Mora hati.

Mora hatir dam ki lakh taka? We shall soon find out.

Birohobedona....... and abhishampat.

I miss u Motorola C168. Though u were never mine ie khatakolome, but can u deny that i had a spl relationship with u ? Woe b to the one who has dared to lay his/her filthy hands on u. May he/she suffer from communication gap for the rest of his/her damned life.

Moira bhyatkaiya roise pachhaye porse jochhona.

"Madan khaborer kagojta khulte khulte mridu heshe bole, mrityur ekta romantic dik ache, tai aajkal majhe majhe bhabi morle kemon hoye?







Kichu hoye na he. Manish matha nare, morar modhye romantic kichu nei. Ekebare mota dager ekta byapar. Amader deshe goba pagla bole ekta lok chilo. Se gaito, monu re, baper khobor rakhla na, hyaye je moira bhyatkaiya roise pachhaye porse jochhona.







Ashlil! ashlil! (Madan)







Motei ashlil noye. Manish matha nare, ekdom ashlil noye. Pachhaye jochhona porar byaparta borong boroi korun. Mora torar kotha holei amar ei gantar kotha mone pore.















Neelu Hajrar hotya rohshyo, Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay.















Monish says "byaparta boroi korun" but i think the picture of moonlight bathing a dead man's bum goes quite a few steps towards romanticizing death. Why ,Shirshendu does that at the very beginning of the novel :















Nirjon ek nodi saradin elochule pa choriye boshe mrityurkorun gan gaye. Charidike nistobdho ek upotyoka, du dhare kalo paharer deyal uthe geche akashe. Ei birole shudhu majhe majke deergho swasher moto hu-hu batash boye jaye. Ajosro shada choto boro nuri pathor onor hoye pore ache. Khub shada, neerob, heem,oshar shob pathorer majhkhan diye nodi - uthsho nei, mohona nei. Saradin ekhane shudhu tar korun gan, mridu bilaper moto. Kichu nei keu nei. Shudhu harer moto shada pathor thake nithor hoye. Upotyoka jure ek mrityur sommohan. Elochule pa choriye boshe nodi obirol gan geye jaye.




"Sommohan" or hypnosis draws Baishampayan towards death. The very words korun, obirol, heem, elochul and above all nodi and neerjon bring the smell of the ultimate lonely and unknown aspect that sometimes or the other knocks at a somewhat fearfully neglected door of each and every person's mind. Monish who says he doesen't think the idea of death to be romantic at all himself cannot avoid mrityuchinta:



Aaj rate jodi more jayi.......... aaj rate tar khoob more jete ichha korche.



The Sommohan is not of death but the thought of death (mrityuchinta). The hypnotic charm thus continues it's work, leading Madan, Manish ,Baishampayan and me to think of that endless chasm, the mysterious woman with her heem nodiness who sings a song.

Ami khoob bhool korechhi. Maratmak, asojhyo aar joghonyo bhool. Nijer ei obimrishyakaritar jonyo nijer gale thash thash kore chor marte ichha korchhe. Kintu kichhu korar nei. Once done cannot be undone. Aamar bichokhonota lop peyechilo, ami churanto arbachinotar kaaj korechhi. Nijeke er jonyo konodin kshama korte parbona.

Dreamwater.

I had a dream last night. I stood on the banks of a river. It was very wide. The water was greyish brown. There were gentle ripples. They were calling me. Then out of nowhere came a man. He was very tall and thin. He was bald, had small grey eyes and a long pointed nose. He had a friendly smile on his face. He told me, "Jao, egiye jao, jolta khub bhalo. Jolta hate niye dekho, gaye makho, jao na." I, at once started moving forward as if i had been waiting for his consent. Strangely ,as soon as i started moving the water slowly started coming forward. It created puddles in hollow places. The puddles grew larger. The waters sprang up vertically, created more and more puddles. At a point of time there was water on both my left and right sides. The space above my head and the space below my feet were enveloped with the greyish-brown sheet within moments. i didn't feel frightened. i felt madly happy! I started slapping my body against the water with a fierce glee. Then i felt an excruciating pain....... a metallic, cold and salty pain. It was very real. I am still feeling it while i type. i wish it would leave me.

She.

To me , she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I was 15 then and so was she. We often talked about her and some of us had great fun describing her in the most traditional way for talking about the beauty of a bangololona. Her complexion was nothing less than doodhe-alta. She had the eyes of a horini and a perfectly banshir moto tikolo nose. Her lips resembled fresh koyas of komlalebu.........she was no less than a jibanto Durgaprotima. There was no flaw in her except the fact that she had bad hair. We often quipped: Kuchbaron konya tahar jhanta swarup kesh !( instead of meghbaron kesh). Nevertheless she deserved the other praises showered on her. We were never friends - I hardly spoke to her in the six years of secondary education yet she seemed to me a very interesting psychological case study. Our ways were different. We strongly disapproved of each other on every occasion we got to do so. Yet I know not why she did certain things she did! She, through some of her other friends urged me to recite a Tagore poem at a teacher's farewell. I got to know this only after the programme had ended as she feared that i wouldn't recite the poem had i known it was she who wanted me to do so! Another incident was just as weird as this. She was a very good dancer. That year, class 10 had to put up a programme with Pujo as their theme. Our class teacher wanted to do something really innovative so that we could put up a strong fight against our opponent - 10C. So she asked me to do a Birendro krishna Bhadro. I had to start with Ashwiner sharod prate followed by other slokas. She had earlier refused to dance as she hated the idea of wearing a saree but when she heard that just after my Ashwiner........ would begin Bajlo tomar alor benu she changed her mind. She danced really well and needless to say looked stunning in a bluish green saree. I heard she seemed to think herself very lonely. She loved a man who was several years older than her but was never loved back. She waited........ and sometimes hoped that her lover would die and like in Donne's poem his ghost would come to her bed which would serve as a proof that he really loved her but was afraid to say so lest she should refuse her. This horrified me . Can one call this love? But on the last day of our school i had seen a strange thing. She was staring blankly out of the window. I saw underneath her doodhe -alta facial skin layers of ash water laden cumolo nimbus clouds. She felt my gaze and looked at me. I quickly turned my eyes away lest i should see moss green shadows in her doe eyes. I had no desire to start conversation on the last day. Or was I afraid? Did i fear her more than i feared myself?

THANKS!!!

There are some people who can really become a bhorshar proteek when everything and everyone else fails or deliberately tries to confuse people. Amalendu Bandyopadhyay is such a person . A few days ago one of the news channels started creating unneccessary fuss on the UFO issue. They even went to the extent of suggesting their viewers to let lose their imagination and think of the prospect of weird extra terrestrials dessending on say Rashbehari more. The anchor went godogodo while anticipating the probable effects on the ETs as they watched the exclusive telecast of the channel. Thanks to veterans like Bandyopadhyay who sat awake for the whole night to get a glimpse of the "mysterious object". He assured the media that the much hyped UFO is nothing but Venus and the cause of its continuous change of shape are storms that take place in space which blow 35000 or more kms above the sea level and are thus not felt by earthlings. It is also astonishing that this bit of information wasn't avilable from the director of taramandal(BT) who was also present in the exclusive. He seemed confused and also emphasized on the fact that the thing in question could not possibly be a plannet. This is not the first time Bandyopadhyay clears confusion. In a T.V programme , a couple of years ago he, in his well known emphatic manner stated the utter futility of astrological gems and precious stones in improving a persons fate. He asked how could a plannet ,situated millions of miles away from the earth possibly affect the lives of human beings. We need people like Bandyopadhyay who can save us from being fooled by astologers or beguiled by the chatterings of mediapersons who sometime seem no worse than the former in confounding the common man.