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Winning poems from 1st Migrant Workers Poetry Competition

SINGAPORE — On Sunday, the first ever Migrant Workers Poetry Competition wrapped up at the National Library, with 36-year-old construction supervisor and freelance journo Zakir Hussain Khokhon from Bangladesh bagging the top prize with his poem Pocket 2, which beat nine other shortlisted poems (from 80 submissions).

Bangladeshi shipyard worker Rajib Shil Jibon (in maroon t-shirt) reading one of his poems to fellow poetry enthusiasts at Dibashram, a drop-in centre for migrant workers in Little India. TODAY file photo

Bangladeshi shipyard worker Rajib Shil Jibon (in maroon t-shirt) reading one of his poems to fellow poetry enthusiasts at Dibashram, a drop-in centre for migrant workers in Little India. TODAY file photo

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SINGAPORE — On Sunday, the first ever Migrant Workers Poetry Competition wrapped up at the National Library, with 36-year-old construction supervisor and freelance journo Zakir Hussain Khokhon from Bangladesh bagging the top prize with his poem Pocket 2, which beat nine other shortlisted poems (from 80 submissions).

Coming up in second and third place were Rajib Shil Jibon’s Shades Of Light And Dark and N Rengarajan’s Lessons From Circumstances. The former, who was born in Bangladesh, works in a shipyard while the latter, who came from Tamil Nadu, India, works in construction. And all three have got their literary game on — they’re all award-winning, published poets (like many of the other shortlisted ones). Woot.

The judges for the final round were Kirpal Singh, Shobina Suja and Alvin Pang, while the preliminary round also had Pampa Ghosh and Gopika Jadeja.

Not all of us were able to drop by the event but don’t worry, organiser Shivaji Das, who’s a volunteer with Transient Workers Count Too (TWC2), has kindly agreed to let us publish the winning pieces (with permission from the poets, of course).

Do note that these are the English translations of the poems. The submissions in Bengali were translated by Gopika Jadeja with Debabrata Basu, Shivaji Das and Souradip Bhattacharya. The Tamil poems were translated by Krishna Udayshankar and Gopika Jadeja with Shobhana Udayshankar and Vinod Krishnan.

By the way, this is just a teaser. Organisers plan to upload the rest of the poems and a bit more info here (http://www.singaporeworkerpoetry.com/). British poet Georges Szirtes also has an account of the event on his blog here (http://georgeszirtes.blogspot.sg/). There are also rough plans of publishing an anthology and Shivaji is also thinking of doing the same event for Malaysia and Korea. Nice.

Here’s to seeing more of this wonderful initiative. Alvin described Sunday’s event as “comfortably one of the best readings I’ve attended all year... including the Singapore Writers Fest gigs.” And speaking of SWF, he’s also crossing his fingers that the poets take part at next year’s edition. Hear hear.

 

***

POCKET 2

Still in the same world, we belong to different spheres
You on that side and me on this:
we can do nothing but remember each other
The memories of you and me hang like posters
on the wall of the Ekushe bookfair
at the doil field, under the shade of the bakul tree at Charukala
at Hakim square, in the hoodless rickshaw
at the florists of Shahbag, at the open field of TSC
on the water of Ramana lake
in a night of shades and lights
on our bed of love

I remember when I returned this time
my heart dissolved in your tears
The pocket of my shirt was wet
Reaching the end of my memories
I wear that shirt every night
and write love poems to you
Do I really write poems
Or do my poems cry with me?

(Zakir Hussain Khokhon)

***

SHADES OF LIGHT AND DARK

Maybe I feel something.
A soft heart or a gentle breeze, a sensation
Maybe a night of wakefulness
Shades of light and dark floating in the moonlight

Maybe I am waiting for someone, and someone for me.
Maybe one evening, a garden of clouds would desire me,
only me. In a warm magpie forest,
constellations whisper.

Maybe I am losing myself in a dream
Maybe a generous shade lulls me to sleep in broad daylight
And the vortex of sand and water pulls me in.

Maybe I am waiting at the gates of a kingdom.
Perhaps a bird, a strand of grass hides in my world
The breeze from the sails of the horizon
raising the rhythm through the calm nocturnal sea.

Maybe I will see a kite looking for its string
A paused rain drop, a search
waiting in front of me
Magic has spread a mountain of illusions
calling us by waving discarded feathers

Maybe I will step into the rumblings of a forest
A leaf, a summer, surrounded by the golden sun
on a field full of harvest
A lonely elusive call losing faith and closing its fists.

Maybe I am waiting for a moment
An impression, a smell or an empty house
A feeling of silent tiredness
Walking down the path of prose that excites my soul.

(Rajeeb Shil Jibon)

***

LESSONS FROM CIRCUMSTANCE

Dowry

O Firefly!
Have you also engaged
your daughter to be wed?
Does the fear of dowry
burn in your belly too as fire?

Mother

When
I fell, not knowing how to walk,
you would pick me up
But
when you fell, unable to walk
I pushed you
away. Regards, the
modern, (un)civilized family

Money

A peculiar disease.
The world’s deadliest afflictions
cancer, AIDS, ebola,
even love
kill by their presence.
Money alone
kills by absence.

(N Rengarajan)

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