In search of a recipient

Some nights I browse through my contacts list and I don't see a single friend. What did I do to deserve this?

Love and faith has done more damage to the human race than hatred and skepticism was ever capable of.

Also, no one really reads this blog.. I feel there are two things I can do with it, shut it down or may be it's time to actually express things I usually don't because they are too dangerous for language itself...

Joker

"...Asole joker-er chinhoguli ki ki? Sobai janbe se herow. Se nijeo nishchit thakbe se herow. Tar theke kono threat utsarito hobe na konokaley. Se propose korbe na. Sobbai snatar katle, se pare dnariye thakbe nyala pa cross kore, khali-ga howar sahos nei. Ekta mridu chithi likhbe, dakeo debe, kintu maskhanek bade charline sopate thabra ele borong swasti pabe, noile sei obiswasyo dhon niye tar khoro-basay kon kone rakhto, swechchha-boklos na-boltei golay goliye das-madam natyo shuru korar por obodharito kuthar kobe porto, onek hyapa. Adday se oporiharjo noy, kintu priyo khub. Oi je, prothomei proman kore diyechhe, keu lath khele, se khabe. Se sobar jonne boye ene debe jol, take niyei khnyao-khnyao hasahasi kore dhok gilte giye jokhon kulkuchir moto ento jol chhoriye porbe mejhete, se-i punche nebe mridu hasi osthe mekhe, patta pachhe kotoi na, eto jinis thakte alochonar aykkere moddhikhane tar hablapona, tar kyablagiri, ei tripti-te dogomogo. Take somaje bolbe, khub boddo bhishon bhalomanush..."

"...Se nije balance rakhte pare na, tai tar hate nyasto hoy bhuboner bhar. Running-e se chore porte pareni, line-e dhokar chestao ar kore na gnatiyegnutiye, protijogitar baire dnariye thake onujoghin hasi futiye, dharabahik walk-over deowatai onushilon kore chole, tar bekhappagiri o achabhuyapona nishchoyota peye gechhe, byas, ebar gyandaner license apsei gojiyechhe pechhonpockete. Tar mukhbhorti rong, ekta chokher tolay duto nitol osrubindu anka, jhyakormyakor collar-er opor tar norbore mathay konkra chuler modhyikhane taak, tate progya chokchok korbe na to ki? Hasikanna chhene se tule enechhe chaddi joruri mukto, jibonke reserve bench theke study kore se peye gechhe ei niyomer o foul-er tabot chhoker nikhut samajh, nanga sonyasi jemon guptodhoner sondhan ditey paren obyortho, temon ei hiseb bohirbhutorai tuski mere miliye dite pare bhognagsho o sniribhangar jotiltomo step. Sobhyotar nil-sada kejo routine got-ke ding mere periye jaowar otiloukik moi pagol peyechhe tar osukher doulote, matal peyechhe neshar jore, ar joker peyechhe koutuker habudubu kheliye, tinjonei atmonigroher ticket dekhiye khirkir dor diye ghure eshe ultobagey chand catch korechhe. Joker syayna pagol, swechchha-matal, fole se three-in-one-o bote. Kheurer kholose chironton sach pakhle neowa tar jolbhat, har sondhyer agenda..."

Haha, hoho, hihi o onyanno
Chandril Bhattacharya
Robbar, Songbad Protidin
20 December, 2009

HANGMAN

Hangman
by Maurice Ogden

1.
Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.

The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.

And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.

And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."

And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief

And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.

2.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.

And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.

And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."

He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."

Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"

And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.

That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;

Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.

3.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"

And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."

The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"

The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."

And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.

The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.

4.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all

For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.

He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.

And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.

"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"

Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.

For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"

"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."

Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Of loves gone by...

সকলই ফুরায়, ফুচ্‌কার প্রায়, পড়ে থাকে শালপাতা...

The disgusted post

It's not a great feeling for me to post something on my blog after a long time and start it with a disgusted tone. But the fact remains. I can't really 'compose' what I feel right now, but if I don't let it out somehow, it's just killing me. I mean I feel physically ill.

I'm wondering what it means to offer someone something. Something really naive like a gossip session over a cup of coffee or a film that's supposed to hit the screens in a few days. Not that you pick up a random someone and throw a proposal. It's about people you know are likely to enjoy that kind of an experience. Not that I necessarily need a company for such things, but it's always good to have like-minded people for such occasions.

Now the question is, what does it amount to be. When you propose something, anything, to some individual or a group of individuals or an institution, there are two possible answer. It may not always readily opt out to be any one of them, but there is, almost always a chance of negotiation, be it a positive one or a denial. The deal is quite straightforward, I've something to say, you may agree to it, or you may not. Even if you do, we may need to negotiate a few more things. Almost never one does expect an answer that quite clearly is rude, to say the least. But it happens. All of us know that, all of us have faced such situations. My question is, why does it happen?

Clearly one does and does not expect certain things from the other party. Don't give me the crap that expectation is the problem. We all know that, but that doesn't stop any of us from expecting things. So, when you come up with a proposal, you expect both the ends. What you don't expect is the subsidiaries of such outcomes. For example, when a denial comes with a hint of... let me correct myself... with a clear intent of humiliation. As if, there is almost always some sort of an underlined intention to any proposal, that it chooses to hide. I know such things are there but it is not a necessary component every proposal. Some are just dumb enough to be straightforward.

Humiliation as I see it, is the round about way of making one feel guilty of things one has not consciously done. There are things I can not speak of because they lie beyond the domain of language but the feeling is real. At least it feels so.

This post has started sounding like a letter to express personal grudges against people I don't want to intimidate, but if it goes on, take my word for it, I will. Point is I'm fade up of playing the nice guy I'm not and if it hurts you, good for you, I haven't been spared either. You see, you may have been disappointed/disgusted/disoriented for reasons beyond my comprehension, but just because I dropped an sms at the wrong time, doesn't give you the right to humiliate me for no apparent reason. When I feel bad about things, I don't talk to people and tell them I don't want a fight. I believe that's the best way to not hurt each other for reasons that doesn't readily involve both of us. I'm ready to hear, if you have anything against me, come out with it.

Or is it just me, playing the loser? Suffering from all sorts of complex that only jeopardizes my life. Why does it sound like a betrayal every time I offer a friendship to someone. I know it's an insane world out there, but sometimes, humiliation is just the one push that helps one cross the line that marks the abyss of madness! Call me an egotist, or a loser, or insane...

Sincerely, I give a FUCK...