Nishi

Ghor’er modhhe boshe achhi, janala shob bondho, jaate alo na dhukte pare. Jaate keu na dhukte paare. Raat tokhon onek.

Baire theke awaj elo, “Dorja khol, ami phire esechhi.” Shune chomke uthi. Shei awaj, hajar bochhor agger ek shiitkalin boyoshshondhi'r odhibeshon'e hoyto je amake chhere chole gechhilo. Shomoy'ta oboshyo grishsho'w hote paare, bochhor'er hisheb amar motei subidher noy. Etodin Robigeeti shune shune kebol pothocheye boshe royechhi ar haahutash'er diary bhorechhi jhorapata'r kuchi'te. Shei tor awaj’er opekhha’e. Prothombar’er jhor, jeta bariye diyechhilo gola’r doirgho amar inchi charek. Hoyto aro kichhu censored ongsho’w berechhilo, sheto tor'i shongodosh'e. Ghashbon’er pith beye Africa bhromon’er nesha’e ashature awaj, tao prothom tui’i. Park’er kona’e giye kaan kamorer daag ke pipnre bole bhule thakar obhiman, ba ghat-birete, raat-birete chand ar lamp post'ke mishiye je kolpona, shob kotai tui.

Amader ei elaka’e bhut’er boro utpaat, ar ami bhut’e boddo bhoy pai. Tai hneke boshi

“Ami Nishi’r daak’e bishwash kori, apni bari jaan ekhon.”

Khanikhon chupchap, tarpor mobile’ta vibrate kore uthlo. Message eschhe.

“Dorja’ta khol, eta shotti’I ami, ami shotti'i phire esechhi.” Akuti porishkar eibar.

Number’ta, Nishi naam’ei ami save kore rekhechhi, jodi bhanga dorja'r taka'a kokhono udhhar korte pari, ei asha'e.

Khuchro Khobor

Ajker special bulletin:

Goto 3 din dhore shohor'er nanan prante nanan bhabe, nanan toiltet'er nyangto deho wala disproportionate mohila'der chhobi'r pashe, classroom'er bench'e, shoheed minar'er chhate, emonki Haora Bridge'er tham'e ektai lekha dekha gechhe barbar. "Biplob Agoto". Banan'e khanik bhul dhora porleo [Bi-te dirghi, Ta-te khondotto twa] basic boktobbo etai. Facebook'eo hothat kore ei ek'i odbhut duto shobdo wala ekti chhobi widely circulated hochhe. Gotokal raat'er agun lege jawa dokhhinpranter ek bosti'teo shari shari porakagoj udhhar hoyechhe jate ei lekhati'i abar pawa gechhe. Leaflet jatiyo kichhu bolei eke mone kora hochhe.

Amra aro khobor peyechhi je desh'er nanan pran'tei ei lekhati pawa jachhe dekhte bigoto besh koyekdin dhore. Bibhinno minar, shoudho, mondir'er gaa'e, prottonto gram'e, Steel City'r dewal'e dewal'e nanan bhashae ei duto shobdo fute uthechhe. Lekha'r khetre tuli-kali theke shuru kore int'er rong ba coin'er daag obdhi pawa gechhe.

Kortripokhho khanik duschinta grosto, tara protnotottwobid, bhashabid, o aro nanan bid'er bhir lagiyechhe, ei odbhut byapar'ta arektu better bojhar jonne. Expert'ra bolchhen ete hoyto Bideshi guptochor shongostha ba alien jatiyo karur haath achhe.

 Bishishto joneder nanan mot'er majhe ekti ke besh guruttopurno bole mone kora hochhe, je slate'er obolupti'r o paper'er akal'er folei lok'e ekhon jekhane shekhane lekha shuru korechhe, jodio lekhatar mane bishoye enara keui khub ekta alokpaat ghota'te parenni.

Aj raat 10'tae bishesh alochona shobha dekhun, 'Ke ei Biplob', jekhane amra nagorik shomaj'er lokeder mukh theke shunbo tader ki mone ei biplob bishoye.

Ekhon biroti'r shomoy, biroti'r opor prante dekhun 'Dhormoghot'er mushkil ashan'e pulish thengani', 'Daini bisorjoner Bijoya Dashami'te', 'College'e college'e notun fashion styles', ebong 'Peyanj'er daam bridhhi, restaurant malik'ra ki bolchhen'.

Ei segment'ti present korechhen Sunil Sugondho, "Gaa'e gaa'e sugondho, bha'e bha'e anondo". *tingtingtiting*

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.

Brishti O Hammock'er Prem

Brishti. Baire brishti pore cholechhe, ar poronto headlight'er aloy she mati'r kachhakachhi ispat fola hoye ekbar, sref ar shesh ekbar jhilik mere more jachhe. Baranda'ta jenoba onno grohe'r bashinda, brishti'r sathe bichhinota taake aro beshi kore norom, obhimani kore tulechhe. Chhotto hammock'ta oshim shunyota'y ekfali shobuj ghash'er moton majhakashe duule-khule-ure berachhe.

"Counter'ta de."

Ami hotobaak hoye tor pith'er dike takiye thaki jokhon tui nibhonto biri'te arekbar mukhagni korash. Bhije bhije jwol'er fnota gulo ei ondhokaar'eo jwoljwol korte thake, jeno sharata gaa'ye aj tor keu lukiye achhe, ar tar chokh futechhe shoddo shoddo ei brishti'r majhraat'e.

Amader ei bhije deho'duto eke oporer theke duur'e, nijoshsho nogno gorima'e jenoba double purnima'r omlette, kimba duti jwoljwol'e cigarette'er agune jonaki sheje ghure beray ei chhoto space'tar modhhei, othocho nishwash'e proshwash'e amra ekta ononto unchu, ko-hajar tola bari'r dike chhut lagiye cholechhe mohakash majhe, ke jaane? Jenoba jwolokrira ba naagpash, konotai shombhob hawa batash alo ondhokar ar ei hammock'ta chhara? Heshe uthte giye byatha kore oporer thnot, dudin agge'r pourushotto prodorshoner prottuttor.

"Achha, Easter Island'er murti'ra kokhono prem-tem korto bole mone hoy tor?"

"Prem korar poreo orom expression thobor'e? Just newa gyalo na."

"Kintu dhor jokhon ora dnariye dnariye bhijte thake ei prithibi'r ek kone, tokhon hoyto tui ar ami kamre berai du-ek poshla modhhobittota ke? Amra korte pari prem brishti'r jwol'e thay dnariye, sref nijeder buk duto ke jwol'er haath theke bnachiye, ar ora parena?"

"Buk'e thanda na lagate hole chepe dhorte hoy eke oporer sathe. Amrao tai kori, tui ar ami. Ora to pathor, ora prem korte pare ki na janina, but sideways ghurte bodhoy paare na. Tai to thanda lege lege buk'gulow kirom mosrin pathure hoye gechhe."

Baire brishti pore chole. Amra ondhokaar'e brishti mapa'r byartho cheshta korte korte ghumiye pori.

Thanda laage, buk'e.

CL Leaflet

JU. Comparative Literature. The tattered 'half-brother' of single language departments. But this campus, it will become your family in a matter of few days, and in every corner of it, you'll find something to take back to life.

"What is Comparative Literature?", "What do you study in this subject?", "Ki je porish chhaipash oi 'college'tay' giye?",  such and more questions shall stay around to bug you, but honestly, would you care? The coming days will be well-spent on studying the Tarantin-ian 'Theban Plays', or maybe embracing the aesthetic power of Kalidasa, from reading propaganda of Mayakovsky, to manifesto of the 'Fyatarus', or maybe just switching between the caress of Satyajit and the craziness of Fellini. And there shall always be a guitar to be found here, which will sing out loud what you've always wanted to say in whispers.

Classrooms, the walls, the chairs and desks, and the lack of chairs and desks, all this awaits you, along with the Addas, The tea-and-cigarette breaks, the poetry books, and the jhil''er hawa. And waits for you, somewhere in the longlost alleys of this beloved campus, love and revolution.

We love to have a revolution at the drop of a hat, and we believe our love is revolutionary. 'Dialectics' you may hear one of us utter in reference to this writing. But really, remember what Neruda said when he Explained a Few Things?

Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!

Seriously, do you not see the blood on the streets? And everywhere around in this violent world of ours? Jadavpur provides an escape, but Jadavpur shows you the way to wipe away that blood too, for the answer has always been blowing in the winds, and you know it too, don't you?

And once all of that is done, there will still wait for you the canteens, the jhils, the bridge, the post as well as the pre-modernists, the lover's glance, and the music of life blaring loud across this beloved home of ours.

Welcome home. Welcome to Jadavpur University.

Forum for Arts Students (F.A.S)

Ghor'e Phera'r Gaan

College'er gate diye tolte tolte matal dompoti beroy. Ami kichhuta dhnowa, onekta brishti matha'y niye barimukho hoi, oder pichhu pichhui. Jwoljwole shob jomoj alo pash diye chhute chole jay, ami arektu daan dik'e ghenshe haanti, kintu footpath'e uthek keno janina lojja laage.

Bus'e comrade pakrao kore, biplob koddur, jante chay. Ami er ki uttor debo? Biplob tnyak'e gunje rakha achhe, just ber korte parchhi na, ber korlei sathe nongra laga rumal'tao beriye ashbe. Ar ami rumal na keche thakte pari na. Boro beshi hyapa, ei biplob.

Comrade tobu  khnochate chhare na, biplob'e nesha permitted noy, janiye dey torighori. Amar hai othe, sathe hoyto kichhuta pitto'w. Thutu dola pakiye ashe, jot pakay gola'r modhhe. Comrade ke tata janiye duto bus stop aggei neme pori, shorbo onge kaada mekhe. Jot'ta khule jay.

Tarpor kalo gari'r bhetor aro kalo gari? Footpath bodol holo ki modhhoraat'e? Naah, Shokti nei sheishob korar. Spordha'o nei. Tai emni'i hnaati ekta ghoshte jawa ayna'r upor diye. Kolkata'r rasta, dorpon hoye othe proti borshasnato raatre, amar moton kono nesharu'r opekhhay.

Mukh dekhar cheshta kori, ekta kalo dim jyano. Shara deho jeno ekta kaalo statue, jar outline diye achaar'er tel'er moton streetlights goriye pore bhijiye dey ayna'r buk. Ami rasta dekhte shuru kori, kara jyano bole gechhe rasta'i debe rasta'r khonj, karon tok gondho naki akash theke aj rasta'teo nemechhe.

Hothat kore kheyal kori, rasta'r shob kukur gulo kirom udgrib hoye amar dik'e takiye achhe. Naa, amar dik'e na, amar pechhone kichhu ekta ghotchhe, sheta ke dekhchhe ora. Shunshan rasta'e gongani ar gojrani'r majhamajhi ekta awaj ek kukur theke arek kukur'er gaa'e dhakka lege ghure beray, akash'e uthe jawar shahosh'ta ar pay na.

Ghaar ghora'te bhoy laage, keno janina mone hoy ekta prochondo kharap kichhu ghote cholechhe pith'er pechhone. Jenoba mukh ghoralei dekhbo kono Tibetian rakhhosh'er mukh pichhu niyechhe, ba hoyto duure ekta paromanobik bijoyollash bot gachh'er moton matha chara diye uthchhe, ar dheye aschhe radioactive alingon jor'e, aro jor'e, amar dike.

Chhutbo ki na bhabi, kintu chhute palanor case to eta noy, tai emni'i hnat'te thaki. Shotti kotha bolbo? Motashota manush to, chhute giye moron'er haath erano kirom jeno ghenna jagay ei porot'er porot jorano matha'r modhhe.

Rail line, shei priyo, chena, ebrokhebro nuri bhorti rail line chole ashe. Ajo sala foot bridge'ta banayni ora, tar maane ajo abar shei bheja bheja, porishkar loha'r alokrekha dingiyei pherot jete hobe kaada makha rasta'y. Bhalo lage na. Aj abar kuasha'ta beshi mone hoy, jenoba engine'er dhnowa gulow aj lyadh kheye gechhe, line chhere ar shorte chaichhe na. Duur'e train'er alo, ami paa chalai. Barbar train chapa pora'ta lojja'r bishoy bolei mone kori ami.

Kukur gulo epareo cheye achhe, amar pechhon dik'e. Ar ami hnete jachhi. Bari phirte hobe amay, orai nahoy apatoto guard'ta dik. Ejatra na morle, kaal theke rasta'e neri hobo, abar.