Aham Brahmasmi

শূন্যতার কি কোনও মাপকাঠি আছে ? How do we define emptiness? Is it the empty terrace being burnt to a crisp by the midsummer sun? Is it the smell of staleness in a rickety, late night bus bouncing along on a potholed road? Is it the hollowness in the eyes staring back from the mirror? Is it the ballpoint pen that breathes its last in the middle of a word that wasn’t meant to be written? Is it the boiling anger just at the base of the throat, an ancient emotion that’s actually grief? Or is it the sound of the screams that prick my consciousness and scar my dreams? একমুঠো বালির মতো ; হাতের মুঠো খুললেই সব শূন্য। বুকের ভেতর একটা মনখারাপি অসুখ , ঠোঁটের কোনায় এক নিমেষের জীবন। Is all emptiness always the same, or am I more empty than you? Which is more empty – a beautiful envelope with venom inside, or a resounding laugh without a soul?

There is poetry in your eyes, but I’ve run out of parchment. There are cherries on your lips, but I’ve run out of hunger. There is elixir on your neck, but I’ve run out of maladies. There are storms in your heart, but I’ve run out of sky. There is allure in your skin, but I’ve run out of eternity.

Maybe sometimes, deluding yourself into being brave is the easiest thing to do. Because if you allow yourself to be broken, you’ll keep counting the pieces forever.  

আজ আমাদের এখানে সেই ফেরিওয়ালাটা আবার এসেছে। “ পুরোনো ল্যাপটপ , পুরোনো হারমোনিয়াম , পুরোনো ইনভার্টার বিক্রি করবেন ! ” আচ্ছা , ওর কাছে কি অন্য পুরোনো জিনিসও বিক্রি করা যায় ? পুরোনো কথা , পুরোনো স্মৃতি , পুরোনো ভালোলাগা , পুরোনো ক্ষত , পুরোনো রাত , পুরোনো জীবন , কবিতা লিখতে চাওয়ার সেই সেই পুরোনো ব্যাথা ? তার বদলে টাকা চাইনা , কিন্তু এগুলোকে কি জোর করে চোখের আড়াল করে দেওয়া যায় ? ফেরিওয়ালা , ও ফেরিওয়ালা ...

Yesterday, I completed one year of being in Calcutta. Flew down from Bombay in June last year, amidst a bit of a crisis at home. A lot has happened since then. A LOT. Maa contracted Covid and had to be hospitalised before recovering, Baba left us without giving us a chance, I took the call of relocating back here and found a new job, Baptu dada helped out immensely in moving my stuff here, Mashimoni-Mishti-Deb all contracted the virus and recovered, Shejomamu left us and we couldn't even be there, and something that had been building for years ended in an emotional cataclysm. Oh, and these are just a few. It has been a tough year, but I realise that it could have been much worse. Like it has been for countless others. As I have grown older, I've tried to cut down my regrets, to let things go, to forget and forgive. Perhaps, the one regret that I am battling with the hardest right now is that baba isn't here anymore to see me working in Calcutta. But, life goes on. Because, ...

 

What makes a grown man cry? Is it a sudden upswell of genuine emotion, is it the sudden emptiness of having someone close being taken away, or is it something else? All his professional life, my father used to work for the West Bengal State Government , in the Audit and Accounts Service for the Education Department. For a few years, in the early 2000s, he was posted at Jalpaiguri Government Engineering College . Yesterday, a junior of his (who is still posted there) reached out on his mobile number, after having wondered about his unnerving silence from the 16th. I attended the call and broke the sad news to him. We spoke for half an hour post that, and the nearly-60-year-old man broke down in tears multiple times, as he recalled what a wonderful, honest and inspirational mentor figure my father had been for him. He kept saying again and again that he had never met anyone else like my father - so honest, so responsible, so encouraging, so compassionate, yet so humble - and that baba ha...

"Those we love don't go away, they walk beside us every day. Unseen, unheard, but always near. So loved, so missed, so very dear." You are missed every single moment, Baba. Your warmth, largeheartedness, and genuiness in a frigid, selfish & hypocritical world. Maa and I know you'll be watching over us, for that's how you've always been. We just hope that we can make you happy.

I miss you, Baba. I so, so wish I could see the smile on your face again, hear your approaching footsteps before calling out to me, serve you tea in the morning, check if you've had your medicines and go to sleep every night knowing that maa and I are under the shelter of the strongest pillar in the whole world. I hope I can make you proud one day. And I always, always wish you peace and happiness, wherever you are.

  Ashis Kumar Mallik, 13.09.1954 – 16.09.2020 . Maa & I miss you every single moment. I'm trying to control the tears, but they seem to have a way of their own. Wherever you are, Baba, I hope you are at peace. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of honesty & integrity, of perseverance and patience, of practising what you preach and finding joy in the little things. Thank you for the many sacrifices you made, neither the magnitude nor the worth of which I will ever be able to repay. For me, Kipling's lines - " If you can keep your head when all about you / Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, / If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, / But make allowance for their doubting too; / If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, / Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, / Or being hated, don’t give way to hating, / And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise " - have always been about you. I hope I can always keep you alive within me. And I hope ...