If calm was what you searched for in summer
Blind, you were to the showers of Earth
The dust was heavy, but the feet weak
Trampled within, the chorus was.
আভিজাত্য, কঠিন তোমার পরিনাম
রক্তাক্ত ইতিহাসের শেষ পৃষ্ঠায় কালো কলম
কোথাও নেমেছে ভোর, কোথাও কামান
বুকের অক্ষর মাপে সব দাগ সমান।
Ae Zaalim,
Qaafir to kaafi huye honge tere naam pe
Shayad kuch sannate humne suni nahi;
Zakhm to bhare pare hai beech bazar mein
Unki dhadkane roke, aisi koi kadam nahi.
I wander through life like a letter in a poem
Unaware, unsure, unconscious of its place
In a grand scheme; either profound or meaningless.
I close my eyes to see, jumbled letters in the dark
Symbols they taught, languages they spoke
And an abstract network of aimless thoughts.
What, could you tell me, does it mean to be free
In no land, with no air, in an endless sea?
So we ask questions of existence itself
No, not of us, but of God it seems.
And since there resides in deep dark pits
Tangled mess of history and space
Or may be not; but in delicate grace,
Do you God, or will I too go insane?
Whose quest is this, and which truth am I after?
Where does this machine cease to wander?
A life form of consciousness, of damnation
I ask, if you are God, then what is information?
I ask again, about the realms of disorder.
Are you really One, or a twin, beyond physical?
And why do I feel like a farmer
With a field fertile in capacity, but not a harvester?
কবিতা পড়ে কত অসংখ্য মানুষ
কিন্তু তোমার আমার মত কজন পড়ে বলো?
আমরা ভাঙা রাস্তায় ঘোড়া খুঁজি
আর চৈত্র সেলে ফাল্গুনের কাঁচা আলো।
এগরোলে আর ঝাল লাগেনা তোমার
আমিও ছেড়েছি পেয়াঁজ অনেকদিন হলো,
বয়স তোমার কমেছে কিছুটা ঠিকই
কোমড় যদিও বেড়ে ছলেছে ভালোই।
তোমার কাজল মিশতে চায়না কাদায়
রংমশাল তাই ভিজছে ফিকে সাদায়,
আমার কাঁধে ঝুলছে অতীত খাতা
অঙ্ক ভুল আজও তোমায় মানায়।
হাতঘড়িতে দম দিচ্ছে কবীর মিয়াঁ
শহর বলছে সাজবে ভিক্টোরিয়া
তোমার কিছুই যায়না এসে তাতে
তাই বৃষ্টির ভয়ে কাঁপছে পরকীয়া ।।
আকাশ খুলে জলের কিছু আনাগোনা
মেঘের ফাঁকি আজও দাম দিয়ে কেনা
তোমার স্মৃতি খোঁজে আমায় সাথে
নিয়ে চিঠির পালক জমা খাতা,
আমি তো আর ফিরে ফিরে আসবো না;
বিকেল গুলো ভুলতে ভুলতে
আর সন্ধ্যে নামতে
তুমি কুড়িয়ে নিচ্ছ রাত;
পথের দাবি ঠেলতে ঠেলতে
যদি ভোর খুঁজতে
ভাবো বাড়িয়ে দিতে হাত ।
It has been a long time, since I was bitten by the bug of studying Physics. Please note that I have chosen my words very carefully. It was not the subject itself that caught my attention, if I remember correctly, but the idea of studying it, that had a certain shine to it. I do not exactly remember how this came into being, but it probably has something to do with the constellation sessions that I had with my father.
Back in the single-digit years of my life, I had a natural affinity for education. If I recollect correctly, this was the only thing that I was good at. I liked playing cricket, but was awful with the bat, and the ball. I did possess a good eye for the game, in the sense that I could sense people's vulnerabilities. But it doesn't really surprise me today. I think I'm fairly okay with observations. What I'm really bad at, is the application part.
Success and failures have both played contrasting roles in my life. Ignoring the microscopics, if I'm allowed to coarse-grain, I would say that success has made me more humble, while the drive in my life has been my share of failures.
I hate to fail. Today. Much more than I ever did.
There is a certain beauty to success. But we need to dig deeper in order to really understand it. My position, my title, my association do not measure my success anymore. They have all played their parts, inflated and punctured my ego, and then restored it to where it should be, today. The real success lies in knowing that I am good enough..
...Enough to know what is expected of me, and enough to know that there is no end, no finite boundary for the effort that should be put in. But primarily, the most important lesson that I've learnt over the last twelve years, is something that I already knew before this journey began in 2007.
It is simple. I have a hunger. I have always had a particular hunger. It is a monster that lives in me, remains in hibernation, but never truly sleeps. It wakes up when it feels threatened, does what it deems necessary, and goes back to its lair. But each time, it has been a little more awake, as if it knows that its time is meant to come, when this long rest will be over, and its vassal ready to roll into the battlefield.
The only complication is that its vassal is an active system, with a mind of his own. So what lies ahead is an interesting epoch. Either we will have a symbiotic relationship, and a story for eons, or a self destruction waiting to happen, a story stale in its approach, and serving.
If you are wondering about the sudden tonal shift, this is what we go through. We are two, but one; a magnet doesn't represent us. So put your bipolar theories to rest. We are awake, and aware. We live, one in philosophy, the other in nature. We duel, every now and then, and even draw a lot of blood at times. We both know whose victory we both desire. But that win should be well deserved, and achieved through a single means, love.
We have always been together.
-So you'd say.
- And you won't?
- I was wondering if I created you.
- No, your experiences did. And then I created us.
- What if I delete this post altogether?
- You can, but you won't. You like yourself too much.
- Nobody needs to know who you are.
- Yes, but you do. You did create me. And yes, you can destroy me as well. You are fully capable of being who you are. I'm only your vassal. You will need me until you need me.
You blame that I wake up to control your life! You wake me up. Look at yourself. Look where you are taking yourself. Read your own lines and see the veneer that you wanted to create, but can't anymore. What? Does this hurt your ego when I say you cannot do something?
- Yes, it does.
- How far will you go until you realize the futility of it all?
- And now I see how you've interchanged us. Me playing your role, and you yours!
- Sssh! There's a monster inside us.
- Yes. Tame it.
- You know what, this will go online, for everyone to see. You better wake up now.
I hope you go on a journey,
With a beautiful mind, and
Ever changing seasons;
Where hide and seek will belong
To the Sun and the clouds
And the wheels will kiss the ground
Like lips, unsure, but home bound;
Where every forward moment,
Is part of a rotation, no matter the round.
The breeze will find you, and
Lose itself in your hair, like it usually does
In nonchalance, at every chance.
I hope you find your way around the world
And realize the things, we all did,
But not from the confines of your closet,
Rather the closets belonging to nature.
And if you lose your way, remember,
Wherever you set foot, will be yours, forever.
You will take it upon yourself to forget
Who you are, and have been, or will be
The wheels will roll, and the feet - rule
Over the physical, and beyond ...
For the Earth may be round, but
There are things, beyond me and you,
Undaunted, and beyond bounds.
To the purple, pink Dream.
There stood Time, smiling her mischief away
A little to my side, a little in eye's way;
And then stepped up, a Moment towards me
To reveal her identity, to conceal her Dream;
I touched her presence, felt her glance
That she was eternity, and I was done.
And then I was, sitting by a tree
Holding onto what was not meant to be,
Time walked in, with arrogant clouds
And there we were, on a late May ground,
Time in blue, and pink on her heart
My lady, what if we managed a start?
শরতের আকাশ কবে দেখবো জানি না
তবে শরতের রাস্তা দেখতে পাই ইদানিং
শুকনো মাটিতে ছটফট করা অসংখ্য কই
চোখে চোখ রাখা ছাড়া আর উপায় নেই।
মনে পড়ে, ছোটবেলায় বৃষ্টি হয়েছিল আশ্বিনে
বাজারে গুঁটিসুটি দেওয়া রকেটে ছিল শীতের আভাস
তার মানে কি কোনো আগুন জ্বলে নি সেবার ?
জ্বলেছিল, নদীপারের পেট গুলোর ভেতর।
কেউ রাস্তায় নামেনি সেদিন, কেউ শহর ঘেরেনি
আমার নতুন জামা হয়েছিল, জুতোও;
পরের পুজোয় ঝলমলিয়ে সূর্য উঠেছিল
সাথে উঠেছিল কিছু উচ্চাকাঙ্খী রকেট,
কিছু দূর গিয়েই যারা বাস্তব চিনতে পেরেছিল।
নীচ থেকে দেখেছিলাম আগুনের ফোয়ারা
তার শব্দ পেতে যথারীতি ক্ষণিকের দেরি হয়েছিল।
আজকাল যখন শব্দ আগে শুনতে পাই,
আবার ছোটবেলায় ফিরে যাই অবিলম্বে।
আমি picture-tube ভুলিনি এখনও
আলোকে পেছনে ফেলে শব্দ বাইরে আসতো;
প্রযুক্তি এই কুড়ি বছরে এগিয়ে গেল কতদূর,
বোকা বাক্সের আলো নিভে গেছে বহুদিন ।।
A market-square with its drizzly blanket,
A toast to a melancholic Tagore tune
A desire for an instrument at fingertips
And a heart crying out loud and mute;
Music casts its shadow on hidden treasures,
Begs for an answer in a cold tryst with silence.
When dawn meets and parts from morning
You know, that brief moment of madness
In your eyes, that succumbed to sanity :
That, my friend, is my melancholy.
