Tuesday, February 27, 2018

Friday, May 28, 2010

Saturday, September 6, 2008

Malay Roy Choudhury, My Dad

Malay Roy Choudhury, My Dad-----Anushree Prashant

It is almost as if I can see him growing up. Feel his desperation and his need for independence. His solitary soul forcing him to try to break away, repeatedly, unsuccessfully from all the ties that bound him. The responsibility and the love for his family, and his writing, like stretched elastic, playing a tug-o-war amongst themselves.

My grandfather was no mean storyteller, but the most enjoyment I got was from hearing about Bapi’s escapades. Thakuma, my grandmother, felt, understood and forgave his spirit, loved him and was always afraid for him. I could always sense it in her voice. And at the same time, I believe, she felt an inordinate amount of pride at his repeated jaunts; when she would be scared to death fearing the worst, and also, hoping that this time round his desire for freedom would have been satiated.

I remember the quiet pride in my grandfather’s voice, as he would reminisce about Bapi, on the quiet evenings and weekends when he would teach me the rudiments of photography in the darkroom, after school hours, interspersed with terse directions. And then in the bright light outside, he would talk angrily about how Bapi gave Thakuma a scare when he was seventeen. He had hitched a ride atop a truck to Assam, with a large number of smelly goats for company, and had disappeared without a trace for three whole weeks and they knew nothing about his whereabouts. He never said he had been worried, but always, that Thakuma had been.

I can see Bapi, ten year old, with his pockets full of pebbles and dead decaying frogs, rats and chicks, he might have collected for the pleasure of doing so, and then as soon forgot about them. I can still see the amusement in Thakuma’s eyes, as she recalled to me, about the discovery of the decaying remains. I never saw the disgust that might have been more natural on her part when she had to wash the smell out from those clothes.

Dadu, my grandfather, was proud that his younger son had the intellect to choose Rural Development and Agricultural Banking as his career, and had not joined him in the family business. I wonder if he ever felt the lack of not having either of his two sons join. But he never showed it. Seen through the hazy pupils of my grandparent’s eyes, Bapi assumed almost mammoth proportions. And he became the idol. I wished to emulate.

My story-time was in the afternoons after lunch or at night, when I would sit patiently for Dadu or Thakuma to slowly talk their eternal ‘paan’ (betel leaf). The stories were many and varied, from the ‘Panchatantra’ to the ‘Mahabharata’, from Sukumar Ray’s nonsense verse to those they created themselves as the story progressed. But my most favourite ones were about the antics and escapades of my father.

About the time, when as a small child Bapi had been befriended by a Muslim bangle maker, and would get home coloured bangle pieces of glass in his pockets for a week till he had hurt himself enough while unloading them on my unsuspecting Thakuma, or probably because he had tired of the pastime. Or about the time when, he was sent out to buy a bottle of mustard oil, he found the chore suddenly becoming fun, as the shop keeper fished out a dead rat from the can of oil before filling his bottle. He recounted it with such glee, I wonder the feelings that this news might have evoked in my grandparents at the time, whether they had already consumed the oil or it was awaiting consumption. Knowing Bapi, I am sure he would have told, after they had consumed it, just to see whether one felt any after-effects of consuming poisoned oil.

Bapi recalled the poverty of his childhood days with a fair amount of nostalgia, always with a far away look in his eyes, which never showed any sorrow, but instead a lot of joy at the incidents he remembered of those times and which he took a delight in sharing with us. He always recounted the ones when he had either evoked laughter or even when he had been able to enjoy himself, never the ones that might let us have a taste of the grim realities of those times. In his way, he could rouse within us a feeling of delight, as yet unsurpassed by any storyteller I have met since then.

I was very young, when once he said, in answer to a comment made by a relative, with complete disinterest, that no one has a right to claim as inheritance, that one has not worked hard and sweated for. Looking back, it seems to me that I grew up that day, in that single moment and learnt to hold my head that much higher. Today when I recollect those words, I do so with the knowledge and the pride that he sincerely followed what he preached even unconsciously.

But he nevertheless was hurt, when he learnt that our near-relative, took away everything. He never felt bad about the loss of the monetary value of the property. But that, even his inheritance of memories within those walls were broken down to accommodate the dowry from newest addition to the family. And he and his beloved parents, like just so much dust, were swept away and washed out even from the minds of the nephews and niece who he had cherished and loved as his own kin. I would like to claim that he recovered from this utter disillusionment, but in truth that would be a falsity.

As far back as I can, I remember the far away look in his eyes, when he would be lost to everything around him; when people around him assumed the form of furniture, when their conversation was like the transistor radio, blasting away ephemeral and vacuous messages; when he would look through the person opposite him with his unseeing eyes, all the while concentrating on capturing that elusive thought whirling around in his mind like a transitory snowflake.

I also remember the time when he would come to pick me up from school, standing in the shade of an accommodating tree, be completely lost in his own world. He would come to with a jerk, when I tugged at his shirt, and would sheepishly ask me how long I had been standing there. My brother and I always recollect those moments with great happiness, as I could chat with my friends for that extra bit of time, and my brother could play the fool to his heart’s content, and Bapi would not come to know, till we reminded him of our existence.

But our mother must have found this trait particularly wearying and hard to comprehend. Sometimes she would get irritated, and then my brother and I would gang up against her and have a lot of fun pulling her leg. And sometimes she would feel sad and lonely; at those times we would try to cheer her up and amuse her, and try to take her mind away from the thoughts within.

Our mother always came across as ambitious, never for herself, but for her husband and children. She could never understand the moods and vagaries, eccentricities and idiosyncrasies of Bapi, and always had to explain them to herself, giving improbable and plausible reasons for his maverick behavior. Mummy has taken a long time to understand Bapi, almost her entire married life. That too she only did so through trying to understand me. I am quite like Bapi.

He let me run free, as he himself wanted to be, away from all tries and trammels of civilization but never could be. I read his poems when still in the process of learning my Bengali alphabet. I formed words and images slowly in my mind, and read his much acclaimed poems of Medhar Batanukul Ghungoor, and felt the thrill of immediately being transported to higher echelons, among the clouds. I learnt all about visual and sound poetry from reading Bapi’s works. His metaphors and picturesque imagery still enthralls me. He could bring to life the most common phenomena, with so much zest. Each word pieced together with utmost care, placed carefully on the tracery of his work; almost like pointillism. And they would turn out to be unique masterpieces.

I grew up under his shade, but never under his shadow, as , with apt timely criticism he would immediately drive me to better my work, be it in academics or otherwise. One harsh word and I would try to supersede my own goals and surpass his expectations of me. I always looked at myself through Bapi’s eyes, trying as hard as I could to win his approval and be a person of merit. Always racing to run ahead of his ambitions for me, striving, but never quite succeeding. But it has made me stronger, built in me a spine of stainless steel, able to bear sorrows, and joy with equanimity.

I am thankful to him for being the way he always has been, and hope he continues to inspire me and be there always, for me.

(Reprinted from Malay Roychoudhury Compendium (2001) edited by Murshid A.M. and Arabinda Pradhan. Anushree Prashant lives in Holland with her husband and two daughters.)

Wednesday, June 18, 2008


Malay RoyChoudhury's Ancestory:

Malay Roychoudhury (1939), and his elder brother Samir (1933), of the Hungry Generation (Hungryalism) literature Movement (1961-1965) fame, belong to the Uttarpara (District Hooghly, West Bengal, India) clan of the Sabarna Choudhuries. Having been born in to this clan has given them a sense of being rooted to the pre-colonial history of West Bengal, as well as an organic geographical sense of belonging to the soil, which most of the contemporary Bengali writers are deprived of. It was natural that these two brothers alongwith Shakti Chattopadhyay, resident of Joynagar-Majilpur, formed the core of the Movement.

The Sabarna Choudhury clan of Uttarpara, like the clans at Halishahar, Birati and Kheput, is a branch of the Behala-Barisha (Kolkata) Sabarna Choudhuries. However, the clan did not suddenly emanate at Behala-Barisha. Like all rarhishreni Brahmins, this family also traces its origin in pre-Islamic Bengal, reportedly, from one of the five Kannaujia Brahmins, brought to his kingdom by Adisura-Sriharsa.

Atul Krishna Ray in his book ‘Lakshmikanta: A Chapter in the Social History of Bengal’ (1928) has mapped the course of the descendants of one of such 10th Century Brahmins in this order: Vedagarbha (980AD), Shobhana, Shauri, Pitambara, Damodara, Kulapati (1182), Shishoo, Gadadhara, Halayudha (1282), Ayurama, Binayak, Jiyo, Paramshwar and Panchanan.

The historical mist gets clearer from the time of a person in flesh and blood at Amati village of Katoa in Burdwan who shifted to Gohatya-Gopalpur (now Goghat) in Hooghly district. His name is Panchanan Gangopadhyay, who gave up hereditory brahminical vocation of religious activities, and joined Humayun’s Afghan cavalry. There is no record as to how he developed the skills of a sword fighter; nevertheless, his ingenuity, bravery and quality of leadership during the reign of Emperor Jalaluddin Muhammad Akbar entitled him to be conferred the military title of ‘Sakhtkhan’, and a promotion to commandant’s grade. He came to be known as Panchu Shakti Khan, a hero of oral ballads. Malay and Samir carry his genes.

The wealth he had amassed as a commandant allowed him to shift his base to a place which later came to be known as Halishahar. He had built a haveli or a palace, and the town was called Haveli-Shahar at that time. He invited vaidyas of Bikrampur, kayasthas of Konnogar, yajurvedi Brahmins from Orissa and Tamilnadu for settling at Havelishahar. Since vocations were caste-based at that time, he had arranged for the settlement of artisans, craftsmen and traders from various areas. Panchu Shakti Khan’s son Shambhupati (1500) reverted to Gangopadhyay title, and engaged himself in developing the area as a business centre; the centre was connected by river route with Bhushana (now in Bangladesh).

Shambhupati’s son Jia (1535-1620) broke the newly-built family tradition and reverted to religious inclinations. He moved from one temple to another with his wife Padmavati, probably because she was unable to bear a child. The couple visited the then Kalikshetra Kalipeeth, now known as Kalighat, the abode of goddess Kali. The legend, narrated in Kalikshetra Deepika by Suryakumar Chattopadhyay and Kalighat Itibritta by Upendranath Mukhopadhyay is that Padmavati in her trance saw a halo of light descend on the adjacent pond; she wanted to take a dip in that halo of light, which she did, and became pregnant. Hence the custom of childless couples taking a bath in the adjacent water-body. Presently it is waiting to be cleaned of filth. Next day Padmavati saw a hand right in the middle of the pond, signaling her to find out what is concealed at the bottom. On excavation, a piece of goddess Sati’s feet was discovered, reported to be locked in the temple-chest forever.

Padmavati gave birth to a son, and as the story goes, died after three days. Jia renounced samsara, and became an ascetic and moved to Varanasi; thenceforth he was known as Mahatma Kamdev Brahmachari, having been ordained by his guru Atmaram Brahmachari who was well versed in Persian, Arabic, Hindvi and Sanskrit. The present image of goddess Kali at Kalighat was installed by Kamdev Brahmachari. Since then ‘Sabarna’ is a password for clan members to enter the sanctum sanctorum of this overcrowded temple. Malay and Samir do have the spiritual tolerance of Kamdev Brahmachari.

Jia’s son was reared, educated and trained by Atmaram Brahmachari and his assistant Ananda Giri. The boy was named Lakshmikanta (1570-1649). The Sabarna Choudhury clan starts from him. Lakshmikanta was trained in the traits of Panchu Shakti Khan; the boy was a mathematical wonder. His mathematical prowess, command over several languages and wrestling skills drew the attention of feudal lord Srihari Guha of Gaud, who was a minister at Afgan Sultan Daud Khan’s court. Lakshmikanta got a job at Saptagram revenue department, and rose to become an advisor to Srihari Guha’s son Pratapaditya.

In Bangadhip Parajay written by Pratapchandra Ghosh, and Jashohar Khulnar Itihas written by Satishchandra Mitra, when Daud Khan was defeated by the Moguls in 1576, Srihari Guha divided his fiefdom, gave 70% to Pratapaditya and 30% to his brother Basanta Ray. Pratapaditya started encroaching upon the fiefdoms of other feudal lords and increased his domain spreading over Khulna, Jessore and 24 Pargana. Lakshmikanta’s diplomacy ensured a pact between Mogul subedar Islam Khan and Pratapaditya. Pleased with the quantum of revenue, Emperor Akbar conferred the title of Maharaja to Pratapaditya, and Majmuadar (Revenue Commissioner) to Lakshmikanta.

The title of Maharaja changed Pratapaditya to a different man. He broke the conditions of the pact, and along with eleven other feudal lords, refused to pay requisite quantam of silver to the coffers of the Emperor. He also conspired to kill his uncle Basanta Ray and his son. Lakshmikanta refused to be a part of the conspiracy, and fled to Halishahar. Akbar had sent a couple of military expeditions to defeat Pratapaditya but did not succeed; later, Emperor Jahangir sent a huge army contingent under Man Singh. On his way to Bengal, Man Singh had sought the blessings of Mahatma Kamdev Brahmachari at Varanasi. After capturing Pratapaditya, Man Singh requested the Emperor to establish Kamdev’s son Lakshmikanta as a feudal lord. Lakshmikanta was conferred with the titles of ‘Roy’ (for an annual fortune of one million silver) and ‘Choudhury’ (for a huge tract of land by the sea).

Roy Lakshmikanta Majmuadar Choudhury, the name did not go well with the brahmin caste to which he belonged. Since Gangopadhyay brahmins are sabarna gotra, his priests and the advisors decided to call the family Sabarna Choudhury. His kingfdom being spread over Behala to Dakshineshwar, Pargana Magura, Khaspur, Kolkata, Poikan, Anwarpur, Amirabad, Havelishahar, Hatigarh and a large area of Sundarbans, Laksmikanta established revenue collection centres at various places, important ones being Behala and Dihi Kolkata. The East India Company arrived and these two centres became quite busy. Malay and Samir have the organizational skills of Lakshmikanta, otherwise Hungryalist Movement would not have been possible.

According to Atul Krishna Ray, Lakshmikanta had seven sons: Ram (1590-1650), Gauri (1600-69), Gopal, Bireswar, Krishna, Gopi and Mahadeva (1639-1730). Ram had three sons: Ramballav, Subuddhi and Jagadish (1620-1690). Jagadish had four sons: Vidyadhar (1640-1720), Raghudeva (1642-1722), Ratneswar (1670-1720) and Rameswar (1674-1739). According to ‘Bangsha Parichay’ (1911) written by Amarnath Bandyopadhyay, Ratneshwar is Vidyadhar’s son. However, from this generation onwards the title Majmuadar was dropped, and Roychoudhury was exchanged for Gangopadhyay.

Vidyadhar established himself at Behala-Barisha, and the Sabarna Choudhuries of this area are his decendants. It was Ramchand (1658-1732), son of Vidyadhar, who with his cousins, Manohar (1730), Pran (1653-1700) and Rambhadra (1700), signed the deed of transfer of rent collection of three villages i.e. Dihi Kolkatah, Sutanuti and Govindapur to East India Company. These three villages came to be known as Calcutta (now Kolkata).

The story of the Uttarpara clan of Sabarna Choudhuries starts from Ratneshwar. Mahatma Kamdev Brahmachari had advised the family to spread out west of Ganges (Hoogly river in West Bengal), Varanasi being on the western bank of the river. In 1709 Ratneshwar purchased the northern tract of Chakbali of Sheoraphuli fiefdom of Manohar Roy; the area being on the north of Chakbali, it came to be known as Uttarpara. His palace, which has since been demolished for constructing a housing colony, was known as Sabarna Villa.

In his book Atul Krishna Ray has dealt with the genealogy of Behala-Barisha and Halishahar clans. For Uttarpara clan the book by Amarnath Bandyopadhyay is authentic, as it enlists all the families of Uttarpara in 1911. Malay Roychoudhury himself though did not get a copy of this book when he wrote Chhotoloker Chhotobela (2004) and Autobiography in Volume 14 & 215 of Contemporary Authors Autobiography Series. We may chart out the genealogy in this manner as given by Bandyopadhyay:

Ratneshwar->Ramjivan->Madhusudan->Gangaram->Ram Narayan. Ram Narayan had four sons: Chandicharan, Bhavanishankar, Bharatcharan and Gourmohan. Since we are interested in Malay and Samir’s ancestors, we proceed from Chandicharan (1691), whose son Jay Gopal (1718) had four sons: Jadunath, Trailokyanath, Kalachand and Kedarnath. Jadunath had three sons: Baikunthanath, Harinarayan and Lakshminarayan (1799).

Lakshminarayan’s sons are: Pramod, Sushil, Ranjit, Anil, Sunil and Bishwanath. Malay and Samir are Ranjit’s sons. Lakshminarayan left Uttarpara and reached Lahore where he learned photography and painting from the Museum Curator John Lockwood Kipling, Rudyard Kipling’s father. Thereafter he, with his wife and children, was always on the move from one princely state to another, painting huge portraits of the members of royal families. Assisting him, his children learned photography and painting. Lakshminarayan died at Patna while drawing portraits of family members of Darbhanga maharaja. The brothers were forced to settle at Patna, whereas Apoorvamoyee, Lakshminarayan’s wife, along with Anil, went back to their twelve-room Uttarpara bungalow.

Promod joined Patna Museum as Keeper of Paintings and Sculpture. Sushil opened a photography studio at Chhapra, Anil at Uttarpara, and Ranjit at Patna. Malay and Samir were also trained in the trade. The two young boys, guided by uncle Promod, had the rare opportunity to spend their holidays in the corridors of Patna Museum, and this experience has given them a sense of history of the micro and macro-level world that would be impossible to get by reading books. This experience has definitely been a contributory factor to the Hungry Generation Movement.

Ranjit was married to Amita (Bandyopadhyay) of Panihati, a vaishnava centre across the river. Amita’s ancestry is traceable from Durgadas Bandyopadhyay, who was incarcerated by the British in 1857 for inciting soldiers in the guise of religious preaching. His son Nanilal was a part of the 19th Century renaissance, and got his three sons Lalmohan, Haridas and Kishorimohan educated in science, law and English language. Amita is Kishorimohan’s daughter.

Kishorimohan wrote articles in English and Bengali, and subscribed to various radical magazines of his time. He was made a member of the Royal Malaria Commission

(1899) and assisted Ronald Ross as a field investigator. Ronald Ross was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1902 for discovering the reasons and cure for Malaria. The responsibility of anti-Malaria campaigns rested on Kishorimohan. He traveled most of the affected areas in India, and used slide-shows for anti-Malaria campaigns. In 1910 the Imperial Government awarded him with a 500gm gold medal at a function at Kolkata, which was attended by a large number of intellectuals and politicians. He was also one of the founder members of Panihati Cooperative Bank, having made an initial contribution of Rs. 100000 and 1000gms of gold. Malay and Samir have Kishorimohan’s socio-political sensitivity.

Neither Malay nor Samir reside in any of their clan sites. They live in Kolkata and try to keep in touch with the Sabarna network, which by now has 20000 members spread all over the world. Malay’s son Jitendra (1975) and daughter Anushree (1969) also do not reside in any of the clan sites. Malay’s uncle Sunil’s children and grandchildren, however, live in the housing colony built on the land where once Ratneshwar’s palace stood in architectural glory.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Bibliography of MalayRoyChoudhury

A Bibliography of his Works

Compilation facilitated by by Prabir Chakrabarty & Ratan Biswas

[Malay Roychoudhury writes in Bangla---one of the most important native languages of South Asia---and sometimes in English. One of the founders of Hungryalist literary movement (1961), Roychoudhury has been sought out by such notable writers as Mexican Nobel Prize winner Octavio Paz, American poet Allen Ginsberg, and Nicaraguan poet and priest Ernesto Cardenal. In addition to being a poet, Roychoudhury (better known as Malay) is also a counter-culture novelist, essayist, dramatist, short story writer, translator, and critic. An autobiographical essay by Malay has been included in volume#14 [revised in volume#215] of Contemporary Authors Autobiography Series published by The Gale Group Inc., 27500 Drake Road, Farmington Hills, MI 48331-3535, USA. He is the only Indian writer who has refused to accept Sahitya Academy Award, a coveted literary award conferred by the Government of India.

Malay was born on 29 October, 1939 in Patna, Bihar, India; son of Ranjit ( a photographer and painter) and Amita (Bandyopadhyay). Married Shalila Mukherjee, field hockey player, in 1968; children: Anushree (daughter) and Jitendra (son).]

Prabir Chakrabarty had compiled the under-noted bibliography for the book ‘Malay’ edited by Murshid A.M., published from Avishkar Prakashani, Bansdroni, Kolkata 700 070, India, and Ratan Biswas had prepared list of writings not included in any book for the commemorative issue of AHABKAL magazine.

1. Marxbader Uttaradhikar(nonfiction), Shakti Publications (Kolkata, India), 1962.

2. Shoytaner Mukh (collected poems), Krittibas Prakashani (Kolkata, India), 1963.

3. Amimangshita (book-length poem), Zebra Publications (Kolkata, India), 1965.

4. Stark Electric Jesus (book-length poem), Tribal Press (Washington, DC), 1966.

5. Jakham (book-length poem), Zebra Publications (Kolkata, India), 1966. Second edition published by Kabitirtha ( 50/3, Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata 23, India. Tel. [91]033 2401 0954), 1998.

6 Hungry Andoloner Kavyadarshan (manifesto), Debi Roy (Howrah, India, )1965.

7. Hungryalist Manifestoes/Ishtahar Sankalan (collection of manifestoes), Dedicated to Malabika Das. Cover designed by Charu Khan. Mahadiganta

( Padmapukur Mor, Baruipur, 700144,WB., India),1986.

8. Kobita Sankalan (collected poems), Dedicated to mother Amita Roychoudhury. Cover designed by Charu Khan. Mahadiganta, ( Padmapukur Mor, Baruipur, 700144, WB., India), 1986.

9. Medhar Batanukul Ghungur (collected poems), Dedicated to wife Salila Roychoudhury. Cover designed by Jogen Choudhury. Illustrations by Prakash Karmakar. Mahadiganta, ( Padmapukur Mor, Baruipur, 700144, WB.India),1986

10. Hattali (book-length poem), Mahadiganta, ( Padmapukur Mor, Baruipur, 700144, WB, India), 1989.

11. Selected Poems, Writers’ Workshop, (Kolkata, India), 1989.

12. Dubjaley Jetuku Prashwas (novel), Dedicated to father Ranjit Roychoudhury. Cover designed by Sanchari Lahiri. Howa49 Publishers ( B24 Northern Park,Kolkata, India), 1994. Second edition published by Avishkar Prakashani, (Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India. Tel. [91]033 2410 5132), 2001.

13. Hungry Kimvadanti (memoir), Illustrations and cover designed by Subimal Basak. Dey Books (Kolkata, India), 1994.

14. Chitkar Samagra (collected poems), Dedicated to Al Mahmud, Shankha Ghosh and Sunil Gangopadhyay, the last remnants of modernism. Kabita Pakshik (36D,Harish Chatterjee Street, Kolkata 26, India. [91] 033- 2455-6325), 1995.

15. Chhatrakhan (collected poems), Dedicated to Mala Ray & Debi Ray and Sunita Ghosh & Saileshwar Ghosh. Kabitirtha (50/3 Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata 23, India. [91] 033 2401 0954),1995.

16. Postmodernism (nonfiction), Howa49 Publishers (B24 Northern Park, Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India), 1995.

17. Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish (translation), Kabitirtha (50/3 Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata, 700023, India. [91] 033-2401 0954),1995.

18. Bhenno Galpo (short story collection), Dedicated to elder brother Samir Roychoudhury. Cover designed by Raju Debnath. Dibaratrir Kavya (Kolkata, India), 1996.

19. Jalanjali (novel), Dedicated to Tarun Sur, Subarna Upadhyay and Barindranath Gupta. Cover designed by Prakash Karmakar. Raktakarabi (Kolkata, India), 1996.

20. Tristan Tzara’s Poems (translation), Kalimati (3 Atasi Road, Pramathanagar, Jamshedpur 831 002, India), 1996.

21. Allen Ginsberg’s Howl & Other Poems (translation), Kabita Pakshik ( 36D Harish Chatterjee Street,Kolkata 26, India), 1996.

22. Ja Lagbey Bolben (poems), Dedicated to Shakti, Shila & Minakshi. Cover designed by Kamal Chakraborty. Kaurab Prakashani (Jamshedpur, India), 1996.

23. Jean Cocteau’s Crucifixion (translation), Dedicated to Falguni Ray. Kabita Pakshik (36D Harish Chatterjee Street, Kolkata 26, India),1996.

24. Blaise Cendrar’s Trans Siberian Express (translation), Dedicated to Uttam and Malabika. Amritalok Prakashani ( Mitra Compound, Station Road, Midnapur 721 101, WB., India), 1997.

25. William Blake’s Marriage of Heaven and Hell (translation), Dedicated to Jahar Sen Majumdar. Grafitti (2A Tipu Sultan Road,Kolkata 700026, India), 1998.

26. Natoksamagra (collection of Illot, Hibakusha and Napungpung drama), Kabitirtha (50/3 Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata 23, India. [91] 033 2401 0954), 1998.

27. Awe (deconstruction of 23 poems), Dedicated to Debiprasad Bandopadhyay. Cover designed by Anil Karanjai. Kabita Pakshik( 36D Harish Chatterjee Street,Kolkata 26, India), 1998.

28. Naamgandho (novel), Sahana (Dhaka, Bangladesh), Dedicated to Murshid A.M. and Kalim Khan.1999 second edition published by Avishkar (Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India. [91] 033-2410 5132), 2002.

29. Autobiography of Paul Gaugin (translation), Grafitti (2A Tipu Sultan Road, Kolkata 700026, India), 1999.

30. Jean Arthur Rimbaud (biographical-criticism), Cover designed by Prabir Sen. Kabitirtha (50/3 Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata 700023, India.Tel. [91] 033-2401 0954), 1999.

31. Allen Ginsberg (biographical-criticism, includes correspondence), Prabir Sen. Kabitirtha ( 50/3 Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata, India. Tel. [91] 033 2401 0954), 2000.

32. Atmadhangser Sahasrabda (collection of poems edited by Rabindra Guha), Dedicated to Sukumar Choudhuri and Rabindra Guha. Cover designed by Shormi Pandey. Grafitti (2A, Tipu Sultan Road, Kolkata 700026, India), 2000.

33. Surealism/Paravastavbad (nonfiction), Dedicated to Susweta Chakraborty and Kamal Chakraborty. Illustrations by Subimal Basak. Ebong Prakashani (Kolkata, India), 1997.

34. Hungryalist Interviews, edited by Ajit Ray (collection of Malay’s interviews taken by Adrish Biswas, Sayed Samidul Alam, Shankar Sarkar, Bibekananda Chattopadhyay, Dipen Ray, Arunesh Ghosh, Kunal Mandal, Mandira Pal, Gopinath Karmakar, Abhash Mitra, Partho Mukhopadhyay, and Farzana Warsi), Dedicated to Shormi Pandey and Shubhankar Das. Mahadiganta ( Padmapukur Mor, Baruipur, 700144, WB. India),1999.

35. Matantar (nonfiction), Ataeb Prakashani ( Nimta, Kolkata 700049, India), 2000.

36. Postmodern Kalkhando O Bangalir Patan (nonfiction), Dedicated to Rabindra Guha. Cover designed by Sukumar Choudhuri. Khanan (215 Vasant Vihar,Lava Road, Wadi, Nagpur 440023, India), 2000.

37. Uttor-Ouponobeshik Postmodernism (nonfiction), Dedicated to Shankar Sarkar. Bakprotima . (Mahishadal, Midnapur,India), 2001.

38. Salvador Dali (based on Dali’s The Secret Life of Salvador Dali), Grafitti (2A, Tipu Sultan Road,Kolkata 26, India), 2001.

39. Ei Adham Oi Adham (novel), Dedicated to Arabinda Pradhan. Cover designed by Tridib Mitra and Alo Mitra. Photograph on dust-jacket by father Ranjit Roychoudhury. Kabitirtha (50/3, Kabitirtha Sarani, Kolkata 23, India Nobile Tel.No.09231859988), 2001.

40. Postmodern Bangla Poetry 2001: An Overview (nonfiction), Haowa49 Publishers, (B24 Northern Park, Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India), 2001.

41. Postmodern Bangla Short Stories: An Overview (nonfiction), Haowa49 Publishers, (B24 Northern Park, Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India), 2001.

42. Dada Manifestoes Of Tristan Tzara (translation), Cover designed by Shormi Pandey. Grafitti (2A,Tipu Sultan Road, Kolkata 700026, India), 2002.

43. Nakhadanta (novel), Dedicated to Surojit Sen, Ratan Biswas and Haraprasad Sahu. Cover used from a dictionary page of Gyanendramohan Das. Haowa49 Publishers ( B24 Northern Park, Bansdroni,Kolkata, India), 2002.

44. Kounaper Luchimangsho (collection of poems), Dedicated to Dr. Bhumendra Guha. Cover designed by Sukhendu Pal. Kobita Campus ( 48/2 Bhairab Datta Lane, Salkia, Howrah 711106, India. Mobile Tel. No. 09830357424), 2003.

45. Postmodern Jibonananda (nonfiction), Dedicated to Ajit Ray, Kajal Sen and Shyamal Sil. Cover designed by Shormi Pandey. Grafitti (2A, Tipu Sultan Road,Kolkata 26, India), 2003.

46. Postmodern Bangla Poetry 2003: An Overview (nonfiction), Haowa49 Publishers. (B24 Northern Park, Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India), 2003.

47. Postmodern Bangla Short Stories 2003: An Overview (nonfiction), Haowa49 Publishers (B24, Northern Park, Kolkata 700070, India), 2003.

48. Adhunantik Bangla Kavita edited by Samir Roychoudhury and Om Nishchal (nonfiction in Hindi), Parmeshwari Prakashan (B-109, Preet Vihar, Delhi 110 092, India), 2004.

49. Pratiswa Parisarer Abinirman (self-interview), Cover designed by Tarun Dey. Dahapatra (Ghatakbagan,Chandan Nagar 712136, Hooghly, India), 2004.

50. Bishoy Postmodernity (collection of post-Hungryalist interviews edited by Aravinda Pradhan. Interviewers are : Sudakshina Chattopadhyay, Debashis Hajra,Anurag Mahato, Mrinalkanti Rakshit, Chitrabhanu Singha, Prabuddha Bhattacharjee, Gargi Ghosh Dastidar, Ajitkumar Bhowmik, Sayantani Pal, Debaprasad Sarkar, Indrani Ghosh, Shatadal Dutta, Shyamal Sil, Bapi Chakraborty, Durbadal Dutta, Tarjani, Dhurjati Chanda, Ratan Biswas, Anadiranjan Biswas, Murshid A.M., Arabinda Pradhan, Kalim Khan, Tapas Mitra and Pranabendu Debnath), Dedicated to Saswata Sikdar and Biswajit Sen. Cover designed by Shormi Pandey. Grafitti (2A, Tipu Sultan Road, Kolkata 26, India), 2004.

51. Chhotoloker Chhotobela (childhood memoir), Dedicated to Janab Mijanur Rahaman and Begam Noorjahan Bakshi. Cover designed by Saswata Sikdar. Photograph used on cover was shot by uncle Biswanath Roychoudhury. Quark Publishers (10/9, Siddhi Nath Chatterjee Road,Kolkata 34, India. Mobile Tel No.09830015525), 2004.

52. Kobita 2004-1961 (collection of all poems written between 1961 and 2004), Cover designed by Debabrata Ghosh. Illustrations by Prakash Karmakar. Malay’s photograph by Subimal Basak. Avishkar Prokashani (Bansdroni, Kolkata 70, India. Mobile Telephone No. 09830331092), 2005.

53. Hungry Andoloner Ishtahar ( Hungryalist manifestoes with introduction. Includes copies of covers and old photographs), Dedicated to Dr. Tapodhir Bhattacharya. Abar Eshechhi Phirey Publications (Bhagabangola, Murshidabad 742135, India), 2007.

54. Charles Baudelaire (biographical-criticism), Dedicated to Mandira Pal and Tripti Santra. Cover designed by Utpal Bhattacharjee. Kabitirtha (50/3, Kabitirtha Sarani,Kolkata 23, India. [Mobile Tel.No.09231859988]), 2007.

55. Aprakashito Chhotogalpo (collection of short stories), Dedicated to Adrish Biswas and Prabir Chakraborty. Cover designed by Saswata Sikdar. Quark Publishers (10/9, Siddhi Nath Chatterjee Road,Kolkata 34, India.( Mobile Telephone No. 09830015525 ), 2007.

56. Adhunikatar Biruddhey Kathavarta (nonfiction), Dedicated to Utpal Bhattacharjee. Cover designed by Prabhat Choudhuri. Kabita Pakshik (36D, Harish Chatterjee Street,Kolkata 26, India), 1995.



*Han-mukh Sandhan (memoir-based story). Ekaler Raktakarabi magazine. January 2004 issue. Editor Pradip Bhattacharjee.

*Chandrahas (memoir-based story). Ekaler Raktakarabi magazine. September 2005 issue. Editor Pradip Bhattacharjee.

*Owao (short story) Kabitirtha magazine. October 2005 issue. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Boikunthalok (political short story). Ekaler Raktakarabi magazine, Novermber-December 2005 issue. Editor Pradip Bhattacharjee.

*Kangshalra Sukhey Achhen (short story). Khanan magazine, May 2006. Editor Sukumar Choudhuri.

*Nei Achhay (cut-up short story). Kabitirtha magazine, September 2006 issue. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Sarbatmak (political fairy tale). Padakshep magazine, December 2006 issue. Editor Asim Kumar Basu.

*An O hoi Abar Un O Hoi (political fairy tale). Teer Purni magazine, January 2007 issue. Editor Sudeb Bakshi.

*Prabhanjaner Shuruta (political fairy tale). Notun Shatak magazine, January 2007 issue. Editor Shirshendu Datta.

*Shurpanakha, Heritage (political fairy tale). Kobita Campus magazine, January-August 2007 issue. Editors Aloke Biswas and Pranab Pal.

*Gawhartirther Kushilab (political fairy tale). Horinahorinir magazine, April 2007 issue. Editor Saswata Sikdar.

*Jinnatulbilader Rupkatha (political fairy tale). Kabitirtha magazine, May 2007 issue. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Pakasthali (short story). Kalimati magazine, April-June 2007 issue. Editor Kajal Sen.

*Kuharbhumey Nishidishi (political fairy tale). Amritalok magazine, September 2007 issue. Editor Samiran Majumdar.

*Kukshimbhari (political fairy tale). Aikya Patrika magazine, September 2007 issue. Editor Gaurishankar Sarkar.

*Bhedgranthir Rupkatha ( political fairy tale). Kabitirtha magazine, October 2007 issue. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Arup Tomar Entokanta (novel bases on Hungryalist days). Bishoymukh magazine. July-December 2007 issue. Editors Debashis Biswas and Bikash Gana Choudhury.


*Abhimukher Upajibya(first instalment). Bishoymukh magazine. January-June 2004 issue. Editors Debashis Biswas and Bikash Gana Choudhury.

*Abhimukher Upajibya(second instalment). Bishoymukh magazine. January-June 2005.

Editors Debashis Biswas and Bikash Gana Choudhury.

*Abhimukher Upajibya ( Last instalment). Bishoymukh magazine. 2006 issue. Editors Debashis Biswas and Bikash Gana Choudhury.


*FIR. Zebra magazine. 1966. Editor Malay Roychoudhury

*Bangla Gadyer Simabaddhata. Godhulimone magazine. March 1982. Editor Ashok Chattopadhyay.

*Shibnarayan Rayer Sangey Kichhukshan. Mahadiganta magazine. 1986. Editor Uttam Das.

*Srijansheel Atmahatyar Nayika Sylvia Plath. Amritalok magazine. September 1987. Editor Samiran Majumdar.

*Bangali Jubak Jubatir Naach. Ebang magazine. October 1987. Editor Dhurjati Chanda.

*Samaskritir Sankat: Sarvabharatiya Bangali Criminaler Abhab. Ebang magazine. December 1987. Editor Dhurjati Chanda.

*Sati Teer: Red Indian Lekhaker Best Seller. Phooo magazine. 1992-93. Editor Pradip Choudhuri.

*Meyemanusher Biruddhe. Haowa49 magazine August 1997. Editor Samir Roychoudhury.

*Gadyer Prajuktibid Marcel Proust. Furnace magazine. May-June 1988.

*Kobitar kaj:Kajer Kobita. Kabitirtha magazine.1989. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Kobitwer Andhakar: Lathkhorer Bidroho. Mahadiganta Magazine. 1990. Editor Uttam Das.

*Aami Kothay? Paa magazine. January-April 1992.

*Dantasfuta Jayadhwani. Megh magazine. 1994. Editor Sanchita Sen.

*Ei Sheeter Tatwa. Kavita magazine. 1995. Editor Supriya Bagchi.

*Pradip Choudhurir Kabita. Haowa49 magazine. January 1995. Editor Samir Roychoudhury.

*Adhahpataner Jathartho. Kabitirtha magazine. October 1996.

*Pathaker Mrityu. Majhi magazine. 1996. Editor Prashanta Ray.

*Bangla Sahitye Hungry Andolon. Commemorative issue of 17th Annual Bengali Conference of North America 1997. Editors Susanta Ray, Debajyoti Das and Jiten Mohanti.

*Jatilata. Haowa49 magazine. May 1998. Editor Samir Roychoudhury.

*Kobitar Janmo. Kabitirtha magazine. September 1998. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Shabdartho Jar Muluk Tar. Ekaler Raktakarabi magazine. September 1998. Editor Pradip Bhattacharjee.

*Rearview Aynay Kourab. Kourab magazine. October 1998. Editor Kamal Chakraborty.

*Allen Ginsberger Sakshatkar (translation of Harvey Kubernik). Kavita#53 magazine. 1999. Editor Supriya Bagchi.

*Pragadhunik Danrakobi Adhunik Danrakobi. Mahadiganta magazine. January-March 1999. Editor Uttam Das.

*Premik Baudelaire. Disha Sahitya. October 1999. Editor Anindya Ray..

*Allen Ginsberger Sakshatkar (translation of Gloria Glikston Bram). Sannidhya. October 1999.

*Ki Boi Porbo Keno Porbo. Sahitya Setu magazine. 16 September 1999. Editor Jagabandhu Kundu.

*Colonial Modernity Banam Arabinda Pradhan Ki Ajib Dastan. Anuttar magazine. September 1999

*Kshudha Prem Aguner Senk.(about probasi Bengali). Padakshep magazine. September 1999. Editor Samir Basu.

*Kedar Bhadurir Sakshatkar. Mahadiganta magazine. July-September 1999. Editor Uttam Das.

*Ki Bhabey Bujhben Kobitati Postmodern. Kalimati magazine. October 1999. Editor Kajal Sen.

*Jounata. Shahar magazine. October 1999. Editor Ajit Ray.

*Adhunikata, Uttaradhunikata, Jibanananda. Godhulimone. September-October 1999. Editor Ashok Chattopadhyay.

*Postmodern Kabita Kakey Baley. Ebang Arbachin magazine. October 1999. Editor Koushik Ray.

*Bangalir Prabas. Padakshep magazine. October 1999 issue. Editor Samir Basu.

*Jibanananda Problematique. Lokakriti magazine. November 1999. Editor Haraprasad Sahoo.

*Dipankar Datter Sakshatkar. Arbachin magazine. 2000 issue. Editor Shormi Pandey.

*Allen Ginsberger Sakshatkar (several interviewers). Kobita Ishtahar. January 2000.

*Pratik O Pratikbadi Andolon. Dadhichi magazine. 2000. Editor Dolly Datta.

*Kobitwer Kalgham:Kano Je Likhi. Kabitirtha magazine. September 2000.Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Kobitar Rhizomatic Boishishtya. Ekhon Nidagh magazine. April 2000.

*’Amar’ Biswas ki ‘Tomar’ Biswaser Cheye Shreya? Kabita Campus magazine. January-March 2000. Editor Alok Biswas and Pranab Pal.

*Unishatama Ashwarohi. Mizanur Rahamaner Troimasik Patrika. July-September 2000 issue. Editor Mizanur Rahaman.

*Postmodern Little Magazine. Sahitya Setu magazine. March 2001. Editor Jagabandhu Kundu.

*Achabhuyar Bombachak. Kabitirtha magazine. June 2001. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Postmodernism O Atharvabed. Kalimati magazine. July 2001. Editor Kajal Sen.

*Pratik O Pratikvadi Andolon. Dadhichi magazine. August 2001 issue. Editor Dolly Datta.

*Postmodern Sampadakiya. Kledaja Kusum magazine. September 2001 issue. Editor Pranab Kumar Chattopadhyay.

*Adolf Hitlerer Sakshatkar (translation). Sahitya Suchipatra. November 1999-April 2000.

*Lakshmikanto: Ekjan Sthanik Akshanvyakti. Kobititha. October 2001. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Atlas O periplus. Ekhan Nidagh magazine. Boimela 2001

*Dipak Majumdar: Ani Bani Jani Na. Dahapatra magazine. June-December 2002 issue. Editors Surojit Sen and Kamalkumar Datta.

*Postmodern Brouhaha. Zero Hour. July 2002 issue. Editor Dipankar Datta

*Bhashabadaler Kobita. Kabita Campus magazine.july-December 2002 issue. Editors Alok Biswas and Pranab Pal.

*Aparder Best Seller. Haowa49 magazine.August 2002 issue. Editor Arabinda Pradhan.

*Shankarnath Chakrabartyr Postmodern Pratilekh. Haowa49 magazine. November2002 issue. Editor Samir Roychoudhury.

*Sabuj Mahishasur. Mansai Times magazine. January 2003 issue. Editor Biswadeb Chattopadhyay.

*Apurbamoyeer Micronarrative. Sarvanam magazine. February 2003 issue. Editor Krishna Ghoshal..

*Barin Ghoshaler Panoptocon. Notun Kobita magazine. April-September 2003 issue. Editor Ranjan Moitra.

*Krittibas Thekey Hungry Andolon. Kabitirtha magazine. July 2003 issue. Editor utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Atmaprasanga. Khanan Patrika. October 2003 issue. Editor Sukumar Choudhuri.

*Sabarna Choudhurira Sab Galo Kothyay. Disha Sahitya magazine. Utsab 2003 issue. Editor Anindya Ray.

*Hungry, Angry O Beat Pratisandarbha. Amritalok magazine. November 2003 issue. Editor Samiran Majumdar.

*Diasporic Adhunantikata. Haowa49 magazine. December 2003 issue. Editor Samir Roychoudhury.

*Hungry Andoloner Majagulo. Disha Sahitya. Sharad 2003 issue. Editor Anindya Ray.

*Case History: Ichchakrita Gadya. Madhyabarti magazine. January 2004 issue. Editor Biswarup Dey Sarkar.

*Bishyayan O Pashchim Banglar Samskriti. Padakshep magazine. January 2004 issue. Editor Samir Basu.

*Subimal Basaker Sakshatkar. Anyabhumi magazine. April 2004 issue. Editor Utpal Sarkar.

*Jibanshaili: Ekti Adunantik Abhidha. Dadhichi magazine. April 2004 issue. Editor Dolly Datta.

*Allen Ginsbergkey Amra Kibhabey Probhabito Korechhi.Ekaler Raktakarabi magazine. June 2004 issue. Editor Pradip Bhattachajee.

*Hungry Pratisandarbha. Digangan magazine. Utsab 2004 issue

*Hungry Andoloner Sakshya: Sonar Danter Gathakavya. Ebam magazine. August-October 2004 issue. Editor Dhurjati Chanda..

*Hungry Andolon. Rishra Samachar news-magazine. October 2004 Sharad issue. Editor Dilip Sarkar.

*Rimbaud Rahasya. Kabitirtha magazine. January 2005 issue. Editor Utpal Bhattacharjee.

*Aamar Baba. Sunrito magazine. January 2005 issue. Editor Ahmed Sayem.

*Gyanchoutisha: Ananda O Duhkha. Grafitti magazine. February 2005 issue. Editor Subhankar Das.

*Hungry Andolon. Sharadiya Jugasankha. 2005 issue. Editor Bikash Sarkar.

*Aamar Ma. Kanakodi magazine. January-March 2005 issue. Editor Bishal Bhadra.

*Nikhonj Shashurmashay. Horinahorinir magazine. May 2005 issue. Editor Saswata Sikdar.

*Pratham Adhunika, Rajlakshmi Didikey Chenen? Prabase Nijabhase magazine. January 2008 issue. Editor Mandira Pal.

( For the magazines researchers may visit Little Magazine & Research Centre, 18 M, Tamer Lane, Kolkata 700009.Information relating to availability of books may be ascertained from Avishkar, Bansdroni, Kolkata 700 070, India. Mobile Telephone No: 09830331092. Land line phone No. 91-033-24105132 ).

Saturday, May 3, 2008


Chicken Roast
Puff your plume in anger and fight, cock,
delight the owner of knife
smear sting with pollen and flap your wings.
As I said: Twist the arms and keep them bent
Roll the rug and come down the terrace after disturbed sleep
Shoe boots ….rifle….whirring bullets….shrieks
The aged undertrial in the next cell weeps and wants to go home
Liberate me ... let me go... let me go home.
On its egg in the throne the gallinule doses
Asphyxiate in dark... fight back, cock, die and fight, shout with the dumb.
Glass splinters on tongue….breast muscles quiver
Fishes open their gills and en fog water
A piece of finger wrapped in pink paper
With eyes covered someone wails in the jail house I cant make out if man or woman.
Keep this eyelash on left hand palm…blow off with your breath
Fanout snake-hood in mist .... Cobra’s abdomen shivers in the hiss of femme urination.
Deport to crematorium stuffing blood-oozing nose .....in cotton wool
Shoes brickbats and torn pantaloons en litter the streets
I smear my feet with the wave picked up from a stormy sea
That is the alphabet I drew on for letters.
(Translation of ‘Murgir Roast)1988
Circumcision made me apostate
I thumped thighs and turned Tartar
The king will go and evil eves raped
Just as tutored Nadir Shah
I’d kiss the sword and leap in air
On galloping mare a burning torch
I proceed towards falling outposts
The metropolis burns
A naked priest elopes with Shiva’s phallus.
(Translation of ‘Palta Manush’) 1985
Who claims I am ruined? Since I’M without fangs and claws?
Are they necessary? How do you forget the knife
plunged in abdomen up to the hilt? Green cardamom leaves
for the buck, art of hatred and anger
and of war, gagged and tied Santhal woman pink of lungs shattered
by a restless dagger?
Pride of sword pulled back from heart? I don’t have
Songs or music. Only shrieks, when mouth is opened
Wordless odor of the jungle; corner of kin and sin-sanyas;
didn’t pray for a tongue to take back the groans
power to gnash and bear it, fearless gunpowder bleats:
stupidity is the sole faith---maimed generosity---
I leap on the gambling table, knife in my teeth ...Encircle me
rush in from tea and coffee plateaux
in your gumboots of pleasant wages
The way Jarasandha’s genital is bisected and diamonds glow
Skill of beating up is the only wisdom
In misery I play the burglar’s stick like a flute
Brittle affection of the wax-skin apple
She-ants undress their wings . ....before copulating
I thump my thighs with alternate shrieks: vacate the universe
get out you omni competent
conch shell in scratching monkey-hand
lotus and mace and discus-blade Let there be salt rebellion of your own saline sweat
along the gunpowder let the flint run towards explosion
Marketeers of words daubed in darkness
In the midnight filled with young dog’s grief
In the sick noon of a grasshopper sunk in insecticide
I reappear to exhibit the charm of stiletto.
(Translation of ‘Prastuti’) 1985
I am on mobike Yezdi Yamaha
When flanked by horizon gallop backwards through sand blizzard
tinsel clouds explode at my feet without helmet
and speed-split air at eighty
in midsummer' s moon
each sound-cart recedes
onrushing lorries flee in a flash
no time to brood but Yes
accident expected anytime
may even turn into a junk-heap in a drought-nursed field.
(Translation of ‘Motor Cycle) 1986
Repeat Uhuru
Hood-covered face, hands tied
at the back. On the alter plank
breeze frozen in bitter hangman’s odour
who computes time? Doctor Cop Judge Warden or None?
I unfurl myself in the dungeon cloud
where salt-sweating history of dirt is tamed
the rope quivers fast at first
weak jerks thereafter calm , with dumbness of bowl
wherein birds and butchers repeat their fall
I revive my rise
The rising is singular. Non other than the monster of words
whose feet adore the ruined universe
I don’t face the gallows every time to keep alive
a dynasty of those who are spawned for death.
(Translation of ‘Aarekbar Uhuru’) 1986
I am ready to be mugged O deadly bat come
Tear off my clothes, bomb the walls of my home
Press trigger on my temple and beat up in jail
Push me off a running train, intern and trail
I am a seismic yantra alive to glimpse the nuke clash
A heathen mule spermed by blue-phallus stallion.
(Translation of ‘Monuhyatantra’) 1986
The Light
I get a thud-kick in pitch dark thick on belly and tumble
Hands tied at the back on damp floor shack to humble
Lights flash on face eyes blind in case I spin
Then lights go off a boot or two rough on chin
I feel blood drips and snail down the lips in trickle
The glare blinks on and off and on and off in ripple
A hot metal rod scalds hard breast broad to snip flesh warm
The lights hem in piercing thin a ruthless swarm
Red eyes get shut in blinding rut my vision erode
Final blackout in grisly rout in elliptic node
I prepare my grit to encounter the hit as a fightback code.
(Translation of ‘Aalo’)1985
Classic Fraud
Classic fraud get down from palanquin
I’ve quit the job of a slave
A chopper now seethes from waist up to shin
It’s not a free kitchen to be in the queue with an enamel tin
O virgin money come crisp and rave
Green-frock butterfly in the unemployed’s land
Swoosh and jingle in a parachute. And
Cops keep a watch and censor my letters
Heavenly boss---how long in fetters
I’ll spring up on all fours and snip your neck
Climb the corn shack and wave
Henna-dyed hair on a hay-staired deck. Well!
Classic fraud come down on your own or face hell.
(Translation of ‘Dhrupadi Jochchor’)1986
Regaining consciousness in a trickle
Hands and feet tied and mouth gagged on a railroad track
The silent whole
Shirt and trousers daubed in dew
Whining crickets drone
A rural gloom studded with night-chilled stars
Can’t shout as mouth is wool of spew
Ribs and shinbone smitten---not possible to move
Stiff stone chips bite at back
How beautiful is the world and peace everywhere all round calm
A pinhead light is rushing on the route piercing the one-eyed dark.
(Translation of ‘Pratyaksha’)1986
House Arrest
I kick the door planks and reveal a midnight yell
Whoever’s home I’ll break it open.
Take care of your deity, your woman, gold and slaves
False documents, Henceforth the hearth is mine
Throw off your things on the road when day breaks.
Summer from corn, coconut shadow from doormat,
afternoon clouds from clothes
Affection from jewels and hunger from dinner utensils
Kick them all out through the main entrance as a token.
Not arrested now as there are many more in line.
(Translation of ‘ Baridakhal’) 1986
While returning I’m hemmed in. By six or seven. All
Have weapons. I knew it when I came
Something bad was going to happen. But framed
My mind that first attack would not be from my call.
A mugger holds the shirt-collar and blurts: Want a dame?
Why here? Mama and not in chawl?
I keep my cool, teeth on teeth. Right then a blow on chin
Feel the hot blood lather.
A jerk and I sit down. In my socks I spin.
A stainless knife beams in halogen shadow
Rama inscribed on one side and Kali on other.
The crowd disperses. Power in the name of gods
Not known to all. Why are men jinn
Why don’t they love the lover? The six or seven encircling me
Withdraw mysteriously.
(Translation of ‘ Dotana’) 1986
Uncle Chapter
Hey you Pandava Chap Yudhishthira
Climb down from your multi storied flat and come in the lane
Brihg Krishna Bhima Nakula and other lackeys
Daggers hockey sticks soda water-bottles and iron chains
Tell Draupadi to have a glimpse from the sill
I’m weaponless alone
Dhrishtadumna Duryodhana not with me
I donated my forefinger at your behest when I was young
Your victory-cry will now be ripped open
Unchain the bitch of mahaprasthana and fight me
I’ll fight left-handed yet won’t budge
Call me mugger and call me lumpen
I’ll fall on the footpath with frothing lips
Speeding mules will emboss their hooves on my back
You’ll flay my navel with broken blade
Press cigarette butts on my arse
Bludgeon my ribs with a wool=covered mace
But I’ll show you
I’ll rap my feet on the ground and put a halo around the earth.
(Translation of ‘Meshomashay Parba’)1986

Midnight knock at the pin drop door.
You have to replace a dead undertrial.
Shall I put on a shirt? Gulp a few morsels?
Slip off through the terrace?
Door-planks shatter and wall plaster flakes
Masked men enter and enflank
“What’s the name of that squint-eyed guy
Where’s he hiding?
Speak up, or come with us !”
I choke in terror: Sir, yesterday at sunrise
He was lynched by a mob.
(Translation of ‘Astitwa’) 1985
Throne of the Weevil
O antsucker tongue of the shy mammal
delighted in one-horned matrimony
terrestrial aqua and aerial
host-beast of the smuggler moll
ruminant antelope
earth roamer water-cat the perfumed bitch
ate up the sonorous black hole and established
a slave kingdom in this ditch.
(Translation of ‘Ghunpokar Singhasan’) 1986
From ‘Jakham’
Awning ablaze with toxic fire above me
I lie watching the winged blue of this crawling sky
putting down the crushing anger of my suffering
I cross exam my nocturne doubts
pushing a gramophone needle over the lines of my palm
I scan the prophecy
armature on the left turned slag long ago
now eye flesh twitching in the smoke of malay’s burning skeleton
dismantled tempests sweep by at 99mph
uniform queues of wrist wathched zombies tattle trade cyclic seine
a swinging bat threatened me in this black dungeon
800,000 doorless jamb stare for eternity over the liquid meadow
16 division ravens whirl around my torso for 25 years
my bones reel clutching my raw wounds
my peeled flesh blood
flaying my skin I uncover arrogant frescoes of my trap
ageless sabotage inside the body
patrolling darkness in the hemoglobin
I’m deciding what to do with me now
I’ve inherited emergent vengeance polished for 6000 years
tugging at man’s insensibility scraping old plaster of my skin
fingernails look magnanimous after the meal
people are returning home on tortoise back
failing to search out my heart in my body
man training man the fair-spoken codes of war & hospitality
gathering fallen limbs from the torso we’ve to retreat to
I lie lazily closing both eyelids wrapped in sun flakes
coked reeks conspiring in my veins turned loose
from the vapour of brain’s angry kernel
technicoloured nitrocellulose oozes over dreamlined retina
letters of sympathy heaped against half closed futureless door
my black muscles rust
equally true corpses of geniuses & fool... slime simultaneously into earth
each woman is waiting with a conversion chart in her desolate womb
Gandhi & Attila’s equichemical blood
streams through my same veins
nothing happens to me... nothing will happen to this earth either
neither could I practice usury like the rest of mankind
nor shoot dice made of human bones
seeds floating in air try to slouch roots
into my unfertile sweatbeads
I dreamt of my failure in Bumghang’s apple orchard
I couldn’t choose the luxurious comfort of an insect
sleeping in the cushioned kitchen of a corn’s kernel
I’ve been spitting inside my body for the last 25 years
scraping off from mirror’s knave mercury self-savior imprints of my violent face
each & all having a certificate from the burning-ghat doctor
for their performance of duty until last breath
2000 hounds released from out of my skull
haunting me for 25yrs
sniffing the alleys trod by women I advance toward their
amateur abode
my heart-lump split open in terror
when I looked at footprints on dark pavement
sounds of dripping sand have evoked my skin pores
my spine burnt smoke billow through chimneys of skin
ants drag flesh copses through moth made clay veins
damn barefoot amid sea gulf I proceed
to sullen den of vultures
I’ve experienced magic simultaneously of food
concealing envious tints of blood & pus
perverse sugarcane brain sucks
liquid philanthropic dirt out of earth
my Dirt my Love my Blood
clouds drift by like pieces of discarded bloodseained cloth
I now recall Bluegirl’s sick left tit….
Vibrating with heart’s feeble flutter
Life’s whacklings are to be endured until death
with a dumb tongue
a blazing mantle hangs in place of my heart machine
plus-minus signs and compasses with broken needles
stream through my arteries
rifle’s dazzling nozzle & diesel-roller sleep
in iron-ore of earth
and stored deep down in zink’s brain
newspapers’ Yes & newspaper’s No
my feet do not realize
I’m controlling their speed & direction
I’m not sure if I’ll have to become unworldly
paying excise with an untransferable woman
I gloomed all through the winter forging my own signature
was born not wanting to be born
now without unlacing my shoes
I want to plunge into the glow less dark
everybody is making arrangements for Tomorrow
shoes are having sympathetic polish this evening
only for Tomorrow
yet even circular roads get hold of man’s legs
one day or the other
lusting for limbs 303 greased cartouches
stashed in new pineboxes rush up to frontiers of countries
2510 years after Buddha sprawled on Gandhi-lawn
model-’65 leftover shoes & umbrellas of cop & non-cop clashes
in the warehouse of cocaine & counterfeit money
Indian & Chinese citizens mirth together in ecstasy
I had lifted a 5-paise coin from a blind beggar’s palm
I had looted benevolent money of hearse-corpses
Out of parched groin
crossed death-panic on a boat not knowing how to swim
I may be censored I can not be disregarded
(Translation of ‘Jakham’)1965

Stark Electric Jesus
Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die
My skin is in blazing furore
I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick
I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha
Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon
In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain
The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted
I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex
I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace
Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart
Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness
other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton
I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass
But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well
I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss
I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse
In to the sun-coloured bladder
I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me
I'll destroy and shatter everything
draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger
Shubha will have to be given
Oh Malay
Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today
But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self
My power of recollection is withering away
Let me ascend alone toward death
I haven't had to learn copulation and dying
I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops
after urination
Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness
Have not had to learn the usage of French leather
while lying on Nandita's bosom
Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's
fresh China-rose matrix
Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm
I am failing to understand why I still want to live
I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors
I'll have to do something different and new
Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of
Shubha's bosom
I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born
I want to see my own death before passing away
The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury
Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your
violent silvery uterus
Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace
Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream
Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm
Would I have been like this if I had different parents?
Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm?
Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father?
Would I have made a professional gentleman of me
like my dead brother without Shubha?
Oh, answer, let somebody answer these
Shubha, ah Shubha
Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen
Come back on the green mattress again
As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance
I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956
The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished
with coon at that time
Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom
Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect
I do not know whether I am going to die
Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience
I'll disrupt and destroy
I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art
There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide
Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora
In to the absurdity of woeless effort
In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart
Why wasn't I lost in my mother's urethra?
Why wasn't I driven away in my father's urine after his self-coition?
Why wasn't I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm?
With her eyes shut supine beneath me
I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize Shubha
Women could be treacherous even after unfolding a helpless appearance
Today it seems there is nothing so treacherous as Woman & Aet
Now my ferocious heart is running towards an impossible death
Vertigoes of water are coming up to my neck from the pierced earth
I will die
Oh what are these happenings within me
I am failing to fetch out my hand and my palm
From the dried sperms on my trousers spreading wings
300000 children gliding toward the district of Shubha's bosom
Millions of needles are now running from my blood in to Poetry
Now the smuggling of my obstinate legs are trying to plunge
Into the death-killer sex-wig entangled in the hypnotic kingdom of words
Fitting violent mirrors on each wall of the room I am observing
After letting loose a few naked Malay, his unestablished scramblings.
( Translation of Prachanda Baidyutik Chhutar )