Wounded Taslima

Truth has always been bitter to assimilate particularly to the fanatics, but the voice of truth can hardly be suppressed for all the times. It can be prevented for a short span of time but even that period of prevention makes it more explosive. When the voice arises from our own sufferings and pains; it burst out with a great thud. Whereas, when it is concerned with the woman, she really needs lot of courage to raise her single finger, to tell the saga of her own ache and once she dares to stand up, she is traumatized, humiliated and mortified and doomed herself for the sins for which she is not to blame at all. The reflections behind these expressions emits the light of veracity in many of the books of a popular writer, Taslima Nasrin—who remained the victim even before the period of her famine consciousness and continued to be exploited by the so called kith and kins and the exponent of holy books.

Taslima was born and brought up in a bizarre locality of Bangladesh in a middle class family. In her late 1980s she came into prominence as a poetess, writer and a novelist and very soon became the popular face among the masses. She flashed the dark face of man with the torchlight of her pen and unmasked them who do not spare even to their own kith and kins who claimed to be the mouth piece of preachings. But incessant physical exploitation and molestation compelled her tongue to blur out her agonies. Many such untold stories of innocent girls do not end to her own quarters but almost all the girls face same dismayed trauma and twinge. Taslima’s expressions not only provoked but also infuriated the so-called reverent society covering under the mask of black deeds and molestations.

Since her childhood Taslima has been incessantly wounded by the so called higher ups of society. As a girl child she could not save her dignity and identity. Her novels like Lajja, Amar MayaBela and Utal Hawa infuriated the people in Bangladesh and decreed her to be stoned as per the dictates of holy book while it must had been decreed upon those who marred out her virginity even before her menstrual periods. Her great writings were banned and she had to face the assault from the diehards. Her passport was confiscated, her books were banned, bounties were placed on her head, and fatwa came without any justified reason. She has to hide for her escape to Sweden and sought asylum there. It’s appalling that she could not get any sympathy in Bangladesh. What to say about her native land even in our own country; she is surrounded to put on stake? A few days before Taslima Nasrin was attacked in a press conference while presenting her book. The callous hardcore ring with bouquets ruthlessly attacked her to protest against her criticism of the treatment given to women in the society. India is a land where women are treasured and worshipped like the Goddesses. None of the scriptures, laws edify the philosophy of disregarding women in such a grisly manner.

She is attacked brutally, many a times, but how many times more? She is never too weak that the callous attack can stop her to say; there is something in her heart and mind wounding which can never be stopped. Our social system has condemned her repeatedly without any fault of hers. Instead of it, she must be heralded of her boldness. How shameful it is when the disclosure was made by the assailants, bounties to kill her, but she never turned away, never ever till the date. She too has a brilliant future, option of a quite and comfortable life; still she has always stood against the social discrimination on the basis of sex, prejudice and fanaticism. The dark letters of her wounded heart can only be wiped out by generous love and regards to all women of the world. Her voice is the pride and faith among all the women of the world.

She has been temporarily permitted to stay on Indian soil, her visa is extended time and again while she has moved her application for Indian citizenship but the vote bank appeasing policy of the government has put her request on pendulum and as such it is still oscillating. No hand, heart and mind seem to be broad enough to provide her honorable shelter to start afresh while on the other hand we talk a lot regarding the empowerment of women. To empower Taslima, will be to empower millions of women but all seem to be afraid to bell the cat.


No one can solace Taslima’s sharp-edged wounded heart but her might pain can never be forbidden merely by the callous attacks, fatwas, bounties and fear to kill her. Whether it was government that mortified by banning books, or the malice practices of society against her, or the extremists who criticized her for every word of her pen. Any more suppression will be to strangulate a budding personality with the pen having the ink of pains and sufferings.

Mother

Mother is my destiny and above all
Mother is my reach
Above all ecstasy
The miracle I reach
Tremendous love
in her heart
above all the pleasures
I feel in my heart
Her values signify
And important and impartial love
To and fro there is only her way
I admire god for the lap of my mother
Who is above all?
The goddesses on this earth
My mom I love you so much
For the pain you bear
For all the things sacrificed
For us
It is your endless love
Which made me sweeter?
Above and all fears
Dear mom! I least have the words
To show you my love.
You are my god, you are my heaven
I always want to sleep in your arms
I want to kiss you all your cheeks
The redness that makes me smile
I love you above all is my last wish
Forever you….
Forever you….
My mother … forever you.

I died without

I am walking on the road
There is no one
I look around
There is no one
Time is too less
Death is around
The grave is burning
And no one around
This is an end to my dreams
Which I was weaving all my life
Alas! the parcel of life ended
In a blooming age of 26
Some rescuing hands, Inhumanly butcher a life
“to err is human and to forgive divine”
Thinking its life
I died without

Betrayal

I dig my grave
With your spade
Since the time you are known to me
You make the claims
Of truthfulness, honesty, sincerity and love…


Your words were dear and sweet to listen
But who knows the tendency of modern times
“Betrayal with Words”
That makes my life a regular hell
No return from there
Is any more…

AFFAIR

Oh! Dude
That was the day when we meet up
The sun was high and clouds in vain
The sweetness of your heart
Welcome me in your sense
I gave you a paper
You accepted for my laugh
And the day was over to come again
Sweet were my words
To adore you my friend
Who knows your generosity?
Before my come
Special time come and gone
We meet up to laugh and enjoyed at our heart.
The sensibility of your care spoke up everything
Before you could realize
It spread over everything
The lightness of your heart
The breezing tide
The long-winded in the nite
Tell truth every time
I could hear your heart
But could not balm the flood
Dear! I find the way to solitude u everytime
Because my heart was somewhere in the sky
Slowly and gradually you realized my pain
That was too late before you can love it your way
The helpless in the love so high
You are dying
Every morning
and night