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April-er Poddo Paath

Abdullah Shibu
Ido not write poetry. At grade school, whenever I've tried my hand at poetry and attempted to pass them off as "sivorochito kobita", I'd inevitably run into a wall. Later, in high school, I would sometimes struggle for an hour or two over multiple drafts and finish off a few lines thinking they rhymed well, or at least sounded OK to me. Then, when I’d read them aloud to my brothers or a cousin, I would get a reality check. Their silence would signal to me that 1 needed to work harder on my “kabbyo”. I remember that one of my early reviewers shared with me the following critique: Likhitey pari naa kobita ami, Bokita likheychee shudhu, Nai bhab bhasha, gojamiley thashaa Na aachchey taaey modhu.
Notwithstanding these early setbacks, I frequently associate with poets and have always marveled at their work of magic. Knowing my soft corner for poetry, my near and dear ones, as well as my friends try to humor in various ways. They renew my memberships to literary circles, and occasionally even invite me to perform at social gatherings. So, when Poet Badiuzzaman Nasim asked me to a poetry reading afternoon to celebrate National Poetry Month a few weeks ago, I couldn’t turn down his offer. Nasim Bhai is an old friend, a poet, and the founder of Bhin-Golardho, a cultural group in New England. His apartment in the Cambridge's Central Square area is a popular spot for Bengali journalists, writers, and artists visiting Boston.
At first, however, I was not too enthusiastic about going to April-er Poddo Paatth, which was being co-sponsored by Lekhoni, a writers group, and Bhin-Golardho. When Nasim Bhai sensed my hesitation over the telephone, he reassured me that the gathering was open to "all poets and poetry lovers”. He sweetened the deal even further by suggesting that my wife and I could sing a duet in lieu of reading a poem. The tipping point came when Nasim Bhai assured me that the ticket to this gathering was pretty open- all one had to do was to sign up to recite "sivorochito baa nijerpriyo kobita," as he put it. This modification of admission requirements gave me a little ray of hope. Even if I didn't have my own poem/s to recite, I could read one of my favorites, I reasoned.
I got to work immediately. I knew it would be a gathering of people of different mothertongues. I had always wanted to read an English translation of a Rabindra Sangeet. Unfortunately, 1 did not have any in stock that I liked. For a few months, Tagore's "Jodi Prem Diley Naa Praaney” was at die top of my list of songs. To my dismay, my Google searches failed to bring up any translation of this song. Out of desperation, 1 emailed my cousin, Manzoor Bhai, better known as Dr. Syed Manzoorul Islam of English department at DU, and sought his help in translating “Jodi Prem". However, when I did not hear back from him for about a week, 1 became resigned to not being able to perform at April-er Poddo Paatth this year.
Then Manzoor Bhai emailed back and graciously offered to translate my requested song. He not only sent it to me on time, but also sent me a "spare" song, just in case. I begano envision myself as the new Amit Ray and rising to
eminence in Boston’s literary circles with Manzoor Bhai as my Nibaron Chakroborty of Tagore's" Shesher Kobita".
April-er Poddo Paath took place on Sunday, April 27th, at Gouri Datta's house in a leafy neighborhood of Newton, a suburb of Boston. Gouri, a psychiatrist, whom we met for the first time, welcomed us warmly into her home. My wife Rumi and I soon found ourselves in her kitchen with two other couples engaged in making tea and munching on jhal muri and shandesh that were laid out on the table. Monisha Ray, a well-know writer ("Amar Char Bari") and the organizer of the program, arrived soon thereafter and began marshalling her troops.
Within a short time, the living room, and the adjacent rooms filled up and we started the evening with “Jodi... u which was followed by my recitation of the English translation, If you denied me love in my heart Why did you fill the daivn sky with such songs? Why are the stars strung in a garland?
Why are flowers strewn on the bed? Why does the southerly wind whisper Its secrets into my ear?
This was followed by Nasim Bhai reading his own composition, “Porajito Postmaster". The mike was then handed over to poet Ubu Ahmed (Obaid Sarder) who captivated the audience with his passionate rendition of Shamsur Rahman's ode to the struggles of the African women, “Kalo Meyer Jonnyo Ponktimala ". After Obaid's recitation, we were all hooked and for more than two and a half hours we sat listening to poems and songs recited and sung in Bengali, English, and Oriya. It was a treat to hear renditions of familiar and new poems of Tagore, Begum Sufia Kamal, Sajed Kamal, Nasim Bhai, Jasmine Ferdous, Bijoy Misra, Gouri Dutta. Sanjeeb Chatterjee, Subroto Sarkar, and other poets.
I floated in the realm of rhyme and rhythm, as each of the devotees of Saraswati, the Goddess of Poetry, took their turn at the altar. The soulful and melodious voices of Amjad Hossain, Obaid, Swapna Roy, Somali Burgess, and Papiya, among others, filled the beautiful afternoon with many colors and flavors. Swapna's rendition of the “Shadharon Meye" was anything but ordinary. Rumi, my wife, was so moved at the heart-rending story of Maloti that she whispered in my ears "I want to be born again as "Shadharon Meye". For me, 1 was just praying that I'd not get too carried away and grab the microphone again to sing from my heart "Aji E Anando Shondhay".
The afternoon ended with a very well-appointed round of tea and “jolkhabar ". We had a delectable choice of snacks, including patthi shapta, samosa, nimokora. jhal muri, and shondesh. And, not to forget, the "ghughni" was just out of the world.
Before we left, many of the poets felt inspired and promised to write more often. So, 1 was not surprised when before long Swapana Roy sent us the sequel to Shadharon Mcye, the first two lines of which are: "Kobi guru, Ibmar manosh konya shadharan meye Maloti..."