The Sociology Of Letter

Letters

Are not only letters

The red blood flown out

Of my mother's

Terribly cracked feet

Climbs up and down penning letters

Farmers plough letters on the barren earth

And grow with love young dreams like their offspring,

If heard anywhere

The twanging sounds,

Don't get frightened,

While forging a weapon in the anvil,

The letters written by sweat in the seedling-bed of fire

Will have been singing the national anthem.

Little children read out letters on dusts

And scribble the future taller than their height,

The poor heats letters upon the oven of hunger

And drinks them up with the salty tears of scarcity,

The youth gets to the airport having letters

And folding letters savingly in heart

Disappears from eyes,

As disappears-

The geography from the border every day.

Upto this extent that

A rural young lady moves to a city with a hood

The hour forwarding to dusk,

When the urban civilization starts darkening

The young lady goes out with the red lipstick

In the dark alleys

While going out takes with her-

Full of a typical wallet sewn carefully with the thread of desire

The delicate dream like the chicken

While coming back-

She comes back having carried a heavy load of raped desires.

In the sociology of letters

The letter is the most magical garden.

Letters-

Paint the lips of young children with gathered merriment

Teach the hanging bunches of paddy in the flat field to smile

And teach to search pieces of rice of happiness in the yard of grief

Having lost the destiny,

lead the foreheads trying to find destiny to the destination,

Even after knowing that

They will never come back in any future,

Thinking of the war-lost kinsmen,

Who's holding on black and white photo in hand,

Teach the kinsman to live on.

In the sociology of letters

The letter is the most dreadful demon as well.

Why- are being erased

The letters written with blood and sweat from pages?

Why- haven't the songs of the new era been tuned up?

Why- are daughters being frequently raped?

Why- isn't the several generation old loan-account erased from the debenture?

Why- does the wind blow with sole sour odour?

Why- is our settlement always eclipsed ?

Why- aren't nowadays seen in villages

The youth with the Che Guevara photo T-shirt on their chest

And seen only the asthmatic elderly?

When holding the letter- the government attacks on the state

While holding the letter- law rules over the poor

While holding the letter- the country leaves for abroad

Then The letter becomes the most dangerous.

However,

In the society of letters, when enters holding letters-

The poor

The farmer

The helpless

The inflicted,

Then is erased- the philosophy of slavery

Destroyed- the economics of exploitation

Washed off- the chemistry of destruction

And constructed- the beautiful anthropology of all time.

Then will bloom the rhododendron of gratification on every people's face

The sun will spill light over huts tearing up his chest

The youth feet will stand upright as pillars in the border

The sun and moon of freedom will flutter bearing an era

Letters

Are not only letters

But are the intact mirror of time.

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