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You can put any colour on me

whichever you resemble most

red , yellow , green

and I will eat them all like a Sunday lunch .

Yes , I am famished

I am black .


There is a fire in my hue ,

it consumes everything

as all your colours sink into my abyss

to become a part of me

to become black.


Nothing can over write me , my friend

I absorb all mistakes

all wounds , all pain .

sweetly , like the shadow of death

giving back nothing in return .

Except the sense of falling asleep

as you close your eyes to all other colours

 allowing me to overwhelm you .

as I spread like a blanket

to cover your naked soul .


Yes , I am the father of time

the father of that prodigal son

who would stop at nothing ,

nothing to run away from me

going on and on .

But let him run , while he is young

for something tells me , he will come back

come back to me and finish his circle

thereby  uniting  the world’s torn ends

fire and water , land and sky

uniting even the sun and the moon ,

 the star-crossed  lovers .

he will come back to me ,  he will

all in a good time .


No one can pierce my heart

not a sword , not a bullet

not even a word

for all are lost

inside my limitless existence

which stretches to the land of beyond.


I am the beginning and end of all revolutions

all are same , in my eyes comrade

I burn all differences

I burn anyone who dares to come in my way

I burn them to my colour

I burn them black .


Yes , I am black

but I have no darkness.

I have always lived with my head held high .

 truth , my only friend , stood beside me

shoulder to shoulder

always .

But the world and it’s truths

they shaved his head & tied his hands

and sent him in exile

to an unknown land ,

a land , even I know nothing about .


There is no one I am afraid of

nothing can enslave me

all great victories , all great defeats

dissolve into me .

I am the origin of all

all that ever was , is and will be .


Yet , I have no one to talk to

no one to show that my heart is not black

and is certainly not a void

from which no one ever returns .


Yes , I am black , I am absolute

both in power and in sorrow , absolute

so is white ,

a fugitive from the savage land

where truth is exiled .

Together we both revolt ,

revolt against the world getting

divided like the human heart

slowly , into black and white squares .


some chased us away , some burned our house

often yelling , that our union had given birth to ash ,

the grey area of life .


We smile and retire .

Both aware ,

that in our union

was a war , left undone .

                                                                                                                      Arijit Roy

                                                                                  (Poem and photograph)





learning to fly like those angels did a long time ago ...

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