Monday 1 September 2014

epic and science


epic & science : chap 1


3rd octobar

আজ নিয়ম করে মনখারাপ।...যতদূরেই থাকি, প্রবাসে পরবাসে,দূর্গা পুজোর গন্ধ ঠিক আসে বাতাসের খামে ভরে আমার ব্যালকনির ঠিকানায়।
আজ তিনি ফিরে যাবেন। ....সাথে চার ছেলে মেয়ে।.
দেবতাদের অনেক ছেলেমেয়ে।....ভাল বেশ।.একটা হইচই সংসার।..পুরাতনে ও তাই...
মহাভারতে র চেয়ে ভালো উধারণ র কি আছে?
পান্ডু আর কুন্তি র.বিবাহের কিছু বছর পর মাদ্রি হলেন পান্ডু রাজার দিতিয়া স্ত্রী 
এর পর দুই রানী কে  নিয়ে পান্ডু গেলেন বনবাসে 


One day while hunting in the forest Pandu was illusion ed and killed what he thought a deer but was coupling sage Kindama:
''O king, a Muni who liveth on fruits and roots, though disguised as a deer. I was living in the woods in peace with all. Yet thou hast killed me, O king, for which I will curse thee certainly. As thou hast been cruel unto a couple of opposite sexes, death shall certainly overtake thee as soon as thou feelest the influence of sexual desire. I am a Muni of the name of Kindama, possessed of ascetic merit. I was engaged in sexual intercourse with this deer, because my feelings of modesty did not permit me to indulge in such an act in human society. In the form of a deer I rove in the deep woods in the company of other deer. Thou hast slain me without knowing that I am a Brahmana, the sin of having slain a Brahmana shall not, therefore, be thine. But senseless man, as you have killed me, disguised as a deer, at such a time, thy fate shall certainly be even like mine. When, approaching thy wife lustfully, thou wilt unite with her even as I had done with mine, in that very state shalt thou have to go to the world of the spirits. And that wife of thine with whom thou mayst be united in intercourse at the time of thy death shall also follow thee with affection and reverence to the domains of the king of the dead. Thou hast brought me grief when I was happy. So shall grief come to thee when thou art in happiness.''

So the curse would bar Pandu from procreation leaving no heir to his throne.


সে সময় মানুষ আর দেবতাদের বেশ ভাব। দেবতা সন্তুষ্ট হলে অনেক রকম আশির্বাদ দেন;
Kunti was bestowed with boon from the sage Durvasa where she can bear children without emerging into sexual liaison with her husband. So three sons: Yudhisthir, Bheem and Arjun was born.
Sharing the same blessing Madri gave birth to twins: Nakul and Sahadev.

এভাবে পান্ডু রাজার বংশ প্রস্তর করলো though none bear the DNA of Pandu.

but they lived ever after as pandavas ..or son of King Pandu

3 October 1978


Durga was born;  India's first and world 's second child conceived and given birth by method of IVF; it was a moment of pride & prestige.

67 days earlier the world's first test tube baby Louise Brown was born in UK. 
Prof. Robert Edwards, the British scientist and his colleague Patrick Steptoe were applauded and awarded for their pioneering invention.

Dr Subhash Mukhopadhyay was summoned before a jury.
He had been the architect for Durga or better i say Durga was conceived within the soul and brain of Dr.Mukhopadhyay.

18 November 1978. 

An 'expert committee' was appointed by the Government of West Bengal under the medical association to decide over the fate of a convict named Dr. Subhas Mukhopahyay. His charges are, one, he claims to be the architect of first human test tube baby named Durga (3 October 1978). Secondly, he announced the report to the media before being cleared by the Government bureaucrats. Thirdly, he made this impossible possible with few general apparatus and a refrigerator in his small southern avenue flat while others cannot even think of it, although, having all the expensive resources in their hand (in this research Mukhopadhyay was assisted by Sunit Mukherji and S.K. Bhattacharya). Fourth and most important allegation, he never let his head down by the Government Bureaucrats and his straightforwardness always attracted jealousy out of his peers. The committee was presided over by a Radio physicist and it was composed of a gynaecologist, a psychologist, a physicist and a neurologist. None of them had any knowledge about modern reproductive technology. "Where did you keep these embryos?”Mukhopahdhyay said "in sealed ampules." Then he asked again "How did you seal an ampule?” Speechless Mukhopadhyay could only utter "pardon?” From here started a questioning and counter questioning session which need not to be mentioned was utterly meaningless. "Oh! Embryos do not die while sealing?” there were people who never saw embryos in the entire span of their lifetime.
The Committee put forward its final verdict, "Everything that Dr. Mukhopadhyay claims is bogus.''


2010

Dr. Robert Edwards was awarded the Nobel Prize for Medicine for his invention and contribution towards reproductive science.


19 june 1981

Harassed and distressed;punished and transferred to an ophthalmic department barring all of his prospects of working on hormones Dr Subhash Mukhopadhyay commits suicide at his residence.

ever since some reporters and journalists had taken the pain to report a grieving wife and invoke some temporary uproar that too had faded with time as Dr Mukhopadhyay himself is lost.



back to the era of 9 century BC 

we live in a country of contradictions...we talk about modernization but what it does mean to us to our lifestyle? 
our ancient forefathers were far beyond ahead of thought rather;

do we really believe  blessings can impregnate a woman? or we decline to see the truth? does an epic centuries old not talk about the same science where fertilization occurs outside womb? and so there are possibilities of multiple pregnancy as well...Madri gives birth to twins Nakul and Sahadev by blessing of god's physican Aswini Kumar...science have got better and advance with centuries only what ancient ancestors of ours could think we can't accept and when acceptance came breaking the handcuff of red tape it was late.




i write this in memory of the man who had dared to think out of the box....in respect to the physician who had lived by his Hippocratic Oath ; i write to salute the scientist who had bestowed  many the blessing of motherhood...parenthood rather i say ; i write because many of us from my generation and thereafter would not know Dr Subhash Mukhopadhyay beyond the panorama of Ek Doctor ki Maut.



chap 2

Vaisampayana said, 'Meanwhile, O Janamejaya, Dhritarashtra begat upon Gandhari a hundred sons, and upon a Vaisya wife another besides those hundred. And Pandu had, by his two wives Kunti and Madri, five sons who were great charioteers and who were all begotten by the celestials for the perpetuation of the Kuru line.'
"Janamejaya said, 'O best of Brahmanas, how did Gandhari bring forth those hundred sons and in how many years? 
Impatient of the period of gestation which had prolonged so long, and deprived of reason by grief, she struck her womb with great violence without the knowledge of her husband. And thereupon came out of her womb, after two years' growth, a hard mass of flesh like unto an iron ball. When she was about to throw it away, Dwaipayana, learning everything by his spiritual powers, promptly came there, and that first of ascetics beholding that ball of flesh, addressed the daughter of Suvala thus, 'What hast thou done?' Gandhari, without endeavouring to disguise her feelings, addressed the Rishi and said, 'Having heard that Kunti had brought forth a son like unto Surya in splendour, I struck in grief at my womb. Thou hadst, O Rishi, granted me the boon that I should have a hundred sons, but here is only a ball of flesh for those hundred sons!' Vyasa then said, 'Daughter of Suvala, it is even so. But my words can never be futile. I have not spoken an untruth even in jest. I need not speak of other occasions. Let a hundred pots full of clarified butter be brought instantly, and let them be placed at a concealed spot. In the meantime, let cool water be sprinkled over this ball of flesh.'
"Vaisampayana continued, 'That ball of flesh then, sprinkled over withwater, became, in time, divided into a hundred and one parts, each about the size of the thumb. These were then put into those pots full of clarified butter that had been placed at a concealed spot and were watched with care. The illustrious Vyasa then said unto the daughter of Suvala that she should open the covers of the pots after full two years. And having said this and made these arrangements, the wise Dwaipayana went to the Himavat mountains for devoting himself to asceticism.
"Then in time, king Duryodhana was born from among those pieces of the ball of flesh that had been deposited in those pots."

WHO reports each year around 15 million children are born premature; not that all can still afford the cost of incubator....not that all places around the globe have medical facilities to health support preterm kids; the society is moving fast but our predecessors had lessons to teach and we have always looked upon them as moral classes; there is more than a fable in the epic...science and value for life ...social responsibility...life cannot be so mechanical that we just walk past anything that is not my concern...i live here i belong to this earth, am a child of the tree, the sky, as any other in any part of the world...not that all need to confine in laboratories there are more that can be done behaving as responsible human.


Wednesday 28 May 2014

excerpts from a fugitive's diary


i have to start this diary somewhere..

either i begin as in fairy tale;once upon a time there was a fugitive castigated for a lifetime or give it the prelude of a fable: long long ago there lived a fugitive....but since my life holds none of the moral of either of the stories, let me get straight into it.
i am in you...i am in him ....am in every man ...am a simple middle-class, by birth, by virtue; but i dreamed and dared to live beyond the convention and infringe the laws that society decides &impose on life; my desires were not designed to fit the mediocrity of a routined life...my desires were far beyond extraordinary;
whatever they are good or bad they belong to me and i owe my life to them...i will not tolerate any judgment neither will i allow trespassing;  
.

later in the evening


the last fragment of fire from the pyre litted up yesterday or before or long back gives me warmth, gives me light, like a faithful friend is still beside.


I know though I have choose to battle my destiny I will win over fate as I will live my life a thousand times before I die; I will live as sunshine I will live to twinkle with the stars at night, I will live as the wave on the blue ocean , I will live to rejoice, will live to conquer and because I forgive I will  conquer because I forgive, because I have no earthen emotion to feel, to share , to entice me, no bond of expectation to call me back i will live again as i complete my term in exile 



may 20

am a fugitive running away from my destiny, exiled for a lifetime to a doomed future
i have nothing to do more, except for the routine that i have to follow to keep me alive.

well i also have thoughts from days by gone,memories that has accompanied me in this castigation .

so now i cook, i clean, i think and think....and one day i decided to empower my thoughts with words...i started confessing to this diary ...


before i start to write:

in this diary please excuse my fallacy of grammar of gender;i am as i said if not in every but atleast in many human; am transgender;অর্ধনারীশ্বর। ..আমি সেই শক্তি যা আছে মনের অন্তরালে যাকে অস্বীকার করে  এসেছি  এত কাল ;am invocation of the energy within..the supreme power that so far i denied to declined to invoke because of my so called middle class values of being good!

may 28: 


at times i will just scrub and scrub and continue scrubbing until i realize its not the grease that i want to clean from the surface to the bottom but the  dreams!

to run away from the reality that i am committed in, i look for respite in sleep but in sleep too they keep chasing as dreams...
dreams from past, dreams of today, and dreams of an abyss ....an orbit that it is, revolves around my being from morning till night and there is no denying of it
i curse my fate, i blame my relations, i call out names for the situation...but only grow up to realize with time, there is actually no one who can be responsible for what you gain what you loose in life. its just an easy excuse as primitive as human sin
its equally difficult though to accept that i am the one who is solely liable for whatsoever destiny i have destined myself into...

at times in barren nights when even the dogs stop barking and owls decide to rest, i am alone and a lengthy winter night ahead, i ponder over the past and look for clues in pieces of memories that i could gather...what went wrong?




june 2: 

in the initial days, those days when you celebrate punishment,punishment for not reaching the assembly line on time, punishment for playing late even after sundown, i was practicing being obedient and henceforth lived to belief that i am the one who should always understand and be good....should not speak loud should be humble and eventually this belief became my identity.
an identity worn
an identity to whom i don't belong

i was always the mediocre back bencher, shying away from friends, scribbling in my workbook at one corner in recess, not achieving much in mark-sheet to make my parents proud or justify their hard work. 

science subjects never interested me; i loved history;
as i read through the chapters i could relate to a life distant, may be a life that i had lived before this birth...somewhere in the far away mountains by the desert, a gypsy warrior wandering like a nomad from one place to the other.

so when there would be some formula in the blackboard or maths equation, i would rather prefer to ride on my horse and set off to a new land far and faraway...numbers can never entice me i would rather be enchanted by the sword fight and conquering new territories and then giving them away for charity as 

a gypsy doesn't belong to the land
the land belongs to his heart

but good students score well in all subjects....they are performers ...i was not. i could never make my parents happy as they could foresee from that time only that i could neither be  an engineer or doctor.
i love history and i love stories...

i can spend hours gazing at the window chime or talking to the big banyan tree outside my classroom.
i could fix my sight at the empty swing and put words in the rhythm in which the iron chain moves it back and fro.  

well well well i know you would think this story sounds familiar...there had been so many times that kids with a different perspective have been subject of films with a sublime moral, demanding parents to be a little patient 


but whatsoever it is in films or books or wherever, it doesn't bother me....i am what i am but i am not supposed to make noise either...so i too learned to practice maths and physics,and managed to score some marks that would add on to my total score and further help me to be ferried to the next grade and so on and so on till i clear my boards and decide what will be the subject on which i would specialize.


 

june 3



its raining since last night....

ahh rain!my dearest friend...
i have a relation of love, of dependence, of friendship with rain since when i was really small and there was a not a single time when rain denied to listen to my soul...whenever i have beckoned, it rained...it rained in summer,it rained in winter, it rained without any forecast...it rained because i wanted to camouflage tears in rain drops;it rained because i wanted to sail my paper boat to nowhere,i wanted to celebrate the moment and so it rained
its raining today again, because i want to soak memories in rainwater and replenish them for a lifetime.




june 6

like a pendulum,i swing back and forth in time, as i write; from this moment to those that i had already lived i hop skip and jump and dig out memories. 
life here seems as if remains of a reminiscence,nothing much that i can do about the present,no future ahead i could see, that can bring some hope, so i harbor here in the past.

when i was still in school and not even in my teens i feel in love for the very first time. love at that moment is all about pulse beating high at the slightest thought of him/her,buying chocolates saving every single penny that i could from my pocket money and celebrating valentine's day.
love is getting into the limelight and yet hiding away safely from parents and so it continued...falling in and out of love, sharing candies and class notes.
by the time in the last year of collage i realized love is more than sharing lollies...its ...may be living together and yet respecting each other's space and individuality,love is reading together the same poem and yet sharing opinions different,love is getting drenched in rain in the fragrance of wet earth....love is not sacrificing the self but a celebration of my being....i can only love someone with whom i can be what i am....
strangely i could never find someone whom i could actually love and in my search kept falling in love ...with people elder to my age....person not necessarily lonely or bored of their marriage but person with whom i can talk about books, music, drama or whatsoever; but still couldn't find a soulmate; the search would have continued but being the good child that i am, after collage and masters with a job in hand i got married.
i had thought i will manage to love...i hoped that P will understand....i had given P space enough to be what Pis and expected that P will not intrude either in my perimeter...will let me fly and still we can be together living happily ever after.
i tried time and again, have children and tried again.
in the process of these repeated trials i started loosing the self that i am. 
i started framing myself in an identity that is not mine nor an identity that P desires of me. if am not let to be myself i can neither be what i am supposed to be...its not a pronounced rebellion, for i am brought up to believe that i am a slave of obedience; but something  is happening and to it i have no control.
i let things happen, forgot, even try to mend...mend my relation? oh no....P could never understand the person that i am; ME is not actually the one with whom P shares  bank account or could dance at the discotheque,ME is not the one who P accompanies in crowd,in  daily routine; that was just a part inevitable as the sun rising in the east and setting down at dusk....there is no truth in that being;
and so P could never realize that am changing fast as tricks of a magician, am growing indifferent am growing mundane; am wearing out everyday from within; i no more write, no more waste film rolls clicking photos of the tree, of sea; 
P was happy with the me that she could encage...happy with the remains of ME with no soul to love except only, if acceptance and slavery could be called love
i have still no complains....against P, against myself....P is someone whom i could never apprehend ; i could never bring myself to change to the tune of normalcy...
and so we continue without any more new fights but as any other married couple...we continue to live in kitchen, in bedroom, in trips within and outside the country, we were living life....may be the way it should be...
only at times a sigh or so would declare a wish lost in cacophony of routined life to which i do not fit; the wish to be ME....

and then suddenly one fine day i meet someone really accidentally.

who that person is,what is the gender, how are the looks all are so irrelevant when i compare that person's contribution to my life. to my being... 
that meeting was an invocation of the self hibernating within the soul, so long; an invitation to the finer human within,a better one indeed,who can embellish thoughts in words, who can paint pictures even without colours ...
life started feeling much better and beautiful with that person,who is a thousand kilometers distant and yet never far....

we meet...passengers boarding the same train as strangers; get to know each other and befriended only one will get down at a station much earlier than the other;the route may not be the same but we knew we will meet at the end...both destined to the same utopia,


it always felt that we had known each other from a very ancient past...a prolonged meeting continued and will be continued till we live in unison


a parallel life i live with that person...a life i decline to call surreal

we walk together like the sea and the sky to touch the horizon and yet not tread in each other's periphery.

 in the few moments we have with each other i have lived a lifetime; at times reading,at times listening at times in silence; in rain, in sunshine,the few moments we had spend we celebrated every second of togetherness and yet no illusion this was; no collage infatuation that would deviate us from the duty that we are bind to, the duty to relation of names.


what name i give to this relation? what adjective describe my feelings?

i would rather prefer to refrain from defining everything in terms of definite...all that i can say is this is what to me is divinity ..this is my MOKSH

this relation has guided me through the other difficult relation that was suffocating me so far; now i have a light to ignite the goodness of my conjugal life and forgive the evil that had overpowered since long.

well this is no story of collage romance or coffee table paperback that will end in 'so they lived happily ever after and forget about whatever and whoever they meet.'but yes of course am now a better person with much inner strength to control the situation that am into , to derive happiness from whatever i have to live with and forget to expect.

i was never living with that person , neither having an extra marital, hiding away from the society,we are together forever in a unison where silence speaks ...distance bonds ....he/she will always and be ever with me like a prayer un uttered 



june 30



am lost in a parade of masks

masks big, masks small, masks of different colours
masks so bright that dazzle the eyes 
and all the masks have indeed a smile so bright


july 14


more than a proclamation may be some confession but what it all is, is a confrontation with the truth...a part of the mind is not ready 2 accept whatever happened is his sole responsibility, a part of the soul defies :yes you are the one and only one responsible...am lost in a battle between two minds and i ironically belong to both of them;they are equally dear ...if i support i will be bios if i don't i will b too indifferent as if not bothered and so i let them fight all on their own while i take the spectator's seat
I got bored though after a while and decided to go out and take a stroll beneath the night sky....hmm there are better things to be watched, to think off but still why i can't divert my self, still why i drift away from the beauty of the moon, of the ocean and harbor where i had left the moment a while ago; why can't this cool breeze cajole the wound n bruises all over my soul, why north wind intrudes to hurt n harm further n further beyond tolerance of patience ?
Should i walk a while and give it a try..and if yet again i fall n d same abyss how do i come out to light?
There is so much of darkness around...the sky is gray the earth beneath my feet all black...beauty of night here is not overpowered by neon lights from highrise...night here is still as it was from ancient times.....i don't know what i step into,don't know where i am stepping ahead, the road is all covered in fog, i cant see i cant feel, only a premonition, if can say so, alerts am not right, neither wrong and throws me again n an oblivion of  the battle between mind and soul



july 20


life had  plans of its own and when circumstances fail to fit in that loop the  puzzle is either attempted to complete or you decide to  walk ahead leaving beside the inevitable? what do you call this? rebellion?

how had been my life if had choose to step in those footprints designed way advance may be even before I had learned to walk....that had been the life of mediocrity if  nothing else....a life bind by routines and bound to follow the same routine everyday...morning to noon till sundown and at nightfall ...may be I would have slept in peace in that frame...may be
I am no better now choosing to deviate ...en route I had only potholes to fall into...again and again till I discover there is nothing ahead...am standing at the edge...on the brink of  an abyss; deep deep down till eyes can see there is nothing but a huge void
a void that holds none a void that still entice me to take a plunge and so here am I a fugitive encaged in his own terms and rules of living
I don't want to be free ...I have learned hard to be comfortable in this state and so decided to rest here for a while or till I win my dreams battling against my state of being 


what date is today i don't remember

when my loneliness overpowers the joy of my solitude i sit by the sea, the night sits beside and tells me stories of man of woman,tales of relation, tales untold ever before
a night awashed with rain tells me the story of an ancient mariner, who had set to an unknown virgin land, far far away, leaving beside his bride,his family;
he had excitement of an explorer; expectations of a merchant;he knew he will return soon or later but what he never knew is the soul that belongs to him, that was hibernating so far has planned otherwise;
and so he was confused ...he believes he should travel and trade but the mind directs him to some other forbidden land; 
time went by...days to months while he kept sailing and sailing towards the shore
then one morning as sunlight calls him he knew he belongs to none but to the earth, the sky and so he gives away his clothes, his wealth,his feelings, his thought to the ocean and harbors at the shore....he lies down eyes closed, naive as the day he was born and decided to be ONE with the earth for forever


july 22

am torn apart between morality and love of the self....am not a narcissist but am i been too selfish ?



august: 1

life has given me opportunities but denied circumstances where I can live them. 


august 10

everytime i decide to live again a montage of memories decide to rebel to remind that i cannot



august 11



the desire to die grows fonder every night; with every single pain in pray for death and still death remains a distant dream;

chemical from one pill to the other meets inside the body, dissolves in a faint rhythm and melts together in brain, spreads in veins and arteries ...poison?


there's a unexpected vine that has grown on my rusted ladder; at fast I thought I will uproot it but then let in grow and to my surprise there are flowers peeping from inside the buds this morning; small yellow flowers wrapped, like a child covered in blanket only two little pink bare feet is all that you can see...I was happy....I was too very excited at the arrival of  this unexpected guest

I settle down as the night gets dark to watch the flower bloom but it never bloomed
rain my dear friend came last night knocking at the door;i was late to reply..he took away my hope...he took away all the buds
why/ I try to reason out why?
I was living in an uninvited hope in an annomicity of the situation ...may be was asking too much from life otherwise nothing but a structure of flesh and blood?a machine of chores and routines?
can I fight so with rain who had been there ever always whenever I needed for something that was not due to me that was never mine?




afternoon& storm

i have learn to thrive in rain and storm; i have befriended them and made them companion for life long


no track of time & date


i had decided to ran away from life and choose recluse but still the roar, the sound of life chases me where ever i hide; 
i choose to be a loner in the crowd and yet feel lonely,left out in this procession of life rushing ahead without even looking behind...the hand that was secured in fist had long lost the hold and standing alone, way back, at the bend of the road from where highway starts...crying aloud helps none ...the voice is lost in noise of  fast moving steps

at times i really wonder if am seeking solitude in seclusion or rather shall i call this a journey to the infinite, indefinite?running away from the certain, inevitable?

but how long?

it took me years to destroy whatever that was good in me, whatever that was me...the fondness to create the passion to build; and now am standing here ad-mist nowhere trying to build a kaleidoscope of fragments of colour glasses...i know it may create a pattern and then another and another but nothing will stay ,nothing can survive the fragility that it is.

what i call pride is nothing but a vainglory of a defeated warrior who has lost all and still believes in his ownself ...trusts his strength of soul ...i have nothing and still i cant deny the ego so dear, the ME i had always adored 



date traced: 20august

i wanted to live life in rain in sunshine; i wanted to sit through the night to see a flower bloom,to see birth of a tiny sapling coming out of a mature seed; but such a slave i was of time and routine two minutes of independence was counted in terms of loss & profit.
that now i have time enough but the finer senses had worn out in due course of a prolonged wait...i don't know what to do with so much of time? time in abundance is killing me second by second,minutes by minutes...poison spreading slow from veins to arteries and yet still a long way to travel before it reaches the brain and captures the heart
time is flowing as in day and night,time still seems as if frozen in memories;
can i ever live to live tomorrow or at least today? this moment of sunrise holds no truth, this moment of being is as false as my notion of happiness.

21 august

and its raining since last night but rain no more holds the fresh fragrance of  wet earth;its washed away by rain again and again


22 august

how i wish to live a life with you..in rain, in storm,in joy, in sorrow; two hands entangled to give wings to our bird of shadow



6 september

as a prelude to fall the leaves have started changing colours and within a few weeks the sky, the roads, the earth will be painted in rich hues of  red yellow and orange...dry leaves will murmer together and to each other...to the breeze of autumn,to the ground to which they belong to the sky whom they aspire....murmur words so far unspoken...so far kept secret within the soul...murmur one one last time before saying adieu, goodbye


10 september

the rise of a shooting star:supernova

i had a vain glory, a pride in destroying all the goodness that i had as mutiny to what destiny had decided for me...but really did i ever believe in fate?not actually and so kept striving to create my own destiny be my own god....so whatever situation i was living good or bad was not entrusted upon   ...and when i realized it to be my mistake it was rather too late to build again;
an intense desire to go back a few 20 years down the line and start life again chases me as a fathom of my dream ...i seek respite i plead mercy but this dosen't ease the cruelty of the the desperation ...

i may be a coward...yes true am a coward i could never gather enough courage to declare myself 


11 september

when logic denies all reason and decides to get stubborn there's nothing,there's none who could help the situation



1october

যারা  ভালো ছিল তারা আরো  ভালো  হলো যারা  ছিল পিছনের  সারিতে তারা  সেটাই নিজেরদের জমি  মেনে  ভালো  আছে ; সুখে আছে শান্তিতে ;শুধু  যারা  মাঝে  ছিল তাদের কিছু করা  হয়ে উঠলো না.....তারা  স্বপ্ন বিলাসী,  স্বপ্নের  ফেরিওলা। কিছু স্বপ্ন  ধার  করা আগের থেকে ,কিছু লুকিয়ে  চুরি করা  স্বপ্ন  পিছনের সারি থেকে নিয়ে তাতে নিজের  রামধনুর রং লাগিয়ে যে স্বপ্ন দেখেছিল তাতে ধুলোর পাহাড় ;কখনো আড়ালে লুকিয়ে ,নিজের ১০টা  ৫টা  নিয়মের বাইরে নিয়ম করে  তাকে  ছু য়ে  দেখা  হ য়  বৈকী....শুধু সময়ের সাথে সাথে  ফিকে  রং এ  যে নতুন  পরত  লেগেছে প্রতি বছর তা  যেন  মেলায়  কেনা সস্তার  রঙ্গিন কাছের চুড়ি ; 



after long

its been really long that i have touched u my dear lonely self  in solitude within ; spoken to you in peace in solace in spoken to you with gratitude, said thank u for being me;
so today i stole sometime from daily chores, some seconds from here a few minutes from there, litted up my favorite cigarette, tuned to music of love, accelerate fast ...all set for a date with you...i am set to go nowhere with you dear and still we will drive for a while ...we will bypass all the busy lanes and admist the fall colours we two will stand atop the hill, facing each other  ..we will pledge together for a life better hereafter...we will close eyes and live the moment, breathe the fresh smell of autumn..of morning ,captivate all the fragrance of life before we are back to routine of slavery 



15 october

যদি  বেচে আছি 
সে বাঁচা টা  যদি  বাঁচা র মত না বাঁচি 
কেন  বেচে  আছি?




১৬ অক্টোবর 

অন্ধকার  আছে তো রাত্রি ছাড়া  ও  ভোরের আলোর নিচে 
অন্ধকার ছায়ার  ভিতরে  

অন্ধকার কৃষ্ণচুড়ার  লাল রং 
অন্ধকার বোবা অভিমান 



after a few days & weeks & after a long time



am trying to feel good am feeling much better;
these days am trying to paint and the more i play with colours the more i plunge deep inside the root,the naked audacity the truth; i dont though as i cannot outline figures;i just mix and match colours; one colourmingles with the other and yet another colour intrudes and invite some other and together its a ballad of colours;of life...may be or may not...a hallucination a mirage a belief of errors a fallacy of faith;



1 nov


why every moment of death succumbs to yet another moment of paralysis and a life in coma thereafter for months...a life hibernating in old memories ,wiping off the dust, the rust from dreams dear..dreams dreamt without shutting eyelids..dreams ever unspoken


11 nov

no human is exclusive , no relation is perfect...the one who seemed so different in the first meeting grows mundane with time with routine....its for us to make the moments so exclusive so content so absolutely beautiful and memorable that in days of storm and rain we can find a refuge,build a shelter in them.


13 nov

the past came knocking 
yet again one more time
asking questions,wanting to know why?
the future hold no hope
the present is lost in a maze from start to end to end to start to nowhere


i stand admist the ruin of my own doing
right or wrong 
or provoked by situation, lured by faith
a belief in happiness 
or so i had thought;
some joy of the moment
that i had trade
for a lifetime in prison


last day of the year

so here I am emperor of this relic
a piece of past here, a piece of present there
and a thousand more shattered everywhere
as i stoop to pick
and fix the  puzzle
i see the face and a many more in all those thousand pieces 
that looks similar
and yet so unfamilier
the face of a clown
mimcking
mocking at the 
frail ego
of a lost emperor


and yet another new year

does it matter and yet another new year
another 300 and a few more days 
no difference 



3 january

i could have left aside all and walk ahead being selfish or rather that would have you called and yet i decide to stay and let myself decay day after day from soul to brain to body and achieve neutrality...
but can all be destroyed actually?the ghost of dead dreams still parade in my sleep..they dont look they dont bother ....they just walk  smashing away whatever is left whatever i had  

10 january

am i at the end of a journey which had never begun but desired fondly in dreams? yes i am! difficult to accept though, yet i have to surrender to this truth, to defeat may be...am a fugitive of fate created by my own impulse ;how i deny, how i succumb; how do i stay quiet how i maintain calm?
i know theres no time left,i know its too late and still i dare to hope in ifs and buts for a magic,a miracle to change the life am entangled;



11january

তোমার সাথে দেখা হইনি বহুদিন 
কথা  তো আর হয়না 
তবু তোমার  নিত্য আসাযাওয়া 


and yet you intrude
and still you dare to trespass
in this space that i call self
that belongs to none 
but
my own

13 january

i have left beside laughter i have left aside life to live years, months and dates....and yet i walk because i cannot stand still admist a crowd moving ; so i walk not looking at my left not looking at my right; just walk ignorant and yet at times a stranger becomes a friend ...we walk together for a change...we walk a few miles together, in silence...we walk holding hands in rain...we walk not wanting to know who we are, we just walk in a belief of truth of the moment but  only to depart at the by lane and never to meet again...what stays with for the rest of the journey is enough to survive till the end


1 feb

these days i write very less or else better to be truthful i cannot anymore arrange emotions into words ...why so ? is it that i feel no more?  i think as it pains to accept ...may be because this is the goal that i wanted to achieve ..neutrality and indifference two ambitions successfully attained but the soul still grieves..
life is never content
the completion of a dream is overpowered by the birth of another and several others...a never ending process of  want and desire for more for something thats not mine 
a 24*7 machine producing new hope...satisfaction is never granted as may be we actually don't want to be satisfied...all that i have is not enough to fit my want though it might fix my needs
i came here wanting to run away from the cacophony of a crowd moving fast and yet again am trapped in the same race...i wanted to forget still i cannot avoid glimpses from the past entwined in hope of today...day after
i dont seek freedom...may be just a temporary hibernation is what i mistook as neutrality and indifference
should i walk ahead...should i walk past...should i join the crowd ...should i take the side path is not that matters anymore as i realized for sure am a fugitive of my own desire that looks so unfamiliar though...i desire and yet they look photocopied images of someone else's success..an old classmate may be or a colleague doing well..better than me...my desire how much belongs to me is more of his or her with whom i had always ever compete...in all these years i have more copied dreams than genuine desire ..a competition of best and better ..good is a term too mediocre



12 feb

death needs no invitation
death needs no provocation
death needs not to be invoked
for me
death may be
just a meeting by chance
and so i wait in prolonged patience for that dear moment
to knock and 
greet
hold my hand
and embrace my soul
take me along
away to the faraway land
somewhere there beyond the horizon
over the mountains
take me to an utopia
of absolute peace and silence

13feb

মনখারাপে  আমার বাস 
মনখারাপ  আমার অভ্যাস 



17 april

What do i do with these degrees and certificates?make paper boat and sail in the ocean or make kites and fly in the sky?they could have been tickets to my utopia; they had taken me to places and people...memories cherished for ever but i had left them long back to wear out, to turn grey beneath pile of  other papers and files and set to seek happiness in what is never mine
 these days it troubles a lot to think in ifs and buts
am moving fast towards middle of a life that i thought would be something else than what it is...
am tired of the crowd of relations and acquaintance of people and everything else...am tired of laughing loud...am tired of being good and best...am tired of being someone who is none but a dictionary definition 


18 april

i invited a stranger last night to sit beside...this journey has yet miles to cover and i had stories to share...stories that may this stranger hear without asking for who am i .....we can so cover some of the distance telling and listening ..
was was apprehensive though ....
what if he says no


20 april

বৃষ্টির মেঘলা রঙ্গে কেন যে মনখারাপের রং মিশে আছে 
নাম নেই, কারণ এর অজুহাত নেই 
শুধু মন এলোমেলা 


12 may

and again so many times i have tried to accept and confess that this is what i am and again so many times i have to surrender to dreams and ambitions of what i wanted to be but am not ...i want a respite from this dilemma..i want to go back and start again..afresh correcting all mistakes picking every opportunity and most importantly be selfish ..think about my dear own self,not bothered much about who think what and why..
but time will not halt for me..will not wait for me to go back and take a trip to collect whatever is lost ...it wouldn't have taken long....as i  don't have to search..if not anything else i have been really very focused all through..i know where i have misplaced i know the blind ends where i have hidden fragments of dreams beneath a pile of colorful dry autumn leaves..red yellow orange


13may

bhara badoro
maha badore
shunya mandiro mor....

its raining since last night....i have let open all my windows and doors to let you come in dear friend and still you decline to step inside...you touch my chimes..you touch my curtain..their swing in your rhythm....i wait in patience i wait in hope and desire  you never look back...well i understand i cannt bind you in a confinement of bricks and stones and so i came out to meet you...


15may


before it rained, after it rained and in between it rained, i have lived ever only to soak in rain...to drench, to draw watermark to drink to write in rain...i have lived in unison with rain i have lived in patience waiting for it to rain have prayed for rain to stay a while long 





16 may:midnight

i have never told why? u have asked neither...you have believed this to be my identity, the way i am at the daily chores of life...but never did you bother to take a little plunge and seek the self encaged and entwined in responsibilities and duties emotions and feelings none though for ownself...   but today i need to say ...a drunk captive's confession ...everyday as i wear out from mind to conscience i search fr one who will listen, a soul who can read me beyond my name,my behaviour my charecter:..i searched everywhere for him ,for peace and solace of mind and found nowhere..so many times i wanted to surrender and attain peace and solace and live thereafter like every other .., a life not intrigued by poetry and emotions unnecessary....someone to give me shelter in his shadow and hid me from the cacophony of the crowd... a person unknown, a human to whom i can confess and attain catharsis.. .



17 may:মধ্যরাত 

তোমার সাথে না বলা কথাও কবিতা হয়ে যায় 



28 may:

I am here at in every corner of this house, in relations of love and habit.. and yet  i belong to none...as i cook and look thru the window of my kitchen i see the road down below..traffic signal changing colours red yellow green get set go..i see people moving fast and children playing across the street i see the local vendor calling aloud i see a shadow walking past them all and moving ahead moving forward towards a destiny not yet set ...walking towards the horizon may be or may be beyond far really far




29 may:



i can bargain a day in poetry for a lifetime of security..i know i need money i know i need food i know i need a house to live but to survive i need thoughts that soothes my soul cajoles my emotions put feelings in my words

30 may:


Purpose purpose purpose..am tierd of seeking a purpose in life to camaflouge the cause for which i had set my journey long back..i pick up the pen to write i click random shots without even changing the frame,  and yet i feel fatigue. ..from whom do i desire to hide..none but my own dear self?how long can i continue this game of hide and seek..sometime sooner or latter i have to succumb to the reality..that am none

Thursday 22 May 2014

HOME

refugee



আমার মা বাবা অখন্ড  বাংলার লোক; তাদের বাড়ি ছিল চট্টগ্রামে 
আমি কোনদিন যায়নি সে জায়গায় ;খুব তো দূর নয় তবু যাওয়া হয়নি .
একটা বিশাল দেশ এখন বেশকয়েকটা টুকরো ,সেই সমস্ত খন্ড গড়ে উঠলো  এক একটা আলাদা পরিচয়ে, নতুন নামে নতুন দেশ....তাও কি সব নতুন?কিছু পুরানো এপারে আর ওপারের মিশে গেল একসাথে ,কিছু বিনিময় হয়ে গেল বেহিসাবে ;
বাংলাদেশ, পাকিস্তান নিজের নয়  আর,কিন্তু প্রতিবেশী পাশাপাশি 
শুধু বাংলাদেশের সাথে আমার একটা আলাদা সম্পর্ক ;আত্মার আর ভাষার; ভালবাসার 
কলকাতা আর বাংলাদেশ আমার কাছে সমান আদরের।
আমি বড় হয়েছি কলকাতায়... কিন্তু আমার সাহিত্য আমার গান শোনা তে দুই দেশের আত্মীয়তা ;মনে আছে ছোট বেলায় ফিলিপস এর বড় রেডিও  তে গান শুনতাম ফিরোজা বেগম, ইফ্ফাত আরা খান;কতদিন যে রাতের অন্ধকারে টর্চ এর আলোয় সৈয়দ মুজতবা আলী র সাথে ঘুরে বেরিয়েছি দেশেবিদেশে

একটা দেশ আমি চিনেছি এভাবে, তার সংস্কৃতিতে ,গল্পে , স্মৃতিচারণায়

আমার কোনো দাদুর বাড়ি ছিল না গরমের ছুটি কাটানোর জন্য।সবাই বলত আমরা  যাচ্ছি....দেশের  বাড়ি....সারাদিন মাঠে ঘাটে  হুটোপাটি.... ভাই বোন তুতো  কত !সবাই একসাথে ঢালা বিছানা...এর পা তার মাথা.. ..গরমের রাত.....বিশাল ছাদ  আর  আদিগন্ত   আকাশের নিচে দিদা দাদুর কোল  ঘেষে রাজার বাড়ি !....এমন একটা মজার ঠিকানা আমার খাতায় লেখা  ছিল না   
আমি শুধু  জানতাম  দুরে অন্য একটা দেশে আমার মা বাবা র  ছোট বেলার  গল্প লেখা আছে  জলছবিতে ,পদ্মার পারে...সেইখানে আমার দাদুর বাড়ি;মাঝে দালান, দালান ঘিরে ঘর...ঘরের বাইরে আমকাঠালের বাগান আর দুপুরে ভুতের ভয়; 
আমার মার ছোটবেলার পুতুল ,কাপড়ের পুটলির  ভিতর আরো কাপড় আর  তুলোর  বর বউ ....আমার বাবা  কোনদিন কি তালপাতার  সেপাই সেজেছিল,ভাসানের  পর  লড়ে পাওয়া মাটি ভেজা  সোনালী রান্তার  মুকুট ?   
শুনেছি  একটা বিশাল বটগাছ ছিল নদীর ধার ঘেষে 
সেই বটগাছটা আছে হয়ত এখনো,আগের মত,খেলার মাঠের শেষে একা ভীস্ম ,শুধু  ব্রহ্মদিত্যা এখন  জিন !!!! 

জানি না কেমন ছিল সেই বিশাল দালান যার একপাশে বাঁশের  কাঠামোর গায়ে মাটি লেপা হত পূজোর  বেশ কয়েক মাস আগে....আর সেই আম কাঠালের  বাগান, যেখানে কালবৈশাখীর পর্  রাতের অন্ধকারে  আম কুড়ানোর প্রতিযোগিতা....বড়মামা, মেজমাসি....সোনামামা...রাঙাদিদু ?
আমার দেশের বাড়ি ছিল আমার  মা বাবার ছোটবেলার গল্পে ...অথচ  ছোটবেলার গল্পটা বড় হওয়ার আগেই হারিয়ে গেল হঠাত ...তখন গল্পের পাতায় কে যেন ঢেলে  দিয়ে গেছে কালির দোয়াত...কালো,লাল
বড় হার অনেক আগে বড় হয়ে যেতে হলো ;খেলা শেষ হইনি তবু ডাক পড়ল ঘরে ফেরার,ঘর থেকে পারি দেওয়ার দেশান্তরে; সব আছে আগের মতই , শুধু  এর  মাঝে কিছু  বছর  হারিয়ে গেছে দারুন  এক যুদ্ধে......এ  ঠিক রাজার সাথে রাজার  লড়াই  নয়  এ  লড়াইটা  পরিচয়ের.....আব্দুল  না  অভয়?
শুরু হলো আর এক পাঁচালি.....'পথের পাঁচালি '....অন্ধকার আর পালিয়ে বাঁচার লড়াই..কে পরে রইলো কাঁটাতারের ওপারে ফিরে দেখার সময় নেই....আগে কোথায়  যাবে তার ঠিকানা নেই ; শুধু  চলতে চলো , যদি কোথাও পাওয়া যায়  এতটুকু মাটি, একবিঘা জমি.....বাসা বাঁধা হবে আবার
শুরু হবে প্রথম থেকে,কিন্তু শেষের পর ও কি শুরু করা যায়?হয়ত সম্ভব ....যারা ভাঙ্গনে দেখেছে তারা বাঁচে আবারও...ওরা জানে ভাঙ্গতে ভাঙ্গতে ও শেষ হতে নেই ; কিছু পড়ে থাকা সাহস আর বিশ্বাস জুড়ে কেউ যাদাভ্পুর ,কেউ টালীগঞ্জ,কেউ আরো দূর... এখানে বিশাল দালান ঘিরে ঘরের গায়ে ঘর নেই.....ওপরের উঠোনে বড় উনুনে দুধের পুরু সরের গল্প, পেয়াজের ঝাজে চোখে জল  

বাঁচতে চেয়ে একসাথে, ধীরে ধীরে বাঁচার অভ্যাসে কেউ তখন কারোর মাসি ,কেউ বোন ;এপারে বেড়ার দুধারে দশটা পরিবার......ডালের ফোরনে কুচো মাছের গন্ধ ;পরেশ দার ধুতির পাশে মিলি বৌদির শাড়ি আর এতটুকু জায়গা যথেষ্ট মামনির লালজামা র জন্য। 

নতুন করে গড়ে ওঠা সম্পর্ক, নতুন জীবন,নতুন পরিচয় REFUGEE 

আমার মা বাবা রেফিউজি ;তাই যাওয়া হইনি বাংলাদেশ ;অভিমানের গায়ে ধুলোর পাহাড় 

    



my parents belonged to undivided Bengal....after decades of war and crisis does actually anybody bother for their roots?
i believe they do; and so i do
i have never been to Bangladesh and yet again i have visited that place so many times...

people who dose not belong to a particular country, have no address, is called refugee.
my parents were refugees from Bangladesh....if not now at least for a very long period of time till people from West Bengal forgot to acknowledge Bangladesh as a different country altogether, remembering the days from history when there was only one Bengal!

well so i didn't have any ancestral house to spend my long summer vacations...how i used to envy my friends who used to bag pack even before the holidays would start;
a bunch of cousin playing together from morning till noon & play again and again till sundown....
can sleeping at night, get any better than brothers and sisters piling upon each other together, in one big bed,fighting for positions by the window....ferried to some kings palace far and far away in the tune of grandma's folk tale...& singing in chorus at the end


নোটে  গাছটি  মুরাল 
আমার গল্প ফুরালো। ....

i had never had an opportunity like this....both my maternal & paternal grandparents used to live at some one else's house as tenant till their eldest managed some savings to build a home of their own.

i had always missed the smell, the aura that would have embraced  my ancestral house or rather shall i say the ruins of what used to be আমার  দাদুর  বাড়ি/ my grandparents house...the house where my parents had born; 
my mom would rather go a few steps further  back, narrating stories she might have heard ,stories about a small little girl of ten,married but doesn't even know  how to  tie the knots of a sari! of a young little boy who was more than elated to get a new partner in his team to play marbles! that was the tale of my grandparents!
&the story would go on and on from paddy fields to the bank of Padma to the swing on the big banyan tree and so far and so forth

but like all stories their story  has to end somewhere; though their tale ended much abruptly midway, even before they were grown old.
even before they have find out the last one in the game of hide and seek ,they were called back home
that night no body would dare to sleep and decide to run &run faster towards nowhere....

there was a fire that's been build and spreading at a rapid speed engulfing mind and soul, belief and relation....the fire was more than an alarm....the fire was rather a message...it was time to depart without even saying goodbye
run and run without looking behind
run till someone finds a piece of land, a fragment of hope 
& so stop there....scattered at leftover cheap places where the natives would not dare to step but they would as they had all the courage to build castle of hope with whatever that is left...
not like what they had in their own land but they learned fast to live the way it is this side of earth....to bond into new relations and to wear a new identity or a brand that they would always be                                                                                             refugee





missing home;প্রবাসীর চিঠি 
t

he sea, the scenery, nothing seems to entice me here;nothing looks better than my own country....however it is there its my own...good or bad it all belongs to me; the rustic virgin beauty i always miss...miss the dhaba by the highway...मिट्टी  की कुल्लर में गरम चाय...dont feel at one with the sky with the sea here...dont feel the urge to capture her in my travelogue, my memories are and always be that of my homeland;the fragnance of that part of the earth melts in everybit of my living here, dragging me back, calling by my name...my nick name