Isn’t it a paradox; how an empty room is so full?
It is strange how one human being alters the perception of a room in our minds.
Everything stays the same but their absence makes all the difference.
The aroma of the chrysanthemums lingering around,
A flashback of him sitting on his favourite chair flashes by,
‘Ei jaega ta amar khub priyo jano toh dadubhai’; the voice looms around, as if coming from behind the smiling photo hanging on the wall.
The sunlight floods the mezzanine floor,
The table tops and the furniture seem to glow. There is a lot of dust accumulated on the bookshelves and the framed photos; a sudden gush of wind and the fading ‘dhak’ beats remind me of his holy presence in the room.
The door remains closed now,
The family seems to have learnt how to forget about him somehow.
I roam around like I used to; while he used to listen to Manna Dey and Kishor Kumar; it helped him reminisce about ‘Dida’ I suppose.
We used to hum together, the yesteryear tunes,
A lozenge used to be my reward, if I was any good.
I see the open window ledge overseeing the neighborhood. I see how lonely he felt when no one but pigeons were there for him to talk to.
I feel guilt or some kind of a morbid remorse;
‘Ektu bosh na Dadubhai, kotha boli ektu?’
The pigeons still remain, they miss their old friend too,
I guess I made a mistake; should have spent more time with my Dadu.
I stand near the window ledge while the procession is afoot;
I close my eyes whilst She goes away,
Silently bidding her adieu.
‘Abar esho Maa, opekkhae roilam Ami,
Aar bhalo rekho shobai ke,
Pouchey diyo tar kache ei kotha ti,
Shubho Bijoya, Dadu.’
©theblackcurse via the room
Picture courtesy – Rupsa Sreemani and Soham Chatterjee
