Akbar Hosain
Overhead is circling a ceiling fan
with a regular tempo
peacefully, comfortably…
My book on the shelf
neatly nestled
by the topic of area
thoughts, feelings and dreams
captured in the form of the black letters and words
doze off in slumberous mood
A glass full of water
kept on the table in case of need
at dead of night
My mosquito net above
shelters me well from those blood-sucking creatures
i listen their raucous struggle
to get inside and get their hunger satisfied
My little daughter sleeps so soundly
beside her caring father
her regular breathing:
the rise and fall of her chest
almost reminds me
of a time when a solitary cowboy sitting on the paddy fields
keenly watching the ebb-and-flow of the paddy-heads
and counting grasshoppers one by one
and then eagerly listening to the coo-coo of the shy spring bird
streaming from a nearby bush
My bed feels so soft and comfy
Once the tired head reclines upon the pillow
One is overcome by sleep and dream
The room is semi-dark
Street bulbs sending some of their benign light into my chamber
Wide awake, I am surveying all around
Night is always mysterious to me
Just the rotation of time, of heavenly bodies
Transforms my world of senses
A drab picture is changed into a heaven
Ah, heaven!
with the blink of an eye
the glass falls down splintering into pieces
The mosquito net flies away somewhere
exposing me to the greedy blood-suckers
books on the shelves tumble down
The ceiling fan gets loose of its nut and bolts
and crushes upon us
My daughter, my daughter!
her little heart beats slow…slower till it stops
Far, far from her in the paddy field
the lonesome cowboy lied: low, lacerated
and still as lead.