Sixty autumns together they walked, And how many more who knows? Side by side they stood on the forest fringe And admired shrivelled faces and
Bored being confined by four walls, I set out for Santalpara Where I hear rustics sit idle whole day And drink, brawl and do nothing.
It was noon, but the rays mellow and soft! Let’s stand awhile on Dyna Bridge, dear, under which River Torsha moaned meandering naked, unabashed!
Her man stole a neighbourhood girl, And went Arunachal a long ago, When Munni crawled in her Belly, swollen to burst. She lived at
Twice a month I go to Hariahati and drink haria Among the drunkards, peasants and labourers all, Two pigs skinned and men have their
Spillwords.com presents: No One Remembers A Dead Man, written by Abu Siddik, as assistant professor, Department of English, Falakata College …. Source: No One Remembers
I love you, You are so good! You pledge your life For a square meal, Day you toil and night You sleep and populate, Evening
It was sunset lone The sky deep orange, and the birds lined For homecoming, and lazily they gleamed. Thirteen peasants angling, their eyes fixed
Gone were the days When men swarmed her hut, And passed metamorphic nights. She was a peerless beauty, Tall and stout, and an
(A Dirge) And when the sun sets, and darkness descends We have to cross the river, No pain, no sorrow, no dirge, no lamentation.
A gifted versetile writer who writes excellent stories and poems on the invisibles, pariahs, margins, aged, weaklings of our society. A rising star on the literary firmament.
“Your story Undersell left me with a lump in my throat, so did your poem, He also lights candles.”
"A finely honed observational piece recording the minutiae of everyday life. Rendered with the author’s customary poetic aplomb suffused with a Borges like quality of the mythic."