Saswati Sanyal
Four poems
1.
Piranha
You emerged from the deepest sea.
I took you as quiet, nonchalant.
In your fins, I have seen slight twirls.
You can call it a slip out of the blue.
Then suddenly you jumped on me.
Waves broke the silence of the sea.
Sharp and piercing they were.
My salt-drenched body
Lay flat under you
Not flinching, not crying in protest.
Now what remains
Are bare sand ribs of trust,
Shards of glass, and an unkempt sundial.
The fiercest fish has left my maiden flesh
Scarred.
With broken dreams.
2.
Beloved
Long back,
I was in love
With one or two Bengali lads.
Some used to read Shakti's poems.
Others used to quote
Nabarun.
Some used to rhyme in our get together.
Some relied on parodies.
Black frame, thick glass.
I wonder who dusted the dusts
Nestled in the deeps of their curls?
Their frames had male ego
Embossed on them.
None of them were good looking.
Neither they ever went to gym .
Words used to lurk
From the corners of their fingers.
Pains of hushed words were lying dead
On the tram-line.
And a bit further,
Was lying the dead poet.
Slowly the lens forgot
The aura of the city.
Sad lips, tram tickets, cigarettes
Glow worms lost their ways.
No one comes anymore.
Up and down the reading room strolls
J. K. Rowling .
Lovers die. They are muggles. They are natives.
And time dimmed the lights on the writing table.
Words have no magic now.
Words had grown somber and silent.
Long back,
I was in love
With Bengali poems.
3.
Electra
I have heard that
Once I was addicted
To my mother's milk.
It was difficult to keep me away
From it.
Now the sight of milk
Makes me puke.
By holding my nose,
Keeping my mouth shut
I suppress that urge.
But like a strict father,
You make me drink a glass full of milk
Each morning.
But this tale is of the morn.
During night, a different story unfurls.
In the dark someone sings a lullaby
To make you fall asleep.
And a different you wakes up,
Climbs on to me,
Holds my breasts tight in his hand,
Readies himself to strike anytime.
To taste a changing me,
Full of milk.
Who has no sway over her
Golden nectar.
The arduous hours pass.
Then the last few dark hours, I spend
Listening to the cries of a pregnant cow.
4.
Theorem
The legend says,
From the sea, Varuna will rise
To meet the maiden.
But no one knows
Where the man got lost
After the tipsy third wave,
Holding whose hand,
The woman dived
In the deep water.
Is '3' going to lead us
To some mourning mathematics?
Does it stand for the fusion
Of salt and poison,
Churned from the triangle
Of a woman's vagina
Where men immerse themselves
To emerge as gods?
Translated by Sourjya Roy
Saswati Sanyal is a Bengali poetess. Her published works include 'Brail e Lekha Bivrantisamuha', a book for which she was awarded 'Shakti Chattopadhyay Sammanana' by Bangla Academy.
