blackmail press 31  Marginalization
Basanta Kumar Kar

Marginalization - Pauline Canlas Wu
Basanta Kumar Kar A widely published poet, Mr. Basanta Kumar Kar is the author of three collections of poems, The Naïve Bird, The Silent Monsoon and The Unfold Pinnacle (pre-published). Mr. Kar’s vision is well recognized and he has the reputation of working in various development organizations. Currently he holds a senior management position in an international development organization. He lives in Dhaka, Bangladesh.Contact:


I stretch out of my dwelling
in an alien land in the inside of it
my first step enjoins me with injustice;
child labourer with shattered dreams
scrambling dogs barking in glory
vultures enjoin dead carcasses
midnight evacuators push many more to margin
I associate with bindings of grief.
High risk unsafe sex practices
a new means of employment
I too add new faces to it
get least from last,
counts in blood decides the fate
sick and worn out as curse,
I return home to submerge
in the mighty weight of teardrop.
save five thousand rupees a paltry sum
reserved for a healer.
Lost in the wilderness
the alien land shows me in no way
the leaves of the mango tree laugh
ironies of bees hum follow
butterflies dazzling the show of colors
I fence myself by careful steps
at last comes my tiny habitat, never mapped in atlas
surpasses the Gateway of India.
I am yet to a wake from the past
clouds may have assembled outside,
as I see spark of light entwined
with sounds they never mind to unite
a heavy downpour I anticipate
is underway for me to unfold
I take out a task from the past
a piece of my canvas for a wash
and elate my new being a new status.
(A twenty five year old Other Backward Caste (OBC) woman from Tendudairon, Bilaigarh, Raipur, Chhattisgarh, India)


On his last human day
he put his head on my lap and sighed,
I nurtured, kissed, hugged,
cuddled every inch of his gape
he took his last human breath.
in an alien soil to identify my roots
I planted a tulsi tree in his souvenir
bordering the fence I stepped out
an intruder backs to the native
in my concrete roof, I painted the red soil
the walls of my heart to it loudly laugh.
I stretch, take a turn and twist as opaque
cuddle everything that comes on my way
think many more mothers have such fate
plighted with this recession since birth
or perhaps prior when my soul was cast
my habitat my place of earth had this nest.
(A twenty five year old Schedule Tribe woman from Sili Block (bordering to West Bengal), Ranchi, Jharkhand, India. She lost her boy child during migration)
[Tulsi – is an auspicious plant]