Poem: Chatla Blues
Photo: DNA India
By Goirick Brahmachari
Baul Banshi in the evening sky
Memories of my father’s eyes.
Chatla flows from shore to shore
hides secrets of lullabies.
I don’t sing of love no more
though my Duitara loves to cry
I sleep by the banks, with fireflies
On silver-dust-Bhatiyali-nights.
On fishing nets, I rest my faith
By selling fish, I write my fate
On Bhuras I sail, I spend my day
Walk village streets, on the market day.
I can’t read, I can’t write
I don’t know the world outside
All I wish is to live and die
In this soil, where my grandfathers died.
In rain, I sing of my mother
Sometimes I wish to see her
But rain can sweep away memories
and bring back horrors of dead water.
This evening when I went to the bazar,
Some Babus came in a white motor car
They lined us up, and asked for some papers
They said we were ‘D-voters’.
When my turn came, I could not speak
So they pulled me over to the police jeep
I cried for mercy, I cried in pain
I tried to tell them it was a mistake
They said they are taking me away
to a bloody camp of bullets and oil,
they said they are making me a stranger
to my own soil.
They are taking me away
from the banks of my Chatla
They are taking me away.
Bio:
Originally from Silchar, Assam, Goirick B lives in New Delhi. He has published three volumes of poetry. His latest collection of poems, Wet Radio and other poems (2017), was self-published via CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. He is co-directing a City Symphony titled, Dilli Dur Ast, which is set to release in 2018.
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3 Responses to “Poem: Chatla Blues”
Beatiful! What a treat to read this.
Touching.Poignant.
Awesme