This week’s poem inspired by the long Nordic summer evenings, where darkness never really falls although the sun goes down and where dusk seems to go on forever.

Days Without Nights

Waiting, watching

Darkness will not come

Gentle dusk rolls on and on

Caressing silhouettes of hills,

Trees, windmills

Sun is long set, but day will not end.

Midnight passes

At last night falls

Eyelids finally closing

But it is already tomorrow.

Amtoft 2016

This week’s poem, written a few days after arriving in Denmark and meeting friends and family who I have not seen for months, is inspired by those meetings and all the said and unsaid things that take place when people who know each other well are reunited. Dedicated to special people… you know who you are.

Reunion

Much must be left unsaid

Longest night of the year

Still darkness comes creeping

Tonight

It’s late, travelers are drowsy

News that’s still waiting

We’ll give it full justice

Tomorrow

Nyborg 2016

This week’s poem inspired by that beautiful moment of longing that comes at sunset every night during the holy Muslim month of Ramadan. The moment when millions wait in silence, in solidarity, in small and large groups, to break the fast after 17 hours without a sip of water.

Iftar

From overheated apartments walk through Ramadan dusk

After the rush, traffic slows to a trickle

Stragglers rushing to reach home.

Waiting for Magrib’s magic moment in every parking basement

Behind windows, at corners where rickshaw wallahs wait

At every building site, water bottles with caps unscrewed

Eyes watch hands mix puffed-rice, chickpeas, chilies

The sweet savory smell of Iftar dates, the ache of thirst.

Minutes tick, sun sinks, golden light in silent sky

Peace steels along the ever-crowded paths and parks.

Quiet stretches thirsty for that moment when longing

Calls across the city from a thousand minarets.

Fast is broken, the sweet first sip of water

Silence sighs relief.

Dhaka 2016

This week’s poem is a response to the claim that women and girls need protection, even when this protection means a great loss of personal choice and freedom.

Her Freedom

Spare her please

Your innocent assumptions

Of her assumed innocence.

The honour of your protection,

Protecting her honour

Which by a patriarchal twist of logic

Becomes your own.

Spare her kindly

The kindness of your attention

The intrusive attention of your kind.

The beauty of your expectations

In expecting her feminine beauty

With no room for strength or uniqueness.

Spare her your considerate sensitivity

For her delicate female condition.

Her monthly blood, her pregnancies

Are also your cycle of life.

Your puritanical assumption

Of her fear of masculine passion.

Show her the respect of believing

She has passions and wants of her own.

Spare her your wisdom on her needs

On drawing her plans

Believe she knows more than you ever can.

Dhaka 2016

I am proud and happy to report a successful launch of a collection of my poems, Talking Trees. The event was at the Nordic Club Dhaka this Saturday evening and was well attended and I think thoroughly enjoyable. Here are a few pictures: