Selected texts from Samaresh Mazumdar.

Selected texts from Samaresh Mazumdar.

“This one in itself is a joy. Now let me talk, this is beyond understanding, even for you.”
Opening the door, Madhabilata went out with kerosine and Tin. Repositioning the pillow a bit, Animesh went for another try to sleep, once more, on his back. O, how comfortable! For some time, he remained still , lying down there, with his eyes closed.
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Naptime did visit. There was a sound at the door, and Animesh opened her eyes. Madhabilata returned. She was there with the kerosene tin at hand, a grocery bag wrapped around the shoulder and the face gazed in the behind. Looking there, she asked in a gentle, poised voice, “Do not go there now, please come here in the room!”

The door was open, wide. Outside, the sunlight was a pristine bliss. Animesh was trying to balance his entire body with his both hands, anyhow. And then looked outside with a pair of vulnerable thirsty eyes.

Madhabilata was still standing at the door. Her gaze was fixed upon Animesh. After a few moments passed away Animesh could see him. And he was astonished to see.

There were a hundred hiroshima started ringing in Animesh, a swinging diva of a song. Every corner was a mayhem of broken, torn down, melted and burnt down story, all of a sudden.Then, after the smoke dispersed, the swargachenra tea garden and the embracing river Angravasa meandering by her , stood as an imagism against time , still with the boy playing in the river , leaning close to the river floor. His eyes were brimming with curiosity to watch the shrimps play. Exactly those eyes, that face and even the gentle gaze. Animesh felt that a far distant person was looking at him, in the here and now.

And that past was asking the present him, “How are you, Animesh?”
And the midlife was responding, “Not good! I am not good here, at all!”
“Things were not supposed to be here in this way.”
“When I was you then things were not supposed to be so. I am feeling pain after seeing you. When I was you, I was truly happy."
"If my condition becomes like yours".
"No. No way".
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Animesh was calming the sudden emotional sand storm inside him .

With his hands stretched out, he simply said,
“ How could I tell you a story from so far away?
It will be hard to come to you, will you rush to me to say?"

Madhabilata approached Animesh. With the boy held close, she helped him with his eager inviting hands.
Finally Animesh was holding a mold, with whom a plethora of sculpture delight would be possible!

"Life, whence dried up , brittled a leaf
Have mercy, o merciful , O my belief
Every unsung minced , hidden a long, myrtle and floral in a thistle thal

Come along these verses of a lyrical ballad , myriad, my pal.

Whence the due diligence turn the mundane page into a magnificence
The sounding clay arose within the four corners of a magnum opus

Heartsong and the flight of a song, o my bestowed enlightened , serene candid.

Step along thy patience , and assonance to be in togetherness , a splendid

Wretched , o my plethora! Asynchronous whittled down in possibility
Thrown a back to a corner, lied in mourners’ say

Open the door, and lionheart reason , embellishment

Come along garnishing , cosmic , a cosmos in nuclei

Aspiration whence a muddy constellation

Blindfolds a sense, a morn, pure a bliss and a moan
O my puritan, O my eternally sleepless one

Come along to scorching a delight, whence a day lights up one."

(A tagore song composed in 1910)

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