Hijr: Letter Two

To the one, I must not name,

I have lost count of the days we have spent apart; the last time I saw your face is, however, as vivid in my memories as yesterday. When you turned to take a last look at me in the crowd, I felt like you made a promise. You made a promise to belong to me as I did to you. Hence every day, I go to the meadows and play my flute. Remember our tune? The one that spoke of our feelings when we were shy to confess in words? I play it every day, hoping that the wind takes it to you. Or perhaps a bird perches on the tree's highest branches I sit under and learns the tune. It can then perhaps fly southward to you and sing to you, my ode of love.
You never returned but your memories did. The children have started gathering around me for lessons. I have hence found a purpose in my life, which I have dedicated to you. I have been teaching each one of them in the Citadel the tune. I hope someday they will grow up, travel across the seven rivers and play our tune of love. Then perhaps one day you can chance upon one of them, and you will know for sure that I belong to you, that I kept my promise.

I often take the lonely road beyond the meadows into the woods. I sit beside the lake in silence, where we once shared our deepest secrets. Do you remember that cave we found once when it rained? I went back there. I traced my fingers over the rock you sat on and, perhaps almost at the expense of sounding like a lunatic, spoke to you in whispers. Every night when I miss our secret escapades, I trace the curves of my body with the feather you tied at the end of the flute. They feel like your lingering fingers on my skin. They take me into a trance of ecstasy. I twirl in the darkness. I sing to the birds. I play the flute to the wind. People talk in whispers about my intentions and sanity. A poem or a tune keeps them occupied for a few days. Then the buzz starts again. Do I care what they think of me? Who separated us? Perhaps not. They would never understand us.

I went back to the cave again. This time, a desire to immortalise you gripped me. In your worship, I have found perfection. Maybe someday someone else will find a Deity in you. I traced your figure on one of the rocks. I gave you my flute. I knelt before you, staring at the figure for hours as though you would come alive and speak to me. Then the thunder rumbled, reminding me of my bitter reality. I walked back home, drenched in the blessing from Mother Nature. I thanked her as I do to the Lord Pashupatinath every day for yet another day when I could remember your face, your voice and your touch. I fear you are slipping from my memories every day. In my imagination, a bit of you is being replaced by what we could be. Am I losing you or finding myself? I can't tell. Your voice is in my head. Is it truly yours, or has it become mine?

I stare at my reflection in the water of the Sindhu every morning after I wake in tears, dreaming of you. Do I see me, or do I see you? I blush at my reflection. They say she has become a saint beyond worldly desires. Yet I hold on to the flute with my dear life. I hold on to hope.

Things have changed a lot since you left. There are the strangest animals being brought in to be tamed. The Arjans say we can travel across lands in a flash of lightning on them. I saw one on the street yesterday. For a moment, I wanted to learn riding, like all the men and women of the Citadel have been taking lessons. I hoped to escape with one and make it find you. But they said the training was exclusively for Merchants. I wish I had learnt the skills of pottery from you. My paintings don't have any value unless it's on your pots.

I have been slipping, or so they say: I am incurable of this dangerous disease that has gripped my soul. They have no name for it yet. But I do. I know. My only cure is the flute, and my eyes are on the horizon, looking for a face that's somewhere in the corner of this land, trying desperately to hear my tune.

Yours, from the Heart and Soul,

𑀢𑀭𑀦𑁆𑀕𑀯𑀢𑀺

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The flute, cymbals, drums and trumpets were evident instruments for entertainment used by the Indus Valley people. Seals and wall paintings of Sumer and Mesopotamia reveal musicians from the Harappan civilisations who used to visit the courts of their kings. Music was hence a very popular part of the culture. According to Michael Danino, the author of The Lost River: On the trail of Saraswati, another interesting thing found in the IVC is cave paintings of animals, human figurines and daily activities. One of the most famous of these is a Krishna-like cowherd surrounded by his herd, playing the flute. It is an interesting scene to note, as perhaps a mere scene depicting a cowherd or evidence of the existence of the Lord. All is left to speculation as to who drew them and why.

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Protisruti

প্রতিশ্রুতি বন্দিতা মা কে জড়িয়ে ধরে যেন প্রাণ ফিরে পায়। “ভাল আছিস?” জিগেস করে সুমতি। বন্দিতা হঠাৎ খেয়াল করে আগের মতো তার মুখ দেখেই তার মা আর তার মনের অবস্থা বুঝতে পারেন না। তার সাথে হঠাৎ মনে পরে কত অনায়াসে অনিরুদ্ধ বোঝে যে তার মন খারাপ। একবার জিজ্ঞেস করেছিল সে স্বামীকে, কি করে তিনি বোঝেন তার মন খারাপ। ছোট বন্দিতাকে তার মতন করে বুঝিয়েছিলেন তার স্বামী। আজ বন্দিতা বড় হয়েছে কিন্তু সেই প্রশ্ন সে আর করতে পারেনা। বন্দিতাকে খাটিয়ার উপর বসিয়ে এর মধ্যেই সুমতি যায় তার জন্য মুড়ি মুড়কি আনতে। বন্দিতার চোখ পরে পায়ের নূপুরের উপর। তিনি বলেছিলেন “তুমি খুশি হলে তোমার নূপুরের আওয়াজ অন্যরকম হয়, আর তোমার মন খারাপ হলে অন্যরকম।” বন্দিতা নূপুরটা বাজিয়ে দেখেছিল সেদিন। আজকে সে জানে পার্থক্য তার নূপুরের শব্দে নয়, অনিরুদ্ধের পর্যবেক্ষণ শক্তিতে। আবার কেন তার কথা ভাবছে সে? বাড়ি এসেছে মায়ের কাছে। আর ভাববে না সে, হয়তো দু তিন দিন পর ত্রিলোচনবাবু পাঠাবেন বিহারী কে বন্দিতাকে বাড়ি নিয়ে যেতে, ততদিন মায়ের কাছে একটু শান্তিতে থাকুক না সে। দুপুরে আম দুধ দিয়ে ভাত দেয় তাকে সুমতি। “তোর প্রিয় খাবার দেখ, মাম...

Answers

Aniruddha could not work all day. It started raining heavily outside, the curtains of the room swayed in the gusty wind, and things around the room toppled over. Koeli came to pick them up, to see if he wanted to eat anything but Aniruddha wanted to be left alone. Countless questions and fears raced through his mind. Bondita never went home like she did that day. Rather, once a year, even before Jamai Sasti, she checked the household chores a hundred times. If Batuk had a test, if someone was sick, she was reluctant to go. She just packed a bundle so quickly and left for her mother’s place. Had she distanced herself from Aniruddha? Was it his fault? Anirudha started thinking. Could she not take him as a husband because he pushed her away and hurt her? Aniruddha repented for his actions. If indeed Bondita denied their relationship knowing the truth behind it, could she be blamed? But was that why she was pretending to be asleep even though she was awake that night? What did she think ab...

Promises

Bondita hugged her mother as if to find herself again. "Are you okay?" Sumati smiled. Bondita suddenly noticed that her mother couldn't understand her state of mind just by looking at her face anymore. With that, she suddenly remembered how easily Aniruddha understood that she was upset. Once she asked her husband how he understood things without her saying it. Her husband explained to little Bondita in a way she would understand. Now that Bondita was grown up she could perhaps never ask him that question again. Meanwhile, Sumati hurried to get her some Muri Murki while she sat down on the bed. Bondita's eyes fell on her feet. He had said, "When you are happy, your anklet sounds different, and when you are sad, it is different." Bondita stirred her anklets unmindfully. Today she knew the difference was not in the sound of her Nupur but in Aniruddha's powers of observation. Why was she thinking about him? She came home to her mother. And she would not th...

Choices

The winter rains and gusty wind were unpleasant weather for Adhiraja Ishaan Dev. The Suryapalian capital was far more tropical weather of the plain lands than that of Neelambargarh, situated on a plateau rather close to the Heemdevi. It rained more in Neelambargarh, and the winters were cold. The wine did very little to comfort him as he kept the lamps of his chamber lit in an attempt to feel warmer. On the contrary, he observed how Priyambada complained that the winter isn't cold enough. It had been a quarter of the moon cycle since Maharani Priyambada met Kumari Advika of Mait. Although Ishaan Dev was eager to know what the ladies did talk about, he wasn’t sure whether to ask Priyambada. So he waited for her to tell him something, anything! But Priyambada seemed to act like the meeting never happened. She didn’t even disclose anything to Smriti as per Kumar Viraj. Ishaan Dev was perplexed. What was talked of in the meeting? Worse, did Advika mention him? She must have. The last t...

Going Home

Bondita's Mama came to Tulsipur to meet his daughter. He was a poor man and wore a short dhoti and a Batik shirt. It was wrong to come empty-handed to the daughter's house, so two pots of sweets accompanied him. Reluctantly, he had to go to Roy Chowdhury's house. They were the Zamindar of Tulsipur, the master of the father-in-law of Sampoorna, they needed to be respected. Apart from that, the fate of the sister and niece who he was reluctant to shelter and spent day and night rebuking them about had turned, the same sister now handed over some money to him by the end of the month, because of the kindness of Aniruddha Babu. He did not have the luxury of pushing Lakshmi away. Hence it was necessary to come to the landlord's house to meet his niece. In their house servants also dressed better than him; Look at the fate of the girl . Where he had arranged for her to stay in a corner of an old man's house, now Bondita was living a queen’s life. Zamindar Trilochan Roy Ch...

Uttor

উত্তর সারাদিন কাজে মন বসেনা অনিরুদ্ধর। বাইরে অঝোরে বৃষ্টি হতে থাকে, ঝোড়োও হওয়ায় ঘরের পর্দা দোলে , জিনিসপত্র এলোমেলো হয়ে যায়। কয়েলি আসে ছোট মালিকের জিনিস গুছিয়ে দিতে, তিনি কিছু খাবেন কিনা শুধোতে কিন্তু তাকে চলে যেতে বলে ঘরে খিল দেয় অনিরুদ্ধ। একা থাকতে চায়। তার মনে আনাগোনা করে অসংখ প্রশ্ন এবং আশংকা। যে ভাবে বন্দিতা স্বেচ্ছায় মায়ের কাছে গেল আজ, সেরকম সে কোনদিন যায়না । বরং বছরে একবার জামাই ষষ্টিতে যাওয়ার আগেও একশো বার বাড়ির কাজকম্ম দেখে শুনে যায়। বটুকের পরীক্ষা, কারুর শরীর খারাপ হলে তো কথাই নেই। সেই বন্দিতা আজ হঠাৎ বাড়ি যাবে বলে কি তাড়াতাড়ি পোটলা গুছিয়েছে। এতই কি দূরে চলে গেছে সে অনিরুদ্ধের থেকে? তা কি তার নিজের দোষে? ভাবতে থাকে অনিরুদ্ধ। সে দূরে সরিয়ে দিয়েছে বলে অভিমান না কি তাকে স্বামী রূপে গ্রহণ করতে পারেনা বন্দিতা? অনিরুদ্ধ পশ্চাতাপ করে। সত্যি যদি বন্দিতা সব জেনে তাদের সম্পর্ক অস্বীকার করে, তাকে কি দোষ দেওয়া চলে? তবে কি তাই সেদিন রাত্রে জেগে থাকা সত্যেও ঘুমের অভিনয় করছিল সে? কি ভেবেছে সে অনিরুদ্ধের ব্যাপারে? কেন চারিদিক বাছবিচার না করে এমন করল অনিরুদ্ধ? নিজের প্রতিজ্ঞ...

Adornment

The rainy night had given way to a rather pleasant summer morning in Suryapali. The temperature was no longer soaring and a gentle breeze blew through the plains of Suryapali. The sun peeped out through the floating clouds occasionally. Priyambada walked into her chambers after a luncheon to find trays laid with drapes and jewellery, waiting for her. “The Maharani sent this for some celebration in the evening,” Vrinda spoke, bowing at her mistress who nodded silently. Priyambada eyed the trays and exhaled. She wasn’t sure if anyone talked to Ishaan Dev about the rituals. She dismissed Vrinda and decided to read the scripture. As Priyambada sat down on the edge of the bed, scripture in hand, her thoughts travelled to the happenings of the night and she inhaled as her throat felt dry. Why did he stop? Did he feel that he had offended her? Priyambada wondered. She walked up to the attire laid down for the evening and picked up the drape wrapped into a bodice and wrap-around skirt. They w...

Ghore Fera

ঘরে ফেরা বন্দিতার মামা মেয়ের সাথে দেখা করতে আসেন তুলশিপুর। গরিবের ঘরের ছা পোষা চেহারা তার, পরনে খাটো ধুতি ও ছিটের জামা। মেয়ের শশুরবাড়িতে খালি হাতে আসা অন্যায় তাই দুটি মিষ্টির হাড়ি সাথে। অনিচ্ছা সত্তেও রায় চৌধুরী বাড়িতে যেতে হয় তাকে। তারা তুলশিপুরের জমিদার, সম্পূর্ণার শ্বশুরের মনিব, তাদের সম্মান করে চলা মঙ্গল। তা ছাড়া যে বোন ও বোনঝিকে আশ্রয় দেওয়া নিয়ে দিনরাত কথা শোনাতে বাঁধতো না তার, সেই বোন এখন মাস গেলে তার হাতে টাকা তুলে দেয়, অনিরুদ্ধ বাবুর দয়ায়। হাতে আসা লক্ষ্মী পায়ে ঠেলার বিলাসিতা করার মত মুরোদ নয় তার। অগত্যা বোনঝির সাথে দেখা করতে জমিদার বাড়ি আসা। এদের বাড়ির চাকররাও তার থেকে ভাল পোশাক পরে; ভাগ্য দেখো মেয়েটার। কোথায় কোন বুড়োর বাড়ির এক কোণে পরে থাকার ব্যবস্থা করেছিল সে, এখন বন্দিতা রাজরানী। জমিদার ত্রিলোচন রায় চৌধুরীর যাকে পছন্দ নয় তাকে তিনি সেটা বুঝিয়ে দিতে দ্বিধা বোধ করেন না। বন্দিতার মামা তার তেমন এক অপছন্দের পাত্র । বৌমার মুখে তিনি যা শুনেছেন তারপর বৌমার তাদের প্রতি টান দেখে আশ্চর্য হন ত্রিলোচন বাবু। কিন্তু কুটুম্ব তারা। হাতে কর...

Trust

Ishaan Dev woke up at the sound of the hourly bells and trumpets and found himself alone in bed. It took him some time to realise that he had perhaps overslept as he looked confused, half asleep first at the hourglass and then at the sun rays coming into the chambers through the swaying curtains. He sat up to suddenly remember the happenings of the night, as his eyes travelled to the blood stain on the sheet and he sat in contemplation for a good few minutes. He finally had his moment with Priyambada and it was nothing like he had imagined it to be. A part of him that yearned to touch her and taste her was satisfied enough to realise that his longing for her was not only physical. When bodies entwined in the union, and he had pushed himself in, as he had with a hundred other women before her, something in him felt a different sense of completeness and fulfilment that he realised was missing from his life. He had seen Priyambada react to the sensations that were completely new to her, m...

Gratefulness

Aniruddha did not return home that night, he informed on the telephone that he was stuck in urgent work so he would return home the next day after spending the night at the client's house. Bondita spent a sleepless night. What would she tell Barrister Babu? And why would he believe it? She was lost in her thoughts twisting and turning in bed all night. She was hurt. Was her husband so reluctant towards their relationship that he did not wish to return home because of her? Once he was busy with some work and was pacing in the study room. Bondita was a child. Her Jetha Shoshur Moshai had taught her to serve her husband. She used to see Bihari take a cup of tea to the study room every day. Despite Bihari's resistance, she picked up the cup of tea that day. "Don't do this, Ginnima ," Bihari was terrified. “Barrister Babu does not like to talk or be disturbed during his work. If he gets angry, I will lose my job.” Bondita ignored his words and entered the study room w...

RAABTA

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