A Futile Endeavour

You will understand me on the day I am no longer here;

Though you stretch your arms toward me, my hand will not appear.

Call my name a thousand times—I shall not hear you then,

Nor sit and count the passing hours, waiting once again.

Lend your ear and wait for me—I shall sing no song;

I shall not sail the boat of love where your heart belongs.

Ask forgiveness for your wrongs—I shall forgive no more;

Nor build a palace of my love within your heart’s deep door.

Worship me as much as you may—no blessing shall I give;

Bring offerings to my feet—I shall take none while I live.

If I sulk, if I grow cold, you cannot make me smile;

Your eyes may speak a thousand words—they shall not beguile.

I know you cannot live a day without me by your side;

Yet then your honeyed words shall find no place to hide.

No matter how you clear the doubts that once divided two—

Never again shall I return to kiss the soul of you.

If you truly loved me, why did you give me pain?

You failed to understand my heart, and broke your word again.

For you I cried so many tears—I shall not cry that day;

You will search for me among the crowd, while I am far away.

Come to erase your mistakes—I shall not heed your call;

The one who made me understand myself—I shall not leave at all.

The Fall of Nirvana

The children dreamed in jet-propelled velocity,

Awakening toward the stars with cosmic intensity.

Notebooks floated in the wind, with galaxies in their sight—

Did their parents know that this would be their final flight?

Even flawless machines may halt in fate’s fierce slipstream,

Dedicated minds may scatter through a shattered data-stream.

Tender bodies split apart in explosions deep within,

Unfinished grammar gathers where the ruins begin.

At study desks they built illusions shaped by gravity,

While wreckage turned the flight into a grief-stricken tragedy.

At the milestone—ah, Nirvana fell from the sky,

And DNA now searches for the bodies left behind.

On burnt-out badges mingles the colour of blood,

The holiday bell awakens echoes of a grieving flood.

Dreams that once rose upward now lie beneath the stone—

A generation’s unfinished dreams, forever left unknown.

Your Eyes

I looked into your eyes and saw a desert, vast and grey,

Where no beloved’s shadow ever chose to stay.

You gaze at me sometimes—in secret, sometimes clear,

Yet I lower my eyes and speak in whispers near.

You think I never look at you—perhaps you call it shame;

No, no, no—I’ll tell you now the truth behind the same.

There is no magic in my eyes, only a sunless cry;

Do not keep your eyes in mine—you may burn beneath the sky.

When the desert in your eyes grows thirsty, parched and wide,

The cuckoo of the forest-heart will sing from deep inside.

Love will trace its tender line upon your waiting brow,

And clouds across the sky of mind will thunder even now.

The rain has washed the kohl away that once adorned my eyes,

And every tender feeling drowned in separation’s tides.

So many fiery springs have come, yet all the magic fled;

In haunted dreams I still behold the form of him instead.

And then, for all your sorrow, I alone shall bear the blame,

Caught within the ruthless web of love and loss and flame.

My love has wept away with tears; everything has flown—

With what face, tell me, could I say, “I love you,” when it’s gone?

Truth and Falsehood

How will you hide the truth? Tell me, how will you conceal?

No matter how you twist and turn, the truth itself will reveal.

Build your mountains out of lies, exaggerate and scheme—

When truth is known to everyone, you’ll wake from your dream.

Let falsehood be your Ganges, sail your little boat along,

But when you reach the middle sea, your helm will soon be gone.

You will find no shore or refuge, drifting far and wide;

Falsehood will lose its very breath beneath the roaring tide.

When you walk upon the tender grass and rest beneath a tree,

Truth will come like a thorn beneath your foot relentlessly.

Falsehood is your shield and sword, in your eyes and on your tongue;

But truth will strike you like a blade and leave your heart undone.

Falsehood is the palace where your secret life is kept,

But truth will come like a serpent—its bite cannot be slept.

You may summon clouds with lies and darken every sky,

But truth will rise as thunder, and your hidden words will fly.

Falsehood is a death-like road; truth is the path of life—

Remember this forever: truth survives beyond the strife.

The Final Meeting

Upon the horizon burned a crimson, dying light,

In my eyes arose the ruins of memories, pale and white.

Upon your face there rested a silent, sacred form;

Time itself had bowed its head beneath that final storm.

Extinguished love became a murmur, echoing in despair,

The heat of failure woke within consciousness laid bare.

Within a nest without a pulse, long sighs remained,

And echoes of our love returned like promises unclaimed.

Upon your palm there rested mercy, tender and slight;

Within my heart the curse of silence rose that night.

Through pain that cannot be undone, I trace impermanence,

Our final meeting—an unshaken dialogue with emptiness.

Across the face of heaven fell the lines of doom,

We stood like two horizons locked within the same room.

No festival, no celebration—only silence, cold and deep;

At our final meeting, grief awoke from its eternal sleep.

Dr. Tania Rahman Toni is a Bangladeshi gynae practitioner and surgeon, bilingual poet, and writer. Alongside her medical profession, she has been pursuing literature for nearly 25 years. She writes poetry in both Bengali and English, exploring human emotions, nature, culture, life, and the diverse dimensions of human experience.

Her literary journey began during her school years, when her writings started appearing in newspapers and periodicals. At the age of 15, she published her first solo poetry collection, Nabajatra. At 18, her second solo poetry collection, Aparajita, was published at the Amar Ekushey Book Fair in Bangladesh.

Born and raised in Naogaon, Bangladesh, Dr. Tania developed an early interest in education and literature. She currently practises as a gynae practitioner and surgeon.

In recognition of her literary contributions, she has received numerous honours in Bangladesh and India:

 2022 Awards in Kolkata (Mahabangha Sahitya Parishad): Parichand Mitra Literary Award, National Excellence Award, and Jagoddurga Sharad Samman.

 Awards in Bangladesh: Masik Shomoyer Sur Sahitya Award, Atish Dipankar Golden Peace Award (from the Sammilito Sangskritik Society), Shaheed Zia Golden Peace Award, and numerous other honours.

Balancing medicine and literature, Dr. Tania continues to pursue humanitarian service and creative expression while connecting her cultural roots with an international readership. Her poetry has also been translated into several languages and published beyond Bangladesh.