কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রাম টির নাম
চূর্ণী নদীর পাড়ে
চূর্ণী নদীর জল টলমল
বৃষ্টি যখন নামে
বৃষ্টি এল ঝমঝমিয়ে
বাঁশের মাথার ওপর
বাঁশের বনে ঘাপটি মেরে
ভাই বোন দুটি বিভোর
ভাই এর মাথায় ঝাঁকড়া চুল
চোখ দুটো টানা টানা
চোখের মণি বোন সে আগলে
পাখির একটি ছানা
পাখিরা সব চুপচাপ
সন্ধ্যা নামে ঝুপঝাপ
সন্ধ্যা বাতি তুলসী তলায়
মা ডেকেছে ঘরে ফিরে আয়
মা যে তাদের গাঁয়ের বধু
কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রামের শুধু
কৃষ্ণগঞ্জ গ্রাম টির নাম........
The "other" number.
He pulled one last drag on the cigarette, the final embers burnt brightly before dying out. With one swift flick of the finger he flung the butt away. The aftertaste was bitter but satisfying. It was difficult getting these damn cigarettes now with the general bandh extending to its 60th day. He could very well remember that day when the morcha supporters bombed the CM. He had huddled the scared ministers into the safe room and then from there to the safety of Bagdogra Airport the next day. He could still recollect their horrified faces. Who would have thought that such an august gathering of all ministers of CM s cabinet would be bombed upon. Now the bandh is one fish bone badly impacted. The hills are dark and soundless. People hungry and unhappy cut off from the rest of the world. He looked pitifully at the snubbed out cigarette. Who knows when the next batch of cigarettes will arrive.
Rubbing his hands to beat out the chill he looked at the lake below. The lake shimmered like liquid silver. Today like every afternoon, at the end of the hard days work, he had jogged up to the monastery. From its terrace the view of the mirrik lake awed him everyday afresh.
He has opted for this outpost, the peaceful serene beauty of this quaint lake town had forever attracted him. His DSP had obliged, everyone was fond of him, he was capable and hardworking and his aryan good looks had created in-roads into the hard hearts of his superiors.
For once he glanced at his watch. It was late evening. By now his 3 yr old son would be back from the park where he goes every day with his grandfather. He visualised his wife preparing dinner in the kitchen and hoped she too would be looking at the clock. Wasting no more time he again jogged uphill leaving the monastery behind he reached the church. The church was quiet and desolate, its gardens full of blooms. He plucked some over-ripe squash fruit hanging from creepers on the wall playfully juggling them he found his favourite bench and sat down. The caretaker knew him from his frequent visits. This sipahi came to this height every day to catch the mobile network. The caretaker carefully slipped away.
He had not been home for 45 days now. He brought out his brand new note 4 and dialled his home number. After 3 attempts it did connect. His 6 yr old daughter was the first to speak today, "Baba...!!!" then his father, "Babu...!!!". His wife spoke less mostly about money and salary and school fees and, "Maach er daam khub bereche..!!!". The family lived 500 kms away from where he was. His wife never liked the mountains, She had arthritis. Five minutes into the phone call and he already needed another cigarette. He searched his pockets in vain but then.... his fingers touched the"other" phone... the "other" phone was small, unorthodox, hidden away safely.... looking up at the new rose moon he dialled the "other" number....
THE END
টাট্টু মহারাজ
যখন আমি ছোট্ট ছিলাম
বয়স সবে পাঁচ
আমার ছিল কাঠের ঘোড়া
টাট্টু মহারাজ
রং ছিল তার সবুজ হলুদ
কান দুটি তার লাল
কালো রঙের ডোরাকাটা
ছিল পীঠের ছাল
সকাল হতেই টাট্টু চেপে
দিতুম আমি দৌড়
আকাশ বাতাস মুখে মেখে
ছাড়াই গলির মোড়
দুধের গেলাস হাতে নিয়ে
সকাল হতে সাঁঝ
মা ছুটতো পেছন পেছন
ছেড়ে দিয়ে কাজ
ভাত খাব না চানে যাব না
চলত আমার বায়না
টাট্টু সাথে খেলব খেলা
কোনো দেরি যে সয়না
হঠাৎ করে বাদলা দিনে
মনে পড়ছে আজ
কোথায় আছে কেমন আছে
আমার টাট্টু মহারাজ
The closest i could get to wildlife was this parrot which i had named "Tusi".Yes it was a feminine name even though i could not decipher its gender.On one sudden whim of passion i had bought the parrot for 200 rupees. The vendor was carrying about 10-12 such birds each in a very small cage. Later, from a bird-watcher friend i learnt those parrots were babies snatched from their nests, caged and sold as such. Sometimes their flight feathers were clipped to disable flying. Had i known this earlier i would never had bought it in the first place. Anyway i did buy Tusi that day, thinking it as a pet, adorable birdie, well taken care of, who will whistle or talk someday, a companion to my then 7-yr old son.Someday a human-bird relationship will blossom.
Over the next one year span that Tusi remained with me, it did not grow in size, did not utter one single word, did not whistle at all and all my attempts at taming the parrot was lost. So I had to label it as "Tusi-the wild bird" All she did was screech and claw and beak the cage.I bathed her, fed her, cleaned her cage. Every morning i checked on her fearing death or disease. She never was sick but also never felt at home and I could feel that the parrot did not like us at all.
It was then that i thought of releasing her. I gave her three coaching lessons in flying. Closing all windows and door the first time i opened the cage she jumped and hopped here and there, on the second day she flew around the room then perched on the wall. The final day i had kept the cage in the open verandah, she hoped first on the cage itself, gave it a final jolt with her beak and flew out into the open, circled once and then flew to the nearby tree. I frequently used my son's toy binoculars to search Tusi but the wild parrot never came back and i found solace in the thought that she is happily screeching, free and flying somewhere in the open blue sky.
It was 4 pm when we reached Chilapata, a quaint town nestled among forests somewhat near the indo-bhutan border in the newly formed alipurduar district, west bengal, india.
The sun was about to set, the wind blowing softly, rustling the leaves. It was early spring with a cold nip in the air. The resort offered an excellent view of the nearby forest.
Branches of the tall trees swayed in the wind, the rain clouds were gathering. The horizon had changed colour from yellowish orange to crimson. The setting sun, the dark clouds in the backdrop of the forest canopy unfolded an ethereal beauty in front of our eyes.
Suddenly from the tree tops they started calling - the peacocks, they started calling from far from near sometimes alone sometimes in unison. Tearing through the approaching darkness their shrill calls reverberated in the air.
The rains had started. The ground which had a long dry spell gulped up the moisture emanating that wet mossy smell of grass.
We.... opened all our senses every pore of our body, soaking up the pristine natural beauty of Chilapata forest.
Its not the actual drinking but the romance surrounding it that puts me on a high regarding alcohol. Most of the aura of alcohol drinking ha...
