বিদায় মেয়েবেলা

আলমারি,বই,দিস্তা বাধাই খাতা।

সময় ধুয়েছে হলদে মলিন পাতা।

সূঁচ সুতো দিয়ে সেলাই মলাট খানা,

শেষ পাতা জুড়ে আঁকা স্কেচ কয়খানা,

নাম ক্লাস রোল নম্বর..

পার্কের দোলনা ভুলে বাইসাইকেল,

একছুটে ছাদ, ন্যাড়া সিঁড়ি বেয়ে নোনতা বিকেল।

শিশির ভেতর শুকিয়ে যাওয়া জলছবি রং

পায়ের নুপুর, মায়ের শাড়ী, রেডিও এবং

“নীলে নীলে অম্বর”..

কবিতার বই,জন্মদিনের কেক

হাঁটতে হাঁটতে প্রেমের বয়স অনেক।

আবছায়া সব কালির দোয়াত নীল

তার চেয়েও গাঢ় ,স্বপ্ন ভাঙা তিল।

লাজহীন , বর্বর..

গোধূলির কাক, শাঁখেদের রেল গাড়ি

বায়োস্কোপে আর ফেরেনা বাড়ি।

সাদা ফিতে বাঁধা বেনুনির টানে ফেরা

মেলার ঘূর্ণি, চটির ফিতেটা ছেড়া।

স্মৃতির কবর..

বিদায়।

অশরীরী ডাকনাম

তুই আকাশগঙ্গার আলো হয়ে জেগে থাক সারা রাত।
যেসব বিকেলের আলো দেখা হয়না আর
সেই আলো জমা আছে ওই পার।

তুই ভোরবেলা হিম হয়ে পড়িস বাড়ির কার্নিশে,
এখন শরৎকাল।
আমি জানলা খুলে ভাববো তোর কথা
বুকের কোথাও নীল হয়ে থাকে পুরোনো ব্যথা।
নিকোটিনের মতো বিষ হয়ে জমা থাক ফুসফুসে।

স্টেশন, বা মিনি বাসে বুড়ো লজেন্সওয়ালা
ছেড়েছি অনেক বাস আমরা সেদিন,
তাড়াহুড়ো করে ভুলে গেছে খুচরো ফেরত দিতে।
ওর কাঁপা হাতে আধুলি হয়ে থাক তুই যতদিন পারিস।
হয়তো এভাবেই ফিরে আসবি আমার হাতে।

তোকে লেখা চিরকুটের কবিতার মতো
হারিয়ে গেছে আমি,তুই,শব্দ, গন্ধ, ছায়া।
কাকভোরে স্বপ্নের মতো
শুধু বেঁচে আছে ডাকনামের মায়া।

আমরা চোখে চোখে স্বপ্ন হয়ে ফিরে আসবো না হয় ,
যদিও কাজ নেই আর ফিরে এসে;
তবু।

যদি মলাট খুলে হঠাৎ চোখে পড়ে প্রথম পাতা
গল্পের আগে যেখানে নাম লিখেছিলাম কাঁচা হাতে,
গল্প পুরোটা না পড়েই।
তুই আছিস এই বিশ্বাসে।

A Bad Queen's monologue

I could never complete watching a Bumba da-  Rituparna potboiler, until one genius director made Utsab. However the feedbacks shared over social networking sites compelled me to watch the most recent one, Prakton.

Wait, this is not gonna be a movie review write up.

Me and my childhood friend were chatting over the stereotyped perception on Indian women , showed in this movie and she ended up raising a question on my recent Facebook upload.

     I was wearing a red saree ,posing near my living room door, without make up or add-ons.

 She said , ‘ I bet you show this photo to someone who doesn't know you and ask what do you think about her? Answer will be based on the look- your red saree, Sindoor, sankha pola (my red and white bangle) in your hand- and I bet their answer would be mostly like - she stays at home, watches saas bahu soap in tv in the afternoon, cook fish and rice for family, gossip about neighbours, not much fluent with Google Chrome or with the colloquial English or with the latest news headlines. That's how they have been projecting us for years in movies or television’

And I did not have an answer. Because she was so right!

In our country, people do judge a woman by every inch of her external appearance. And here judging means not only the character but also their probable family background,what she is good of, how much education she might have pursued, how much modern or retarded she is.

Remember the Nihar naturals ad by Vidya Balan?

And that's why this movie was so successful, because they fire up such common practices.

In short:

Here the hero has an ex wife, our BAD QUEEN of the story.

She is at present wearing a Vogue black frame, scrolling her smartphone screen continuously, wears subtle make up- expensive and beautifully crafted dresses, talks softly ,warns people not to call her much during the time she is traveling.  She had a job which demanded late night work, she was financially independent to book air tickets to fly home and see her parents often,she wanted to invest in some property apart from their ancestral house and most importantly she was not ready to let go her career,independance, stability, personal space, me time completely when her husband demanded that this can be the only way to save their marriage!

And then there is our GOOD QUEEN - the present wife of our hero. She boastfully announces that she has a successful marriage because she calls every member of the house separately whenever she is not at home,to make them happy, She wears ordinary floral printed salwar suit and always carries home cooked food wherever they go. Including the aam pachok ( kinda hojmola) . She watches all serials one after another till dinner time. Her success Mantra is adjustment and that's why she is NOT EX but taken  XL size space in husband's heart and EXcelled ‘ the home making’.

Conclusion- BAD QUEEN can not adjust, so clean bowled out. And from the pavillion she regrets why did she not listen to what her husband wanted.

GOOD QUEEN , mistress of ‘ adjustment’ ,wife of our hero, a good mother, a caring daughter in law, a good human being,.

But,wait. Why do we have to conclude this?

Can't they show that our “ bad queen “, who manages office late nights, comes back home,serves food to family,takes care of herself,watches a tv show with mother in law next day morning with hot cup of tea, manages own finance and her entire family supports her when she goes for frequent office trip overseas?  She wears business casual, but still feels enormously comfortable wearing saree in weekend, she has deadline tomorrow yet she books late night movie show previous night with husband. Basically no bad or good queens, but a queen with flaws and love, like normal human being!

Utopian concept, isn't it?

My wardrobe is a cluster of jeans shirts sarees salwars kaftan kurti. I choose when to wear what. My personality.

My sankha pola - yes I wear them, even with my jeans and tees look. And I don't feel confused or outdated or not even rebel. It's as normal as drinking water to me. My assets.

I don't go to office now,as I have a 10 months old baby at home,and we don't live with our parents. I am reliving my childhood by playing with him all day. I love to be his mother when he needs me the most. Yet, I do miss my job and that will also be part of routine again. I don't feel pain of loosing any side or gaining any. Staying at home does not make me a good mother neither going to office back someday will make me bad. Its my life, I am spending on what I feel worth. My family priorities.

I have lived in this city many years alone, have cooked alone and dined alone,searched for new home alone, lifted my heavy suitcases to top floors alone, lived with many strangers in new rooms in hostels and sometimes have lived in the same room alone for months. Still I miss my home , I miss home cooked food,at the same time I am grown up matured to adjust with anyone now. My learning.

So, you see, nothing explains what I really made of, except the dots in my lifeline, what I achieve, what I fail, nothing except my story you get by joining those dots ( yup, as Mr Job suggested once).

Be it our dress, or our routine, or our hairstyle, or work style, or the friends we choose, the way we sit, the way we burp( or should not burp at all), the color of lipstick, the language we speak- ‘Modern’ or ‘Retarded’- they gonna judge us until we die and make us feel guilty about ourselves and will get the ultimate satisfaction of this.

So if you can't shut them up, shut up your regrets and move on!

The black Tika on my cheek

They asked me to be a perfect mother, and more
‘Do you breastfeed and how many months more?

Do you wash his linen in antiseptic daily?
Do you massage him twice a daily?

Do you check every hour if he is hungry or warm?
Do you make the crying baby to calm?

Do you give him something for his teeth?
Do you see a doctor,why can't he sit?

Do you think his head isn't round?
He doesn't sleep well, oh see I just found!

Do you ask the doc, if he is growing well?
Do you wonder why does he yell!’

The world, people, society...peace of my mind
All worried,how imperfect I am,a mother- unkind..!

For ten months he was right there inside,
The scars remain to make the memories bright.

And forgot when last time I had good night sleep
And the dark circles look darker and deep.

When my dress smells his pee, he smiles wide,
He throws up on my shoulder, weaning -Oh a jumpy ride!

Me times, and my wander lust;
I am a mother, so rest can adjust.

Hard earned career , no strong heart to leave him alone now
It's been a year , and still wondering how!

Perfect mother! I may not be
Hope a day will come when I will be.

When he rests in my arms,and fall asleep
I feel so earthy beautiful that I weep.

Then suddenly I see myself on the mirror,
He shared his black Tika on my cheek.

An underrated word ' Motherhood'

When I became a mother, I received lots of best wishes from my loved ones wishing me Happy Motherhood. And, I personally still wonder whether I have actually realized what the motherhood truely is, till date.

Motherhood is a underrated term , is what I feel. One can not say or write enough about it. One can not feel enough of it. One generation can not experience the true motherhood. One word is not enough to give it a name.

To start from the begining, my pregnancy was a happier one. Not a single day I puked.I had treamendous fatigue all throughout this period.But medically all other symptoms were good.My blood sugar level was all time low, so was the BP, neither was I overweight nor underweight. I enjoyed all my favorite foods till end,in small proportion . I missed my office as mostly I worked from home,I missed my trips , missed movie dates in theaters, food fests, get together, festivals in my native..

That time, a baby was growing rapidly and steadily but honestly the only feeling I had about him was a sense of protection, all time thinking about how not to harm him through any of my actions.

Like all novice mother, I too thought this is that eternal feeling ,known as “Motherhood”. But I was so WRONG.

Then I waited for 40 weeks, the much anticipated labor pain didn't come. My doctor prescribed to get admitted, after much trial of inducing the pain the medical team went for caesarian delivery.

It's a very common notion in our society that normal delivery has its own glory considering the unimaginable pain involved while giving birth. But trust me, caesarian has its own story of post operative wound, unbearable pain of stitches, elongated healing time, side effects and life long scars.

I was awake on the table, surrounded by so many machines and lights. Quite a theater it was, cold and illusive. Finally when the anaesthetic pushed the epidural into my spinal cord, slowly the partial anastasia started its action and doctors concentrated on my numb body. I could barely see anything except their serious faces and I smiled back to my husband, who was sitting near my head, wearing the blue gown like the others present in that theater.

I was whispering a prayer song, when I felt a sudden jerk , like the one as if my weightless body was thrown into free air. A few seconds later I heard THAT CRY. I barely could see anything, as the nurses were in the other corner, so imagined whatever I have seen  OT scenes in Hindi movies might be happening around that corner . ‘Here you go Satarupa, this is your baby, you carried it for 10 months and it will belong to you forever. .’ . After few minutes the baby was shown to his father, and I was waiting and waiting to see him for once. I didn't know it was a boy or girl, a thousand thoughts were rushing in my brain- whether the baby is healthy, is he able to breath, what if he has any birth defects ...and I felt so exhausted , those couple of minutes were never ending. Tears rolled down my cheeks ,I saw him, nurse touched his head to my chin and I asked myself - Do they call this feeling “ Motherhood” ?

And I was so WRONG!

I remember the second day in my cabin, I was alone in my room having dinner as I sent my husband out for dinner in cafeteria. The baby started crying incessantly and nurses were away. Caesarian section cuts seven layers of muscle beneath one’s skin . I was barely able to sit up on my own due to post operative pain. But the cradle was four feet away from my bed. I still remember that evening, I would not have got up and walked to the cradle for anything else in the world, but for him. As he slept in my arms, I DOUBTED what I know about Motherhood !

All mothers in this universe spend immense energy to bring up kids. It starts from sacrificing night’s sleep, being alert all the time to monitor when baby is hungry/ thirsty/ peeing/ in need of nappy change/ napping/ gaining weight/ eating properly/ burping properly/ feeling cold or hot/ nagging without reason.. And all these tasks are considered to be too easy to handle. It's a mammoth thing to manage as the tasks come in endless cycles and mothers are doing these ever since humanity arrived on this planet .

After the baby arrives, generally the point of attention drastically shifts to the baby.

After I brought my baby home, I felt I had a rebirth. My routine changed completely. Not to mention the sleepless days, I barely could have time to read newspaper, listen to songs , energy to sit in front of television or even sip the morning cuppa quietly. I remember watching Margarita with a Straw in four days , in bits and pieces on my phone after one month ! The word relaxation literally vanishes when new mothers need it most!

In those tough days whenever I felt depressed, I used to wonder is this Motherhood! Hell NO.

The doctor smiled when I said my baby don't sleep, said 'is this your first time? Girl, keep your mind open and enjoy the motherhood.' with a wink.

Then one morning, Anish, my son, first time looked at me and broadly smiled with his toothless gum out. And kept on laughing for few seconds. I could not help my tears..and he couldn't help smiling broader.

Nowadays I am a Radio Jockey to my son, chattering endlessly and meaninglessly whole day. I chatter while he gets fed, he plays, I change his nappies, while he burps and until he falls asleep. When I get tired of my talking, he starts his. He likes to converse and we both do, in our own languages.

May be this is Motherhood...who knows!