On the Fallen Leaves
It is about a daily evening picture of our town's Barrack Square. This way, the sun mellows, the day wanes, and evening appears.
Poetry
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Call Me Abu Siddik
It is an assertion of my identity, of my birth and upbringing, of my family and culture, of my dream and desire.
Betrayers of Indian Muslims
A poem on the deceits Indian Muslims suffer from their good neighbours, friends, godi media, poor leaders and average intellectuals
New Year Celebration
A poem on the fear and betrayal of Indian Muslims who live only to be killed in riots or to be lynched with the support of the state.
A Tribal Mother
A poem on the the struggle and resilience of a tea tribal mother of Dooars, depicting the poverty and illness of her daily existence.
Jute Planters
A poem on the hope and hopelessness of jute planters of Bengal, depicting dreams and nightmares of the Bengal peasantry in general.
Lynch the ways of the ‘others’
Madrasas are waiting for coming flames,
For they are terrorist hubs
Medical schools are not required,
For they presage our age-old ways of healing
Murshidabadi Masons
And when I closely look at him,
His sweaty, sculptured face delights me,
A cheaply designed t-shirt, hands full of lines,
Face marked with pangs of leaving home,