Shakti

Poems of a Rebel
Shakti Chattopadhyay
translated by Pinaki Poddar

 2011 Pinaki Poddar All Rights Reserved ISBN-10: 1463662122 ISBN-13: 978-1463662127

Introduction
Shakti Chattopadhyay was the enfant terrible of modern Bengali Poetry. Since 1962, when his first poems were published, he remained one of the most prominent poets of Bengal till he passed away in 1995. His unique voice spoke to the urban youth of post-World War II generation. His distinct style though filled with a deep angst ``Why did you bring me in? Take me back.'' had always remained lyrical and rooted in earthiness of his homeland.

The poems softened in later years with acclaimed collection I may Go, But Why?. He received Sahitya Akademi the most prestigious literary award of India in 1983. Here are few poems by this great poet translated for international lovers of poetry. As the translator, I am aware of Pablo Neruda's comment: ``What's lost in translation is poetry''. I acknowledge my friends: Kingshuk Dasgupta, Malay Nath, Saurabh Sircar and Snehomoy Sinha for their editorial and, more importantly, moral support.

Pinaki Poddar Hermosa Beach, California September, 2011

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To a moon-faced beauty who ushered me in to Shakti's world

List of Poems
Yarasandha............................................................................7 Willow Grove......................................................................10 Melodies of Joy ..................................................................12 Aboni, Are You Home?......................................................14 The Key................................................................................15 I, Who Never Gave a Damn..............................................17 Not Happy Hour, Not Moments of Joy...........................................................19 The Postmen in the Forest of Fall.....................................24 For Once, You .....................................................................27 All of Us...............................................................................29 Will Post Poetry on the Trees............................................34 For whom has He come?...................................................39 Stains of Blood....................................................................41 Departed..............................................................................42 Pain.......................................................................................44 I May Go, But Why?...........................................................46 Epitaph.................................................................................48

Yarasandha
Why did you bring me in? Take me back. The face cold as dark The sad eyes poor as dry lake Let your mother take you back. No more this arid field Of sharp stem of paddies, Harvested. Oh, my bloody feet ... Why did you labor On the crunched bed of straw To usher me in? Take me back.

Smell of rotten paddies, Green moss Fishy smell of sardines All my senses Are now cookie jars in your kitchen Now when I can't see The hands and feet Of limbless night Where have you brought me in? I can not see The hands and feet Of limbless night. Soft wind blows The sea must be close You tie me up In cruel wrinkled grip
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Meaning, If I approach the beach With whatever I got The sea will recede The cold will retreat The death will recede Then you might have Given birth to Death Instead of Life I am dark Will remain dark Will become dark Why did you bring me in? Take me back.

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Willow Grove
Faint aroma weighs my heart Please take me to the Willow Grove Still willow, mild and deep sky Can't bear any more In my static mind O my Love Please take me to the Willow Grove River lost in the dessert Sorrows, buried deep, Suffer my heart Roam in my veins Rain's a mirage O Camel in my deep vein Please take me with you

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Cacti scattered far and wide Well water, deep and dark, further down O Camel, O deep Camel Please waltz or swing How steep is the glowing mound? Not a mound but a hook A parrot's teeth Static sky never lets me go The dead violin chained Darkens the night Tattered tent on my ribs Old Bedouin munches melon I ask: ``Hey Old man, Let's go to Orange City'' What was his aim? Moon stuck to the moon.
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Melodies of Joy
Today, the picture's wilted in the room Not like that twilight of monsoon Rain soaked flowers on the garden Melodies of Joy. The boy no more herds in that field The banyan no more weeps on his flute Still the rain draws lightnings `midst the thunderclouds Did not she know Time like this Grabs the rooster's comb? Did not she know The waste of heart Is never to be?

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Did not she know The heart is not as big As the gift of gab? Did not she know Nobody knew her As much as I? Today the picture's wilted in the room Not like that twilight of monsoon Rain soaked flowers on the garden Melodies of Joy.

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Aboni, Are You Home?

Neighborhood sleeps Doors closed tight I hear incessant knock of the night ``Aboni, Are you home? It rains here `round the year Cattle clouds roam Dejected tall green grass Grabs the door: ``Aboni, Are you home? I doze off Distant pain latent in my heart Sudden knock of the dark: ``Aboni, Are you home?

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The Key
Still have your favorite key The one you had lost How do you now open the vault? Still have that spot on your chin? Sudden urge To write to you Before journey begins for a new land Kept that key For all these years With utmost care. ``Do you want it back? Please let me know''

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Your luminous face Awash with tears In memories' attic ``Do you want it back? Please let me know''

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I, Who Never Gave a Damn

Commotion on the shore ``Whose corpse floats on the river? Where was his home? Night's waves only ramble: It is I, who never gave a damn. Does ocean embrace Living and the dead Both so dearly? Who knows if Hemlock is the right drink Elixir's poison? Ennui inside intellect Grows day and night.

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Deep commotion on the shore ``Whose corpse floats on the river? Where was his home? Night's waves only ramble: It is I, without a care.

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Not Happy Hour, Not Moments of Joy

The body trembles from head to toe The wall meets the wall The cornice to cornice The pavement swaps at midnight Time to return home Home inside home Feet inside feet Heart inside heart No more than that Or... more than that? The body trembles from head to toe The wall meets the wall The cornice to cornice The pavement swaps at midnight
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Time to return home Home inside home Feet inside feet Heart inside heart Nothing more. ``Hands Up!'' Raise your hand Until someone lifts you up Inside the black van Black van inside the black van Again inside bigger black van Array of windows, doors and graves Haphazard skeletons

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White mite inside the skeletons Life inside mites Death inside life Hence, death inside death Nothing more than that. ``Hands Up!'' Raise your hand Until someone throws you Off the van But inside a bigger van Where someone always waits Someone unknown But she waits Like a flower inside a hard bud Spider's golden web in her hand She will put the garland on you

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Your marriage is at midnight When the pavement swaps The body trembles from head to toe Wall meets Wall Cornice to Cornice Imagine The carriage is stopped The station is running Imagine The shoe is walking The feet are still Imagine the craziest things The babies carrying the dead Rushing to the pyre The deceased waltzing Across the river of death
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That is not the happiest of hours That is not the moments of joy The body trembles from head to toe The wall meets the wall The cornice to cornice The pavement swaps at midnight At the hour of returning home Home inside a home Feet inside a feet Heart inside a heart Nothing more.

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The Postmen in the Forest of Fall

Seen the postmen in the forest of Fall Their yellow bags stuffed as bovine belly Picking up sealed letters old and new As egrets fish. Cautious and thorough, Not like postmen who keep Losing letters of our luscious love. We drift apart Hoping for mails from afar Getting letters from further away Posting notes to past flames Moving away from our kins

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We reveal our stupid greed We see us no more in the mirror We float bare in the moonshine, alone In the backyard of our suburban home We have not hugged for long We have not kissed for long We have not heard others sing We have not played with a crazy kid We slide into the woods Older than the trees Where leaves had left Immortal marks on the rocks We glide to a world beyond our own Seen the postmen in the forest of Fall Their yellow bags filled like bovine belly Picking up old letters anew

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A letter floats away from another A tree never drifts away from another tree.

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For Once, You

For once, try to love You will see rocks inside the river Rolling down from the fishes heart. Rocks, rocks, rocks And water of river and sea Blue rocks turning red, red rocks blue Once only once try to love Store few rocks in your heart Rocks do echo When all tracks are slippery Pave the way with the rocks As nude rendition of a poem As rolling waves As glittered goddess of clay To walk to the door of the dim stars of Fall
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Better to keep few rocks in the heart Never had a letterbox The gaps of the rocks doubled as such Some times, mind wants to build a home Rocks from the fishes' heart Settling in ours We need everything We will build dwellings Will erect a permanent pillar For a civil society. O silvery fish You swam away spreading out the rocks Once only once try to love.

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All of Us
Someone was telling stories of our past Throughout the morning Throughout the morning No one asked us to get up But only told: ``Just sit and listen No one claimed the days You had left behind You leave money Crowd will pick it up You lose your way Processions will follow your track Leave a skeleton behind The vultures will gossip Leave a door ajar Panicky woman will steal your stuff
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Leave your home behind Nothing, nothing is permanent You had thrown your tattered shirt, Broken lantern, old papers, Stale letters and dry leaves Someone always picked it up But your lost days. You only walk towards death Everyone will preach: ``This is Life This is Nirvana This is Wholeness This is Society Religion Literature Zen Pain

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Throughout the morning Someone told stories of our lost days They never mentioned their sources Never admitted had they stolen Our lost dreams and memories They told stories Of peerless dreams and memories We relived the tales we are losing for ever Losing in the forests, fields, old notebooks Blackboards and fairgrounds Beaches and riverbanks Branches, roads and talkie houses Losing them in stations and piers In metros and villages Losing them in her hair, in his face In glances gazes and broken promises

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Losing, losing losing Knowing never to reclaim Never to return To those days of storm sun Spring rain and fall Those naked childhood days of coins Those days of paper-boats Floating on the transient ocean At the courtyard on a rainy day Those whispering moonlit nights Under a shedding tree Throughout the morning Someone told stories of our lost days

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Thats why we have not got Anything done in the morn' Ever glued to our lost tales Planning duties like policemen Planning sniffer dogs To find our stolen days Busy with haphazard brainstorms Trekking the ups and downs of time Suddenly they said: Hurry up! The Train's here Get up and get in! Or else the Tiger will eat you up We jumped, crawled, rushed Towards the future carriage From the beast there To the beast here.
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Will Post Poetry on the Trees

Sitting in a seminar on a chair Of wood or may be of tin Wet paint sticks on everyones back Ladies eyes rove like detectives They think something weird of him Not a domesticated guy Callous, poets kin

A writer, perhaps, or publishes others merit Somehow sticks to poetic habits Shags, craps, Sprinkles colored words In monthly magazines

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I grow like a tree Towards the sky Rupturing the roof I grow, because I am alive Palaces do not grow Doze instead Dwellings, fruits, Utopia, balls of dog ... I am sitting on a tin chair in a seminar Reserved the next with my palm Hoping for one without a foul breath Clean, gentle, not a poet Not a dirty audience Nor a phony slob, moreover, Listens with both ears

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No one listens here, Everyone chatters Nothing of heart No whispers In this seminar Sitting and nodding And shitting I am currently sad Lone and friendless They are calm, fragrant Sensible because they are poets Enjoy kneading flesh Enjoy? Joy? Who knows joy?

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Actually I am a torrent A reckless storm Ran when walking was proper One day, will redeem through the woods Will leave the cities Go away wherever Without a bother Will ruffle up cities, villages Forests and men On my wake But will I reach anywhere? Anywhere means what? For what or whom? Because don't know the answer Walking since I am awake Since the break of dawn
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Only walking, walking only Without looking back Leaving conferences Endless recitals behind Poetic assault will gobble me up In urban jungle. No pebble knows me in this land Where I have landed to reckon And be reckoned To wander on a buffalos back In a graceful joy Will carry the buffalo too at times Never felt such power of a bond Because never rode a buffalo before Here I will post poetry on the trees

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For whom has He come?

Peerless God stands in the yard Heaps of Shiuli on one side Locked life on the other For whom has He come? Does anyone know for sure? God is singing His tired feet dusty, but Still dances in the tune The splinters splatter In corners of slumber God is crying Alone

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The one who cries in the Congress Sells goodness of men to play patriot Claims loose sand builds the castle Had never seen God My God stands in every court Heaps of Shiuli on one side Locked soul on the other For whom has He come? Does any one know for sure?

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Stains of Blood
A bright young torso, headless Sad stains of blood in the night Residential windows were open In the alley So was the killer's sword Brutal and dangerous The blind watchers do not question The mute audience never mutter Why this cruel murder? Why this ruthless rage? What did my dear err in his prime? Which crime is this life guilty of? Not for selfish reasons, He was guilty of revolt.
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Departed
That crazy youth returned Smashing the Corporate Many lived there Their deep roots grabbing territory Satiated and pleasured Denying friendship Of fire, wind and rain. Why did he join the Corporate? Was loneliness too much to bear? Or does some secret pull bind Men, ocean and water To some dangerous chains One day?

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A man must be an ax To smash the Corporate Otherwise impossible Saccharine domesticity Gobbles freedom, Open fields, rush of wind To depart one day Saying `Good Bye Is mandatory The one who breaks away One who can break away Is a forceful crazy Bound to his youth Still He left even without a good-bye

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Pain
If the poet is sad, Kolkata is pained too Everyone opines Kolkata is cruel Cunning, cheat Heartless, haggard old maiden Smashes babies on tar roads at times Throws the poor down the drain Can Kolkata feel pain? I know she feels pain She cries a lot, Inside. Once you listen with care On empty midnight streets Your ear on the road

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You will hear Someone's crying Breathing pain Clouds roaring From the cave of her soul Can one who cries every day Feel pain?

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I May Go, But Why?

Thinking It's better to turn back. So much dirt on my hands Over so many years Never thought of you As You Now, next to a ravine in the night The moon beckons: ``Come!'' I stand on the Gangas bank, sleepy The wooden pyre beckons: ``Come! Come!'' I may go Any way I wish But, why?
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Will hold my child To kiss her face I will go But, not now. `ll take all of you with me Won't go All of a sudden, Alone.

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Epitaph
The man passed away After a comfortable life He was a poet Needy too The publishers rejoiced His demise ``Good riddance'' They said Will not disturb anymore No more turn up in the evening All dressed up To demand cash Or else

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No more threats To ransack the office To break the vault To set the house on fire Finally Fire it is That burned the man He was a poet Needy too.

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