Translated by: Bhaswati Ghosh
Puja holidays draw near.
Sunshine is draped in the colour of Champa.
The air ripples with dew,
Shiuli’s fragrance lingers
like the delicate caress of someone’s cool hands.
White clouds make the sky lazy—
seeing which, the mind relaxes.
Mastermoshai continues to teach
the primitive story of coal
While a student sits on the bench and paddles his feet,
his mind awash with images—
The cracked ghat of Kamal pond,
And the fruit-laden custard apple tree of the Bhanjas.
And he sees in his mind’s eyes, the zigzag path
that leads from the milkmen’s neighbourhood
by the side of the haat,
into the tishi fields, next to the river.
At the economics class in college
the bespectacled, medal-winning student
jots down a list–
which recent novel to buy,
which shop will give on credit—
the sari with the “Do Remember” border,
shakha washed in gold,
a pair of red velvet chappals, handcrafted in Dilli
and a silk cloth-bound poetry book,
printed on antique paper—
the title of which eludes him.
In the three-storied Bhawanipore hosue
Thin and heavy voices converge in confabs —
Will it be Mount Abu or Madurai this time
Or perhaps Dalhousie or Puri
Or shall it be the tried and tested Darjeeling.
And I see on the auburn road
leading to the station
Kid goats on lease from the city
five or six of them — tied with ropes.
Their futile cries rend the
kaash tasselled silent autumn sky.
As if they have somehow understood
Their puja holidays are near.
~
Mastermoshai = Respectful term for teacher (Bengali)
Champa, Shiuli = Flowers
Ghat = Bank
Haat = Weekly village market
Tishi = Linseed
Shakha = White bangle made of a particular stone. Is worn by married Bengali women.
Chappal = Footwear
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
ছুটির আয়োজন
কাছে এল পূজার ছুটি।
রোদ্দুরে লেগেছে চাঁপাফুলের রঙ।
হাওয়া উঠছে শিশিরে শির্শিরিয়ে,
শিউলির গন্ধ এসে লাগে
যেন কার ঠাণ্ডা হাতের কোমল সেবা।
আকাশের কোণে কোণে
সাদা মেঘের আলস্য,
দেখে মন লাগে না কাজে।
মাস্টারমশায় পড়িয়ে চলেন
পাথুরে কয়লার আদিম কথা,
ছেলেটা বেঞ্চিতে পা দোলায়,
ছবি দেখে আপন মনে–
কমলদিঘির ফাটল-ধরা ঘাট
আর ভঞ্জদের পাঁচিল-ঘেঁষা
আতাগাছের ফলে-ভরা ডাল।
আর দেখে সে মনে মনে তিসির খেতে
গোয়ালপাড়ার ভিতর দিয়ে
রাস্তা গেছে এঁকেবেঁকে হাটের পাশে
নদীর ধারে।
কলেজের ইকনমিক্স্-ক্লাসে
খাতায় ফর্দ নিচ্ছে টুকে
চশমা-চোখে মেডেল-পাওয়া ছাত্র–
হালের লেখা কোন্ উপন্যাস কিনতে হবে,
ধারে মিলবে কোন্ দোকানে
“মনে-রেখো’ পাড়ের শাড়ি,
সোনায় জড়ানো শাঁখা,
দিল্লির-কাজ-করা লাল মখমলের চটি।
আর চাই রেশমে-বাঁধাই-করা
অ্যাণ্টিক কাগজে ছাপা কবিতার বই,
এখনো তার নাম মনে পড়ছে না।
ভবানীপুরের তেতালা বাড়িতে
আলাপ চলছে সরু মোটা গলায়–
এবার আবুপাহাড় না মাদুরা
না ড্যাল্হৌসি কিম্বা পুরী
না সেই চিরকেলে চেনা লোকের দার্জিলিঙ।
আর দেখছি সামনে দিয়ে
স্টেশনে যাবার রাঙা রাস্তায়
শহরের-দাদন-দেওয়া দড়িবাঁধা ছাগল-ছানা
পাঁচটা ছটা ক’রে।
তাদের নিষ্ফল কান্নার স্বর ছড়িয়ে পড়ে
কাশের-ঝালর-দোলা শরতের শান্ত আকাশে।
কেমন ক’রে বুঝেছে তারা
এল তাদের পূজার ছুটির দিন।
Bhaswati Ghosh 
Happy Durga Puja!!!! Maybe it be a wonderful one 😀
What a lovely poem. Of course, with the climate in Canada I wasn’t familiar with all the vegetation…I look forward to reading more.
Bhaswati, your poetry is so evocative. I felt all the flavor of the Druga Puja. I especially enjoyed the last stanza: the helpless cry of lambs across the autumn sky and the brush of kaash flowers. Excellent!
This is really wonderful, specially the twist at the end, which heightens the effect and adds poignancy to the lines before it.Can you please indicate the original first line and whether it has been sung by anyone?Truly thankful for this one.
In the economics class at collegethe bespectacled, medal-winning studentjots down a listwhich recent novel to buywhich shop will give in credit—the sari with the “Do Remember” border,shakha washed in gold,These lines…In their beauty and splendour, how deeply painful the poignant memory and familiarity of my heritage, even for me…of what once came and went when I was little.love
I, too, thought the last lines wrapped it all up so nicely. And with a poignant twist.
Hi,what a timely post…You have done a wonderful job translating the great poet…I am linking you..best..
I loved the way it shows the different perspectives of the season. Thank you for sharing that
“the delicate caress of someone’s cool hands…”Only one of the most exquisite images here.
Cesar, it was a good one. :DCereal Girl, welcome to my blog. I am glad you liked the poem. You have a great blog too. I shall be visiting often. :)Jas, it’s so satisfying when the reader feels the emotions and atmosphere a piece of writing conveys. I am always a little nervous to translate Tagore, since he can never be “fully” translated. But it gives me real joy to see reactions like yours. Bhupinder, it does throw in a surprise at the end, doesn’t it? Am glad you liked reading it. :)Susan, it’s so wonderful to know those lines evoked nostalgia for you. Good memories never hurt. :)WA, not only is the twist at the end poignant, but Tagore weaves it in so seamlessly, doesn’t he? Never ceases to amaze me. Abhay, welcome to my blog. Thanks for your kind words and the link. You have a wonderful blog too. And I am linking you up as well. :)BK, you said it so aptly. “Different perspectives of the season,” indeed it is. Glad to share. :)Bernita, :).
Bhaswati, I have always admired your simple and lucid style. This particular poem has a special essence …. you captured it all so well…. exemplary!
So glad to have your sensitive readership, Sanjukta di. Thank you. And Shaarod shubhechchha!