Shubho Bijoya, Dadu

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

Unposted Letters #2

When in the morning I wake up late,
And you fly into a rage,
I quickly sit up on the bed,
For I understand what’s there in my fate.

When I don’t reply to your never-ending texts,
Your blood pressure at once jumps and the usual serenading voice of yours,
Often compared to an Angel’s by me,
Changes into a scorned and angry one,
Demanding an answer to the reason of my late reply.

I oblige with an answer as I know that you’ll not take much time to return to your lovely and graceful self.
They say ‘when all else fails, there’s family’; well, for me it’s You!
I know everyone else may feel bad, may feel left out but what do I do?
It is not always that I can tell them that.. I love her,
It is not always that I can tell you that.. I love you.

When you feel that I’m unromantic and that I don’t express my love through the preferred phrase of “I Love You’s”
I know how you feel but what to do?
And as they say, ‘true love is felt!’

Don’t worry about things I say in anger,
I’m a kid so my anger provokes these,
But somewhere down the line I’m sure you know
That though it is not always that I can tell you,
But know this my love… I do love you!

©theblackcurse via the first letter for her

Featured Picture – Rupsa Sreemani.