Sunday, 23 May 2010

Yet, remember me

For years they remained inseparable company in life as neighbours whom I’d neither loved nor envied. In white radiance of pride shone the youth of life ruthlessly blinding faint glimmers they left upon an azure sky of soul. I dreamt not if they could so invincibly reign in the future in me.
I wonder if it is a battle between the past and the present or a bridge between. Awestruck I look at the army of valiant warriors ! Whom I took no care even to notice now descend with its impervious presence and I dare not but gaze on.
They leave me in a quandary if it is a battle or a bridge while I cede in. Memories ! I looked at them as some fallen leaves…once green that held soft rays of morn upon its wide face, sipped dews of those chilling night, and then turned yellow, then red, then brown…and…went away erasing all history of moments it lived through. And, I thought, they strolled along my side in walks of life; but I left them when I wished…the one, then another, and more while eloping with my envious future. They stood alike mannequins so fondly adorn with masks of my deeds and misdeeds for showing up on the ramp when I would need them—the good, bad and ugly—as I would like to introduce before the world. And, buried under its veiled existence roam wails of innocence as intense yet powerless as wishes of a trafficked girl. Yes, I did so. Will now they declare the sentence? I await.
I deserve whatever they do to me. I enjoy being vanquished. Only I keep on tuning harp to sing my last song.

Yet, remember me if I go far away.
If old love gets tangled in meshes of new love,
If I stay close yet you cannot discern
If I exist or not, still remember me.
If tears dangle between eyelids,
If the play ends once in sweetness of night,
Yet, remember me.
If chores are stuck in an autumn morn,
Remember me.
Even in remembrances if eyes do not glisten
Yet, remember me.

(Never mind my utter inadequacy in expressions while transliterating such a powerful poem of Rabindranath Tagore “Tabu mone rekho”)


  1. We are really the sum of our memories. They say live as if there is no past. But I never found that to be possible. The good, the bad, the ugly; we have to carry them and try to enjoy their presence.

    A very nice write-up Saibal. Reminds me of a poem from gitanjali, which I love a lot...

    When I go from hence
    let this be my parting word,
    that what I have seen is unsurpassable.

    I have tasted of the hidden honey of this lotus
    that expands on the ocean of light,
    and thus am I blessed
    ---let this be my parting word.

    In this playhouse of infinite forms
    I have had my play
    and here have I caught sight of him that is formless.

    My whole body and my limbs
    have thrilled with his touch who is beyond touch;
    and if the end comes here, let it come
    ---let this be my parting word.

  2. It's of much pleasure to read your expressions after long retreat in the Himalayas....Just back from twin treks in far end of Garhwal...
    Wish all the best, my dear friend.

  3. Beautiful translation. It will be a bit tedious writing it down here the original coz of the phonetics but even then it will be a pleasure reading the original along with your translation. If possible then next time plz do put up the original also.

    Plz do check out my blog. There is a surprise waiting for you though you are above such things and do not need any such acknowledgment but i couldn't help it as it is purely out of admiration for your blog.

  4. I'm delighted to hear of you...yeah, it might have been well to put original poem of the great in bengali...I was actually focused to non-bengali readers in this attempt..I shall keep your suggestions in mind.
    Okay, I will check your blog for the surprise(I would have indeed, in any case, returning after a long break on hiking)..
    Take care,

  5. Powerfully expressed! It makes me wonder about the intensity of human emotions...

  6. Thanks, Celine, for your all words of encouragement!


The epitaph !

Between leafs of time  S leeps the untold tale of life, In dreams of love and love of dreams. Smudging the margin in between The ...