One Poem by Basudhara Roy

Kashi

In this city where god

sprouts from every stone

I ask you to choose

between light and bone

both bare

without beginning and end

 

I choose water

its stillness and turbulence

its capacity to hone

both light and bone

into salvation

and sin

 

In heat that merrily tears

our newspaper skins

into flying streams of script

I seek an abandoned god

to wake him from rock

with stolen prayer

 

In a city of prayers

I have landed without one

heaving bosom empty heart

When I stand in queue and arrive

I have nothing to ask

I let my eyes speak in darshan

 

Outside I rattle myself

to know what I want

If I pounded my heart

with this pestle of god

would it be found?

I suddenly wish I were god

 

I want to wear this city like bark

to peel it nail-scratch by nail-scratch

my city of failed dreams

where god remembers to answer

only many years after

I have called