Amit Rahman

Thoughts, Poems & Articles

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আর্তেমিসের চুম্বন

আমার রক্তের স্রোতে জীবনের সাধ ফ্যাকাশে যখন আর ক্ষীন থেকে ক্ষীনতর হয় ক্ষয়িষ্ণু হৃদয়ের স্পন্দন, তখন হঠাৎ এলোকেশী আর্তেমিসের খোজ পেলাম অবশেষে… এইতো সেদিন ভরা আষাড়ের প্রথম দুপুরে, হৃদয়ের জানালায় আর্তেমিসের উষ্ণ, ভেজা ঠোট আমাকে ডাক দিল ইশারায় তারপর আমি দীর্ঘশ্বাসের বাতাসে উড়িয়ে দিয়েছি হাহাকার… হোক সে গোধূলীবেলায়, দেখি না কখন রাত্রি হয় অশান্ত জীবনে আমি ইতিহাস, পৃথিবীর বুকে জেগেছি আবার, আর্তেমিসের তপ্ত…

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Breaking The Wheel of Life

Breaking The Wheel of Life

How do you break the wheel?How do you break the wheel and live? The journey that began seven decades ago has ended,after toiling for three scores and fourteen years…It wasn’t supposed to but healthcareputs an early cap on lifespans around here;but we are the believing kind, so fateand an out-of-the-world Ubermensch Dictatorlet us deflect the burden of progressonto ignorance and promises of an…

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The Cats' Tale

The Cats’ Tale

 – Get up! Get up, it’s six AM already! I need to pray.

  Vishnu was screaming at the top of his lungs. In between his screams, he was also nudging my face with his nose. I did fall asleep quite early on the previous night. Still I retorted, “So go and pray! Who’s stopping you?”

   – C’mon, you know I can only pray over my food. How can I pray without food in front of me?

  As a matter of fact, I…

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Thoughts Like Shadows

An empty darkness spreads over the realm of my scattered thoughts that have gone astray like the shadow cast by a setting sun on the ground at the end of a bright day.

Shadows of the foliage and yonder hill, receding from the sun and her warm light, keep getting longer, forever until even the plains too are shrouded by the night.

But a darkness all around lets us see the wonders above, hidden by the…

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A Sense of Love

A Sense of Love

I did not love her for the curls of silk on her head, cascading down like a stream, that watered the dried out plains of my heart. Nor was my love for the sparkle in her eyes twinkling like the beacon from a lighthouse, that showed my drifting soul a destiny. I loved her not for the warmth of her smile, radiating like an Autumn afternoon, supple, mellow yet reinvigorating, that healed my ageing spirit’s…

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We Are, Both! No, please do not shake your head in kindled vehemence we are not angels, neither God!

[amitrahman]

Beauty, Amplified!

“Where is she?”, a voice wailed inside my head. “There she is!”, another, moments later, replied in ecstasy and my pupils dilated at her sight, haloed by the rainbow colored lights.

  Indeed, she is far prettier than our prettiest dreams, more beautiful than pure beauty can ever be, for her other half, forever dark and unseen, turns beauty to a feeling, mere eyes fail to see.

  A feeling, reverberating…

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Why Do Men Cry?

Why Do Men Cry?

Why do men cry? O, but men do not cry. Ooops, my bad, wrong question! Of course men do not cry; how else can they be called the man?

  I meant to ask, why do male humans weep. For grief, you say, alright and pain, sorrow, loss, or by any other name we may call a heartache? Perhaps, in brief, for all the reasons a female human might? But of course the social construct known as Man, the very image of God, it…

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Ce n’est pas un Poème! Don't tread on me, my sweet little Dove! You don't want to free the Peregrine now, do you my Love?

[amitrahman]

To Poets!

Dedicated to all the unpublished poems in the world.

  Have you ever written a line, as penetrating as those of Shelley, a verse or two as sublime as Walcott’s? Neither have I. Still you and I, nevertheless, are poets of course, perhaps of a different kind, or not!

  Perhaps we are historians, but unlike Herodotus or Thucydides, recording atrocities and kingdoms of the bygone days, we take snapshots of…

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Idiotic Journey!*

Threescore and twelve years ago, our fathers carved up this subcontinent, in the name of a religion, imported from the West.

  They hacked up a double-handed axe into a fractured trident, with the stem and the central blade denouncing their ‘British’ epithet for good, while our fathers, like the remaining blades, decided to unite, despite the distance and a huge difference in everything between the East…

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Love Revisited

Someone said it, and I remember who, but when, I forgot. Was it yesterday, or in my previous life, I cannot tell. “You must love yourself first, before you can truly love another soul.” Yes, I know how vital loving oneself has become, in today’s synthetic world, poisonous and not just that, highly venomous too, for it will so often bite, like a snake, and the toxic thoughts will course through our veins, r…

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An Elegy for the Sons of Abraham

An Elegy for the Sons of Abraham

Dedicated to the Lives sacrificed/slaughtered, around the world everyday

  Finally, I could look into the eyes of someone I would soon kill and rejoice, feasting on his flesh and bones, cooked and fried! How hard it was, you really want to know? How hard it was for Abraham, when he looked into the eyes of his eldest son, before dragging him to the holy mound? Oh! How absurdly fortunate I am, being…

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An Open Letter to Female Homo Sapiens

An Open Letter to Female Homo Sapiens

Hello! Greetings from a halfbreed. I call myself a halfbreed because, biologically I am a male and socially, in many ways, a heterosexual man. However, I find literally (and I mean, literally) everything most men do, think, and preach or practice, objectionable to various degrees. If that is not the definition of a halfbreed in your book, I sincerely apologize, but please bear with me. I hope by…

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তখন আর এখন

তখন আমার বয়স ছিল উনিশ-কুড়ি। সবে উচ্চ মাধ্যমিকের চৌহদ্দি পেরিয়ে শিক্ষাজীবনের পরবর্তী অধ্যায় শুরু করেছি। বয়সজনিত সরলতায় আমার উচ্ছ্বলতা তখন আকাশছোঁয়া। নতুন পাওয়া বন্ধুদের মধ্যে আদর ছেলেটাকে ভাল লাগতো। কিন্তু অবচেতন মনেও তাকে ভবিষ্যত জীবনের সঙ্গী হিসেবে ভাবিনি কখনো। একে বয়সে ছোট, তাছাড়া তখনি প্রেমে জড়ানোর ইচ্ছেও ছিল না তেমন। তবে এর বিপরীতে আবার নিঃসঙ্গতাও ছিল মনের ভেতর। উচ্চ মাধ্যমিকের সময় সরল কিছু…

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Warriors! *

Their stories could have been of success in so many ways. Academic, economic, communal, marital, biological – but, alas, they were not!

  Life came to them in a different hue, not inside our visual spectrum, limited from red to blue. So, they chose to hone their spirits, instead, and embraced the sadness that came with it.

  But, has it made them successful? I’m afraid, no, not yet at least. And have they…

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Dissection of Solitude* At last, the culture smells matured enough. Let us begin our dissection of Solitude! But can we pry open its skin,