Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Bionote: Dr. Tamali Neogi is Assistant Professor of English, Gushkara College (Affiliated to the University of Burdwan), West Bengal, India. A Gold Medallist alumni of the University of Burdwan, she has authored Woman of Patashpur and presented/published more than a dozen research papers/reviews during her eventful teaching career spanning over eighteen years. Mailid:[email protected]
BUT MY GOOD FRIENDS ALAS!
I was left alone
speaking to the walls
The ceiling comforted me
The four walls
were my four lovers
who loved me in confinement
Dialouges with you..
those long Summer
Afternoons….
Teenager’s passion was
calmed for the day
Disharmony and deceit
an unjust battle
throughout
Who knows?
The destiny was wrought long ago
But my good friends alas!!.
An Eulogy
Wavy hair, white sandalwood paste, deconditioned in a perfervid state
In underbelly there’s hunger
Day and night rushing to the shrine
The “mantras” and the pen, the treaty can’t go in vain
“The knowledge of the peepal tree to taste the elixir” says the Divine
Besmeared with vermilion, inactive stands he, the grand structure at the yard
The half-naked comes later. Lo! She kills lice
Dried skin, dried eyes, torn off breasts
Am the feminine of your age
The lame shadows, traumatised
Big gouges in the bellies, “shashtras” and leaves, blood thickens
The apparition enters the temple, spineless backs, huge school bags, adult diapers, blood clots
Waiting in the queue, our saviours
Who’s There
Envious of her white beauty, the moon spits
The poet, the lady of noble birth, the Queen, “The tomb honours whom?”
Fourteen pregnancies, the ‘ hazrat’, the Noor of Khas Mahal
Know not this, a fool. The stars grin
The milky way seeks its lost vision, the silent sky grotesque in absurd passion
The emeralds, the diamonds, the rubies, the comet sings an amorous song
Curious, the mother earth cracked badly; forget not my daughter’s shrieks. I received her anaemic
Bowels of her stories overturned
Solemn tear, cold hands, dampened face, three beauteous sisters hand in hand
Luxury and lust join the dance
The white death; the baby bump monstrous, touches the sky
I wake up murmuring, “Wah Taj, Wah”
