Translated from the Hindi by Moulinath Goswami 

Image used for representation.

Ashes 

Riots resumed once the Peace March ended
This is the only news

What I could have done
what I am doing
what I would be doing

keep silent
keep listening
keep watching

keep walking
nonstop on a never-ending journey
talking to my own self
and to the anonymous-synonymous facade that I wear

Searing in the hot breeze
golden shower blossoms fall
turning to ashes
and I single them out from dust
soon they’ll all begin to drift with the dust storm

Shall I speak ill of that which is bad
shall I fight
shall I do something
halt the returning assassin on his way and ask
is there any meaning behind all this
Weren’t all of them human like you
they who shall never ever return to their homes…
him, a professor
him, a laborer riding to work on his cycle
And between all these thoughts
I shall cross the heavy traffic

You ask me
what am I going to do
I put this question before my own self

Shall I seek all the lost names
or simply pen diatribes of protest
on behalf of the dead?  

But Who? 

I never spoke, simply continued to listen
People hoped I would speak one day…
some word
that I still remembered

I dwelt in the domain of trees
in the universe of wind and sky
in the realm of night and day
in the sphere of the sonority of water
in the kingdom of earthworms emerging in rain
in a world of pain and pleasure
of hunger and thirst
in the planet of faces
in some space where I was always silent

Will this kid ever speak
Is he dumb?
people asked, calling me by my name
while letting out their own
And I would just laugh

One day I uttered something
and turned myself into a part of the last clamor
I could have swam, could have flown
I could have raced inside it
but I could never remain silent
I wanted to say something
No one would have heard my voice

There no one listens to anyone
The first word of this life that I till date remember
as if it was my identity
which I wish to write such that someone reads

but who?

Also, read a Bengali fiction about the erstwhile writer, Atin Bandyopadhyay‘s house, written by Bhagirath Mishra, translated into English by Amita Roy, and published in The Antonym:

Atin’s Hearth And Home— Bhagirath Mishra

Follow The Antonym’s Facebook page and Instagram account for more content and exciting updates.