Three people, Their religions, and a bountiful agony

Kallol Mazumdar
4 min readFeb 16


A faith crisis of sorts

Credits: Chidioc, Pixabay

I am trapped in the cycle of birth and rebirth

See the stars today, is there a fate existing in faith

Of all the people that passed by me, I never felt close to my gut

Faces coming in and out, freezing the frame, yet distant

The nocturnal humming sound of chatter and cacophony isn’t taming

Of brutality and destruction happening as the humans start foraging

If at all, I do not like my kin, my people, and my brethren

Am I weird and rootless for being indifferent

So, many of my roots I feel are defiled in soil, of close projections, of endless chirping

To say everyone is the same, yet someone is not similar

Of broken by patriarchy and refluxed with echelons

Of trying to use women as a shield to keep them at the center for men to gaze

If not the wounds were mine, for the ownership is mine, and let her burn

To die, detach and turn

To hostess or fodder turned into ash.

Of these confusions and intense ramifications, I want to be rootless and

Fly to be a bird again of no origins, of no center

Just flying till the breath lasts.

Credits: Prabhala Raghuvir, Pexels

God forced me to bow down

The winds brush my hair

As the towering, divine protractor gives his declared verdicts

On who to pray and not to pray

Me sitting on my feet with my hands extended vertically

And a rush of shrieks envelope cataclysmically came to my conscience

For the protractor wanted to deduce the right God

The mistrusted and belittled naysayers had already assumed for that God to forcefully bow down

I don’t want to bow down, I imagine my God to be kind

His moorings and glaring presence require love

An unconditional love of wishing everyone everything

I don’t want to torture myself to be on the trajectory of, ‘my way or highway’

For all ways can cross into small lanes and I know for a fact that my little heart loves the almighty,

For all the good things I have done, I did it with a pure heart and took the primordial force’s blessings.

And he accepted me for who I am, and I became genderless for him

In either of the extremes, he the almighty can be she too, for he is neutered into nature and not man-made stories

And he shared with me the immense satisfaction to be able to be accepting

Of the cared and not cared, all he cared for me was to be sure that I could never do wrong willingly.

I do me, and you do you

Every morning, I wake up with my eyes closed

To glare at one book, being purist in its writing

To guide and share my sorrows, to ask for pure kindness

To be loyal to the greater force of the mankind

As times spin in the yarn in the holy hall from the shifting perspective of tinted glass

Of all glassed with many colors but only one to see

For my peers, I always am a misnomer, not a prodigy but a different creature

Of I read one book more than I can ever imagine. I have put my complete trust in the universe.

Of the maximal creation that I and they are part of

If at all you can be ignorant, my blessings will always be with you.

I realized and yet I inch my heart to experience fruitful love,

For if the heart is happy, all the truths vanish

And a sublime enchanting silence exists

Credits: Rodolfo Clix, Pexels

Thanks a lot for stopping by and scrolling a read, I hope you liked it. For more poems, you can read some of my other writeups!

Self-Love on Valentine’s Day: My tryst with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

Coming out of the shell: shooting your soul out of your body

Prose Poetry: Tracking the Devil and Seizing It