The passing and the past

I told my mother, the belated danseuse, that her aashor would vanish some day. This, too, would pass. After we had rung off, I realized that from the rush of passing time I had taken only the passing, had not held anything back, as the stone does its moss or the river its bed. My basket, my mouth were empty, not because time had cleansed them out but because I had forgotten to retain anything. Aasha jaoar pother dhaarey bhuley giye I did not make ghats that would allow a moment with the river’s curents. Tai aaj ami jajabor na hoye bhikkiri. My stories are frozen wombs.

One thought on “The passing and the past

  1. Poignant, my friend. And bitter. But I pause to wonder whence the pathos — the haunting strains of familiarity that somehow run through all our lives or the understandable bitterness that threatens to pass into cynicism? Jajabor hote parini keu, honestly, hote hoeto chaioni shotti kore. Jajabor hoa jae kina tai niyeo amar shondeho achhe. Bhikhari hobar kachhakachhi amra shokole, shobshomoy. Kintu tao ki hoa jae? We\’re dispossessed but not beggars, not yet.  


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