The Language of Silence

there comes a time
when words fail.

when words fail
to express the storm
that rages within.

that is the moment of silence.

silence.
but it is not void...
that silence is filled
with words!

those words carry a message,
which is so intense, so expressive
that, if spoken...
the lips will burn,
the eyes will shed
tears.

tears are not mere drops
of water.
they are pure emotion -
with such a magnanimity,
that we cannot hold it back...
it spills, it overflows
the rim of our character,
the edge of our calmn.

this water does not put out the fire.
but,it encourages the flame
to burn others.

so I bless the silence,
I prevent the tears...
instead, I let Myself burn!

May the soul that arises,
from the heap of the ash-
escape the stinking cage
of the present rotten corpse!

my words have failed,
my tears have failed,
my own character has failed...
but, my dear God-
do not fail me.

take me with you!

Rabindra Jayanti

Sometimes I wonder that I’m so lucky I was born Bengali. It’s not that feeling which comes to every person that makes him like his own language, his own culture, his own traditions… but it’s a more personal feeling. You may think that I’m being very ridiculous, but still I don’t fear to say that… one of the most significant reasons that I like being a bengali is that I can live, breathe, feel every breath of that genius, of that conscience inherent to each and every human being personified through this single man’s creation! Believe me, I’d be definitely not lying when I’m saying that … there’s hardly a human mood which does not associate to a particular creation of this unimaginable wonder of the world, Rabindranath Tagore.

You can argue that it’s always possible for any non-bengali to learn the language and start appreciating his creations, but here I’d like to say… yes, it’d be definitely possible, but still you wont be able to get the full flavour of it… as here comes the thing called ‘culture’. Until and unless you belong (yes, ‘belong’ and not ‘know’) to a certain culture, no matter how much imaginative, how much talented you are, but still some things will remain unknown, mysterious and maybe irrational to you. That is why I say that “I am a proud Bengali.”

‘Rabinda Jayanti : poncheeshe boisakh’… these few words bring me a lifetime of memories, which will always remain cherishable to me, almost like the field of daffodils of Wordsworth! For some years this day meant a whole lot to me… a month of days without evening study, a month full of enthusiasm to create a new play, a new recitation and a new bunch of songs.

I was hardly 10 then. Though I loved to churn out the melodious tunes of Gurudev (read: Rabindranath), still I couldn’t reach at the depth of these… and so for recitation. From my childhood I took pride in recitation and also in one-act plays. So much so, that I directed school plays in the celebration days of Teachers’ Day. And don’t worry, we did really well. Even some people who were considered so shy and callous, they surprised the whole lot by giving their best performance! I really dream those days…

As for Rabindra Jayanti, my father, who took part in serious dramas and plays in his younger days, directed the 15/20 of us. All the acts we did, all were from the book ‘Hasso-Koutuk’ (laughter-satire). Almost the whole book was acted out cumulatively in these few years of our performance... and we underwent the rehearsals so much intensely that after 10 years, yes, after 10 long years, I still remember most of the expressions corresponding to each sentence in those plays… and I’m not joking my dear! Give me the book, even right now, and I promise I’ll make you roll with laughter!

Among us however, Paltu-da and Jijo-da always got the bigger roles. Paltu-da was really a talent. With my father’s directed expressions, he always added his own and after the evening we literally had pains in our ribs by rolling and laughing and kicking!! Jijo-da used to do the serious type of roles and he handled them well. But Paltu-da obviously was more popular among us.

As for singing, Dipon-da and me used to lead the boys and Manta-di and Mom from the girls’ side. I loved singing… and singing Rabindrasangeet alone, since my childhood. I had later undergone some proper training in it and even performed in Rabindra Sadan. Till today when I come across/redisover a new touching song, I make sure that I can sing it. So naturally I enjoyed the stage performance. When I get up on the stage today to present my Powerpoint Presentations, I hardly falter in stage-sickness, thanks to these colourful years, which have completely freed me from all of the stage-tensions!

This year I performed (as a veteran) in the Rabindra Jayanti, which was non-functional for those 10 long years. When I got on the stage (pandal to be precise), built on the exact place where we had our happy times, I was struck with a sudden nostalgia… all those old images were fleeting through the canvas of my mind… but still I managed to recite, sorry not ‘recite’ but ‘read’, Gurudev’s ‘Proshno’ (meaning ‘Question’).

Looking at the excited faces of the other youngsters, I tried to discover myself among them… but sadly I saw the temparament has totally changed. Instead of enjoying the show, they were ‘competing’ with each other. There was no co-ordination, not even one congratulated each other… they were hardly 10 and most were even younger!

So I leave you the ‘Proshno’… will these children be able to extract the same feeling from these days when they go up? Will they ever recall these days with the passion I am right now? Will they ever be able to discover the inherent tremendous intensity of joy? Will they be ever realise : There’s no use winning a rat-race… because if you win, you still remain a rat!

Save them all Gurudev, shun thy sacred light of enlightenment on them… make them proper human beings, because one day these young children will be the future of Bengal, of India, of the World…

The First Impression !

Have you heard that proverb that says, “The first impression is the last impression.” ? This is a little controversial in the literal sense, but what it actually conveys is that the first image you create after meeting a person individually and personally, stays forever and you build upon that image the future possibilities of a relationship with that person. Maybe the portrayal was artificial for that person, yet what he does, how he behaves and the way he dresses is the only things that you can observe at a glance. If you find him attractive then you look forward to future meetings, else you refuse/avoid seeing him henceforth. I will jot down more on this topic in a later post, but today let me reflect a personal experience I had that has been etched deep within me permanently.

I was never a chatterbox. Neither did I had any first hand experience in ‘going-out’, especially with girls. I prefer either to stay back or have a peaceful walk alone in the lake, churning out my favourite Rabindra-sangeets one by one… and then maybe have a nice eat-out. But my first experience with a girl was somewhat very striking. I will not take her name for personal reasons. Also, I will not bore you with unncessary information and details and only concentrate on the topic: First Impression

I had been in touch with her for sometime over the phone, but never did actually seen her. We shared some common interests, and she seemed to be exceptionally close to my wavelength (which I hardly find in any people, leave alone girls!). So, inevitably, we decided to meet one day.

The day was sunny, burning to be precise. The meeting place was very crowded as there was some festival going on. So, another problem crept in: as I’ve never seen her, how would I actually recognize her in the firstplace among the hundreds of the jostling people. By nature, I hate crowdy places and then I am very punctual in my ‘appo’s. So I stood almost 30 minutes there.

Just as was going fed up, atlast she called. She was late already and amidst all the voices around, it was difficult to hear anything in the phone. As predicted earlier almost 4 calls were exchanged and yet we couldn’t find each other… but then I asked for her dress colours and fixed the co-ordinates. After that I did find somebody but still wasn’t that sure … so I gave her a call and waited to see whether that girl picks it up or not. And, she did pick up. This’s how we met.

Now I shall gradually layout the canvas of my protrayal of her image on her first impression.

First of all, she wore a smart pair of jeans and a cool top, as a whole which made her look, well, nice. Then she had a broad smile on her face, which almost spoke of lending a hand of friendship. She started talking right-away, quite contrary to me, as I still felt kind of awkward on my first ‘day-out’ with a girl. But, to tell the truth, she made me feel very comfortable and also gradually freed my mind to speak out. As I was very inexperienced, I made her decide to choose tha place where we can sit and talk, as she chose a nice and peaceful place nearby, away from the crowd. On the way I met some of her friends and she gracefully introduced me to them without stumbling once. That’s another thing I liked about her. If I would have been in her place, most probably I’d have ducked/dodged my friends…but she didn’t and I felt kind of honoured!

We moved on to that place and though most of the time I kept my lips tight, yet I started enjoying her company. She was very frank, friendly and carefree. At the same time, she was also self-conscious, very ambitious and like me, had a passion for literature. She was also an amateur photographer, and last but not the least, she’s also a food-lover like me(of course, quality-wise not quantity-wise)! She was so free with her words, that it seemed that we’ve known each other for a very long time, where, as a matter of fact, it was 2 months or so. I’ve never felt so much free talking to any stranger before. And, another thing, I did happen to see the little child dominantly present in her. Though, it would be very wrong to depict her as a childish person, but yet she did have the traits of the soft and tender little fun-loving baby in her. It seemed like the baby was enveloped in a well-grown ‘package’ with some virtues/values of an adult hurriedly shoved into it. Generally, I do look forward for this child in everybody, even in the grand-parent like aged friends I have!

But, maybe, as I don’t usually interact with people too often, I have missed these traits in them. Maybe all of us have more-or-less the same traits with some addition/deletion, yet our meeting was destiny’s choice and finding this person ‘different’ (almost a cliché for lovers describing each other with respect to the other people around) was also a coincidence.

No, I never said that I was bowled by her and was head-over-heels already… it’s almost impossible. How can you be in love with somebody just seeing once? Love at first sight? Then it’s an infatuation, nothing more. Sorry, but I associate a deeper meaning to love just than a physical attraction and some sweet exchange of words. Love grows like a seed into a tree, this’s what I believe. Being into a co-educational school for the last 14 years of my life, it is nothing new to talk to a girl, yet, this time I was a little shaken to meet such a nice stranger!

So I say once more, I didn’t fall in love with her. I was just enjoying her company, every bit of it…

After that we moved on to a historic art gallery, where for once I started to appreciate the art more than her presence… I’ve been there at my childhood and bore almost no memories… but, having the chance now, I lapped up every drop of the beautiful art. And I also discovered she also had an inclination towards art, afterall it was again her idea to be there.

She signalled me a time-out after sometime and we got out to have some food and my all-time favourite… ice-cream! I could feel the initial phase of uneasiness totally worn out and I had come out of my shell and letting out my piece of mind to her while she gave a patient hearing. Though she did most of the talking, that was exactly what I wanted and loved. I realised that she had the potential to be a good friend in the future. Overall I immensely enjoyed the day-out and on returning home, she also confirmed it through a SMS!

And now, I will finally etch down the conclusive part of this episode :

As I have said earlier, it wasn’t quite ununsual for me to talk to a girl, for I have a number of female friends with whom I had shared my thoughts quite openly since the time I didn’t even noticed the difference of genders. My cousin Tusi & chordi had been my best play-mates when I was as early as 3 years old to even now. Though the coonection has faded to a great extent with time, and though it is inevitable for the readers to say that nothing ‘more than friendship’ was possible as they were my relatives… I’d let them know that these two girls were the first crushes of my life! Our bond was way much more deep and strong to insult it with the paltry term ‘just friends/relatives’.

But what was new in this incident was of course that she was a complete stranger, but also that it seemed (to me) that our wavelength matched to closely, that it produced a clear resonance… in which I heard the sublime music of Life itself. In a few hours, she brought a Tsunami in my calm mind and showed me the other side of the island where the flowers bloom, where the butterflies play, where everything is so full of color and vitality! It took me at a complete surprise and shook my base. It opened the worn, rusted windows of my suffocating and cold room. The warm rays of sun poured in, the sweet smell of the flowers crept in… in came a new vision, a new meaning of my life! And all of it in that day alone.

But, as the critics may say, these were all in my mind already and waiting for an opening to burst out. Atleast she gave the opportunity, atleast she opened the blinding cloth from my eyes. Maybe I’ll discover that the place wasn’t meant for me ultimately… but atleast the mental world-map got new boundaries, new unknown horizons!

Thus, you see, how magical her first image was! Psychologically speaking, though she was the subject, (but artistically speaking…) the canvas, the colours, the brushes were mine. I was the artist. I drew the magnificent painting. But without the subject there wouldn’t have been such a rush of adrinaline, such a motivation, such a vision. Wordworth saw a field of daffodils, which many may come across, but that scene motivated the creation of the masterpiece; similarly, she created on me such a mental projection, which is alone worth living for! Maybe after some days we’ll be non-existent to each other, but my masterpiece will never ever get faded with time. It will remain there, maybe not as the blazing sun, but as the bright moon in the dark desparate moments in the battle called life.

I’d like to end this all with a final reflection…

It was her innocent smile that made me look forward to the next day out with her!