Dreams!

Here’s a thing about... “moral values” – if I may! Well, foremost, Moral values are not easy to define. They are indeed a matter of discretion. Moral values are not what the aunt next door imposes on you. Moral values are what you trust, where your intuition talks, what your conscience leads you to. They are about your very own ways of living life, your personal belief systems, and your self-imposed principles. Moral values can only be inspired, not preached. And talking of it, well then, can moral values also not be to hope, to imagine, to reach out?

Right, Dreams!

বিতানকে...

আজকে অনেক, অনেকদিন পরে হঠাৎ করেই তোকে স্বপ্নে দেখলাম - কেন, কে জানে! তোকে কি মিস করছিলাম? কি জানি, আলাদা করে বুঝতে পারিনি তো একবারও। তুই আছিস, থাকবি, এরকমই তো হওয়ার কথা… আলাদা করে কবে, কখন, কেন, এসব কিছু ভাবতে বসিনি তো কখনই! কিন্তু আজকে যেরকম আচমকা হানা দিলি পুরো স্বপ্নটা জুড়ে… কি প্ল্যান বলত, তোর?

Can you see me?

Today was otherwise just a normal day, you see! I woke up in the morning as usual. I went to the wash-basin right after I woke up, picked my toothbrush and laid a layer of paste on the bristles. I must have looked up at the mirror expecting my puffy eyes to show up. Did they? I hardly noticed. If I did, it should have struck me right then.

But it was later, much later. It was when I was out of the shower, and that was when I generally don't dare even glancing at the clock as I would always run too late everyday around that time. I made my way to my dressing space and faced the life-size mirror on the wall as I combed my hair furiously so that strands tore out. And then, suddenly, my hand froze.

I could not see myself in the mirror. 

Winter and Water!!

I know what you did last summer. Well, you know what? I still know what you did last summer!

Fair enough! Let me talk about… Winters, then!

Because I cannot; so "she" can...

This is for that day when I'll really board a train only to get down at a random station, and then let life take its own course just as it should have let have been long back itself...

She had had a rather late night last night, having walked out of her hut after dinner, after well into an hour into what would be time she’d be off to sleep on any other day. But the night – by her measure of things - was special. 



No, it wasn’t a full moon; in fact, to think of it, full moon nights weren’t exactly her personal favourites, though for a long time she had thought that she ought to think more of full-moon nights than she does. The mere fact that philosophers and poets would always put their bet on full moons than upon the darker ones... But no! Since the time she’d arrived (arrived – yes, that perhaps is the right choice of word?) she’s been falling more in love with the dark, quiet times that some nights offer when they don’t quite let the moon explode into its full blast.

Epitaph / এপিটাফ

- তুমি সুখ উপলব্ধি করেছ?

- করেছি তো।

- সত্যি বলছ?

- সত্যিই!

- তাহলে বলো, কেমন সে অনুভূতি? কেমন, সুখ?

The Night Before Wedding

Elina wanted to see Neel that day.

Ok, yes - one last time, if you insist. That famously infamous “one last time” – times, when that man up there, if at all, rolls his one last turn of the dice. And then, just with that single roll, the game can even change! True, even if it is just the day before.

It was the day before, just the day before. She was asking him to come.

Neel thought over it again, and yet again.

-          I understand you want to meet me, Eline, but can we not make it sometime sooner?

-          No Neel. I want to see you that very day.

Eline had said in a very cold, confident tone, punctuating after every single word of the sentence, as if to put in it a word of finality as she spoke. Neel could hear her silent smile in the way she breathed out the words. He was uncomfortable; she knew he would be uncomfortable.

Home Coming - A new life

It was yet another of those sleepless nights, silent and cold as death. The air in her bedroom stood stagnant the way it had done every night over the past countless years. She, like many an occasion before, prayed that the silence remained. That, however, went unanswered soon as he broke it with gritted teeth, hurling yet another round of chosen abuses at her. She remained quiet just as she resolved to do long back.

The air, still and heavy with silence for long, now seemed to grow colder with every hissing word he muttered at her. She realised, yet again, that she had ran out of tears long back, and anger as well. Now what remained in her could possibly be described as a soulless body, she told herself.  This thought offered her some comfort. It protected her like a shield, she wanted to believe. Yet, much to her dismay, she soon felt the warm salty trickle down her cheeks, pressed against the pillow; the pillow that was carefully placed at the farthest corner of the bed away from its other twin, the one which he leaned against at the other end of the bed.

Teenyweeny Series: Over Coffee!

The alarm went off in it's soothing, tinkling tone. It rose in volume over the moments it was left to ring, until he finally gave in.

He opened his eyes to the bright blue morning and turned to his side. Either side. He now slept right at the middle of the bed, and enjoyed the space on either side. The barrenness, the freedom.

He patted the pillow cover straight, and then stretched his hands to tuck the corners of the bed-sheet towards his head. This was a regular affair before he left his bed everyday.

On his way to the washroom, he picked up his toothbrush from its stand, laid a thick layer of toothpaste atop it and carried it along.

Fifteen minutes later he came out, leaving behind the gushing sound of water that filled the cistern back. 

He now moved towards the kitchen. Collected the saucepan, poured some water in it, reached out to the upper row of the kitchen rack for his mug and the row below that for a spoon to mix things with. He got the milk from the fridge. The other ingredients were laid neatly in bottles, clearly marked by their contents, one beside another, on the base of the window right next to the oven.

He made himself a cup of coffee. He carried the mug to the living space and laid himself on the easy-chair, legs stretched, slowly sipping in it. Like every day.

....

The care he took, the attention he gave, the touch that warmed these left behinds - the pillow cover, the bed sheet, the toothbrush holder, the fridge, the kettle, the oven, and even the chair that he sat upon - if only he could spare some of it on the one who actually left them behind, they wouldn't have been left behinds at all.

...

Over coffee... wasn't that how they had met, exactly a decade back? - She sighed a smile, musing over this, a coffee cup in her hand, his picture printed all over it.

....

Tooth fairy - Episode 1

Myra was newest of the lot, and youngest. It was her first assignment. A little girl of nine had lost her one of her teeth last night, as said the record-book. She was fend to fetch it against a surprise token of 10$ for gift.


She was also nine years old herself , but she had never known what losing teeth could be like. Fairies do not lose tooth, her Mom had said when she asked.

It was a stormy night, and soon as she got going down the clouds, the clouds changed their colours to grey and then to black. They roared in thunderstorm and burned in  lightening, and little Myra lost her way. But then, she was a brave, little girl, and she never wanted to return home unsuccessful on her very first assignment. So, she held out her little wand to show her the path, and kept climbing down her way. The clouds she stepped on were quickly melting and forcefully dripping down their way to the earth in loud, deafening splatters. She kept moving, careful from the electric of the lightening and the turmoil of the water waves as the clouds hit against each other with roaring vengeance.

She finally found her way to the earth.

She landed on the rooftop of the house and then crawled down from the sun shade. She quietly slipped her way through the window pane. It was an easy task for a fairy, though her Mom told her that humans cannot do the same. They cannot pass through the opaque and have doors to houses to let them get in and out of them. Funny, she thought to herself.

She tip-toed to the inside of the house. From the little she could make out, it looked like an old house with many rooms. The record-book said it's a red brick-house, double-storeyed, with pictures of sun and rainbow on the walls of the room where the girl sleeps. There, that way seemed the bed-room; though it was all dark and she couldn't really be sure. She could neither make out the colour of the wall or the paintings, if any, on them.

But then, she could not return empty hands, could she? - she told herself yet again. And so, she stepped further into the house.

Clink! Sounded something metallic, as she stepped on it. Oh, she go to be more careful! She took a few more cautious steps, slower this time.

She finally entered the room. In the flash of a lightening she could make out a large bed positioned at about the center of the room, and a small bed-side table just beside it. She could also vaguely make out a short human figure cuddled on the bed, tucked in a blanket, deep asleep.

She slowly stepped towards the table. Maybe this's where she should start from. There, a glass jar filled with water, and through it shines what she has been looking for. Oh, it's such an easy job! -  she eagerly steps forward and grins to herself.

She quickly wears her hand gloves, brings out her silk pouch, puts the shining white enamel into it and zips her purse. Before she tiptoes back and steps out of the window, she doesn't forget to leave the precious 10$ note in a pink envelope atop the pillow on which the girl is fast asleep. There, her job is done! She gallops her way up the clouds, smiling ear to ear at her first success.


xxxx


Sneak-peek into Episode 2...

It isn't until the next morning that she realises it!..........................................

A Loss called Home

It has been a long day today - she thought in her mind - waving her hand mindlessly in the direction of the stray autos that whizzed her past on the highway. Some had passengers, some went empty, some didn't want to take one as they announced their close of day to themselves. Close of day it was, as the hand of the watch crossed eight and steadily moved closer to nine as did the colour of the sky, from dark to darker. 

It indeed was one of those days that she couldn't wait to go home.

As with every regular day, she finally had her turn of luck with transport after the usually long and impatient wait-time, and cutting through the ruthless traffic and the foul traffickers of the city, she finally reached in front of their community gate and heaved a sigh of relief.

Home, ah! Home. Finally.

Babel Fish - Episode 2

Read EPISODE 1 here.


I step a step closer, and then yet closer, and it isn’t exactly my mind but rather my hand - my right hand - that does what all it does next. That is, it pulls out the small fishing spoon-net from the box stuck away behind the aquarium, removes the brown plastic roof of the glass-box, dips it inside the water, and waves it to and fro. Somewhat mindlessly. 

I mean, since when did hands have minds?

Babel Fish - Episode 1

Hi, there! – A rather cheerful voice quirps.

I look around. I have hardly opened my eyes now, and the voice is both unfamiliar and impractical.

As I am sleeping all by myself. So it’s just a flickering semi-dream, the sound. I tell myself and turn and try to go to sleep again.

Hey, it’s morning! – This time, it startles me.

I remove the blanket and half-raise my upper body and look around. I still cannot figure out from where it  came. Or, if it at all did, really.

I look hard, everywhere.

Here, here! Look to your right.

Just Friends - II

I wish I could say to you, we’ll always be friends.

But you must know that we cannot; and why.

When I’ll ever meet you, I don’t think I can take your hand in a light friendly grip and then let go. I cannot but take another step closer and put my head on your shoulder, and stay like that until you move.

But yes, we can avoid seeing each other in person. We can still stay in touch. Of course!

You know what? You need to remember the face of the person you are friends with. But then, I cannot see your face anymore when I try to. I close my eyes, and the soft of your chest covers up my face and my neck and my whole, so that I can see nothing! I only smell your smell.

My sister, Jenny

As a child, I always knew I had a sister. She was called Jenny, and Mum sometimes adoringly called her Jane.

Jenny had fair skin, black curly hair, brown eyes, and the most beautiful smile of this world. She, I think, was two years elder to me, but Mum at times fumbled and said it could be three as well - she can't tell exactly.

Dad never said anything about her. He would go quiet every time Mum mentioned her, and which was, well, almost every evening.

- Ah, look at you, little monster. Is this a way your tie your hair? Come, bring yourself here, and give the comb to me. Oh, what rough hair you have! Look at Jane - her hair was always so soft, and silky.

- Where's Jane, Mum?

Nothing like home

There were the waves. And then, there was the calm.

The humid of the sweat, the weight of the tired limbs, the relentless checking on time on the many devices that have rendered clocks a matter of the past. Breathes interrupted by sighs, light to heavy as the calendar counted down.

Right! There was no clock. There was no calendar either, except in their minds. No sound, no light, no touch, except for themselves. Wasn't that all to ask for?

পরমার একদিন...

পরমার জীবনে আজ নিঃসন্দেহে একটা স্পেশাল দিন।

মিমি ফোন করেছিল, কনভোকেশান সবেমাত্র শেষ হল। তারপরেই আদিত্যর ফোন - "রমা, মেয়ে ডক্টরেট হয়ে গেল, ভাবতে পারছো?" গর্বিত পিতার উত্তেজনা আর আনন্দে মাখামাখি গলায় বলছিল আদিত্য - "কি খাবে বল আজকে, চাইনিজ? ট্যাংরা যাবে?" তারপর আর আবেগটা চেপে রাখতে না পেরে বলেই ফেলল - "সব তোমার জন্য, রমা! ভাবো তো, তুমি কিভাবে ছুটেছ মেয়েকে নিয়ে, টিউশন থেকে সাঁতারের ক্লাব থেকে গানের স্কুল। নিজের কাজ সামলে মেয়েকে সামলে সংসার সামলে... সব ক্রেডিট তোমার! কি যে আনন্দ হচ্ছে আজকে..." আদিত্যর গলাটা ধরে এসেছিল!

সেই লেখকটা

সেই লেখক ভদ্রলোককে কেমন দেখতে, কত বয়েস, কোথায় থাকেন, কী করেন, এসব কিছুই জানিনা। সত্যি বলতে কি, ভদ্রলোক আদৌ আছেন কি নেই, তাও জানিনা ঠিক করে। ভদ্রলোকের আমার জীবনে উপস্থিতি বলতে ওনার বই। একটাই বই। আসলে ভদ্রলোক জাস্ট ওই একটাই বই লিখেছেন।

ভদ্রলোকের লেখার মান আহামরি কিছু নয়। বাংলায় লেখেন। ভাষাটা সাধু-চলিত মিলেমিশে একটা চলনশই আকার ধারণ করে। অর্থাৎ, যে ভাষায় আমরা আড্ডা মেরে থাকি, তার চেয়ে সামান্য কিছু ডিগ্রি কুলীন। লেখার স্টাইল, পেস, আইডিয়া, কোনটাই ঠিক আহা-এমনটা-তো-আগে-দেখিনি নয়।

চিঠি - অচেনা লোক

বর্ষণ,

তোকে চিঠি লেখাটা লং ডিউ ছিল। সরি রে। 

জানিস তো, আজ অফিস থেকে ফিরছি, হঠাৎ পেছন থেকে একজনকে দেখে একদম তোর মতো লাগলো। আমি তো আরেকটু হলে গাড়ির কাঁচ নামিয়ে ডেকেই ফেলতাম, ভাগ্যিস গাড়িটা স্পিডে চলছিল!

জানি তুই মনে মনে গালাগালি দিচ্ছিস - "গাড়ল! আমি তোকে খবর না দিয়ে তোর শহর ঘুরে আসবো! এই চিনলি?"

একদিন বৃষ্টিতে বিকেলে...

This has been published in a Bengali Magazine called "Shukhi Grihokone"



বিতানের সাথে সেদিন হাঁটতে হাঁটতে অনেকদুর চলে গেছি। কথা বলতে বলতে এ-গলি সে-গলি পেরিয়ে কখন যে রাস্তা হারিয়েছি, দুজনের কেউই খেয়াল করিনি। খেয়াল যখন হল, তখন বেশ গাঢ় সন্ধ্যেবেলা। আর তার সাথে লোডসেডিং, চারিদিকে ঘুটঘুটে অন্ধকার। শুনেও শুনব না করে শুনতে পাচ্ছি, মেঘের ডাকটা বাড়ছে, ধুলোর ঝড়টাও শুরু হয়ে গেছে, এবং অবধারিতভাবে আর একটুক্ষণের মধ্যেই তেড়ে বৃষ্টিটা নামবে। কিচ্ছু করার নেই!

পাড়াটা নতুন, বিতান বাড়িটা সবে ভাড়া নিয়েছে, আজ সকালেই চাবি পেয়েছে হাতে। পেয়েই ফোন। আমিও ঝোঁকের মাথায় অফিস ফেরত বাড়ি না গিয়ে যা হোক একটা কিছু বলে বাড়িটা দেখতে চলে এসেছি। আর তাছাড়া, বিতানকে যতটা চিনি, এসব পর্দা, পাপোষ, বিছানার চাদর টাইপের দৈনন্দিন জিনিসপত্র কিনতে গিয়েও ছড়িয়ে লাট করবে, তাই আসতে আমাকে হতই।