Tridib Mitra, when he wrote the poem



A Case of Murder

I am slipping out of life into traps of life again again

death is desperately desperately deceiving me

four tigers and three wild boars

keep on fighting in opaque moonlight

from my false tongue the challenge of truth

burn children of men

their wails make my ears dumb

my tongue rises up to the seventh floor

I did cry when my lover was suffering

my  epiglottis starts drying up when I kiss her

from the damp wet darkness around me

I am unable to make out whether I am Jesus Christ or a monster

restaurants are crowded with women

today nobody is able to find out a straight road to walk on

all roads keep on prostrating

all dusty storms seek refuge beneath the doormat

within all lives meaningless zeroes snuggle in quivering fear

aah fucking death-fucker death

scared of me unnatural death is as well scurrying out of fear

because I have understood the asphyxiating posture of death

because I had approached death with a simple man’s gaze

she closed her eyes because of fear

cried with her blind eyes head cowered down

and had to come back to my chaotic eyes in lonely sunlight

I am unable to conceal me from myself

dear love you smiled at my impotency

lying between fear and love you went back to your fear

just to live on you came back into my brain

I got thrown out into brain’s chaos from geometric calculations

hated civility and sought refuge in machinations of civilization

from acidity my anger was spawned

I flung myself into infinity from wrong social consciousness

daily three billion kisses through the telephone

running to and fro the world over

74 billion houseflies take wings from the railway wire

countless traps around my body

I scatter myself in life among humans

tried some tricks

I am unable to segregate your love from your deceiet

I am brooding over our first exchange of curses

I am brooding over our first kiss

my divine light is my darkness

all around me humiliation and trickery keep on being enacted

by human beings

humans never loved each other

from the roof of skyscrapers corpses with hearts keep on falling falling

I can make out how necessity is creeping up to the sky

I am unable to remember my religion as I never understood it

permanent and temporary wars go on among humans

wings of scented flowers take flight from the dusts of my ribs

from alcoholic blood foam stinky sharp love starts emanating

from love I gradually start floating in to body-less existence

my beloved’s violet face rage in sought after glows

I pour my present status in to unnecessary paper troves

poetry squeezes my life span from my being

humans are creating their dirty tricks from my love flesh and blood

for bringing back sick love

alas you too with human machines

from my warmth I created the feathers of roses

from commercial production you gathered a fistful of deceit

threw fire balls at me

I giggled like a baby

my existence was on fire

my anger covered the sky

nobody is able to shake hands with freedom


a deep crater is gnawing big between me and everybody else

I know I would not be able to contribute

could not even love my own self as one would love to

I get tired of this one single life

at the same time I am either laughing or I am not laughing

oh tiredness tiredness untiring buzzing circular tunnels


101% humans spend their life just by carrying other people’s loads

soul searches result into naught

revolution-rage-women-struggle-terror-wild-silence dances

I am unable to look back at me even once

could not serve humanity till today

I am lying down with nausea eyes in my unusable stupor

secret warfare is going on inside brain’s brew

my salivated love or my helplessness ooze out of my lips

mountains of shredded bloody human heaps keep on growing

helpless freedom

creep over skinny  human body around human beingness

innumerable chaotic discipline

oh I never wanted to love


ribcage break open in suppresses terror

engines of anger within

wildness mushrooming in the rage of blood

Subo Acharya had placed his salute at the feet of nonexistent soul

after three months of heinous silence Pradip Choudhuri squeezed himself in awe

I have mistaken human braveness and doubted

lived with wrong people and learned wrong things

I have volunteered to become a fool

with the low tide slyness and idiocy cover the entire darkness

Tridib himself has failed to recognize Tridib’s face quite so often

really I am unable to locate my clear truthful face

“humans do not have their own character”, cried out loud

352 billion humans what to talk of tradition and domesticated debauchery

oh unbearable pain

who are they throttling the neck


they even are not aware of….

[ Translation by author of Hatyakando written originally in Bengali ]

( Written at Howrah, Shibpur home in 1963 and published in Malay Roychoudhury edited Zebra magazine during Hungry Generation movement )