Love's Epitaph

It was hard.. i know we broke up, we don't talk to each other for days and days... it seems some light years to me.. like something is missing from my fucking life... itches me, irritates me.. then i made my mind to stop thinking about her... but i kept thinking, she is still in my mind at least once a day... sometimes you do something, you go to someplace else, you see somebody or hear something... and i too thought if i could go one day without her name going through my head.. after so many days i thought i should just call her once and ask how she is, what she is doing, but i couldn't call her.... you have this experience of feeling something so strong so good and as bad as it gets you can't forget that.. and you always think that tomorrow it will be the way it was before.. and the memory gets stronger and stronger.. and it just makes every day worse and worse... i know its over.. but she has this... she has the best heart not because i love her but because i know who she is.... i know i can't just call her.. i hurt her.. i don't know why i wasted so much time pretending i didn't care, i guess i just didn't want to feel like this shit.. it hurts.. i love her and i don't care if she thinks its too late because i am telling her anyway.. please don't do that, don't just disappear like that on me.. i said her to disappear but she shouldn't have listened to my words.. she shouldn't listen to me...

Why ?

Nearly every alternate second we raise our voice. We protest, we fight, we question – why? Such an obvious question played the fulcrum of several astonishing events of mankind. Renowned scholars argue, peasants fight, workers protest and lovely lover questions – why?

bichitro o boichitro

tulonar maap-kathi nei amar kache, tobu jotobar dekhechi mugdho hoye protibar ak vinno roopkothay veshe beriyeche mon. ojana odvut nesha kukre kukre kheyeche amay. parlam na, just parlam na aral theke uki marte. dhora dilam ojana srote. vashay bornona korte kheyechi himshim, hajar kothay-e tobu furalo na.

"jogot-er majhe koto bichitro tumi he
tumi bichitro roopini.
ajuto aloke jholsicho neel gagone,
aakul puloke ulosicho foolkanone,
dulokbhuloke bilosicho cholchorone,
tumi chancholgamini.
mukhor nupur bajiche sudur akashe,
alokgondho uriche mondo batashe,
modhur nritte nikhil chitte bikashe
koto monjul ragini.
koto na borne koto na swarne gothito,
koto j chonde koto sangeete rotito,
koto na gronthe koto na konthe pothito,
tobo oshonkho kahini.
jogot-er majhe koto bichitro tumi he 
tumi bichitro roopini."
- rabindranath tagore

hya, ami subidhe-badi

school-e jabar age barite akta hulusthul bedhe jay. somoy-er ovab-ta porikkhar shes minuter moto uttejona shrishti kore. thik ei somoy-e ami nijeke subidhe-badi kore feli. dress korte hobe abar du-mutho kheyeo jete hobe, sathe abar mosto boro akkhana bag-e boi bhore niye jete hobe. onek kaaj, abar somoy onek kom. upay?? chotpot kore haat chalano. kintu ami j superman noi! orthyat amar sahajjo dorkar. maa tai khabarer plate haate niye khaiye dite lege porlo. aar ami haat chaliye onno kaaj gulo shes korte byasto. maa'r ei sahajjer jonno onek subidhe holo. othocho nijer somoy gyaan-er okkhomota na hole ami nijei nijer haat-e khete partam shanto vabe. ei porbo katiye uthe train dhorte dourate laglam. obosheshe platform pouche dekhi ticket-er lomba line. ghorir kaata bolche train er somoy hoyeche. kintu bharotiyo train bole kotha, right time-e ashar obvesh nei. tai haate minute paach-ek somoy ache. kintu badh sedheche ei lomba line jeta kina paaach minute-eo shes hobe na. edike ei train ta miss korle first class miss. kopale tahole shoni'r nrittyo fhute uthbe. akhon upay?? chotpot kore ticket ta katte hobe. ke amake sahajjer haat bariye debe? ak mohashoy k binoyee suur-e o gobechara mukh niye khub nomro vabe bollam 'amar ticket ta ektu kete deben? ei train ta na pele amar class ta miss hoye jabe.' sathe sathe tikhno jobab 'age aste paro na?' abar ami binoyee suur-e boli 'etai last aar hobe na'. obosheshe ticket katao holo aar train tao dhora gelo. bhodrolok ticket ta kete diye amar subidhe kore dilen. othocho bari theke age beriye porle khub onayashe ticket kata jeto. nije bhul kore subidhe khoja akta reyaj hoye geche. bus e uthechi, conductor k khuchro paisa diye gontobbo sthan er naam bollam. conductor mohashoy bolilen 'ak taka kom ache'. ami nirupay, pocket-e j oi kotai khuchro chilo. tahole akhon upay? vabchi conductor mohashoy ki amay sahajjo korbe? shahos niye boli 'aar to nei. ticket ta lagbe na tahole'. conductor tu shobdoti korilo na, tar karon oi taka-ta tar nijer pocket e joma porlo. nije shothik taka na diye punoray er moto subidhe khujlam. professor er class onek bunk diyechi. ki korbo. 'bondhu' bole j akta kotha ache setar dikeo to takate hoy! noile aka pore jabo j. ta shei bondhu der sathe adda dite gele koyekta class bunk marteo hoy. kintu bochor sheshe dekhchi amar sudhumatro oi ekti sir er attendance akdom tim tim kore jolche. nive gele bipod, ondhokar hoye jabe j! tai guti guti paye pouchulam professor er ghore. onek kaan mola onek ojuhaat aro onek onek guul deowa, modda kotha sir k impress kore amar attendance ta bariye neowa. sir er theke ei samanno sahajjo. r tai nije class na kore subidhe khujchi.
hya ami subidhe-badi. aar paach joner moto lukiye lukiye subidhe niye pore chitkar kore gola fatiye bolte parbo na 'subidhe-badi murdabaad'. subidhe-badi kake bole? manush nijer protikul poristhitite nijer obosthan k unnoti korar jonne sujog o subidhe khoj-e. ei sokol manush optimistic hoye thake, j kono poristhitite tara harte ghrina bodh kore, ebong tader vabnay thake joy. tader kankhito lokkho sofol koratai tader udessho. amra keu superman noi, tai amader khomotar shima tao khudro. vul amra korboi karon amra keu perfect noi. bastob jogot-e amra sobai subidhe khuji, shei subidhe khojar poth hoyto alada kintu amra sokole vinno pothei choli. obossho eta mone rakhte hobe amader lokkhe pouchano te jeno onnora atonkito na hoye pore. onnoder durmush kore nijer labh bichar korata atonko-badi te porinoto hobe.
poschim bonge ke ashlo aar k gelo tate ami least interested. tobe jehetu bongo sontan tai adda ta miss korte parina. aar adda-y ei bongo voter folafol niye shorgol tao fhyala jay na. tai oi addar thek-e ei torko valo lage. er beshi kichu noy. ami subidhe-badi, j rong er dol subidhe debe ami takei to support korbo. ohe vaya, kal theke apnar barite jol asha bondho hole apni rege jaben na? apni complaint lodge korben na? erokom cholte thakle apni fed up hoben na? apni apnar locality'r mayor er poriborton chaiben na?
bamfront hereche mane akhon theke opposition party ta besh jomati bhalo holo ei boktita jara dichhen tara bodhoy doodher shwad ghole metachhen. aar jara banglar shadhinota hoyeche bole chitkar korchen tara hoyto vule jachhen shadhinota achieve korte gele rule-e pore thakle cholbe na,badhon mukto hote hobe,vul korte hobe. in short, khachar vetor lomfho jhompo korlei shadhin howa jay na. jongole e beriye porun tarpor 'halum' korun.

chor khabe payes

sidh katiche Gopla boroloker ghore

aaj raate malkori asbe tar tyake

bou boliche goyna ana chai

taile ghore payes, joto khusi khai.

(edike Gopla'r barite…)

khoch khoch khoch khoch

khoch khoch khoch khoch

ato raate shobdo kore ke

chor elo naki re?

khoch khoch khoch khoch

chol dekhi haate loye torch

jalaton jalaton

boddo jalaton.

apon morod tao akormar dheki

kotodin bolichi lagao tala chabi

shone kotha,

akhon bojo thyala.

jalaton jalaton

boddo jalaton.

o mago! sorbonash holo amar,

dili to mukh lagiya, paji kothakar.

akhon ki kore korbo payes?

‘meow’

doodh kheye beral kore ayes.

sara raat bou hahutas kore more,

bhor hotei Gopla dorjay kora nare.

biliti kutta dui khan chilo jege

kono rokome palaiychi beche

goyna paisa kichhu ainte parini.

gomra mukhe bou koy ‘payes radhini’.

Post-Box

Clad in a red shirt and with a black cap he stood still among the buzz.
He looked at me and asked, “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“Say what?” I replied.
“Well, anything, anything you want. The things you want to say, the things you don’t want to say. It could be anything! Say it to me and I will write for you.”
I smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“It’s just that I don’t have to say anything to anyone.”
“Don’t dare to speak those words. Nobody knows better than me boy. It takes a lot to speak and when people speak they forget to stop.”
“If you know so much, why don’t you say? Let me hear your story.”
“I used to write a lot in those days, people used to jump at me to say their stories and stories were never-ending. Each one of them had a story of their own and I used to write all of them, one after another. Lovebirds would never end in time, they carried on saying. They had lots to say, sometimes they argued and sometimes they quarreled like enemies but most of the time they just loved to say. Much to my wonder I tried to find their impetus but couldn’t find it. Impatient people on the other hand would rather shout at them for taking so much time, but they hardly listened (smiles) it’s just that time has stopped ticking for them. Then there was an old man who would come to me and say ‘when are you coming down son, we are very lonely here.’ His frail look and his stick could only depict his loneliness. I failed to write his agony, my words failed. He is same as before and he still repeats those words to me. I have seen tears, tears of both joy and sadness. Some would say he is a proud father while some would mourn at loved ones death. The two extremes of emotions can be well described when it is spoken of; I found it very difficult to translate it into words. So I say to you son, speak, it’s the only gift that separates us from the animals. Don’t shut your mouth when you are not a dumb. (pause) Time passed by and faces changed but stories grew like the day. Friends would fix get-togethers and I would fix the dates for them. You could feel the urge in their words. Job seekers kept on saying about jobs and each time they came they had a new job to apply. Strange, isn’t it? jobs are like stars, countless! Mother annoyed me the most. Her child lived far away from her and she would come daily and ask about her. She had the same questions ‘have you taken your medicine, your food, are you alright, how is your work’. But I still obliged her, because she is the mother. Ah those were the days! There are many such stories to tell you. All of them resemble the colors of emotions, the satisfaction in speaking their minds.”
(pause)
“Why is it that you keep on saying ‘those were the days’? Don’t you write now?”
“People have changed and so as the times, all are changing. Nowadays everybody is engrossed with their duties, time has taken control over their minds and they have no time left for themselves. Yes, I write, but not like days before, it’s because people like you have grown in numbers and people like you keep everything beneath their skin, they never speak.”




P.S. - As a person I believe that post-box eats our letter. As if I extend my hand with the letter in front of its mouth and it swallows it into the belly. The protagonist in the above article is a post-box.

Is Violence Justified ?

Nations fought two great world wars. Independent countrymen choose violence to defy the laws and rules. The minds are paralyzed with violence. It is not the fault of us, but the very decent spirit that resides inside our brains. We are being trained to compete. The prehistoric men in the history books reveal about their techniques of competition. Modern age men use nuclear weapons to destroy the competitor. Violence grew with the origin of species. How much one tries to control it, the jester headed beings can’t ignore. Peace to them is a beautiful word embraced with harmony of tolerance. Tolerance is something that can be tolerated when the question of survival is absent. The sheer meaning of peace is understood by them but rarely followed.
Is violence justified? Well its 'yes'. And why not? The very Darwinian theory 'survival of the fittest' proves it. Violence is just the pedigree to stay alive. Food is the thought for endurance and anything can be done to preserve it. Don't forget this basic instinct of living beings. We as living beings, and other forms of life survive on the intake of food. Nothing comes swimmingly to you unless you go for it. Harsh world has no mercy laid upon you; neither does it offer a second chance. Fight till the last breath or be a living dinosaur in some museum. The choice is yours. Surprisingly the food of living beings constitutes another living in the form of dead. And when everybody wishes to survive there is hardly any chance of 'peace'. Battle begins. The very root of civilizations is incorporated with violence and it runs deep. Violence is thus a sweet word described by the escapists. They chant slogans with placards written ‘peace’ and march with lit up candles which eventually ends up in a futile effort.
Where the mind is without fear battlefields don’t go empty. Peace follows the winner only after the battle is won. The battle cannot be won with losing it at the same time; peace simply cannot be achieved with the friendship with violence. So, is ‘peace’ truly needed? Does it render us anything? Well it only curbs the level of violence. It calms the mind from strenuous engagements, nothing else. Peace is just a five letter word.

bektigoto

kokhono aynar samne dariye boli 'gentleman'
kokhono ba dhoar ring charte charte boli 'keta keta'
albhola kobir moto kokhono aurai kobiguru ke
ceiling-er oi fan ta keno 'atlamo' jogay ?

pasher barir ukijhuki swapne bole 'bhije geche'
shaving cream-er fhena mekhe banai ‘shada dari’
rannaghorer horek rokom, 'chomke' dey !
pocket-er khuchro paisa 'jhunjhun' shobdo shonay

lokkho lokkho proshno chinno
dariye thake sommukhe, uttor-e nei chabi
samner dike na giye tai,
fire cholechi pichone

kagojer nouka 'veshe' jay brishtir jol-e
kokiler 'suur' shunte pai boshonte
golap-er proyojon aaj 'osthir' premik-er
abhiman-er oboshan-e 'mon' aaj boro bhalo.