ঝাউয়ের ডাকে তখন হঠাৎ মনে আমার পড়ল কাকে রাত্রিবেলা

ঝাউয়ের ডাকে

শক্তি চট্টোপাধ্যায়

ঝাউয়ের ডাকে তখন হঠাৎ মনে আমার পড়ল কাকে রাত্রিবেলা?

উপকূলের সঙ্গে চলে স্রোতের খেলা,

সাঁতার কাটে স্রোতের জলে চাঁদের নরম দুখানি হাত,

লাইঠাউস দেখায় আলো দূর গগনের জলপ্রপাত,

গত বছর এসেছিলাম, বুকের মধ্যে বেসেছিলাম তোমায় ভাল্‌

এখন সন্ধ্যা হয়েছে ঘর,

কেবল মেঘে, মেঘে, মেঘেই দিন ফুরালো...

এখন নিথর রাত্রিবেলা,

জলের ধারে কেবলই হয় জলের খেল্‌

অবর্তমান তোমার হাসি ঝাউয়ের ফাঁকে,

আমায় গভীর রাত্রি ডাকে...

ও নিরুপম, ও নিরুপম, ও নিরুপম...

In the call of the casuarina

Who was it I remembered in the rustling of the casuarinas in the night?

The waves play a game with the shore.

The moon swims, parting the water with her gentle arms

The distant sky like falling water, under the searching gaze of the lighthouse.

Last year we were here, in my heart I had even loved you,

Now the room is filled with twilight,

The day ages faster in the company of clouds.

Now it is deep in the night

The water plays alone by the waterside.

Your smile hides no longer among the casuarinas

The dark night keeps calling me,

Nirupam, Nirupam, Nirupam.

Shakti Chattopadhyay

বাজে গল্প ১/ A useless Tale

                                            

বাজে গল্প ১

দুই বন্ধু ছিলো , একজন অন্ধ আর একজন কালা। দুইজনে বেজায় ভাব। কালা বিজ্ঞাপনে পড়িলো আর অন্ধ লোকমুখে শুনিলো, কোথায় যেন যাত্রা হইবে, সেখানে সঙেরা নাচগান করিবে। কালা বলিলো , "অন্ধ ভাই চলো, যাত্রায় গিয়া দেখি"। অন্ধ হাত নাড়িয়া গলা খেলাইয়া কালাকে বুঝাইয়া দিলো, "কালা ভাই চলো , যাত্রায় নাচগান শুনিয়া আসি।"

দুইজনে যাত্রার আসরে গিয়া বসিলো। রাত দুপুর পর্যন্ত নাচগান চলিলো, তারপর অন্ধ বলিলো, "বন্ধু , গান শুনিলে কেমন?", কালা বলিলো, "আজকে তো নাচ দেখিলাম , গানটা বোধহয় কাল হইবে।" অন্ধ ঘনঘন মাথা নাড়িয়া বলিলো, "মূর্খ তুমি! আজ হইলো গান, নৃত্যটাই বোধহয় কাল হইবে।"

কালা চলিয়া গেলো। সে বলিলো , চোখে দেখনা তুমি নাচের মর্ম জানিবে কি? অন্ধ তাহার কানে আঙুল ঢুকাইয়া বলিলো "কানে শোননা , গানের তুমি কাচকলা বুঝিবে কি?" কালা চিৎকার করিয়া বলিলো "আজকে নাচ কালকে গান।" অন্ধ ঠ্যাং নাচাইয়া বলিলো, "আজকে গান কালকে নাচ।"

সেই হইতে দুইজনের ছাড়াছাড়ি। কালা বলে, " অন্ধটা এমন জুয়োচোর, সে দিনকে রাত করিতে পারে।" অন্ধ বলে , "কালাটা যদি নিজের কথা শুনিতে পাইতো, তবে বুঝিতো সে কত বড় মিথ্যাবাদী"।

A useless Tale

There were two friends, one was blind and the other one was deaf. They were very close to each other. The deaf fellow read an advertisement and the blind fellow heard from people that there was a show that was being staged somewhere and that there would be dancers there. The deaf fellow said, ‘Come my blind friend, let us go and watch the entertainment.’ The blind fellow shook his hands and spoke very loudly saying, ‘Yes my deaf friend, let us go and hear them sing.’

The two went to the venue. The music and dancing went on till midnight, when the blind man said, ‘My friend, what did you think of the songs?’ The deaf man answered, ‘I saw only dances today, perhaps the singing will be on tomorrow.’ The blind man shook his head vigorously, ‘You fool! Today we had singing, perhaps the dances will be on tomorrow.’

The deaf fellow went away but before he left he yelled, ‘You do not see a thing, how can you know the beauty of dance?’ The blind fellow poked him in the ears and said, ‘You do not hear a thing, how can you make head or tail of music? The deaf man shouted, ‘Dance today, music tomorrow!’ The blind man stamped his feet and shouted back, ‘Music today, dancing tomorrow!’

They parted ways that day. The deaf fellow was heard saying, ‘That blind bugger! He tries to paint the day black and pass it off as night!’ The blind man said, ‘If the deaf fool could hear himself speak, he would understand what a big liar he is!’

(Illustration: Gaaner Gunto)

কথোপকথন ৩২, পূর্ণেন্দু পত্রী/Conversation 32 Purnendu Pattrea

Conversation 32

তোমার জন্যে এনেছি যে উপহার
বলতে পারবে নাম?
রামধনু? ধ্যেত, চাইলে কি কেউ তার
ধরাছোঁয়া পায় নাকি?
অভ্রের খনি? নীল পাহাড়ের চুড়ো?
আমি কি বিড়লা টাটা?
তোমার জন্যে এনেছি রক্ত খুঁড়ে
চন্দন এক বাটি।

পূর্ণেন্দু পত্রী

The gift that I have brought you
Can you tell me what it is?
Rainbows? What! Even if I wanted
Can anyone reach them?
Mines full of glittering mica? Blued mountain peaks?
Am I a Birla or a Tata?
I have brought you a bowl of sandalwood
Ground from my own blood.

Purnendu Pattrea

শুধু তোমার জন্যে, নির্মলেন্দু গুণ/Shudhu Tomar Jonye, Nirmalendu Goon/ For You Alone, Nirmalendu Goon

                                                                       For You Alone

My god knows how often I have drawn away my hand

Even as I have been about to touch you

Just as I have paused on the brink of telling you about my love

My god knows how many times I have left things unsaid.

Just to hear the gentle knocking of your hand

My ears are drawn like magnets to the door

Hoping you would come at some lonely midnight hour

To call me and say, 'here rise, for I am near!'

And I would be all agog, what do I hear, what is this, my excitement

Making me throw myself at you just as I 

have pictured myself so often

Only my god knows how often.

My god knows, I have gone grey for you,

My god knows, I have gone feverish for you,

My god knows, I will die for you.

Then one day, like my god you too will know,

I was born for you, for you alone.

Nirmalendu Goon

বাবুর অসুখ/ Babur Oshukh/ The Master's illness by Sarat Kumar Mukhopadhyay

Put the three legged table by him

Spread a cloth as pure as your caring heart.

A glass for his pills, a foil pack of capsules

Clock, a bottle of water

That is all; now

You must all wait at a distance till the doctor arrives.

The master is sick.

This is a very dangerous disease, but still

If you can, let his wife know.

People say, wives don’t catch things

A couple of friends too, the kind

That can look on, expressionless

At the person on the bed by the white covered table

His eyes red with pain,

As he gets help with this and that.

The kind that sit down for five minutes and make him feel happy

Then leave.

Whatever you do, try to do it quickly

You will not get this chance as easily, once he gets better.

Sarat Kumar Mukhopadhyay

Shambo by Kalkut/Samaresh Basu: An extract

Let me tell you about the time I went with this friend of mine whom I call Dada, to Shimultala in the Santhal Parganas. There were many others with us. It does not really matter why we were there. There was this feel of being on a picnic. After lunch and a rest it was decided that we would go to the markets at Tiluabazar three miles away to get some things. Actually that was like going on a trip on its own merit.

There was a Santhal girl at the markets with a cage full of pigeons. These were newly fledged and plump. The pigeons were anxious and fearful and the people around them made them flap their wings inside the cage. Suddenly recalling that we had not had pigeon meat in a long time, I said to Dada, ‘Let us buy all the pigeons, we will eat them.’

Dada looked at me through his thick lenses, his brown eyes bright as he asked, ‘You want to eat pigeon meat?’ He looked at the pigeons in the cage and then at the girl selling them. He said, ‘I suppose you should buy them then.’

Buy them I did. When I heard the price, I felt rather like the ‘Damn cheap’ babu of the story. Dada reached for the cage, saying, ‘Let me see them?’

I handed the cage to him. As he opened the door to the cage, he said, ‘You wanted to eat pigeon meat? Well, eat!’ And he caught the birds one by one and threw them into the sky.

As I tried to stop him,  I saw how the pigeons flew in an explosion of colours into the fading egg yolk sunshine of that autumn day in the Santhal Parganas. Dada was looking at me. There was not the slightest sign of regret in his face; his eyes twinkling instead as he asked, ‘Do you want to buy more pigeons? Come and let us see if there are any more on sale in the market.’

The Santhal girl who had sold the pigeons, the people around us and even our own friends had started laughing by now. I came on a trip. The pigeons went on one of their own to the skies. But by then, the laughter had entered my soul.

‘যে যায় এমন ভ্রমণে

কৃষ্ণ থাকে তার সনে।’

painting by Jan Fyt(1611-1661)

http://www.metmuseum.org/collections/search-the-collections/436424

অলীক জন্মকাহিনী/Aleek Jonmokahini/ Did I Imagine My Birth......সুনীল গঙ্গোপাধ্যায়/Sunil Gangopadhyay

Did I Imagine My Birth

That river that taught me to swim

Is not even there any more.

Sometimes I stroke my own skin and think,

Did I really once dip my head in those waters and float upon it?

The flowers of the jamrul used to shower down gently

Just like close family, standing before my house with arms spread wide.

A brown bird with a long tail would come and sit often

I don’t quite know its name, people called it Ishtikutum.

I do not see those birds any more

Even the tree fades each day a little.

They sell the fruit on the pavement, I have never touched one, ever.

In the evenings after her bath, a woman walked by, her skin still wet.

Binti, I called her aunt….. from next door

That was the first time I saw a woman

Waist narrowing like a lioness, young grapefruit

Her heavy breasts.

Shapely like a violin in motion, her behind swayed to each step

Making me think she was a goddess descended from the heavens

She was the one who aroused a young boy’s

Primal desire.

She set herself on fire one day and disappeared

But I still burn in that searing heat.

The kitchen on one side, on the other a grandmother lived

The space left in the courtyard was where the birthing room was made.

There was so much rain, one lightning filled dawn

I arrived on this earth from the darkness of my mother’s womb

To see for the first time the blue morning light of rural Bengal

A little over there near the big room sat my grandfather

Hookah in hand.

He roared with laughter as he heard my newborn cries.

There is no one left to tell these stories

Where is that house? Like faded illusion

Lost is that kitchen, the courtyard, where my grandfather sat, nothing remains.

Someone ploughs seed into the earth of my once-upon home

Green heads of rice snake up.

Now that my birthplace is gone, I sometimes think

Was I ever really born?

 Sunil Gangopadhyay