Matchstick

by Sukanta Bhattacharya

I am a little matchstick

So insignificant , that probably I am overlooked by everyone,

But do not forget that I have gunpowder in my mouth,

And in my heart this constant restless urge to ignite,

I am just a little matchstick.

Do you remember just the other day when I caused so much chaos in your house?

When fire was seen burning at the corner of the room?

It is because you just arrogantly threw me in the corner without taking my flame off first,

Yes, I am the reason that so many palaces in so many places were destroyed,

I a little matchstick alone did it with the help of arrogance towards me!

Imagine what we, all the matchsticks can do all together!

And still you will be indifferent to us, belittling us?

Do you remember also just the other day, when we all together decided to ignite from that same box suddenly?

That gave you quite a start, didn’t it?

We all had heard your screams then, and saw you too, ashen faced, struck with fear

Time after time, you have experienced indeed how much power we actually have,

Then how you do not understand that we will not live forever in your pockets happily and obediently, just for your pleasure?

We will get out, scatter from place to place, in cities, and in villages,

from one end of horizon to the another.

Yes, time after time, we do ignite together as a message of caution to you, when you show your complete indifference towards us,

you ignore us, you disrespect us and our strengths,

But then you will never know,

When will be that one day, when we will decide to ignite together with our maximum strengths, once and for all.

O GREAT LIFE

by Sukanta Bhattacharya

O Mahajivan, this is not poetry

Now in hard, hard prose,

Pada-Lalitya-Jhankar should be deleted

Hit the hard hammer of prose today!

No need, the sweetness of poetry—

Poem I gave you a holiday today.

Earth in the state of hunger – Prose:

The full moon is like burnt bread.

O Great Life! No more of this poetry,

Now bring the hard, harsh Prose,

Let the Poetic-tender-chime dissolve,

Strike the rough hammer of Prose today!

No need of the coziness of poetry –

Poetry, I give you a break today,

In the realm of hunger, the world is prosaic:

The Full Moon appears as if a scorched Bread.