Thursday, 5 July 2007

The Resurrection

Some time back in summer, we met again after years of separation. It was a nice reunion! We gathered at the place—a sprawling lawn inside the cemetery—that we used to frequent after college-break in early eighties. A batch of four young souls would engage in vigorous debates over a chain of issues that might not have concerned them remotely. It would have spontaneous rumination on literature to environment, culture to art and music, science to philosophy, politics to governance, and life to nature, although never taking a distinct direction. Years went by with life maturing in itself and we were, someway interestingly, taken in to different worlds of professions and societies. We yearned long to assemble, but simply couldn’t. Surprisingly, it happened unpredictably with ease and peace.
The parting years have, meanwhile, blessed us with grey hairs and idiocy of maturity! A few hours of togetherness floated aimlessly with emotions taking more pride in than the thoughts. We remained composed, still felt restless for missing the harmony that flowed silently, somewhere subterranean inside our soul. We were failing to mull over what essentially connected us and continued musing on what crafted, for all intents and purposes, our divergences. Our societies seemed alienated, our languages varied and a sense of loss of inheritance stealthily permeating into the environment. Some more time past, we found ourselves in absolute silence—none to speak, none to hear—only hearts beating high and souls penetrating deeper and deeper to uncover passions that would once burst into flames of candid revelation of thoughts! We sat silently for seemingly endless spell till we all exploded into tears and laughter! The ecstasy in reliving the music from its mute orchestration had surged into a blustering outflow. It grew upon the twinges of irresolute pursuit and pleasures of unanticipated completeness. As if with a magical touch of an unseen wand, our worlds of differences fell shattered and all numb crystallized figurines arrayed along the memory lanes got resurrected flaking shackles of long subordination to indifference. We talked on more and more issues that would never concern us. And, when it was time to part, we silently parted. No bidding of farewell followed, no word of promise was murmured; we just moved on to different destinations!
Years of maturity has only taught us to simply forget the innocent follies of our childhood. We have bigger ideas, greater world in mind to ponder over. Philosophy struggles in converging challenges of different opinions concerning objectivity or subjectivity of values. Battles are fought over idealism and realism. We associate ourselves with our favoured opinions following the theories. Deep inside our soul, we remain stubborn. Theories fail to mould us. We mould theories suiting our own choices. We keep on changing places on checkerboard. We mature, boast about expanse of our knowledge, carp on every wrong done by kids and pursue to win over reverence and respect. Life becomes a game of tricks and trumps! It dies unnoticed while we brag on its values, its essence, its beauty! We carry the death in pretence of celebration of life. We remain oblivious to premature burial of innocence, reason, humanity and goodness in pursuit of success in life. Sunken to the floor life lies forsaken while the ghost demonstrates how gayful is life.
Yet life flows. Still Nature blesses. Still humanity survives. Still there is hope!

Emon dine taare bola jay (এমন দিনে তারে বলা যায়)

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