MY CHILD HOOD -XI

Our village,Shehangal,in Diistrict Barisal of Dhaka Division of the -then Bengal is still vivid like a reflection IN
A MIRROR IN MY MEMORY , EVEN NOW IN 2009 , writing it , while in U.S.A.
Our village had five families of non-muslim(Hindus) and more than ninety to 100 families of muuslims and we, upto early 1940s did not learn or know the word 'communalism' or religious division in our society (and to that I will come later).
Our cast type is kayastha (non -brahmin and surname is BASU (Bose). We had three blocks of houses in line,in our family homes (Basus) seperated by 1 to 30 feet
gap. and the owners were all Cousin brothers (including my father).
We had a good broad canal in front, bordering our next villege, with tidal water flowing (high and eb tide). A very big govt-built Pond (Pukur) -1000 ft x 150ft. (or more).meant for drinking only was in on the front side.
We had our other smaller ponds on back-side of our house for each family( for washing ) unit of our block. Other four blocks of non-muslim families in the village were on same line from south to north. They were Guhas , then basus (ours), Ghosh , Guhas and sarkars (with one basu family there) All these homes were bordering our next village named ZULUHAR where the high scool named SAPTA-GRAM-SAMMILANI SCHOOL were there (meaning the school for seven villeges).

'THAT ' DEATH Of A BEGGAR

My GOD ! don't know how to console thee
Your creation ashamed, with impotent frustration
is pasted flat on the hardened face of the dead beggar
lying on the road at the end of our lane
His prostrated most-naked body ,like a log of rotten wood !
Was not he born , in human way, by thy sanction , Lord !
yet what thou achieved by dropping off his tail.
Throughout life supporting a starving body and soul
getting thrashed by human society and thy indifferent seasons
now he has returned back what he received as false gift ,his life !
His wide-opened opaque eyes shuttig sharp doors ,on your illusive world
your seasonal games -the rain the storm , the spring
getting kicked from his winning death
is poised in final triumph and thy sad defeat
There lies his uncompropising stiffened body and hardened toes
humble down all your creative- dreams , - in shame !
(Written in 1960s in Bengali and was published in CACTUS (1969);now, translated by the poet on 17 oct '09)

PILGRIMAGE TO HELL

Show me the way to 'HELL'-please
if you can
Most stairs to Heaven -are
suffering from .
T.B of tarmite-teeth.

Got more tired of seeing Al-round
masked and made-up gods of spectrum-robes
so many priests of mosques, temples and churches
stabbing the Divine in so many ways
assure men from the terrace-ground.

That's why I urge you , my friend
show me the way to Hell
to know it more; and compare.
(My poem written in 1960s ,in Bengali; published in CActus[1969);translated on 15/oct /09)by the poet.

MY CHILD HOOD - X

In between my games and trist with Nature , I had other tropical appointments wih malaria and diarrhaea . In those days of living and growing in Rural Bengal and not suffering from malaria would be almost an anti-sicial attitude and every one accepted it almost like a natural social phenomenon. I have yet the full memory of D-GUPTA'S Mixture and quinine tabs that used to come from outside(Calcutta) and I knew when and how to take either. I even knew the regularity of the fever with chill would come every third day or fourth day and also I knew when inbetween I would be without fever and be ready to be with my marbles ,tops or other games ,mostly, with nature like fishing or climbing small trees specially during the time of grren mangoes with slicing shell in my pocket and enough salt. My clever time , as I thought then, when any time a few oranges was brought from the market and by good luck, my malaria visited me. Sometimes during fever with chill I would pretend delirium to draw attention of my mother who was ever busy in the kitchen or otherwise with four five unruley children. when my delirium was unusual and foolishly out side the pattern, my mother would leave the kitchen, come by my side hiding an orange and after feeling my fore-head for the range of temperature and then place the orange by my side and leave. And at once my delirium would stop even before she reached the kitchen I would ,then and though think ,iI was quite clever.

MY CHILHOOD - IX

Not that I did not try to up-come otherwise. Back in our village I even paid two anas (one-eight-th of a rupee) so dear tome, to subscribe for membership of the village football team and was put, as final- fate, up as a goal keeper before .Even the half time the ball ruthlessly hit my belly and i stopped breathing on the spot. Within a few minutes ,though, I regained my breath, after help but was declared unfit for manly game and was ordered by the cqaptain to rest out side the field and then go home. Thus iI lost both my membership and my precious two annas wealth and I came back home weeping more for the loss of my wealth than my dimissal on the very first day of my sporting venture.
My physical fitness for out-door game ended there and my moneytary loss stayed with me for quite some time. ...I resumed my interest in independent sport of fishing or playing tops or marble games. In marble practice I gained some skill quite soon and a few more boys ,sick like me ,joined me .
The children of modern days with electric or even electronic toys won't even be able to guess how happy and full you feel when a few marbles dance in your pocket making noise or a top and the rope occupy your eager hands!

MY CHILD HOOD - VIII

By then I was between seven and eight( perhaps) when I was on the river bank and the memory is still so vivid in my mind. My consciousness was now growing and getting invoved in my memory and life.
Back to our own village , sick and thinly built while growing fast and with lonelinesss around me though there was no darth of children around including my two elder brothers and my cousin brothers next door, I was not much Welcome to join any game with them beccause I was too weak to join any game with my pot- bellied shape with ever running nose.But that could not affect me much for my being happy as the rural set up for my being one with them and play happily with clouds ,birds. and gardens with ponds ,big and small, were all waiting around .
By this time I learnt swimming .In that rural Bengal, with ponds ,canals and rivers sprayed allround no child was expected to live for long unless he or she learnt swimming in shortest time .And whe nlearnt ,he gets another gift of natue , the swimmig space as another good play-mate. So my lonely disposition as I remember now , did not affect my child -hood happiness and joy as I had all natural playmates around me ever ready to invite me. Yes, I was perhaps the happiest child of the primitive world by Nature's choice!

OUR RIVER ; MY MOTHER VII

My child - hood memory of our river
ooocan - wide ; holding my mother's hand
on the otherside the sky kissing the horizon thin
on our side ; coconut and mango-tops
shaking their head and leaves, -like un-ruley child
on nid-blue sky, the renouncing cloud , on all white rpbe
while the mid-river boats with happy-sail singing loud
and on our side, the play-ful waves teasing the dancing boats
and I waiting in joyous trance - transfixed
holding my mother's hand !
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The poem was the later product of reminiscence of my child-hood joy (written later in early fifties). In 1947 , our mother- land was divided into two , by cruel hands of post-war political play declaring and labelling us -'refugees.
and forcing on us the condition of seeking shelter on the other part and we had to migrate to calcutta of West Bengal!.