A Letter of a Sis
Dearest sister-in law,
Today, I met the person,
you tried in your match-making effort for me.
He was quite a nice one!
Although, it did not offer
stemming much of other thoughts, otherwise.
In my childhood, saw the wife of the famous artist
Zainul Abedin, on the eve of the first day of Bangla calendar.
In my childhood, I saw Afroza Banu , too
She was the famous duo of the drama-serial “Sakal-Sandhya”
I never saw Pijush Bandopadhyay, personally
He was a nice, handsome persona
And someone with a prudent utterance of
the purest Bangla, as it sounded into young ears.
Now, it is time to come back to the main talk, the groom.
“My poems have a delicate shade of sunlight,
as there is need of Vitamin D, too!” I told him.
“Nice.” He was short and brief in understanding.
I had a lot to say... really a whole lot.
And as my childhood offered nothing but an ordinary one,
Just like an average any other one would say,
And as my chattering will find nothing special
other than ordinary ties for Bangla
It still shivers me in spellbound magic moments
As I feel the shadow work in delicate fabrics of distant memory
As a handcrafted embroidery unfolds a folklore, in the humming of
Unspoken love of abundant silence.
Bangla,
In needlework, culinary artistry and in fathomless pausing moments
As a bridal shower spreads the news of a festive moment.
As I thought about these, all of these,
It made me almost absent minded, lost in gazing into past.
“The dreams are for Hindus too. Why is it so?”
He seemed serious.
I looked at him.
He was looking deeply, as if he was searching something in my face.
A long pause.
It abandoned me somewhere,
where I understood.
I must stop ruminating.
Eligibility in a marriage is a rather different talk
than the question of eligibility in a sensible poem.
It was always a viable question,
an ever-existing one, in a textual content, in mannerism and body-language.
“The machine, these days, are able enough
to prosecute the righteous breast,
It was effective for the leftists too, always.”
I told him.
“And the reason behind it is also a simple one.
The printer failed to be double sided, as it defaulted otherwise,
It must be that, just that!” He shrugged.
I never pampered a monkey talk, never ever.
Believe me, as my words are pouring down, incessantly.
In these days of Zero-one technological abundance,
I was never methodical to take sides. And I know for sure,
Gabirel is infuriated to grab me, these days.
As the angel of death, is merciful enough in the becoming
Another Facebook pal is adding up, there.
To let me tune in to the radio volume,
As the TV is frozen in time, when we used to watch
“You asked for it.”
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