Raindrops

Monsoon breeds rainy eves
Outside I hear, raindrops scream
Like lovers with fiery passion
With almost a violent motion
They rush to kiss the earth.
Their watery bodies
Shaped like exclamation marks
Strike the ground.

There’s no other sound
I’d rather listen to.
Oh how I enjoy
To drown my thoughts
More often than not
With steady noise.

Hit me with the rain
Do away with words
I’m so tired of your questions
Knocking on my door
Over and over again
Drench me in rain!

My murky mind is paused
Oh, I am so lost.

Music

Stop the goddamn music
Just stop it.
No I don’t want to dance
My body rejects your happy beats
The lyrics don’t talk to me
Who are they made for?

My ears have been fed with generic
Western music
Bollywood
Bengali songs
And every time you play a song
My linguistic identities change.
Who the fuck am I?
In what language do I love?
Or exist?

English is too formal
A dress which I once borrowed for a day
And never returned.
Hindi is an ornament I bought for myself
Only worn on special occasions.
Bengali? It was always with me
Restricted reach, taken for granted
Nothing too special.

I’m sorry
It’s not your fault that
My ears are repulsed
By every tongue I know
Since I know not which one is mine.

They say
Learn the language of love
What the fuck is that, pray?
I’m sorry I’m angry
At myself, really
Confusion is choking me
That’s the only sound I hear.

Did you put on another song?

Thanks for holding my hand.
I used to be bored by instrumentals,
I never knew
That’s how music truly speaks.
Perhaps,
I don’t need a language anymore.