It took me four years, one death and a cliched question to confront and yet, strangely at the same time, go easy on myself.
"If you had a year to live and no onligations, no duties whatsoever; what would you do?"
First instinct: "Blahh! I hate these soul-searching Cosmo questions."
"No, I am serious. What would you do?"
Pat came the reply.
"Nrityagram. Living in a Gurukul atmosphere and Odissi."
I could have that, you know. It only scares me when I think what I would do if I did have it. Maybe, I would not want it anymore. So, for now I am happy with this super-amalgamation of my life and its wants in one single unbroken fabric.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Monday, November 06, 2006
What Started in 2005 OR Staying at home away from work can be debilitating to an otherwise stable mind
There is a thing or two to be said about losers.
it is not that they are weak or less enabled but that losing once too often breaks the spirit.
and so, then you give up trying at all.
u unlock your shieldand lay down ur swordeven as you do so,
the naked wounds exposed to salt and airhurt one last time.
dead eyes, scabs and drooping shouldershead down the cobbled streets
away from the celebrations
where the townpeople lift the winner
on their shoulders
and the roads run amuck with ale.
There is a thing or two to be said about winners.
it is not that they are superior but thatbelief bolsters the human spirit.
and you know that this fightjust like all the rest,will go your way.
you don your garb
polish the scimitar
and you wince just oncewhen the rusty sword pierces the lapels.
you worry that your image might be tarnished.
you are up on the shouldersof the roaring crowdwho revel,
for you are the hero of the peoplewho cannot fight for themselves
and so for you,
the roads, that could have been soiled by blood,
now run amuck with ale.
it is not that they are weak or less enabled but that losing once too often breaks the spirit.
and so, then you give up trying at all.
u unlock your shieldand lay down ur swordeven as you do so,
the naked wounds exposed to salt and airhurt one last time.
dead eyes, scabs and drooping shouldershead down the cobbled streets
away from the celebrations
where the townpeople lift the winner
on their shoulders
and the roads run amuck with ale.
There is a thing or two to be said about winners.
it is not that they are superior but thatbelief bolsters the human spirit.
and you know that this fightjust like all the rest,will go your way.
you don your garb
polish the scimitar
and you wince just oncewhen the rusty sword pierces the lapels.
you worry that your image might be tarnished.
you are up on the shouldersof the roaring crowdwho revel,
for you are the hero of the peoplewho cannot fight for themselves
and so for you,
the roads, that could have been soiled by blood,
now run amuck with ale.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Aachaar Churi
Shniri beye tortor kore uthhey ashchilo Khokon. Dupurer rodey chhatey maa gul diyeche - tar songe tnetuler aachaar o. Shobetei Dada-r haat aage porey - tobey ek shoptaah dhore dada pishir baari beratey gechhe - ei shuborno shujog ta kichute Khokon mathhey mara jete debe na. Khokoner maa sharata grishmokaal aam, jaam, tnetul, lebu, lonka rodey shukiye shorsher teley moshlaar songe mekhe chhatmoy mota mota knaacher shishite bondho kore rakhen. Paashei maadurer upor papad-o rodey rakha hoy. dui cheler-i maana shei aachar aar papadey haat dewa niye. Chheleder jonno alada kore Chhonda shorsher tel diye topa kuler aachar baniye rekheche. Kintu tate mon bhore naki? Ta chhara, baarite Maa ghumochhe, dada nei, Baba nei - aar dekhe ke?
Chhate ghure berachhe kotogulo paayra aar ekta shaalikh. Ekta shaalikh dekhei Khokon chokh bujey feley...chhatey paa rakhtei erokom baadha porlo? Isshh! Ektu ektu kore chokh khulche aar bukta dhorash kore uthchhe. Aajke abar maar khete hobe? Dada-r jonno ektu opekkha korley jodi....? Oi to! Arekta shaalikh urey eshe bosheche chhater aalsher upor. Ek laafey shesh shniri-ta paar hoye Khokon uthhey porlo chhatey.
Songe songe paayragulo jhotpot kore urey gelo. Khokon o chhutlo tader pichoney dhawa korey.."Hushh, hushh...ja shob bokom bokom, hushh!" Mota knaacher botogulor chaardhaarey ekbaar besh kore ghure nilo Khokon - aage khanikta bhebe nitey hobe karon dhora pore gelei shei botol baatil - egulo je bikrir jonno baniye rekheche Maa. Khub shabdhane ekta botoler matha ghuriye naakta aacharer shishir khub kachhe niye elo - aha, ektur jonno gondhe jeno charidik mo-mo kore othhey. Mone mone bhaabe,"Nah, Maa ekdom bhalobashe na amader noile bhalo tnetuler achaar, lebur achaar egulo jaabe bajaare aar amra khaabo kina kuler achaar?" Chhater koley aage haat-ta bhalo kore dhuye nilo Khokon - jotoi hok, bibeker dongshoney bhugte raaji noy shey. Ke jaane, hoyto kine khaabe paasher baarir Rinkidi-ra - haater dhulo laga achaar ora khabe, ta thik noy!
Chhotto haat-ta onayashe dhuke gelo botoler mukh diye bhitore - ek muthho achaar ber kore niyei onno haat diye shobtake aager moto shomaan kore dilo jaate keu bujhte na paare. Mukhe diye chakhte jawar aagei oboshyo Dada-r kotha mone porlo. Baatite kore ektu ontoto rekhe dite hobe noile hojom hobe na Khokon-er. Achaar dekhe khide pachhe khub tobuo shishir mathata shontorponey bondho kore chhutte chhutte rannaghore gelo ekta baatite tuley rakhte. Jawar somoy khawar ghorer dewaaley tangano ghoritar dike takiye dekhlo 3:30 beje geche - aar ektu porei Maa uthhe porbe.
Baatita haate niye paa tipe tipe oder dujoner showar ghorer dike egote thake Khokon. Ghore dhuktei oder khaater paashe ekta chotto table-er upor dhup, fuler mala aar chondoner fnota diye shajano photo-r shaamne rakhlo baati-ta. Oder khaate Maa tokhono ghumiye achhe - aajkal roj dupure knaadte knaadte Maa ekhanei ghumiye pore. Dada-r photor shaamne baatita rekhe diye aaste kore abar bichhanay Maa-r paashe shuye porey Khokon.
Chhate ghure berachhe kotogulo paayra aar ekta shaalikh. Ekta shaalikh dekhei Khokon chokh bujey feley...chhatey paa rakhtei erokom baadha porlo? Isshh! Ektu ektu kore chokh khulche aar bukta dhorash kore uthchhe. Aajke abar maar khete hobe? Dada-r jonno ektu opekkha korley jodi....? Oi to! Arekta shaalikh urey eshe bosheche chhater aalsher upor. Ek laafey shesh shniri-ta paar hoye Khokon uthhey porlo chhatey.
Songe songe paayragulo jhotpot kore urey gelo. Khokon o chhutlo tader pichoney dhawa korey.."Hushh, hushh...ja shob bokom bokom, hushh!" Mota knaacher botogulor chaardhaarey ekbaar besh kore ghure nilo Khokon - aage khanikta bhebe nitey hobe karon dhora pore gelei shei botol baatil - egulo je bikrir jonno baniye rekheche Maa. Khub shabdhane ekta botoler matha ghuriye naakta aacharer shishir khub kachhe niye elo - aha, ektur jonno gondhe jeno charidik mo-mo kore othhey. Mone mone bhaabe,"Nah, Maa ekdom bhalobashe na amader noile bhalo tnetuler achaar, lebur achaar egulo jaabe bajaare aar amra khaabo kina kuler achaar?" Chhater koley aage haat-ta bhalo kore dhuye nilo Khokon - jotoi hok, bibeker dongshoney bhugte raaji noy shey. Ke jaane, hoyto kine khaabe paasher baarir Rinkidi-ra - haater dhulo laga achaar ora khabe, ta thik noy!
Chhotto haat-ta onayashe dhuke gelo botoler mukh diye bhitore - ek muthho achaar ber kore niyei onno haat diye shobtake aager moto shomaan kore dilo jaate keu bujhte na paare. Mukhe diye chakhte jawar aagei oboshyo Dada-r kotha mone porlo. Baatite kore ektu ontoto rekhe dite hobe noile hojom hobe na Khokon-er. Achaar dekhe khide pachhe khub tobuo shishir mathata shontorponey bondho kore chhutte chhutte rannaghore gelo ekta baatite tuley rakhte. Jawar somoy khawar ghorer dewaaley tangano ghoritar dike takiye dekhlo 3:30 beje geche - aar ektu porei Maa uthhe porbe.
Baatita haate niye paa tipe tipe oder dujoner showar ghorer dike egote thake Khokon. Ghore dhuktei oder khaater paashe ekta chotto table-er upor dhup, fuler mala aar chondoner fnota diye shajano photo-r shaamne rakhlo baati-ta. Oder khaate Maa tokhono ghumiye achhe - aajkal roj dupure knaadte knaadte Maa ekhanei ghumiye pore. Dada-r photor shaamne baatita rekhe diye aaste kore abar bichhanay Maa-r paashe shuye porey Khokon.
Obhibyekti
Jokhon shomudrer jol aar paharer kuyasha diye tomay gorechilam, tokhon bujhini amar eto shokher chawa, amar eto chiroporichito bostuti bhongur.
Gorar somoy ekbaaro ta mone hoyni karon nishkolush mone amar bol chilo.
Tai bujhi.......
jole kuyashay jokhon tumi miliye geley, ashchorjer sheema roilo na.
Gorar somoy ekbaaro ta mone hoyni karon nishkolush mone amar bol chilo.
Tai bujhi.......
jole kuyashay jokhon tumi miliye geley, ashchorjer sheema roilo na.
The Amazing Maze
Amra shobai ekta jaaygay eshe theme gechhi - aatke gechhi. Thheme jete hoyeche. Chotobelay jemon hurmuriye chuttey partam, nirbhoye edik odik - ekhon ta stimito. Jeno Dilli-r jontor montorer bhitor prithok rasta dhorechi - othocho gontobyosthol ek. Ki ba kothay shei gontobyo? Jaani ki? Hoyto jaana nei bolei ekhono pouchhotey parinin. Pothhey deri hoyeche karon amader rastagulo kontokbohul na holeo shurongo onek. Onek oli-goli.
Some stopped to smell the flowers - others forsook suchsilly pleasures for their eyes were set on a bigger prize, a greater treasure. Our paths grew further away from each other and we lost sight of friends who had once been inseparable from our very souls. Once we struck out on our own, we grew steadier on our feet and lines on our faces furrowed deeper into leathery skin. Our eyes narrowes as we learnt to disregard minor scratches left by wayside bramble. Sometimes, very rarely though, when we caught glimpses of shadows through sparse thickets, some of us would holler for attention, overjoyed and ecstatic inspite of how much energy had been sapped out of us by the journey. Our calls were not always answered - not only because we had seen mirages in forests but also because some friends no longer travelled on foot and perhaps - it is difficult to discern ants from humans when once is perched on the houdah.
Or, perhaps, by the time they did recognise us, we had scurried off to hang our heads in shame and disbelief. These were friends who had snapshots to our souls, brief glimpses into our inner workings and yet we chose to ignore them, preferring grandiose endings to smelling the flowers on our way.
Who could I blame - him, her, them or my own self?
Some stopped to smell the flowers - others forsook suchsilly pleasures for their eyes were set on a bigger prize, a greater treasure. Our paths grew further away from each other and we lost sight of friends who had once been inseparable from our very souls. Once we struck out on our own, we grew steadier on our feet and lines on our faces furrowed deeper into leathery skin. Our eyes narrowes as we learnt to disregard minor scratches left by wayside bramble. Sometimes, very rarely though, when we caught glimpses of shadows through sparse thickets, some of us would holler for attention, overjoyed and ecstatic inspite of how much energy had been sapped out of us by the journey. Our calls were not always answered - not only because we had seen mirages in forests but also because some friends no longer travelled on foot and perhaps - it is difficult to discern ants from humans when once is perched on the houdah.
Or, perhaps, by the time they did recognise us, we had scurried off to hang our heads in shame and disbelief. These were friends who had snapshots to our souls, brief glimpses into our inner workings and yet we chose to ignore them, preferring grandiose endings to smelling the flowers on our way.
Who could I blame - him, her, them or my own self?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)