Dhaka Poem by Suman Pokhrel

I found no way to understand
whether Dhaka looks
by fixing its eyes in the glittering windows of buildings
risen on the ground of poverty,
at the self-respect and rights
of the hands begging on footpaths below,
or
looks up at the sky placing eyes
upon the rugs of the dreams of children
of shanty towns
to peer through torn roofs
at desires like stars and moon.


I did not know
whether Dhaka finds its presence
inside the torn shirt of an old man
lying exhausted
caught in stampede
of agitating labourers' rally
or
finds itself engulfed
by unparalleled architectural design
inside the parliament house
drowned in reasoning, resistance and philosophies.

What was wafting in the smoke of burning tires?
where had time
caught in the traffic jam
not reaching?

I could not understand
what more disorders was the street
spreading everywhere
busily carrying the familiar and unfamiliar
chaotic footsteps
waiting to welcome?

Whose visits were the shops
that see the faces of people who come near
only as paper currencies of various denominations
prepared to reject?

What was the lamppost giving light
to a street child sleeping under it
contemplating all night?
I could not know.

Where were the convoys of motors rushing
at a blind speed in the evening
when the so-called begging children
by stretching their palms more tender than flowers
were selling the future of this world
for the price of their childhood?
in what happiness of festivity
was the flag on the motor fluttering?
Could not understand.

Perhaps I should have asked somebody
who from the crowd of fifteen million
could have answered my questions.

But I didn't ask.
I had no way of knowing
even after looking for long hours
standing on the fringe
which way was Dhaka going?

Consoled myself only by guessing.

He too was staring
without recognising his own face,
was trying to go everywhere
standing on a bog,
standing on contradictions,
he was indecisive about going anywhere.

His destiny too
was exactly like that of Kathmandu.
.......................
© Suman Pokhrel