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Ah! Jibanananda
More than a decade ago, when we were college students, once while having one of our parties we stumbled across a line that so many years later epitomises the carefree days of the past – amader kichui chilo na tokhon/ chilo shudhu jouban/ sagorer moton beguni akshe shonali chiler mon
by Towheed Feroze
I love the works of Jibanananda; well, in fact I like them so much that even if someone recites a few lines of the poet I am transported into a different domain – a world detached from the stereotyped format that we live in. On New Year’s night, flying very high we were listening to the latest dhamaka music when a guy, totally tipsy, decided to recite a few lines and believe me, in the candle light with the stereo switched off, his rendition of Jibanananda was something that I will never forget. As the candle light cast a shadow on the walls, his voice filled the early hours of a new year: shona gelo lash kata ghore niye geche tare/ gotokal rate/ faguner rater adhere/ jokhon dubiache ponchomir chand/ moribar hoilo tar shadh…..
The guy recited with a Chandpur accent and despite that, the feeling was momentous. At that early hour, the New Year seemed to come to us not draped in shallow fun but with the profound lines of Das.
But, how should one savour this poet who has not followed any conventional rule of poetry? Well, there are no set rules in poetry but, in the case of Das, all systems that poets have followed over the ages lose meaning. He wrote his feelings and did not care to stick to any proven method; hence we get poetry comprising of sporadic thoughts. However, even in that haphazard way, there is an unmistakable charm because though the lines appear to be distant they do form a bond; the trick is to find that link. ‘Hydrant khule diye kushtharogi chete ney jol/ hoitoba shei hydrant ti giyechilo ba fehse/ ekhon dupur raat nogorite dol bedhe name/ ekti motorgari garoler moto gelo keshe – now though the lines form a sequence the presentation is somewhat odd. And what about the description? A motor car goes coughing obsessively while a leper sucks water from a hydrant – that is a rather startling.
Now, just because Das is not like other poets, many want to disparage his style; but those who want to denigrate this lucid yet, complex formation of ideas are blocking out a genius who is not shackled by disciplined thought.
Das is the poet of nature and though hundreds of other poets have sought nature’s help for inspiration, poems of nature by Das smell of rural Bengal. When he writes about farmers going home at dusk, somehow the description becomes alive. And that’s because the returning is juxtaposed with the birds who are also going back home. I don’t know about others but Jibanananda for me is the ultimate narrator of the elegance of Bengal. Padma flower, the shapla on the pond, the grass hopper all combine to give us a complete picture and of course in his inimitable style – bhor – akasher rong ghasforinger moto komol neel. Immaculate? Unquestionably. Das in his works is often free from all the excreta of civilisation and at other times he is knee deep within the robotic metropolis. But even then, staring through the rows of buildings and mechanised people, he stares at the sky to dream. But, I cannot read Das and forget that in real life he was a man deeply disturbed by the gradual poisoning of humanity. Perhaps that is why from time to time he has run away from civilisation saying: shorire momir ghran amader – ghuche geche jiboner shob lenden.
On the other hand, Jibonananda was also a die hard patriot – though not in the jingoistic sense. Captivated by the beauty of Bengal he has expressed his desire to come back to Bengal and who can forget those immortal lines: abar ashibo fire ai dhansiritir tire … hoito manush noi – hoito ba shonkhochil shaliker beshe.
Das in his real life was an unhappy man because there are quite a few references in different accounts of an adulterous wife; now, irrespective of the veracity of that observation, in some of his works we get a man living with the pain of a lost love. In Kuri Bochor Por Das thinks what might happen if lovers meet after a long time but even in that he brings in nature: Abar kuri bochor por tar shathey dekha hoi jodi/ abar kuri bochor por- hoito dhaner chorar pashe/ kartiker mashe
More than a decade ago, when we were college students, once while having one of our parties we stumbled across a line that so many years later epitomises the carefree days of the past – amader kichui chilo na tokhon/ chilo shudhu jouban/ sagorer moton beguni akshe shonali chiler mon.
Just to give our foreign readers a touch of Das here is a small translation. By the way I am not an expert so, overlook the mistakes.
Thousands of years play in the dark like fireflies
The smell of pyramids and death permeate
Moonlight on the sand-shadows of date tree lie scattered
Like an indestructible pillar stands Assyria: dead and fading
Our bodies smell of mummies- life’s transactions are done
Remember? He asked, I replied, ‘Bonolata Sen.’
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