Debayudh Chattopadhyay

Debayudh Chattopadhyay (b. 12th October 1991) is an young Bengali
poet. Born and brought up in Kolkata, Debayudh writes mostly in Bengali with occasional attempts in English. He is also an avid
translator. Debayudh has written for various magazines of repute like Muse India, Indian Literature, Desh, TTIS, The Statesman etc. His
first book of verses, ‘Bhor Rater 8B,’ came out in 2012. Debayudh has read and delivered talks in several programs across the state and
beyond. Currently he is studying English Literature in Jadavpur University and works as the assistant editor of Bhashanagar, a
bilingual magazine edited by Subodh Sarkar.


Apratim Mukhopadhyay is an undergraduate student of English in Jadavpur University. Apart from translation, his main interest lies in
quizzing; he has participated and triumphed in various inter-college, inter-school, inter-university quiz competitions.

Closer to another death

On rainy days, all the flowers could die.
The sound of thunder in its intense lack of restraint wakes me up,
A more intense piece of good news, after having patiently waited in our eyes,
Got engulfed into the flowers of late September.
Like the sound of a train from afar,
Comes a pinch of vermillion to color your ruminations.
After having painstakingly worshipped you through every festival,
I have sent you afloat on Dashami nights
And during the next full moon,
I figured out that even in wealth, resides limitless weariness.
Beas Sen, did so much immolation lie only in our fate?

It was nothing; after having lain for thousands of years like a desert
I had asked for a little water from your cupped hands,
And the splendour of a crescent moon, visible from my verandah while I lie
A verandah can’t be a room for anyone,
It can only shelter refugees and loons.
Beas Sen, have I finally gone mad for you?

Everything I possessed has become nomadic, without my knowledge.
To give you all that,
Yes, even an inch of all that
Is why, for this long,
I have come and occupied time after time this sleepless hour
Of love without trust, or trust without love.

Facing a sky full of mysteries
where crows, like mirages Come to you flapping their wings,
and sit at your window,
A place where even stars lose their acceptability to the night…

Beas Sen, does death ever ask for forgiveness from love?

Translated from the Original Bengali by Apratim Mukhopadhyay

For three and a half seconds

Your orgasmic scream that shattered the midnight had as much truth and music
That wasn’t there in the wings of poesy.

Clinging to one another, we’ve tried to float
On a boat shaking, in the turbulence of the stormy river
The Nile was in both my eyes,
While the warm, golden sand decoded you.

In the howl of the diligent hound outside
The meaning of the mounting silence
Got clarified instantly.

Never has the rain affected so much madness
Not even the sea has been able to throw me
Like you have; under an innocent mosquito-net
Had descended the outer space with a sky full of stars

We aren’t anyone’s guitar or a mandolin
Nor are we deaf and mute posters spread across some wallpaper

In doubtless warmth, every little vital exchange
Has been washed away and obliterated-

In my finger resides all that is impossible to tell

Right then, I glimpsed God
For three and a half seconds…

Translated from the Original Bengali by Apratim Mukhopadhyay

Womanly Love

Water houses a certain kind unconscious, nondescript femininity.
Positioned at the confluence of two rivers, Intense exchanges
between the gray and blue are triumphantly evident.
Such overwhelming storehouse of emotion wakes up everyday
In all trees, flowers and aromas of the world.

All the rules watch them, halt for two minutes,
and then think of a new poem.

This is exactly like how I, upon seeing you and your river the other day,
Engaged in intimate passions,

Lost myself.

Translated from the Original Bengali by Apratim Mukhopadhyay

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