Two Poems by Moumita Alam


Death of A River


there was a river

on my valley

the name was Teesta or Bipasha or Narmada or Lahwal or Brahmaputra or Yamuna or

may be Kumlai which washed the birth – blood of my mother’s womb

after i was born

then one day some people came with big bridge, giant flyovers

the river of my town

or your valley

was throttled

they chained the flow

killed the river

and polluted our memories

for life

then some looters came

promised us mineral water

robbed our water and

our history

now we are neck deep into mud

wobbling in slime

drinking poison

buying bottles

history has been stopped flowing

they have strangled existence.




10th April, Sitalkuchi


All I can hear are gunshots





The laps of mothers are drenched

in blood

all red from five bodies

the bodies were names few seconds away

now they are numbers

that the netas count

in their own ways

four – five – one – non existent

the new number will soon be followed

the old ones will get lost

in their opportunistic memories

the forty five day old girl

the nine months pregnant wife

the mothers

will always hang around the time

of those





Their nightmares, their dreams

all got mingled

in that stagnant unalterable time of


boom – bang – shock.


Moumita Alam

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