedom from the stony exultation of roofless marble palace
This is your moment.
Don’t be so excited please. Wear your green Punjabi[12] before
jumping. Throw out all the gravels you have collected throughout your life.
Now spread out your wings received from Jatinga[13] flying club.
Now just fly and fly
Fly away weightlessly towards uncertainty
Don’t look back please
Now you’re flying towards the black-hole leaving behind the earth’s
illusion
With Feynman’s hint you have already reached to your desired universe
where you’re walking with yourself
You have achieved your alternative history
In my solitary home, through the flowing melancholies, I am still searching
for you. I shaved off my insured and systemized life from the
finger-forgotten relationship. The Banaras silk of embroidered living
is just like a burden of breast behind the brassiere. In fact, you know that,
I never created my heart’s home in the left side of my chest. Yet I have
lost my beloved flute player on the way of my journey. When I turn the
folded address-book in my cerebrum, I could see a shadowy appearance of
your face. Yes, your face. A watery feeling trembles on my lips.
I start becoming a flying sky. I start thinking to setup a small
picnic in the jungle, searching for a piece of soil for green plantation.
I start thinking of a complete man from the planted copulation.
I start thinking of a little stitch joining few molecular homes,
single oven. Please, let the flow of few demands,
little irrationalities continue from one hand to other. Oh my dear
sensitive sky, please turn your face towards my dream, oh my dear rain,
please cascade yourself on my finger-nourishing way. When the hazy lone
path becomes confused in the solitude, keep your fingers tight with me
and give a deep kiss on my blue lips.
And this is the moment when arrow of time will bubble up. This is the
moment when you look for infinity. Yes, I know my Dear Reader,
now you are looking for infinity. Come on my Dear Reader, I may give you
its address.
Come back from addiction of escalator
Let’s go down to relativity through classical water-stair
Please unfasten the loving bondage of traditional Bonolata Sen[14].
Wonder will see infinity has taken your finger
You‘ve solved a lot of staircase maths
First, second, third…. going up and up
Yet you couldn’t find the Absolute
As a result, you’re left with only fourth dimension in hand
Don’t be upset please....
Let the time be illusoryWonder will see the breakdown of all the
boundariesPlease don’t tie up the space-time All laws of science will
break down like breaking of first love with fencing
Are you frustrated about duality?
Uprooted in rough stream of life?
Come to the live-together-home of singularity
Play the tune of copulation sitting at homesick rest
Don’t be afraid to be pregnant
Hold the finger of quantum virgin
Now come back to your old maths
Remember the peeling of groundnuts at Eden garden’s[15] afterglow
Make the time imaginary
Wonder will see the dismissal of your real time
I know you’re not able to conceive the imaginary time
Don’t be upset please...
Let’s go to Nature Roy
Relax under the magic corner of her shadow
I know you’re a story lover
Under her shade you can start your story of threshold crossing Celsius
When cool light of love will strike on your eyes
You’ll find that the shadow has been vanished
Without your consent an arrow of time is hanging on your unconscious
finger When has it fasten on, you couldn’t realize in stream of life
This is the moment of starting your way to return
Yes, my Dear Reader, the way of return is still open if you want to return
In tune with Nature’s arrow of time
In harmony with evolution towards future
[1]Abeer – A kind of perfumed and coloured powder used by Hindus to
sprinkleover one another in the festival of Holi (spring festival).
[2]Jamuna – Name of a famous Indian river
[3]Ta-ta-thoi-thoi –Beats of Indian classical dance
[4]Tughlaqi – Ways and activities like Sultan Muhammad -bin-Tughlaq
[5]Manu- Name of an Indian mythological saint. The son of Manu is
named as Manab (Human).
[6]Ashavari –meaning – Spirit of the heavens, Indian classical raga
which iserformed in the morning hours.
[7]Tamas –darkness in Sanskrit/Bengali language.
[8]Sabita –Sun in Sanskrit/Bengali language.
[9]Bijoya-Pronam – Indian Bengali culture to pay respect to elders on
the last day of Durgapuja festival.
[10]Rohini –Wife of the Moon. Also the fourth of the 27 stars according
to Hindu astronomy.
[11]Chandrashekhar – The Indian-American Nobel laureate Scientist.
[12]Punjabi – long shirt originally used by men of Punjab, India.
[13]Jatinga – Name of a village in the North-East part of India where
migratory birds comes flying to suicide whenever there’s drizzling of
rain accompanied with fog in the moonlit night.
[14]BonolataSen – A lady character in poetry of famous Bengali Poet
Jibanananda Das of 20th century in India.
[15]Eden garden – A famous park at the heart of Kolkata, India where
lovers could be seen with a packet of groundnuts and peeling them to open
up the romance of first love.
Charles Bernstein
Runa Bandyopadhyay 