ATUL CHANDRA SARKAR

ATUL CHANDRA SARKAR

THE LAST DROP

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Unto the last

For years, I’ve loved to watch

Silhouettes against fading sunsets,

Little realizing that one day,

I too shall be a silhouette,

Against a weary sunset,

Without anyone to watch,

The vanishing glow,

Without anyone to salute,

The passing show,

Without anyone to lend a hand,

To the gait, faltering and slow;

Without anyone ready

To give me a call,

Without anyone to hold me,

Whether I slip or fall,

Without anyone to comb,

My last strand of hair,

Without anyone to wipe off,

A slithering tear,

Without anyone to solace,

An inexplicable fear,

Without anyone ready,

To ensure, I’m timely fed,

Without anyone ready to sit,

Beside my lonely bed,

Without anyone to feel me breathe,

Feel the last pulse after I reach:

The inevitable Terminal!

Ah! but why am I’m repeating:

Without anyone…..

When I know well

That each has to individually journey,

Down the road of Destiny;

I’m not a setting sun,

That shall rise again,

I am a silhouette against the sunset,

Which  no sooner than thought,

Shall fade and be lost,

In the enveloping darkness,

A silhouette whose outline,

No torch can trace,

A silhouette to which Time,

Cannot restore life and grace,

A silhouette whose form,

Shall melt into formless nothingness,

Beyond human comprehension; so,

Why shouldn’t I cherish each sun-ray?

From the first to the last one,

Whose disappearance shall wipe out,

My lone, faceless silhouette,

From the face of the earth,

Why shouldn’t I drink,

The last of the last drop

From the bottle of AGE.

A CHILD IN ME

There’s a child in me

Who loves to watch rain,

Loves to put a paper-boat

In the dirty drain.

Yes, my heart oft leaps

To grab the rainbow,

I love to watch the train,

Chug across the meadow.

I still love paper-planes,

Gas-balloons in sky,

I love to steal a mango,

Chase the butterfly.

Well you’re thinking,

That I haven’t yet grown,

But I better be as I am,

‘Coz kids have over-grown:

No more fairy-tales for them,

No more a lullaby,

Their toys are guns and bullets,

Bombs are a better buy.

Where are we taking them?

And with them the world too?

Shall tomorrow be blood-red,

Instead of the rainbow hue?

GET-UP ACID GIRLS!

Just dip one finger,

Then you shall know,

What it is to seethe

In an acid throw.

Everything shall change,

The day you’re in my place,

When someone throws acid,

On your body and face.

You’ll burn, you’ll run,

You’ll shriek and scream,

When the mirror reflects

Your shattered dream.

When your hair shall singe,

Your skull lose shape,

Your ears scrunch up,

Your blisters painfully gape.

When your sparkling sight

Shall be blind to light,

When all your days turn,

Into an unending night.

When your mouth won’t open,

For a morsel or drink,

When your nose, chin, neck,

Crinkle and shrink.

When sleep shall evade,

Your eyelids won’t blink,

Your mind shall cramp,

You’ll not be able to think.

When it shall be tough

To take normal respiration,

When the skin shall be

Speckled by depigmentation.

When every ogle shall

Self-consciousness increase,

When self-esteem shall lower

And confidence decrease.

When the cinematic past

Shall now and then unfold,

When a chill from top to bottom

Scurry, unbearably cold.

When the scarred soul shall

The veins and nerves harden,

When the mind shall waver

Between revenge and pardon.

When loved ones shall begin

To criticize and victimize,

When society shall distance,

Shun and ostracize.

When each passing second

Shall make your heart sink,

You’ll cry, groan, ask:

Why this acid splash in a wink?

It’s then, yes then, when

Pain shall call Sorrow,

The two of these shall peer

Into a prospect-less morrow.

But nay, let the inner turmoil

Buoy up the iceberg of courage,

Get-up Acid Girls

It’s a war you have to wage,

You have to wage!

Yes, you have to wage!

ATUL CHANDRA SARKAR