Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Neem gach/Neem Tree by Bonophool or Bolai Chand Mukhopadhyay (1899-1979)




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Neem Tree


Some strip the bark and boil it.
Some rip off the leaves and grind them.
While others fry them up in hot oil.
To smear it on itches and skin rashes,
Infallible in skin problems.
Many also eat the young leaves
Sometimes even raw,
Or fried with egg plant.
Very helpful for the liver.
So many break off the young branches and chew them – keeps teeth healthy.
The traditional healer cannot praise it enough.
One growing next to the house makes the wise happy.
They say, the breeze blowing through a Neem is good, let it stay, do not cut it;
So no one cuts it, but no one looks after it either.
Rubbish collects about its base.
Someone paved around it – another kind of rubble at its feet.
Suddenly one day, a new person arrives
They gaze upon the tree with wonder, they do not strip off the bark, rip off the leaves
Or break the branches; they just gaze!
They say, ‘Lovely, how lovely the leaves, how beautiful!
And the clusters of flowers! Like stars that flicker in a sea of green!’
After looking on for a while, the person goes away.
Not a healer of the body, but of the mind – a poet.
The Neem tree wanted to go with him; but in vain, for its roots were deep.
It remained in the pile of rubbish behind the house.
The same as the domesticated, docile daughter-in-law next door….


Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Adbhuth Andhar Ek/A strange darkness has descended on this earth by Jibanananda Das




A strange darkness has descended on this earth



A strange darkness has descended on this earth
Those who are blind, they see the clearest today,
Those whose hearts hold no love nor affection, unstirred by compassion,
The earth is at a standstill today without their advice.

The ones who still have deep trust in people
Those who see as natural
Great truth or rules, or art and effort,
Today their souls feed the jackals and the vultures.

Purnendu Pattrea: Kokhon Ashcho Tumi and Joriye Porechi Tomar ChoRano Chuley/When are you coming and Entangled in your hair




When are you coming?

All the doors are open
On each tree hangs an invitation
Like a deep kiss for the river the sky leans in
Sunlit and sparkling.
Tell me, when are you coming?

The day passes, it is getting late
In the garden old flowers wilt
Everyone else walks self important
To distant festivities too big to miss.
Will you be even later than this?

Today was a very good day
Guests from near and far in every house to stay
The trees and forests cast their old skins away
To dress in new young leaves.
I don’t know whether you know this.

I am alone, in a desolate void
Aloofness swarming in my heart.
Whatever I pick from my desires ardent
Tearful, trembling.
Tell me, when are you coming?

***

Entangled in your hair

I am entangled in your open hair.
Blame this midday heat for my desire.
Long have I walked on pebbles and stone
These dark wings crave rest of their own
To bathe in shade cooled depths, casting off my old attire.

I am entangled in the blue calm of your eyes.
Feels like you were within mine always.
I have looked for you, in clouds and forests
Broken branches, torn flowers and bud
Searched knee-deep in river and in sludge.

I am caught up in your hair flowing free.
You are like full bloom upon a tree.
Failed anger bleeds from finger tip
I crave your smell on every inch of my skin
In your innermost depths I find that peace.








Monday, April 8, 2013

Kathopokathan 1/Conversation 1 by Purnendu Pattrea( An Extract)




Why are your eyes red?
Were you caught in the rain?
Why are the veins in my hands blue?
They got burned.
You said you would write to me today,
Have you got it? Great! Many, many thanks.
What is this you give me? Just an empty envelope!
Where did the letter go?
It blew away you say?
All the words in my letter too
Washed away in the rain.
Today the water knows many a trick.
Drenching the clothes on some
And ravaging the houses of others,
Knocking on their doors with obscene eagerness.
Once we were made homeless by the same water.
Pillows, mattress, bed, pots, pans and plates
All grist to the open mouthed shark.
We were floating on a putrid tide,
Brother to algae and the choking weed.
Did I anger you with this talk of water?
Let us not talk about water then
Let’s discuss life instead.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Kathopokathan Ek/Conversation 1 by Purnendu Pattrea (Extract)




Why are you so late?
Were the streets crowded?
I am a bit late too
All the streets had gaping holes in them.
Why were there so many people on the streets?
Was it a cortege? Who died this time?
Yogo went just the other day
He just ran, never coming back.
One after the other, Shankar, Bimal.
Only the ones we need are the ones who run away.
Towards the faraway sea
Just like the dark Nuliya divers go, towards oblivion.
More will go, we will too.
Death comes and goes frequently these days
Like a stepped up train service in the suburbs.
What kind of death would you like?
Me? Cerebral?
Did I anger you with this talk of death?
Let us not talk about that topic then
Let’s discuss life instead.

Why is your chin so shadowed?
Were you in the dark?
Why is my forehead beaded with sweat?
I was in the sun.
Why haven’t you worn a teep today?
I haven’t worn my panjabi today.
Why is your hair messed up?
Were you caught in a storm?
Why is there blood in my hair?
There was lightning.
There is a storm every day lately.
Trees fall, sometimes even lamp posts
People too, like birds torn in half
Fall in the ditches.
Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum
I smell the blood of a human, yum!
Did I anger you with this talk of storms?
Let us not talk about storms then
Let’s discuss life instead.