To go to the forest: Shakti Chattopadhyay

There’s no fixed day or time to visit the forest
You can go to the jungle whenever you like
Whether to pick leaves or to swing an axe
There’s always a generous invitation to the forest
Have you ever walked with the moon in the forest?
Have you seen it sliced by a saw of leaves?
Like a football the moon is poised over the hill
Waiting for the late night game and the war cries
At all these moments you can visit the forest

Abani, are you home: by Shakti Chattopadhyay

Bolted doors, the neighbourhood sleeps still
All I hear is the knocking of the night
Abani, are you home?

Here it rains all the year round
Like grazing herds the clouds here drift
These green blades of grass
Look askance as they choke my door
My heart near-suffused with ache,
Is bound for far away. I fall asleep
To hear the knocking of the night

Abani, are you home?