Four Exile Poems by Tuhin Das
Exile Poems
Translated from the Bengali by Arunava Sinha
32
During the days I was on the run,
when the sun set,
all hope seemed to be lost.
A bolt of lightning felt like someone
shining a torch on the window-pane.
The breeze seemed to be on patrol all night.
I even suspected the mist of conspiracy.
The winds that blew in from the north
felt like spies on a mission.
I'd check whether anyone from the moon
had dropped anchor to descend to earth.
Ah, all those days that flowed
through my sorrows and anxieties!
In my country at this moment
another writer is experiencing them too.
Don't be afraid, my friend.
33
The man who used to love walking
alone in a solitary room for several months —
who hid in his chest the scents
wafting in on the breeze from the forest.
Hoots of owls, the rain drumming on the roof,
the deathly silence of winter afternoons,
fallen leaves filling the pond,
a monitor lizard scurrying away.
Where did all of this disappear?
Three riders who came on a motorcycle…
The swish of the blade and the sound of gunfire
oppress and punish men in the guise of religion.
34
Pushed into exile by force,
I'm gasping for breath now.
The air in my lungs holds no smell of the earth.
The moon is tethered to the sky with a grey ribbon.
The light sculpture on the roof of the Mattress Factory
is like the North Star. Even after I lost my way,
it guided me home from Pennsylvania Avenue one night.
Back home, I go to sleep.
For a long time now my dreams have been fragmented.
All of us expect long, pleasurable dreams, after all.
35
Even when the April wind here is cold
I can still tell
the wind in my homeland is searing and hot.
No matter how far I live
from the rivers on whose banks
I have listened to their silt-washed stories.
To me they are like
my twin brothers and sisters.
I know how deep their roots are planted.
Although the extremists kill the remaining trees
around the water-lily sculpture in Dhaka,
As long as the moon
hangs in the sky.
No clause in the Constitution could save them.
36
The railroad runs through West Park.
I walk along it on a summer afternoon.
A laden wind blows.
Pebbles of memory rattle in my chest.
My heart has been shaped
with photographs of mangled human faces,
I bear the suffering of people like the seasons.
Notes: Numbered According to the Poems
33: In June 2016, Bangladesh banned multiple passengers on motorcycles after attacks by Islamic militants.
34: Mattress Factory is a contemporary art museum, located at 500 Sampsonia Way, Pittsburgh, PA. "Acupuncture", a light-sculpture created by German artist Hans Peter Kuhn, was installed on the roof of the museum in 2016.
Pennsylvania Avenue is a car-dependent neighborhood in Pittsburgh, PA.
35: In May 2013, members of the Hefajat-e-Islam chopped down 1,255 trees during their counter-protest at Shapla Chattar — where the iconic water-lily sculpture that gives the place its name is located – in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh.
Tuhin Das is a Bengali poet, activist, political columnist, short story writer, and essayist, broadly published in Bangladesh and West Bengal, India. He is the author of eight poetry books in his native language. He left his home country, Bangladesh, in April 2016. His full-length, unpublished manuscript Exile Poems focuses on his life as an exiled writer in the U.S. Das’ work appeared in or is forthcoming from The Logue Project’s Home Language, Words Without Borders, The Bare Life Review, The Offing, Immigrant Report, and “Where Am i From?” The WAiF project. He is a writer-in-residence at City of Asylum in Pittsburgh, PA.
Arunava Sinha is a noted Indian translator of Bengali literature. He was born and raised in Kolkata. He won the Crossword translation award, the Muse India translation award. He has also been shortlisted for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. Sinha is currently based in New Delhi.
