Shaswata Gangopadhyay (India)

 
Shaswata Gangopadhyay (India)
One of the Prominent face of Contemporary Bengali Poetry , who started writing in Mid 90s.
 
Born and brought up at Kolkata . Shaswata has profound interest in travelling,adventure and classical music. Shaswata writes in Bengali, the 4th largest language of the earth and as per UNESCO, it is the sweetest language. His poems have been published in all major journals of Bengali literature. He has been invited to read his poems in different virtual poetry festival of Europe and Both North and Latin America, like World Poetry festival in Argentina and Cuba, International Poetry festival in Greece, Washington etc. He has also participated in Silk Road Poetry festival in China. His poems are continously Publised in all six continents through translations in different languages.
 
His book of Poems :
 
Inhabitant of Pluto Planet (2001)
Offspring of Monster (2009)
Holes of Red Crabs(2015)
Rhododendron Cafe (2021)
Selected Love Poems (2021)
 
Recently his Poems had been exhibited in a Poetry Festival in Picollo Museum, Italy- the only Poetry Museum of the world.
Translations of his poems have been published in various journals and anthologies of Europe,America, Asia, Africa and Latin America and Australia.
He has also been invited to read his poems in both UK and USA Book Fair, organised virtually this year.
 
 
A Day of Days
 
A day of days comes such a way
As if a jockey’s bending his body on a naughty horse,
Before the blinking of eyes 24 hours are over
A day of days comes even such a way
As if a snail crawls with its tired body
Even a single minute hangs heavy on it
 
A day of days comes such a way
As if it’s the very gape of a gluttonous monster
Whose uvula is visible,deeply red,
Nightmares are pacing up and down
A day of days comes even such a way
Like cooling water-melon in hot summer noon,
While biting,it seems as it were
God’s standing just a hand apart
 
A day of days comes such a way
When words,like the tiny fishes in herds
Glitter in the midst of poems
A day of days comes even such a way
When there’s no word in the fingers,
Just like the smoke of burning dry leaves
It vanishes in the ether in circles
 
 
 The poets of 90s
 
Our brains’ll be preserved in the containers made of glass
mixed up with formalin, will be kept in museum, new generation
after so many years will recognise impartially
who were not so reputed, and who were intellectually gifted poets
 
Today is Re-union, at present all are alive
putting hands on each other’s shoulders, smiles on lips
we all are taking group snap-shots
let us move after hanging up our lots of envies on the hangers
the unsolved disputes, we had in local tea-stalls
if we meet them again, we’ll say : cheers
let us then sing a song collectively around the blazing fire
when the moon’ll be seen like a paper-balloon, we will at ease forget
who is wearing tiger’s nail stealthily to embrace others
 
who tamed shark’s little ones in the private aquarium
to put them for the sake of their friends
 
 
A DAY IN A SHOPIING MALL
 
As soon as I push myself in through glass-door,two silky sylphs
come floating like the bubbles of water
‘Most welcome Sir, just take this in your finger
This is the key to trade-town and walk with your trolley’
 
All around,there’re so many tinsel offers displayed :
‘If you get an item elsewhere less costly,you’ll get twice the margin’
‘If you buy a bed-sheet,your sleep at night’s assured,
in each of your eye-lids will come wavy and foamy doze’
‘If you purchase condom in bulk for the whole year
you’ll get 25% discount on each week-end tour’
From the purse, my credit-card jumps,I see
our joys and sorrows,smiles and tears,when I know not
are sold out like frozen fishes in the packet…
It’s beyond 9 o’clock,as night falls, lights are off
when coming out,few others whisper mildly :
 
‘ If you procure love in your hand,along with your deep sighs are free’
 
 
The world beyond death
 
The smoke that rises in the sky from the pyre
of the burial ground, I like to mix myself up with it
to see how is the world beyond death.
Is death almost like the bite of demon
on the sun’s body during eclipse?
It seems ,far beyond the planets, lies the secret telephone line
from one star to the other.
Just like the Lord Vishnu lying, some one dear to me, now dead
is perhaps engrossed in noontime nap
Not today, but during some other day, there’ll be
a ringing sound in telephone here.
The moment I’ll attend it with a hello
there’ll be nothing else but rustling from the other side that I listen to
Perhaps on a stormy night leaves from the trees are falling incessantly,
the sound and words of which may
easily be translated in Bengali tongue.
 
Translated from Bengali by Rajdeep Mukherjee
 
 

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