Poetry from Eva Petropolou Lianou, translated from Greek to English, and then to Bangla by Md. Sadiqur Rahman Rumen

Middle aged European woman with light skin, hazel eyes, and light brown hair and a green sweater.

I miss the hug

A hug that they give you and you forget the weaknesses of your existence.

I miss a kiss

The kiss that someone give you and your stomach make those noise like is full of butterflies

I miss the smile

That childish smile that you have

U are smiling and all nature become

Pink

I miss the walk to the beach

The waves

The perfume of the salt

I miss the sunshine and the sunset

All the simple things that I had

I miss the generosity of people

I miss the kindness of grandparents

I miss the relaxing moments of drinking a coffee

Now, they all want your friend, your position, your talent, your contact, your potential, your life almost but no one…

Nobody want to get in your shoes

They are too tight.!!!! 

©®Eva Petropoulou Eva Lianou Petropoulou

………..

আমি আলিঙ্গন মিস করছি

একটি আলিঙ্গন যা তারা আমাকে দেয় এবং আমি আমার অস্তিত্বের দুর্বলতাগুলি ভুলে যাই।

আমি একটি চুম্বন মিস করি, কেউ আমাকে এবং আমার পেটে যে চুম্বন দেয় তা প্রজাপতিতে ভরা আওয়াজ করে!

আমি হাসি মিস করি

তোমার সেই শিশুসুলভ হাসি তুমি হাসছো এবং সমস্ত প্রকৃতি হয়ে উঠছে

গোলাপী!

আমি সৈকতে হাঁটা মিস করি, তরঙ্গ লবণের সুগন্ধি!

আমি সূর্যোদয় এবং সূর্যাস্ত মিস করি

আমি যে সব সহজ জিনিস ছিল, তা এবং 

মানুষের উদারতা মিস করি!

আমি দাদা-দাদির আজর মিস করি, আমি কফি পান করার স্বস্তিদায়ক মুহূর্তগুলি মিস করি

এখন, তারা সবাই আমার বন্ধু, আমার অবস্থান, আমার প্রতিভা, আমার পরিচিতি, আমার সম্ভাবনা, আমার জীবন প্রায় চায় কিন্তু কেউই চায় না…!

কেউ আমার জুতা পেতে চায়না, তারা খুব জোয়ার.!!!!

Author: ©®Eva Petropoulou Eva Lianou Petropoulou.

An Greek Poet.

Bangla Translated by:

Md. Sadiqur Rahman Rumen.

An Bangladeshi Poet.

Essay from Emran Emon

Young South Asian man with reading glasses, short hair, and a dark suit coat, white shirt, and red tie.

Humanitarian Crisis in Gaza: The UN’s Role in Preventing Mass Atrocities

The humanitarian catastrophe unfolding in Gaza is one of the most harrowing tragedies of our time. Since October 2023, relentless bombardments, blockades, and mass displacements have turned Gaza into an open-air graveyard. Thousands of innocent Palestinians—many of them women and children—have been killed, while millions face starvation, disease, and psychological trauma. The systematic targeting of civilians, infrastructure, and medical facilities raises serious allegations of genocide under international law.

Yet, amid this devastation, the United Nations (UN)—an institution founded to prevent such atrocities—has largely remained a spectator, issuing resolutions that lack enforcement power. The situation in Gaza not only exposes the failures of global diplomacy but also questions the credibility of international institutions meant to safeguard human rights.

Genocide, as defined by the UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide (1948), includes acts intended to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial, or religious group. Israel’s military campaign in Gaza—marked by indiscriminate bombings, mass killings, targeted starvation, and forced displacement—fits this definition.

The International Court of Justice (ICJ) has acknowledged that South Africa’s genocide case against Israel has merit, leading to a provisional ruling demanding Israel take steps to prevent genocidal acts. However, the killings have not stopped. Instead, the assault on Gaza has intensified, with humanitarian aid being blocked and civilian infrastructure being destroyed.

The UN was founded in the aftermath of World War-II to ensure that such atrocities never happen again. However, when it comes to Gaza, the UN has been unable to enforce its own mandates. Notwithstanding, history shows that the UN has, in certain cases, played a crucial role in stopping genocides and war crimes. From Bosnia to Rwanda, the UN has intervened—sometimes successfully, sometimes too late. The question today is: can the UN still fulfill its mandate and eventually stop the genocide in Gaza?

While the UN has often been criticized for inaction, there have been instances where it successfully played a role in halting genocidal violence. These examples provide lessons for Gaza.

Bosnia (1995): UN Peacekeeping and International Justice

During the Bosnian War, the UN initially failed to prevent the massacre of over 8,000 Bosniak people in Srebrenica. However, after global pressure, NATO—under a UN mandate—intervened with airstrikes, leading to the end of the war. The International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) later prosecuted those responsible, holding key figures accountable for war crimes and genocide.

Lesson for Gaza: The UN, despite its slow response, was able to rally international action against genocide. A similar decisive approach, including sanctions and military deterrence, could force Israel to halt its actions.

Rwanda (1994): A Late but Important Intervention

The Rwandan Genocide, where over 800,000 Tutsis were slaughtered, remains one of the UN’s worst failures. However, after the genocide, the UN established the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), which successfully tried and convicted genocide perpetrators. The UN also played a role in rebuilding Rwanda, ensuring long-term stability.

Lesson for Gaza: Justice delayed is not justice denied. The UN must start preparing for accountability measures now, ensuring that those responsible for war crimes in Gaza face prosecution.

East Timor (1999): UN-Led Independence and Peacekeeping

When Indonesia’s military-backed militias unleashed violence in East Timor after its independence vote, the UN intervened with peacekeeping forces (INTERFET). The mission successfully stabilized the region, ending the violence and paving the way for East Timor’s full independence.

Lesson for Gaza: A UN-led peacekeeping mission, with support from the international community, could ensure the long-term protection of Palestinians and prevent future genocidal acts.

Why has the UN failed in Gaza so far? Despite these past successes, the UN has not been able to stop Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. Several factors are responsible to this failure:

Security Council Paralysis: The UN Security Council (UNSC) is responsible for maintaining international peace and security. However, due to the veto power of permanent members, particularly the United States, resolutions calling for a ceasefire in Gaza have been repeatedly blocked. The US, a staunch ally of Israel, has used its veto multiple times to shield Israel from international accountability. This has paralyzed the UN from taking decisive action, allowing the genocide to continue unchecked.

General Assembly’s Limited Power: Unlike the UNSC (United Nations Security Council), the UN General Assembly (UNGA) cannot enforce its resolutions. It has passed multiple resolutions condemning Israel’s actions and calling for a ceasefire, but these have had no impact on the ground. The lack of enforcement mechanisms renders the UNGA largely symbolic in this crisis.

Failure to Implement ICJ Rulings: The ICJ’s ruling on genocide prevention should have led to immediate global intervention. However, Israel has ignored the ruling, and its allies continue to supply it with weapons. The UN lacks the ability to ensure compliance with its own judicial system, further eroding its authority.

The Ineffectiveness of UN Agencies: UN agencies like UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency) have been crucial in providing humanitarian aid to Palestinians. However, Israel and its allies have systematically undermined these efforts, with many countries suspending funding to UNRWA based on unverified allegations. This has worsened the humanitariancrisis, leaving millions of Gazans without food, water, and medical care.

The Gaza genocide exposes the double standards in global governance. When Russia invaded Ukraine, the international community responded with sanctions, military aid to Ukraine, and a strong diplomatic stance. In contrast, Israel’s actions in Gaza are met with muted criticism and continued military support from Western nations. This hypocrisy has further discredited the UN and weakened trust in international institutions. If genocide can occur in Gaza with impunity, what message does this send to other aggressors worldwide?

While the UN’s failures are glaring, the crisis in Gaza has mobilized global civil society, human rights organizations, and progressive governments. Here’s what must be done to end the genocide and restore the credibility of international institutions:

Reforming the UN Security Council: The UNSC’s structure, where five permanent members hold veto power, is outdated and undemocratic. Reforming this system is essential to ensure that no single nation can block humanitarianinterventions. Countries from the Global South, including Bangladesh, must push for a more balanced and representative international order.

Enforcing ICJ Rulings: If the ICJ has ruled that Israel must prevent genocide, there should be international mechanisms to enforce this decision. Sanctions, arms embargoes, and diplomatic isolation should be imposed on Israel until it complies with international law.

Strengthening the Role of the Global South: Western nations have failed to hold Israel accountable, but the Global South has shown increasing resistance to these double standards. Organizations like BRICS, the African Union, and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) must take the lead in pressuring the UN for decisive action. Bangladesh, as a vocal supporter of Palestinian rights, should strengthen its diplomatic efforts in this regard.

Holding War Criminals Accountable: Israeli leaders responsible for war crimes should be tried at the International Criminal Court (ICC). If justice is selective, international law loses its legitimacy. Civil society groups must continue documenting war crimes to ensure accountability in the future.

The genocide in Gaza is not just a humanitariancrisis—it is a test of humanity’s moral compass. If the UN fails to act, it risks losing its credibility as a guardian of peace and human rights. Past interventions in Bosnia, Rwanda, and East Timor show that the UN can stop genocide when there is political will.

Now, the world must demand that the UN does the same for Gaza. Sanctions, accountability measures, and a UN peacekeeping mission could help end the atrocities. If the UN remains silent, it will not only fail the people of Palestine but also set a dangerous precedent for future genocides worldwide.

Moreover, governments, civil society, and individuals must work together to demand an end to genocide, ensure accountability, and rebuild a world where international law is respected—not selectively enforced.

Gaza’s innocent children deserve to live. The people of Palestine deserve freedom. And the world deserves a United Nations that stands for justice—not power politics. The time for action is now. The UN must choose: uphold its founding principles or become an institution of empty words.

Emran Emon is an eminent South Asian writer, journalist and columnist. He can be reached at emoncolumnist@gmail.com

Short story from Bill Tope

April

“Help me, God,” he muttered under his breath as he wiped his clean-shaven face with large hands. Eddie knew he hadn’t lost his mind. Hadn’t the county shrink declared him fit to stand trial? Branded with a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder, Eddie had languished in lockup since last year, awaiting trial. He had also, inexplicably to him, been declared a flight risk, when in fact he had no money, not even a car. He couldn’t make bail. When he was a young teen, he had spent time in juvenile detention for such offenses as panhandling, wandering around without proper ID, trespassing, and the like. But this was so different. It was, his lawyer had told him, deadly serious. He may have ASPD, but still he would face the music for his most serious alleged misdeed yet: rape.

Her name was April. She was beautiful, with long, supple, athletic legs and blond tresses that spilled down past her shoulders and ample breasts. She had a bronzed, radiant complexion from basking under the Georgia sun for all the world to see. Eddie had spied her clandestinely many times but had been afraid to approach her. She lived four houses down from him, in a large, two story home that was painted dark blue and was known throughout the neighborhood as the Blue House. Her parents were attorneys or something, and away a lot.

Eddie wasn’t clever with words and didn’t know how to be cool with a woman the way his friends could. In her yard, April wore a string bikini that showed darn near everything, almost revealing her private parts. This made Eddie uncomfortable at first, but he overcame his discomfort as he got to know her. Unlike most people he knew, April talked to him, not at him, and asked him about his life and what he liked to do when he wasn’t working at the restaurant where she also worked. So at first he made stuff up to make himself sound more interesting. He liked to skydive and hunt bears in the wild, he told her. She told him she didn’t like guns or hunting, and he told her he wouldn’t do it anymore. As he grew to know her better, Eddie came clean and told April that he didn’t know how to skydive and didn’t even own a gun, much less hunt.

“I knew you were fibbing, Eddie,” she said with that laugh that sounded like ice tinkling in a glass. April wore pale pink lipstick on her rosebud lips. Eddie loved her lips and longed to kiss them. He’d never kissed a woman other than Aunt Trudy, with whom he lived. April might have thought there was something wrong with him because he didn’t really know how to kiss, but no. She was patient with him; she showed him how to pucker his lips, lean into the kiss, and relax.

“Put your arms around me, Eddie. Put your hands on my hips; that’s right.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he protested. She laughed, but not at him.

“I’m not made of glass,” she told him. He took a great breath. He instinctively trusted her. Unlike a lot of the people Eddie had met, April hadn’t a mean bone in her body. Other people called him retard or stupid, and made him feel ashamed. She liked Eddie; he could tell. And he was soon crazy in love with her. They began to spend long hours together when they weren’t working and when April wasn’t in school. She told Eddie that she worked hard at her studies.

“I don’t want to work in a restaurant my whole life,” she said. Neither did Eddie, but he’d worked there for ten years, since he was sixteen, and had dropped out of the special school; he didn’t know what else he might do. April encouraged him to become a student like her, but he didn’t know. He’d never been that bright in school. Always self-effacing, he repeatedly put himself down.

“You’re not stupid!” she told him pointedly, almost losing her temper.

“But you study calculus. I can barely do fractions,” he replied honestly.

“Go to the library and get a book on math, and we’ll work on it together,” she insisted. “I’ll prove you’re smart.” So he did, and it worked out beautifully. Before he knew it, she was teaching him algebra. Eventually, Eddie’s feelings towards April began to evolve; he became more focused on her, more possessive, and more committed. He discovered, to his surprise, that he wanted a life with this wonderful woman. Best of all, she seemed to feel the same way.

“Oh, Eddie, I can’t wait to make love to you,” she said unexpectedly one day after work. They were alone in her bedroom at the Blue House and, following her shower, she wore nothing but a thin robe, green like her eyes, Eddie flushed, embarrassed but in the same frame of mind. Eddie, of course, had never made love to anyone. What if he couldn’t do it? he wondered. All those ads on TV about ED and everything. Maybe, he thought, he should get some pills, but he’d be too embarrassed to ask for them. What if he let April down? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He’d have to quit his job at the restaurant and hide away in shame. He began to hyperventilate. April touched his arm. Her hand felt warm.

“I think you’d make a wonderful lover, Eddie,” she told him. She looked straight into his eyes, and again, he believed her.

“Have you ever…” he began.

She smiled. “Of course,” she said gently. He stared at her in awe. “Eddie, I’ll teach you everything I know. “It’ll be like the fractions,” she said lightly. “Only more fun.” Whatever April told him, Eddie believed.

During his time in jail, men had approached him and wanted to have sex with him, but Eddie was a large man and very strong. So far, they had kept their distance. Most of the time he was kept in solitary because of the seething hatred the other inmates had for rapists. How were they any better? he wondered. In lockup, Eddie wasn’t called by his name but rather “chomo,” whatever that was supposed to mean.

Finally, one afternoon, they did it—they made love in April’s bed. Eddie had been afraid to reveal his body, feeling self-conscious about his appearance, but April was impressed with his physique.

“Ooh, Eddie, you have a fantastic body,” said April with a delighted squeal, running her hand down his chest. Eddie had lifted weights for ten years because he liked to be strong, but he had never thought much about how he looked. He smiled. April was a skilled lover, thought Eddie. She knew just what to do; she never hurried him, and their bodies melded into one. She was like a force of nature. This was but the first of many times.

It all came to a tragic end one day when Eliza, a friend of April’s, entered the Blue House uninvited and stole up the stairs to April’s bedroom. There she spotted the two lovers, wrapped in each other’s arms and fast asleep. Soon, a tender secret became town gossip and then common knowledge. April’s parents were stunned. Authorities were summoned, an arrest made and charges filed.. Eddie, impoverished, was accorded only a public defender.

So Eddie had spent the ensuing nine months locked away in jail, awaiting trial, his aunt and his attorney his only visitors. He stood in his cell, his large, powerful fists rigidly gripping the bars. He hadn’t known that what he was doing was wrong. To him it had been about love. His mind drifted back to April; the worst part of his incarceration was his isolation from the woman that he adored. Just two days from now, he knew, would be April’s birthday; she would then turn seventeen. Eddie had never before even heard of statutory rape.

Poetry from Sam Hendrian

A Letter to My Favorite Drug

Accustomed to ending the day on a high note

In the most artificial way possible,

Rising up out of my body

Through elevated corporal cravings.

But sometimes you show up and disrupt

My habitual rituals of obituary-courting,

Your sheer presence rendering me euphoric

Before you’ve spoken a single word.

Yes, the freedom to converse through silence

Is a most precious one indeed,

Raising and lowering my blood pressure

With simultaneous tenderness.

Three hours seem like one

Which of course is not enough

To savor the indispensably insignificant details,

The essential nonessentials.

Go to bed later, wake up earlier,

Energized by our low-energy synergy

And wishing I could imbibe your magic potion

Every day of the week.

The Silence In Between

Woke up at 1 AM

To a cacophony of moans

Almost shattering the window

With operatic decibels.

Good for them,

Bad for me

Still barely fresh

From a pre-sleep fantasy.

Calculated their level of closeness

By listening for the silence in between,

The vulnerable moment

When the script turns into improv.

Shower came on quick enough;

Must have been successful

And a little bit stressful

Remembering each other’s names.

Then a sequel session

Shook the walls once more

But I stopped keeping score

Certain it would end with a closed door.

Nearby Farness

Hoodie to the left, hoodie to the right,

Shields against peripheral vision

So that beauty stays a question mark

Instead of a period.

Better to be trusted than loved

Although it’s nice if you can be both,

Blessed with distant proximity

And nearby farness.

Crumbs of conversation

Scattered in an imaginary forest

Where people require other people

To find their way back home.

Some get their kicks on what-if situations,

Taking communion at the Church of Friday Night

In which bartenders consecrate a glass of California wine

While choirs sing “Sweet Caroline” with no-strings-attached ecstasy.

Others brand themselves as stubborn dreamers

Refusing to search for what refuses to approach them

Without considering the possibility

They’re too well-hidden to be found.

Hoodie up above, hoodie down below,

Angels and mortals locked in a staring contest

Destined to continue for eternity

Since they’re both afraid of flashing their eyes.

Showed Promise

Stumbled across the obituary at precisely 12:00,

The usual time for mid-year New Year’s resolutions

As the drunkenness turns to queasiness

And the pleasure starts to sting.

26 and two days counting;

Didn’t even have the glory of 27,

Just a halfway thought-out header

That read, Showed Promise.”

Showed promise for what exactly?

Capitalistic success?

Perhaps a Wikipedia page

Or picture on a restaurant wall?

Anyhow, it didn’t matter;

Whatever promise was shown had faded

Unless there was an accompanying suicide note

To inspire posthumous adulation.

Wandered to the cemetery the next morning,

Paid respects from a stranger

Which are sometimes sincerer

Than the rehearsed well-wishes of a friend.

Assured him he was more

Than what he had not yet become

And that what he already was

Was all he ever needed to be.

Big Sister

The tiny head had been there for more than an hour

And would likely remain until the train stopped,

Ejecting them both onto a crowded platform

Full of 9-to-5 fighters and 5-to-9 nurturers.

She of course belonged to the latter group,

An invisible angel seen as just another tired face

Accustomed to questions and quests for answers

That even her parents couldn’t fulfill.

Tried to hide the number of times she cried in a day,

Microchipping Kleenex into her eyes

But was frequently met by the sudden surprise

Of an old lady staring sympathetically.

No sympathy was required though,

No hand-me-down advice;

The source of her fragility

Was also the source of her strength.

Which didn’t stop her from doubting

The legitimacy of that tiny head

Gracing her shoulders with trust

She feared she couldn’t live up to.

Poetry from Daniel De Culla

Cartoon drawing of the moon in a grey sky with stars and black script font reading "Luna Llena." Red roofed buildings and green trees below.

THE DANA

The Dana has arrived riding a donkey

Called Climate Change

Kicking and whipping with its tail

Valencia, Albacete, Malaga 

And some of La Mancha

Disrupting the mountains and hills

Tearing down the thickest trees

Piling cars on top of each other

Knocking over holes, swamps

Bridges, houses and many lives

Of children, young people and old

That none of their gods have saved.

The earth trembles

The sky trembles

Coming to touch its head

Against the terrified ground.

Nobody asked for help

Because the Dana gave them death as a hat.

Two or three days later

Furious jealous people 

From different governments and colour

With their king and queen as scarecrows

Who get along like an ass

They came well mounted on their donkeys

Looking brave and bizarre

Without taking a shovel or brush 

Or getting down into the mud.

They walked hesitantly over the mud

Receiving from the suffering people

Spit and mud balls

And sticks from some madmen

Adorning the face of the queen with more mud.

The people go to throw them from there

Who hesitate so that the moment

Will not be more painful and bloody.

The rulers and kings

Gave some lying braying

Which made the Congress and the Senate hesitate

Who at that moment were touching their balls

Engaged as always in insults

And donkey grunts

Giving thanks for their luck

To the coffers and urns of the people.

The Dana took two hundred and some heads

Leaving some forgotten

Only the noble people showed courage

From all the towns

And from the beloved and armed organizations

Who have nothing to do

With the de facto governments.

Now, traces and relics remain of them

Of those who lie on the ground and disappeared

So remembered.

-And to whom is it all due?

The old men and women ask themselves, sadly.

Answering the nebulous atmosphere

Of Climate Change:

-To the Donkeys who rule you by braying.