Droplets of water collimates
when dew-drops fall on leaves,
& embroided '6-yards' are displayed
when threads are sewn and weaved,
The twinkling stars,would lose its sheen
if the winds are not troubled,
&poker tables would lose their means
if stakes are not doubled,
So,bring on the dunes O' Master in heaven
& turn it to worse and hotter,
i will never stop, nor wail, nor wince
but survive on a mirage of water,
Not all trees are born evergreen
& i can bear dry leaves falling,
& i can bear the xerotes, the storm
& nearby sprouts still up and sprawling,
For i know a day will come,
& come soon!!!
For my stakes are high, though chances dry,
The wind will move and my stars will shine
Dunes will shift and heat sublime,
& i will keep intact my roots,
till the spell will pass and replenish the shoot !!
EXPLANATION
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Like drops of water, my plights are heaving upon me and they have all paralled, I know i am worth a lot (6-yard saree) but i will attract appraisals only when i am well established and succesful(sewn and weaved). Physics tells us that troubled winds are reason behind the twinkling of stars, so when people can see through my troubles they can feel my twinkle, & i would like to add to my pains if only its doubling my worth(means).
So, O Lord, i benignly request you to throw all hurdles,if u are testing me, coz i will not fail you.
Not all people get success so early, some have to bear failures(dry leaves). I can live through the unfruitful days(dry spell) even though people around me are rising(nearby sprouts)
For, i know that one day,not very far, the trust and faith i have on my abilities(stakes high)will prove its mettle and people will see my sacrifices and troubles when i am successful and till then all i need to do is to keep my faith firm and undeterred so that even god is forced to kill my hardships and replenish me with bounty.
" Here didimoni, this saree will look exquisite on you" the bespectacled salesman said with a wide smile.
Rinku was vaguely interested in the last 2-dozens sarees the salesman had showed her.Her mother-in-law, whom she called 'Boroma', was sitting beside her trying to feel the material of the sarees. Boroma, was extermely fond of her 'notun-bou', but given to her scrutinizing habits she could not help, sneaking at the price tags.
Rinku was exasperated. After seeing 3 saree stores in Shyambazaar and now the largest selling store in 'College-street' she had still not found the 'Red Benarasi' saree she was looking for.
"No, No.. this is not the one"she said with marked irritation" it has to be a lighter shade and no polka dots please".
The salesman surprisingly retained his smile and apologetically removed the saree from the display.
Rinku was considering walking away from this shop as well. She did not want to compromise with her first 'Benarasi saree' after marriage, which apart from her childhood desire, was also considered as a 'shagun' to the new bride in her husband's family.
Just then the salesman, propped up his face from beneath the desk , with a wide and self satisfied grin. He had a packet in his hand and from his looks Rinku could tell this was the one.
The saree was extraordinarily beautiful. There were golden small paisley leaves drawn on blood red benarasi silk, and tha pallu was artistically designed. The twinkle in Rinku's eyes told the salesman his job was done. It took Rinku, a minute to respond, giving Bororma a chance to negotiate over the price, which was tagged as Rs.4675/- .the salesman was exalting the piece, trying to justify the price, but boroma was persistent. And just when the salesman was about to yield..
'yes, yes.. i will take this'she screamed drawing the attention of all the other customers on this floor of the crammed shop. Even boroma, flashed a stare but Rinku was oblivious.
Her smile only broadened, when they moved out of the store. She hugged boroma a couple of times, to which boroma did not react, but deep inside she was happy for her. rinku was just the kind of bride she had wanted for her son. She was educated, 'Uccho madhyamik'pass(higher secondary), fair complexioned with black dense hair that touched her waist. She was an expert cook, a dextrous embroider and a classical trained singer, but her best part was the childish innocence she had. Only,3 months into the family, she had become the apple-of-the-eye of all and sundry in the family.
On saturdays, the trams are not usually crowded, so both rinku and Boroma, manage to grab a horizontal seat by the window. rinku holds the packets close to her chest and drifts into her reveries. It was 13 years ago, when she was only a small child, that she had been dressed up in a saree for the mahashivratri.The saree had been a small gift from her 'mashi' residing in Dhaka. That was the first intimate feeling she had about being an indian woman. She took pride in being a part of the female clan. She took care to drape her pallu on her shoulder. she enjoyed every step she took with the fabric brushing her feet. That blistering moment she craved to get married and wear a benarasi someday.
Owing to her rustic lifestyle, Rinku was more interested in the household activities than in studies. After the age of 13 when her elder sister was married to a rich zamindaar of neighbouring village, Rinku started anticipating her wedding, and every time she thought of marriage, the 'red benarasi saree' came flashing infront of her eyes.
"red benarasi is the pride of a bengali bou"her mother would tell her.
"...and only the lucky ones get a chance to wear the benarasi." her sister would tease her,to which she would grimace in irritation.
It was 2 days after her 18th birthday, that she got to know that her marriage had been arranged with some Pranoy Bannerjee, son of Dulal bannerjee from Kolkata. She was apprehensive of getting married into such a rich family, in such a big city. How does he look like? How tall is he? How old is he?She did not know anything about him. All she knew was that he was a software engineer, and was presently working for an MNC in bangalore.
On the night of marriage, when she saw Pranoy for the first time she was glad. Unlike her 'jamaibabu' he was fair, tall and good-looking though with receeding hairline,which she thought she could ignore. Afterall, even Prosenjit,her favourite actor, has a receeding hairline.
After 15 days in Kolkata, every night of which had been exotic for Rinku, she had fallen in love with her husband. But, it was time for Pranoy to leave, as his job beckoned. He promised to apply for a transfer soon. He told her that he would come for the Durga-pujo, and told her to look her best when he returns.
The nudge on her shoulder, woke her up from her reveries.It was boroma, asking her to collect the packets as their destination had come.
Now, only 1 week was left. Only she knew how difficult it had been to sleep alone on that double bed, her father bought them for marriage, how painful it had been to listen to that sonorous voice over the phone but not see that face. This time when he gets home, she will not let him go back. And why does he need to work for someone else, when his father owns the largest 'sweet shop' of Kolkata?
The next 1 week seems to be a lifetime to rinku. She grows restless, cannot concentrate on her household errands, cuts her finger while chopping onions,scalds her elbow while putting off the kettle. She even forgets to wear her 'alta'. But, one thing she does not forget to do, is to adore the 'red benarasi saree'. Everynight she would drape the folded saree on her shoulder and admire herself in the tiny bathroom mirror. She is sure she would look her best in this saree and he would go gaga over her.
Finally, the day arrives. Pranoy's flight is scheduled at 11.00 am. But, the 'pushpanjali' starts at 11.20. Rinku, has to forgo her desire of receiving her husband at the airport. She decides to wear the coveted 'Red Benarasi saree' only when her husband, her love returns. She wants him to be the first person to compliment her beauty, accentuated by the 6-yards of pure indian feminine raiment.
It has been 6 hours since her father-in-law and 3 other men left for the airport in their black ambassador. it should not take so long.
"The flight must be late" exclaimed boroma"you take your lunch, it might get late"
But, rinku was so agitated that she could not nibble a morsel.
She locked herself in her room,ready to accept the small challenge 'Maa Durga' was forcing on her. She was counting every second now.
The sudden forceful bang on her door and the restless voice of boroma, woke Rinku up from her short siesta. She jumped open the door, anticipating her husband in boroma's tow.
She was surprised to find her boroma with a bunch of ladies in trail. She could not even take a wild guess. Boroma, raised her hands to hold her face and brought her face down to kiss her forehead to which she closed her eyes in respect. Did she hear a wail behind her.And before she could open her eyes to realize the situation, boroma's right hand reached her partition and wiped off the vermillion there.
Rinku, retracted from boroma in bewilderment. She could not have thought in her goriest dreams that this would be the end of her happy life, so early, so immature. Only yestarday, she was thinking of the jovial tomorrow she would have, in the arms of Pranoy, and today she is assured of the forever she will have to bear without him.
She did not need boroma to tell her that the flight IA710 met with a fatal accident just 30miles off the dumdum airport, that none of the 220 passengers are alive , or that even the torched bodies are not available for last rituals.
Rinku, traced her steps back into her room and flopped on the couch. Her emotions could not gush out in tears, and that made her lose her senses. Just, a year back ,on the day of mahashtami she had desired a happy married life next year, she had desired to come in pair to take the blessings of her parents on 'Bijoya-dashami' and 13 years ago, on a fateful day,she had desired of wearing a 'red benarasi' someday!! All her desires sublimed in a matter of minutes.
A thousand words were pouring into her mind, words from the past , all jumbled up. Thoughts from the core of her memories,she had long forgotten,forcing her to lament. The soothing heavy voice of Pranoy,taking the marriage vows, the soft,sweet voice of boroma blessing her, a pinch there,a pull here, all her friends busy taunting her,on the first night. No even this,could not break her into sobs.
But there was a voice somewhere that was drawing her attention. Some very familiar voice, though with childlike intonation. something the voice was saying ,seemed to bother her, irritate her. ...and suddenly like a bolt from the blue it came to her. it was her sister's voice, deep down into childhood. It took her a while to decipher the words, and when she did,she could not control any longer.
"..and only the lucky ones get a chance to wear a benarasi"
She saw the red benarasi saree that was resting regally on the top of her teakwood 'Alna' and at that moment, just that flick of moment, her world came crashing down and so did her tears. !!
