A few poems of Himangshu Prasad Das


Five Poems by Himangshu Prasad Das

Translated by Looky P Deka





He was crying loud.

Even seeing the devouring blaze

I didn't go and doused some water.

No one did.

It was his house that was burning, not us.



He couldn't quench the thirst of the fire


Now, the unquenched river of the fire

is knocking at my door.

Vomiting blood I am crying now



No one is coming to me with some water

No one



I can't quench the thirst of the fire





After a really busy office day

An exhausted Buddha comes home


Like a adroit Guerrilla

Buddha markets on credit

From shop after shop.

Buddha argues with one of them

His credits are long unpaid

The disappointed shopper refuses

To provide him grocery anymore


Returning from the office

Exhausted Buddha drinks tea

Moves through the lines of the daily

Suddenly the hawker's face comes to his mind

Oh! If not paid tomorrow

The daily will be stopped too


Shaking all worries off

Buddha watches Television

He is fond of the regional shows.

Meanwhile his son comes

And Buddha gets busy with his studies

His wife reminds him of the son's fees,

Her sister's wedding gift

And the donation of the cultural night


Dazed Buddha thinks of doing night shift

Reads Dale Carnegie to strengthen mind


Buddha goes to his wife at night

She weeps

She weeps with all her unhappiness

She wants a fridge

Huge TV


Everything the neighbors have

Why should they not!


An insomniac Buddha baffles between the truth

'Being unmarried is being alive'.

In such a pensive night

Buddha breaks all the chains with them

And leaves home to get a life of his own

Searching for peace and truth,

Buddha disappears


Buddha couldn't reach the Bodhi tree

Excess cheap wine killed him

A helpless Buddha couldn't acquire the enlightenment


N.B.: Whatever he told later on

Was not the pages of the Tripitaka

Were the unwritten stories of a sick world





New leaves sprout everywhere

In my bones

In my heart

Here, there, everywhere



Oh passing cold


You were like my sweet sixteen

You were like the first kiss

of my love


You are not something

that can be tasted

You are not a painting

that can be painted

You are not a song

that can be sung


Please do come

And make me bleed

Please hit me with love

And make me bleed






She was dressed in blue

And she looked very happy


When woken up

She saw herself coloured in yellow


But blue was her favourite colour




At the very moment you stood by me

I realized how lonely I was before!

Just one breathe of you

Sucked the whole of my pains


You hugged the lost spring of mine

And brought it back to life

You made me so rich in love

That I could have turned into lordly.

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