RONGO RIVER VALLEY

by Pritam Sarkar

 

সত্যি-স্বপ্ন

      আমার সত্যি এক ঘড়া জল,
মরণ বাঁচন জীবন-ধারণ।
      স্বপ্ন আমার এক সরোবর,
আত্ম-সুখের অবগাহন।
        _____🍁_____

~~~~~অভিশাপ~~~~~

আজকে আমার নিথর হবার পালা,
তোমাতেই হোক সবুজের সমারোহ,
অক্ষরহীন বর্ণমালার রঙে
বর্ণিত হোক প্রকৃতির ধারাবহ।

নাই বা রইল চিত্রকরের তুলি,
নাই বা রইল কবিতার কোলাহল
উজ্জ্বল হোক তোমার রূপের ছটা
বিলীন হোক গদ‍্যকারের দল।

শরৎ হিমের শব্দ শুনো তুমি
শুনো বসন্ত-পাখির কলকুজন
স্বচ্ছ নদীতে আকাশের মুখ দেখো,
কোরো জ‍্যোৎস্না রাতে নিভৃতে নিশীযাপন

তপ্ত দুপুরে বটবৃক্ষের ছায়ায়
একা বসে থেকে পথিকের পথ চেও।
কিন্তু সে আর আসবে না কোনোদিনও
তোমারই শাপে সে মহামারীতে হত !

নৈসর্গিক জীবনের যত রঙ
প্রজাপতি আর ঝর্না ঝরার সুর,
আমার প্রাণের বিনিময় চাও তুমি!
প্রকৃতি, তুমি সত্যিই এতো নিষ্ঠুর !?
                              ~ তাতাসি রায়
                              ~ 2nd April 2020

PUNJABI BY NATURE

by Jessica Singh

(No intended mockery, just a peek-a-boo into a Punjabi wedding from my eyes)

A colossal farmhouse situated far from the city and undoubtedly it would take you at least an hour to reach there no matter where you live. On the way you just might get confused as to where are you actually heading to as you would be driving on a highway at night among those horrendous trucks but one diminutive thought to your attire will bring you back to reality. Finally you somehow manage to reach your destination, partially aware and partially ignorant of what lies ahead. You step down from the car and while uncreasing your wrinkled outfit you put on a facsimile smile almost instantaneously as you see a relative. The parking which is generally positioned at a comparatively higher level than the main party area, gives you an overview of the throng of ‘sardars’,their turbans in shades of black, grey and blue with a few odd ones in red or maroon accompanied by their wives dressed in multitude of colors.

Now starts the actual process which can be divided into two broad categories- formality and actuality. Formality would be performed by the distant relatives of the bride and groom, whose sole purpose out there is attendance. But they also perform another important function of ‘indulgence’ into all kind of edible stuff they can put hands on. Actuality processes would include all the close relatives, the immediate families of the bride and groom who are actually a part of all the ceremonies taking place and often would not even know what was on the menu. It also includes the bride and groom for whom actuality, more appropriately put, is reality. The bride uneasy in her weighty dress, anxious but giving a smile portraying her disarmingly charming beauty and the groom waiting patiently on the stage as the bride enters gaining all the attention. As soon as the bride reaches the stage everybody goes back to their own tasks.

The aunties, congregating in groups forming a place to watch and be watched, a place to flaunt something on which they spent thousands over the past month. After minutely examining each one in their own transitory group and in the vicinity of the group they would start commenting on how many kilos each has gained or lost and why. While the uncles can be found wherever some drinks and non-vegetarian snacks are being served. The children would either be up to some mischief with their new-found playmates or they would be trying to find a way to rid of their over possessive mothers. Among the ever ignored group of adolescents, some find their way into the limelight through ways I am totally unaware of, and others like me comparatively socially awkward, tend to adhere to someone with whom they can possibly have a word or two and then again look for their parents, finding them with some relatives and manage to get an occasional remark on their growth spurt.

I do not intend to ignore the most important part of a wedding, FOOD, which I believe concerns 95% of the people in the party. The variety as we all know is bountiful for snacks, drinks, main course and desserts, making it a sort of paradise for ‘foodies’.If one observes closely, there are interesting ways in which the food is served and consumed. The waiters would do everything they can for beautiful ladies or seemingly wealthy and generous ‘foodies’, where there would be high probability of baksheesh. Other waiters can be mostly found serving with reckless discourtesy, carelessly spilling things over some auntie’s expensive sari who would in turn curse him with observable artful animosity. But a waiter, a server, emanates some kind of anguish, shows stoic anger that hangs in the eyes of repetitive ill-paid work. The consumption of food would bring forth yet another fascinating aspect, coming back to the aunties; they must never be found eating something while meeting a relative. You can actually see them making all possible attempts to hide the fact that they were eating and also its against their pride to go and take something on their own (except fruit chat and gol-gappas).So they devise ways to do that, they hunt for their children and tell them to do the same, the obedient child goes and gets whatever her mommy wanted only to find out that four other aunties also want the same thing, and the poor child is trapped. Whereas the uncles have no worries of being caught they rather tell the other person to join them.

So after getting your attendance marked (giving the ‘sagan’), you mentally start preparing yourself to go but physically it would take a lot of time. The spouses would keep telling each other that they are getting late, but either of them gets stuck up with something and the other gets goaded in that time. Then somehow they reach a consensus and finally move out, settle back in their cozy car, loosen their ties and other tight strings (whatsoever), yawn and go back home discussing everything from food, to clothes, to venue, the overall arrangement et cetera, et cetera.Just then an idiotic argument would crop up from nowhere and the husband takes a wrong turn by mistake, wife:” how many pegs did u have tonight” ,then pin-drop silence in the car until they reach home.

Copyright©Jessica Singh

LONGINGS OF A 'LOST' SOUL

I yearned to not part,
I pleaded to remain stark,
I confessed to be a spark.

It was all clear and hazy,
I was both empty and full.
The grip was strong yet lose,
The passion was growing yet fading,
I was laughing and crying,
I was smiling and smirking,
I was connected yet aloof...

I was yours and not,
The pain was mine and not,
Blinding love can be binding,
but it was neither blinding nor binding.

longing...
to succumb to the urge,
to fold into the foetal posture,
to cuddle up, to snuggle,
to envelop and be enveloped.

The water froze into cubes,
The cube melted in the warmth,
The cold lurking behind the warmth.
I too wanted to freeze, and melt,
become water again and flow.
I did freeze, melt, flow,
alternating between different states.
I evolved into a person I cannot identify with.
I am dazed, perhaps its just a phase.
I tread the path,alone;
I wander, alone; I explore, alone;
I experience the bouts of gregariousness, alone.

Where am I?
Give me back to 'me',
Please don't hold me there any more;
for I am not sure;
Is it right to question things? why not?
It is my right to seek the answers,
but whose duty is it to provide them?