Bangladesh is in the labyrinth of an autocratic rule. Some call it Bangladesh Krishak Sramik…..
Time has fleeted and dimentions have changed,
I remember talking of your long aspired ball.
I assured you the ball would be yours,
but would you still be mine?
You will then be among unknown stars, a new cosmos your guiding light.
Freedom will be yours and yours alone, your captivity would be but just a lore.
I had also asked that in your new found freedom, will you still be mine?
In jest perhaps you had replied,
How can I forget you,
you stood by me in times of blight.
You were my guiding light you had said,
You encouraged me in my pain.
How can I forget you my love, you declared,
the paradise was meant for us.
My joy knew no bounds I guess
Drowned was I in the nectar of a paramour.
My speech was hindered by lack of words,
as I basked in the glory of your love.
You had asked me for my blessings,
so that you got your ball.
You made me dream of a paradise,
a paradise for you and I.
I still remember the day when you dialled my number,
your ecstacy knew no bounds.
In your profound love you told me,
you will surely get your ball.
After a while I called you back,
found that your number was busy.
Then came your call and you told me,
you let my mother know it all.
“Wasn’t it a bit premature?” I asked you in my folly,
But you replied in the negative,
saying that you would surely get your ball.
You made me dream of a dream game,
a game of a ball it was.
You went as far as to assure me,
how you would set field et all.
We spoke at length that day I remember, and had lost the sense of time.
sometime during our insane exchange,
you reached Farmgate from Balurghat.
You had asked the way to Paltan’s vehicle,
I gave you directions but just that.
When you asked me for further guidance,
I encouraged you to walk alone.
I taught you the nuances of solitary walk,
gave you hope that you will succeed.
Garnering all strength you began to walk ,
soon you mastered the art of stand alone.
Was that my mistake I had asked myself,
to take the bull by its horns?
I felt myself buckle under my weight,
my subconscious the culprit of it all.
Love has its hopes and anger too,
we had stopped talking for a while.
Some say that a bit of bitter,
elevates love to proportions unheard.
One fine day on checking my Facebook,
I saw a message in my private account.
I imagined you dancing with elation,
as you mentioned that the ball was yours.
Yes the ball of our dream game was within reach,
I guess you told me with bated breath.
My dreams of paradise surfaced once more,
as you were busy fixing the ground.
I sent sleepless nights dreaming of a game not yet played,
as the goal long overdue found its post.
All that stood between you and I,
was just a strike a part.
Then from somewhere I saw ominous clouds,
unmatched by nightmares I often watched.
My fear for clouds was perpetual,
I was grasped by a fear unknown.
The dark clouds gathered in my lost horizon,
and the sky began to bleed.
Somewhere in the deluge I saw,
a mermaid dancing in rain unbleached.
The mermaid was you my dear,
as you danced in the rain untired.
My throat was parched in the wet of the night,
thirst unquenched by the rhythmic fall.
I asked for a drop of water from you my dear,
as you danced in the rhythm untired.
You kept dancing my thirst unquenched,
I pleaded for a drop which went unheard.
The nature bled as my thirst increased,
I remember telling you I was happy.
The ball was yours then and my duty was done,
in jest I did tell you my job was done.
The thunder was heard in the rain perpetual,
the lightning as my guide was new.
It showed me my hearth strange and dank,
as I saw you play your ball.
Bengali to English translation by Vaskar Paul