Atha (Ekti bideshi golp'er chota bishesh)

Dorja khule berote giye thomke dnarai, tor haath'e kouto'ta dekhe. "Ishpeshal Atha : E shob jure dey". Obaak hoye jai, tobe tui pagol, eto ami janii. Fridge'e atkano chhobi'tar dike takai, ekti chheler ceiling'er sathe atkano ek chair'e boshe thakar chhobi.

"Chhobi'ta besh mojadaar to." Oshwoshti wala ekta hashi diye boli. Onek din por tor sathe kotha bollam, emon kono kotha jar sathe ei doinondin othbosh'er kono shomporko nei.

"Tai! Amar bbhishon bhalo legechhe chhobita. Bhabchhi orom korbo aj." Anmona ekta uttejona mekhe bolli.

"Ki je bolish tui! Otato ekta trick chhobi, dekh pechhon'e janla'ta shoja. Ar chhele'tar to chul'ta sref gel diye orom khnocha khnocha kore diyechhe, jaate mone hoy ulto kore jhulchhe." Ami berote berote boli.

Office'e pnouchhe oke phone kori. "Ei, shono, o bodhoy bujhe gechhe."

Opaar theke prothom'e awaj ashena, tarpor o knepe uthe bole "Aj bollo?"

"Naa, just.. hothaat.. janinaa."

Alto bhabe fnopaani'r awaj ashe. Amar oshojhho laage, phone'ta rakhbo, decide kori.

"Achha, shono, ekhon amar na khub chap office'e, ami tomake pore phone korbo, raatre."

Fnopaani'ta kete di. Gorom laage.

Bari phire ashi. Dorja khule dhuki, juto khule fridge'er dik'e jai, thanda jol'er uddeshshe. Fridge'er dorja'ta jammed laage, khola jayna. Jeno superstrong atha mere diyechhe keu. Ekta chair tene boshte jai, chair'ta norena. Aste aste lokhho korlam, ghor'er ekta jinish'o narano jachhe na. Ispeshal Atha, ar tui, ami bujhi. Bhetor'er ghor'e dhuke dekhi tui nei, kothao'i nei. Ar ektao funiture narano jachhe na. Jyano ekta chhobi'te dhuke gechhi mone hoy. Khoshkhosh awaj hoy. Upor'er dike takai,

Ekmatha kalo chul jharlonthon'er moton jhuliye tui dnariye achhis, ceiling theke nicher dike. Tui pore jachhish na, tui jhuleo nei. Tui shoja dariye achhis. Amar kirom bhoy laage.

"Tui bhoy pash na, ami ekhhuni toke namachhi."

"Ami bhoy pachhina." Tui heshe heshe bolish.

Ar kichhu na peye bookcase theke mota mota boigulo namai, oguloke tui ar atke dishni. Dictionary je kaaj'e laagar bostu, eto amra shobai jaani. Porpor shajiye dnariye uthi stup'er upor, tor pet'ta joriye dhore toke nicher dike taani, toke norate paarina.

"Tui chinta korish na, ami ekhhuni help jogar korchhi." Ami boi beye namte namte boli.

"Dekhe, tarahuro kore jash na. Pore jabi." Tui mishti kore hashte hashte amake bolish.

Ami thomke dnarai. Upor dike takai.

Tor chulgulo kirom jhaugachh'er patar moton dekhte laage, ar tor buk duto khuchro chokh'er jwol'er fnotar moton, norom badami sweater'er tolay chapa pore thake. Tui heshei jash amar dik'e takiye. Toke dekhe amar kirom laage ekta.

Abar boi'er stup'ta beye uthi. Tor thnot duto khunje niye chumu khete jai ekta. Hothat kore paa'er tola theke stup'ta shore jay.

Ami majhakashe bheshe thaki, tor thnot'e laga Ishpeshal athar sathe atke giye. 

Rant 1

Rainy mornings in a post-monsoon season, the best days when you can sit on the bed and stare outside, watching the raindrops jumping from one grill to another, on their way down to the earth. One experiences throatburns from long lit cigarettes, at times shaking up and lilting about in dismayed horror of loud thunders. And one broods, one broods for happiness in days when the sky looks dark and sad.

I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way
I promise to go under it.

Happy page has let us know how and where to find happiness, be it on tree tops or smells of kittens and babies, but then again, right follows it a Sad page.

I do not have a problem with happiness and sadness, as long as they relate me to my nostalgia, but then, that is a rare occurence. For happiness is to be found in dead streets, like when I saw that old man sharing his daily plate of meal in equal amounts with his pet Roadesian, near Jadavpur Thana. Happiness is that simple. And then, near 8B busstand, there's the woman with her child, who makes every bypasser a family when asking for food. Food, not money. And I try to shut my ears while licking my snowcone, aware of the fact that I do not believe her. Sadness, is that simple.

And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme

To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind

I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're

Seein' that he's chasing.

I'm sorry that I continously refer to the streets of Calcutta, but maybe that is where my life lies. I cannot delcare myself a kid of the street, for I carry nobler bloods. But street is where I end up lying, everytime I have consequential dreams.

Maybe, just maybe, a petrichored morning with happiness and sadness ground into the streets will make me better. Or not.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.