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An archaeologist in Greece unearths Aristotle’s Tomb; others dispute the evidence. If Aristotle’s ideas are consulted, the archaeologist Needs to prove, the tomb’s where he claims it, Not anywhere else. If that is too much, He would fail the philosopher’s test. Archaeology asks for proof,...
RefugeesI know a thing or two about refugees –As a child I heard father say, “We were sleeping in the place we thought was our country, till the siren rang at dawn -- by dusk everyone learnt how to spell refugee”The sun abandoned all, an exodus of ants...
Independence Day (15th August, 1947)The day had turned out to be A feast for vultures Every Muslim and Hindu body Was Parsi in deathThe gods fled the streets of bones They left Kabir’s country desolateWater partitioned blood, Blood partitioned water, Families partitioned gold, Map partitioned memory,No one sang...
Exile“I rested my mouth on your memory” ~ Yannis Ritsos, from Diaries of ExileNight arrives like a cart You push it with motionless hands There is darkness But no star When you whistle There is no bird that hears you Ritsos the poet of Greece Is locked...
Evening LightBrave bat in a bowler hat Blood shot eyes question What time does this light Depart?The light descends elsewhere Its shadow rising here The bat changes into an owl Dreaming of MinervaA pealing scab Pain blooming pollens Turmeric twilight In her mortar and pestleBring me a balm From...
An open tunnel Swarming with books Slow pavement Walking with a pause Books stall you Eyes stalked by titles The feet fettered You miss the women An old book-fool Lost in the dead poet As life passes by Ah bulletproof poems By that Nabarun He shot at his poems They did not die Survived...
As I leave for Calcutta I think the city Always that other city Its river Ganga Always my other river Howrah Bridge What a colonial cradle A Raj suspended Kipling's imperial joy Hoogly below Flows older than time Soothing hearts River rowed with song Of undying love God familiar boatman With a name Now none...
"I wonder sometimes where people store all their different faces." ~ Trina Nileena BanerjeeThe face he wears every morning Reminds him of his mother Combing his hair before school. The face he carries in the streets And in his workplace Where every glance cuts him To...
(Homage to Karl Marx)Nabarun Bhattacharya (23 June 1948 – 31 July 2014)On the floor of a slaughterhouse A butcher’s leg slips in the blood Crows go raucous on the tinned roof The cats outside sleep sniffing bloodHead severed from the body The sound of...
For Najwan DarwishA lucky three-year-old Is Saher* Abu NamousIf Gaza didn’t explode The world would have Known nothing of himNow he is all in reports One among the victims Dead like a nipped budSaher will not see dawn It will not dawn on him Dawn buried...
To Steven O’ BrienGrandfather Heaney dug deep Into his country’s soil Another man unlike him left home To burrow through an alien forest In search of enemiesThe alien pastures were green But the scent of blood heavy In dogged, wet boots Flanked by Rhine and Reich The...
Many times I passed by your house On my way to see my grandmotherI paused before the large iron gates Expecting to catch a glimpse of youGrandmother said you are formless It puzzled my mind of teeming idolsYou can see everything without...
Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a beautiful name. It resonates with such a feeling more so because the name immediately reminds us of the man’s imagination, the crushing beauty of his stories that mesmerized audiences reeling from the brilliant but...
The London Magazine interviews Manash Bhattacharjee, author of the poetry collection ‘Ghalib’s Tomb and other poems’ to give us a glimpse at the inspiration behind his collection. When did you start writing poetry?I wrote my first poem, a very...
To Upal DebHe wasn’t a blackboard Framing flightless birds Not a classroom figure Offering the curriculum To rows of bored facesHe sat on his bed facing The window Van Gogh Painted a bit differently Barely allowing the light To disturb a perverse air Issuing not from books Piled in...
Ghalib’s Tomb and other poems by Manash Bhattacharjee will soon be joining Goodbye Crocodile by Conor Patrick and The London Magazine Diary 2014 as part of The London Magazine Editions publications. This will also mark the first poetry collection...
                        To Fady JoudahI was waiting at the platform For a train to Calcutta In trepidation of leaving her Stranded in my dreamsI remembered my mother who Was waiting to open The door...
She walks past the wave Of curious glances An apparition eluding Light and desire Everything she hides from Trembles in her body She remembers the lures In every street But no street will ever Remember her Only the walls and the mirror Engrave her silence Her memory remains buried Among blind objects Certain...

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