Pandemic by Shaswata Gangopadhyay
Bengali poet Shaswata Gangapadhyay writes of the economic despair created by pandemic policy.
In the genitals of a prostitute
If the spider weaves a net
You have to understand
The country’s GDP growth rate is less than 3%
Unemployment is increasing day by day
If a saint burns
Incense in the crematorium
And then read pornography
Taking out of his bag
You have to understand
In next 1 year
There will not be a single drop of rain here
If a drunkard leaves the tavern
Run with a sigh in the middle of the night
If his shadows even can’t chase him
Then you have to understand
In next 7 days
From fingers to fingers, from lips to lips
The deadly virus will spread rapidly
The mask that is worn
All the time will get stuck on the face
And cannot be opened by dragging
Translated from Bengali to English by Rajdeep Mukherjee
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