Three Poems By Celebrated Poet & Author Sabarna Roy
Sabarna Roy is Senior Vice President [Business Development] at Electrosteel Castings Limited, an author of nine Literary and three Technical bestselling books, TEDx Speaker, Champions of Change Award 2020 Winner, Times Excellence Award 2021 Winner in Indian Literature, and Golden Glory Award Winner for Critically Acclaimed Bestselling Author of the Year 2021.
Sabarna Roy is Senior Vice President (Business Development) at Electrosteel Castings Limited, an author of nine Literary and three Technical bestselling books, TEDx Speaker, Champions of Change Award 2020 Winner, Times Excellence Award 2021 Winner in Indian Literature, and Golden Glory Award Winner for Critically Acclaimed Bestselling Author of the Year 2021. The luminary has been awarded the Right Choice Award for Author of Eminence of 2022. Also, he has been selected among the India Today Group: Icons of India. He has completed his ninth literary work: an epistolary novel, which will be published in the winter of 2022. Presently, he is working on his tenth literary work loosely titled: Thirty Summer Poems and Conversations about a Murder.
Sabarna Roy has received the Best Author to Watch 2022 Award from Indo-Global Entrepreneurship Conclave Delhi organised by Business Connect, and Best Author in Indian English Literature of 2022 at the Ninth Asia Education Summit 2022.
Azteca University, Mexico has conferred Honorary Doctor of Arts to Sabarna Roy for his contribution to Post-modern Indian Literature.
Sabarna has received the Most Iconic Author of the Year, 2022 from Government of Punjab.
The Child
It is raining outside
In the hospital corridor the tiny child is in my hands
He is sleeping the sleep of his life
With black toothbrush like hair
Thick lips, as if bitten by a red ant
Dense, curved eyelashes
A faint pinkish face with ears like wings on his face
What will I do with this child of destiny
Is it my child
Is it somebody else’s child in my arms
I look at the child’s face intently
There is a soft incandescence radiating out of the child’s face
Warming up, lightening up my tired face
It is raining outside
It is raining outside cats and dogs
The city is drowning
The child in my hands makes a slight move
His cloistered fingers open up in slow motion
As if to bless the universe and its citizens
What will I do with this child of destiny
Is it my child
Is it somebody else’s child in my arms
The city is drowning
Kolkata
June 3, 2022
Shirshasana
On the beach I dug up a pit
To insert my head and fill up with wet sand
During my shirshasana
I thought I would deprive myself of the air of the world for some time
The roar of the ocean
The noisy sightings all around
The busyness of life
The palm trees and the rubber plantations
I inserted my head inside the pit
Cupped around with wet soil
Closed my eyes and stopped breathing
Lifted my legs up in the air
My hands supported on the foamy beach sand
Blackness
Pin-drop silence
Everything retreated like a rewinding video-tape
The body was getting deprived of oxygen
The brain whirred
There was a strange sound filling up the ears
For a moment it felt I could see the bluish jelly like fluids in my mother’s womb
Blood gushing up in my head
Somewhere it felt the body was feeling numb
I was losing control
Blackness
Pin-drop silence
The high tide washed me inside the ocean
Kolkata
June 4, 2022
Butterfly Cafe
Butterfly Café is the place where I saw you first
Arguing with your handsome husband, Firhad
About Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl
I watched the animated motions of your face and listened to your agitated voice
And, Firhad’s calm black humor at your words
You both looked so good and happy that I almost envied you guys
You loved espresso shots and Firhad liked sweet cappuccino
When I returned home tending to my ma
And reading The Life and Times of Michael K
I would remember your face, honey like
I felt desolate, yearning to return to Butterfly Café
Wanting to be with someone can be painful
When you know you cannot
At Butterfly Café I would have cold mango shake
And, sometimes tired of your argumentations you would passingly look at me scornfully
As if I was a child making notes in my journal and sipping my iced shake
Actually, I was sketching Firhad’s soft bearded aquiline face
For I felt Firhad had a mysterious power in his eyes, which I did not understand
And, which I believed made you love him so fiercely
After thirty years in 2049, I returned to Butterfly Café today, motherless and broken
To have a cup of chamomile tea
I chance-found you in a corner: alone, salt-and-peppery hair, plump, wrinkled face and yet strangely honey like
Lost in a smoky world of your own
I got up to walk towards you but retraced my steps
Walking out of the Butterfly Café having settled my bill
Kolkata
June 6, 2022
Source: Businessworld.in
