Ekta Chithi.

Dear Bhogoban, Dadu aar Thakuma......

I dont know why I this write post to you. People call it a post, these days in the terminology of netizens, but i will call it as a letter from a child you have always known and borne along. Ekta chithi. Tomra porcho to!

Till, a few days back, i never thought, marriage, or finding a woman, was so damn important in life, that, i will spare out of time, in my daily schedules to write this testimonial out. But now, it is about a lady, and her life.

And how she comes into my family, with maa and baba and bon and the lives we have lived in the past, still preserve it in our souls, hoping some day it will come back to us. Perhaps it is about me too, but this is one time, when i feel it is about everybody else, so close to me, and not really, REALLY about me in the end.

Hence this chotto chithi tomake.

I smoke cigarettes, now for some time, a thing, which hurt my mother immensely, when she came to know of it. I smoke cigarettes though for my dearest little puccchu sister, who i know life has not been half or even quarter, put any fraction,
fair as it has been to me. And that pucchu bon of mine, has put me to a strong test. A strong test in life. I know, i dont deserve to get everything in life. So i will take this test too.

After all have i always been getting all the fair deals in life all along, isnt it? Morvi it could have been, roorkee it was to be. The anonymity of a hard working civil engineer who wanted something more it could have been, a respectable management degree it happened to be. A plush job and the most sophisticated of woman as a partner it could have been back home with flats and cars and everything, writing and a platform to know what i flower in most, it had to be. Being famous with my bylines or feisty with ladies in mumbai it could have been, a long walk in the life of trying to understand knowledge it happened to me.

I know, i have had no say in all these 'what could have beens', and 'what has happened' to this life of mine. Aami tomar creation, tomar shishu, taai thaakte chaai. And i also dont know why it is me, who gets chosen to savour life in this way, each time it happens, crying alone. I try hard to explain it to my closest in lives, what this is, but i dont find any words. Only that it is your script and that i am your child. A child, who now knows about everything banal of life, lives through some of them too like cigarettes, etc. In this loneliness i have never craved for anybody, a lady int this case for so much, that i will pray for her to be with me. My loneliness is the price i have paid for the option i have chosen, to be only your child. And nobody else's.

But this is a test for Moitrayee too. If she is also a child, your child, and you want both these children, to face this new test in our lives, so be it.

From up above, sitting with dadu thakuma, bhogobaan, you are watching me pen all this. I will move through every test, like you have always posed at me. Take those tests, with what i can offer from my side, and accept the result as you want it to be scripted for this child of yours. Yes, it would have been nice, if through some evidences, say a small child on the road, or a caring pair of eyes, or a flower, or just a small drop from heaven, condensed, frozen or melted, you could have said to me, ok dear, so here i am with you, in your tests. I test myself too, as i put tests to you. Janina, sherom kono evidence debe kina, taai ei lekha charaa amar kono aar goti chilo naa.

What a test to test your conviction. Your insanity. Your gamble, if this is a gamble, to find the right 'closest to you - oporwala' person here on life. I will take all the tests that you pose to me, and i will have you by my side for the answers you give. Cry perhaps a little, you would allow this child that i am hoping, if the answers are not so pleasing, and bless me in my sleep.

Dadu, thakuma, tomra to onek shoyecho jeebon e. Tomra jaano, what being good, being fair is. Thakuma, tomar shei nodi cross korer kotha ekhono amaar shob shomoy mone pore. Dadu tomar shonge lathi haathe, lomba hanta aami ekhono chokh bujhle dekhte paai. Or the millions of golpo, jegulo tumi aamay bolte. Loke amaay bole, aami boro hoye gechi, aami bujhi amaar bhasha bodle geche, enreji-bangla meshano ekta odbhut hojoborolo toiri hoyeche.

But aami jaani, aami shei choto i aachi. Chotto aami. Je ek din guti guti paaye school theke beroto, aar maa ke chere aaj theke aant bochor aage bari theke berono r aage ojhore kendechilo. Tomra bhalo aacho to, amaay dekhcho to...Bhogobaan tomar pashe boshe, taai naa? Onake kicchu bolte hobe naa, uni jaa korben amader shokoler, baba-maa-bon aar moitrayee r bhalo r jonnoi korben. Aamar jonno eta matter kore naa, amaar bhalo r jonno kina, onder bhalo holei, amaar bhalo. Haan baar baar, amaar bhalo matter kore naa bolchi, taar kaaron, hoyto kore. But onnoder ta onek onek beshi matter kore, amaar kaache. Oder shukh diyo, maa ke, bon ke, baba ke, moitrayee ke.

Tomra khali aashirbaad koro, je ei shokol test, porikkha jeno aami monojog diye, lorai kore, nijer shera ta diye dite pari. And deoa r pore o, kormonnye vaa dheekarasthe maa faleshu kadachana, dadu mone aache tumi shob shomoy amaay bolte, shei spirit e nite paari.

Aar amaake shei sense, care, emotion, ta diyo, je aami jeno er moddhe kauke i hurt naa kore feli. Amaar maa-baba ke. Amaar bon tu shona ke. Moitrayee ke.

Ekta i onurodh korbo. Jeebon ekhon hoyto ektu kothin jaabe, kintu, ei shob er moddhe, jemon aami door e takale, dekhte paachi tomader, ei prithibite, opore, neeche charidike, kintu chunte paarchi naa, praan khule kaandte paarchi naa..Taai hoyto, ektu cigarette khabo. Aami chere debo, eta ekhon i bolchi naa. Jeebon to eta tei shesh noy. Manush er jonno onek kicchu korte hobe. Abaar manush er dushtu mukh dekhe betha o pete hobe. Tokhon abaar hoyto ekta aadhta khaabo. But ei kothin porrikha r shomoy, tomra amaay ei onurodh ta daan koro. Ekta duto cigarette khete paari. Tomra onek onek onek onek shoktimaan, aami noi, taai ei cigarette ta ektu dorkaar hote paare, maajhe maajhe. Jodi ei porikkha utroi, nijeke khub door e rakha r cheshta korbo, ei cigarette er theke, infact, nijeke aaro bhalo raakhbar cheshta korbo, cigarette ta to khali nijeke baaje er dike tene niye jaoa r ekta procheshta matro.

Tumi, aami jaani, porikkha r shesh raakhbe naa amaar jonno. Oi shob porrikha gulo perote ei bhalo hooataao je joruri, taai naa, etai to debe amaay amaar shob shokti. Aar ei shob porikkha amaake amaakei nite hobe. Tokhon to kauke paabo naa, shei muhurte jodi ekta cigarette khete paai, tobe hoyto ektu bol pete paari.

Not in fear, but in the desperation, that why has everybody changed in their lives, from the child they once were. And i grope along to find some convincing answers to tell them. Come back. Go back. It is time to be home.

You have been in the jongol for far too long.

Aaj kono kobita noy. Kono onnokicchu noy. Porikha r shomoy esheche. Dadu tomar bhashay, robindranath er bhashay:

Bipod e more rokkha koro
e nohe more prarthona
bipode aami naa jeno kori bhoy,

Dukkhe taanpe bethito chite,
naai baa dile shantona,
dukkhe re jeno korite paari joy,

Shohay mor naa jodi jute,
Nijer bol naa jeno tunte,
shongshare te ghotile khoti,
lovile shudhu bonchona,

Shohite paari shokoti jeno roy...


Onek pronaamante, tomader shobai ke,

Tomader chotto pola ta...

..Lessons on Atrocity....

Lessons on Atrocity
--

People say, winter is atrocious
in this part of the world,
freezing, for somebody hailing
from the tropics, it might be unbearable

I say, summer is atrocious
in that part of the world
boiling, for somebody from the arctics
it might be too burning to handle

Atrocity is a relative term,
you can use language to describe it,
but to feel it, will you allow yourself
to be completely engulfed in it?

The atrocity of living, your eyes not closed yet in your grave,
The atrocity of solitude, or being tormented with unjustness, or of people lying,
realising so, and yet doing nothing about it
or perhaps the atrocity of your speckyness, with the force's vastness staring at you

So how do you deal with it,
or is that the word, 'deal', would not 'integrate' be a better substitute,
Integrating yourself with atrocity, while retaining your capacity to be differentiated
when the time of yours comes to be broken into pieces

Is there an easy answer, perhaps, or perhaps not,
stay light is all i can say,
feel the heat or the cold, allow it once in a while
to freeze or boil you, as it takes charge of you,
you learning finally, how to enjoy it

The same kind of joy,
as winter bites you now, while summer made you sticky as a child
as you live with yourself now, while you frolicked with your loved ones in the past
as injustice's speaks its unspoken words, while you listened dumbly once to liars,

Finally arrived at an answer?
Or even arrival or departure was an atrocity,
Question is, are there answers,
or perhaps only questions, for you to feel the answers,
atrocious in themselves but so what,
did you not enjoy learning the lessons on atrocity?
--


not good writing, repetitive, less original, but atleast at last wrote something..