Partha Sarkar
“Women Protesting in India, Afghanistan, and Other Places” / “The Third Phase of the Night”

Women Protesting in India, Afghanistan, and Other Places

Women protesting against
The stinky attire
The scepter
Of the ghouls in
India
And
Afghanistan
And other places.
A long journey
With a bag of suffocation
And no famous dead faces with them
And the question bubbles –
How can they leg to the river to go beyond it?
That is not important
Rather feels the pulses of the ancient flints the clock
And puts aside the fetid gobs on the table the clock
And allows the pallbearers to be comrade
To transform the coffin into a bridge
To go beyond the river.
Though ‘Tomorrow’ is just a word
Yet….

The Third Phase of the Night

‘Once the sound of the universal brotherhood….
Once the trumpet of the Internationalism…
Once we walked together..…’
(Says the Shangri –La when it looks its own beauty in the mirror. Narcissism!)
But did we really walk? Did we sing? Did we hear?
The pertinent questions. The yellow investigations.
The strongest wind. All meet all
And the third phase of the night.
Already have gone back all the documents as to
Mass-hysteria, malaria and hydrophobia.
Has witnessed the lamp of the sun how the hands of all nuisance uprooted the seeds
How the ulcers of the outsiders, that is, signatures  of the interim pussy demons
Equal the rationality and irrationality chewing sexual quid
And leave the nether world with a deep breach between two dawns.
And since then, none go to the well to draw nectar to drink.
‘But will the clock remain empty all the through the night?’ Says the owl, the wisest  janitor.

Suppose, you have a pictorial market and you go to the sanctum of the commodity
And find a twisted respite, will you go back to the sad faces of the retrenched class?

Teaches how to swim in the dead sea the atrocious exaggeration of the prattlers
And bow down to the alive statue of ‘hail Hitler.’

Partha Sarkar is a resident of Ichapur, a small town of the province of West Bengal, India. He is a graduate who writes poems inspired by the late Sankar Sarkar and his friends (especially Deb Kumar Khan) protesting against social injustice and crimes against nature. His poems have been in different magazines both in Bangla and in English. At once, he would believe in revolution, but is now confused because of the obscurity of human beings, though he keeps fire in his soul, despite.