BIPLAB MAJEE
(West Bengal)


 

Biplab Majee was born on  30 May 1947. His first poem was published in Parichaya (When Poet Subhas Mukherjee was editorof this monthly Bengali magazine) in 1967. So far 10 books of poem, 16 books of prose and 5 books on translation, 5 books of Children have been published in Bengali and a book Love Poems and Others 2005 in English translation. At present special interest on Post Modernism. Was a delegate in 4th Afro-Asian Writers’ Conference held in New Delhi, 1970. Bacherlor of Science from the University of Calcutta in 1971. Got Teachers’ Training Diploma in Russian Language from Moscow State University in 1976-1977.  Winner of Lenin Award from Moscow State University in 1977 and won an award for International Political Songs held in Moscow State University in 1977.  Revisited Moscow in 1984 to participate in an International Russian Language Seminar for one and a half months. Edited and published Samay Sarani, a Literary and Cultural Magazine since 1981 to 2000.  Edited Cine News, a Monthly bulletin of Midnapore Film Society more than 6 years and Pratibimba, an yearly magazine for more than 6 years. A columnist in local daily news paper Dainik Upatyaka.  Contributor of articles and poems in number of Journals and Magazines in West Bengal and Bangladesh.  Director, PRAKASHANA, a publishing house since 1984. Consulting editor of Who’s Who of American Biographical Institute and Honorary Re search Board Advisor of American Biogrphical Institure, USA. Vice President of International Bengali Poetry Festical, Kolkata and Vice President of Haldia International Bengali Poetry Festical, Haldia, District Purba Midnapore, WB in 2005 and 2006. Director, Medinipur Institute of Literature and Science, Midnapore 721101. Editor, Chalachittra Barta (Monthly Cine News), Midnapore Film Society, Midnapore from 2002 to 2006.
Address :  Biplab Majee, R-19 Dakbungalow Road, Midnapore, 721101, WB,India, Ph.no.03222-652570/ Mob.no.9434416371/ email: mbiplab@rediffmail.com

 

 Poems by
 
BIPLAB MAJEE

  Eskimo Love

The candle looks like

an Eskimo with a light in his hand
The cold waves of Antrtica
roll down like the sledge
through this Suburban town

Still now
the love is like the cold light

every one waiting inside the Igloo
lighting the lamp with the fat
when does love arrive ?

Deconstruction

By the side of the river
there is a small hut
the place under the tree
is a lively media centre.
Electronic media could not invade
this place
So the serenity of this place
is that of a quite picture

Lo! those small tea shops
are the altar of rural culture
Bengali language is now covered by an ant hill
The madding wind of the river could
deconstruct Foucault, Derrida
 

Grief

Grief does not turn into stones only
it becomes sky too
How much grief have you experienced ?

A river turns into stone
within the memory

Where from you have
brought such stones of
grief.
The stones assemble together
form hills of grief gradually

this hill overflows the sky

How much pain have you
experienced ?

Indian

This morning is like a cup of
lemon tea.
After having a sip
your dravidian lips
tremble
A hybrid successor was born
of a careless
union of these Aryan & Dravidian
And breaking atom
innumerable Men women were born
who are the Indians of to day

The egg of Atom

Inside an atom Bomb
Mr. Bush is an electron
whereas Mr. Blair is a Proton
Thus formed a nucleus

In this same nucleus
Another seven electrons namely seven ‘G’
are moving round the orbit
Putin as a companion.

In the global village
All these people together lay the
egg of Atom bomb

And a single bomb produces another one
like a Matriashka doll
Not a single multi national Company
gets the right to do its business
with that of these bombs
of course they need approval from
Mr. Bush.

The works of Shakespeare in the Post modern era

In this world of SMS
Everyday there born Hamlet-Ophelia and Romeo-Juliet
as if in Swan lake of Chikovosky
The baby dancers of ninteen-twenty years
rises up from the flyover to the advertisements of Corporate houses
Ignoring the ground reality
They are thinking that
fie to these caste system-upper low racism
But the world is still remain in the days of Manu and Nazi
The dinosaour administration awakes the song of the death in the Swan lake
Everyday there fall down in the lap of the death
the song of love, Hamlet, the dancers of belly
Rizwanur and Priyanka-
The electronic and Print media
taking them together
compose the works of Shakespeare.

If you want

If you want-
you can hold the whole world in your palm
with a cup of tea
You can fly in the advertisement of multinational corporate house
like a thousand dollar butterfly
The fly-overs are there for you
The golden quadrant roads are only for you too
The vedic village is there for you
When you will fly on the fly-over
Beneath you there is the below poverty line
Below you there is the sticky and dirty world of the starved people
The dalit and marginal people are there below you - those who are uprooted
from their own land by the state-violence
Those who dream to live for one more day
with a cup of tea.

Translated by Nandita Bhattacharya