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ELIXIR| April
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ELIXIR| April
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Foreword
You know how April is, wrapped up in hot, moist towels, and
there are gleeful
sunrays dancing, right outside your hot car window. April brings
with it so much
that it’s almost baffling at times- the intense heat, the sudden
spells of rain on
sultry evenings, pictures of mutilated bodies on front pages of
newspapers. The world
is taking a turn towards insanity and April, like a silent
listener, hears, in vain. Like
us, April watches like a helpless passer-by, wanting to do so
much, ending up doing
so little. April waits, like your parent, for you to move on to
find a better lover,
pretending to not notice the injury marks on your arm. April
hopes to find solace in
the silent candle light march. April hopes to find courage in
your voice. April hopes
this new year, will at least bring with it a better
tomorrow.
Team Elixir, brings this April myriads of emotions, thoughts and
confessions
that go unheard, so often. It brings together so many hearts, so
many feelings. These
are such troubled times that now more than ever, there exists a
dauntingly
persistent need to listen to each other, to share with each
other thoughts that
distress. In a world of countless humans with uncountable
thoughts, Elixir emerges as
a meeting place for expression. An eighty two year old woman
talks about lost times
and displacement. Nabo Barsho finds a new meaning as we trace
its tradition. A plea
to stay, a desire of a sort finds expression in this issue.
April knows your heart.
Express. Enrage. Emblaze.
Team Elixir.
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CONTENTS
1. “…but I’m trying to keep up with it, as much as I can”
(Interview) …………………………………… 04
2. A New Year | Ahendrila Gowami
..................................................................................................................
07
3. ফপরয দেখা | Panchali Banerjee
………………………………………………………………………………………………. 09
4. The Butterfly Effect | Subarna Banerjee
………………………………………………………………………………….. 10
5. একটু জলরয খ োঁলজ | Pramit Sarkar
……………………………………………………………………………………. 12 6. ননরুলে | Purba Basak
………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 13
7. Morpheus Confined | Utsav Jain
…………………………………………………………………………………………….. 14
8. খভক আট র জজ | Debraj Debnath
………………………………………………………………………………………...... 16
9. A Forgotten Sonnet | Anamika Roy
………………………………………………………………………………………… 18
10. উচ্চ ী | Suraj Pramanik
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………. 20
11. Lean In | Debroop Basu
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 21
12. একনট ভজ য গল্প, কলকজন ভ নুল ও খজ ক য | Arindam Moulik
………………………………… 22
13. Pieces | Chandra Sekhar Pal
……………………………………………………………………………………………………… 24
14. খয লদয জন্মনদন | Samhita Sanyal (Guest Column)
…………………………………………………………….. 25
Illustrators :
Arghadeep Saha Rupak Ghosh Manosij Kanjilal
Sagarika Biswas Nilanjana Goswami Sourin Das
Sumanta Gayen Dipsuvra Ali Rupayan Saha
Prapti Roy Aditya Das Akash Kumar
Working members, Elixir (March Issue): Subarna Banerjee, Hena
Sarkar, Md. Shahnawaz,
Ahendrila Goswami, Trisrota Datta, Farhana Tasneem, Dipsuvra
Ali, Pramit Sarkar, Shinjini Mukherjee
Editors: Hena Sarkar, Shinjini Mukherjee, Pramit Sarkar
Cover design: Arghadeep Saha
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“…but I’m trying to keep up with it, as much as I can”
What was initially meant to be an interview, turned out to be a
mellifluous reminiscence. A beautiful story-
telling. A faucet which hasn‟t been opened for long. She kept
talking, as we listened in rapt attention, about
things she hasn‟t been asked about in a long, long time. Here‟s
a tale she weaves for her grandchildren,
albeit one made up of her real life experiences, as she talks
about the multidimensional changes that she has
witnessed and how she copes.
Q: Tell us something about yourself.
A: My name is Arati Banerjee. I used to be Arati Ganguly
before marriage. I‟m 82-years-old. We were residents of
Barishal, Bangladesh. Or as it used to be called then, East
Pakistan. My father was a Postmaster by profession. After
we came to India, he was posted in several places like
Midnapore, Birbhum, Hoogly and finally in Kolkata. I
passed my B.A. from Bankura College and completed my
B.Ed degree from Hastings House. I used to work as a
teacher of English and History, at a higher secondary
school in Bagnan, Howrah. I left my job just before my
marriage. In Kolkata, we lived in our home at Prince
Anwar Shah Road. I have three daughters. All of them
have pursued their own fields of interested, and are
currently well-established. My husband passed away in
1989. Currently I live with my eldest daughter and her
family. Frankly speaking, it is not „her family‟ anymore. It
has become mine too.
Q: You must have seen and experienced several
changes in your life. What, according to you is the most
significant change that has occurred in your life?
A: Becoming absolutely alone, over time, especially after my
daughters got married. And obviously, leaving
my own house at P.A. Shah Road to come and stay with my eldest
daughter. This had a great impact on both
my mind and soul. It almost felt like a migration. You know, I
did not sell the house; neither did I rent it to
someone. It has remained locked, ever since the day I left it
permanently.
Q: Have you accepted such changes? Or is there any regret?
A: I had no option, other than accepting it! Old age is such an
imposition! But I definitely don‟t regret my
decisions because all my daughters are very caring, and they
love me a lot. One may say, parents don‟t
expect anything in return from their children but I don‟t
believe it completely. And I feel it isn‟t too much to
expect a bit of love, care and company from your children!
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Q: Is there any important social or political event that you
have witnessed, that has permanently
etched a mark on you?
A: Undoubtedly the Partition of India and Pakistan. As I told
you earlier, we were residents of East Pakistan.
We came to India in 1949. We could bring almost nothing from
there, except a trunk, with a few clothes, a
few utensils and a single blanket. Talking about the partition,
I have two things to tell you – two very
distinct memories. I was quite young then – around 9 or 10 years
old. But these two memories are still so
fresh, that sometimes it becomes very hard for me to believe,
that more than 70 years have passed.
The first one is of the evening before the day we left East
Pakistan. People had heard from some
source that the Muslims were to organize an armed rally. All the
Hindus of our locality, especially girls and
women had taken shelter in the top storey of the house of one
Saral Dutta. I remember, later in the evening,
a few people came in a Jeep, shouted, “Aaj michhil hobe naa”
(The rally won‟t take place today) and went
away. The silence that had persisted for the rest of the night
is still unforgettable.
The second one is of the day we left. Like I said, we could
bring with us almost nothing. I had a
harmonium at that time, which was very dear to me. I asked my
father several times, if we could bring it
with us. At this age, I quite understand why it couldn‟t have
been brought. But sometimes, this memory still
lingers and it breaks me every time I think about it. I just
can‟t tell you how much I have longed and cried
for the harmonium.
Q: How did you get accustomed to this new place, and how did it
welcome you?
A: The migration had been really tough, especially for the first
few years. In Kolkata, we first took shelter in
my elder uncle‟s house in Fern Road. After a few days, my father
got posted in Midnapore and we had to
move out of Kolkata. He was transferred many times and each
time, we had to shift somewhere else, feeling
uprooted. The word „settlement‟ had almost vanished from our
lives. Those were days of real hardship but
we kept our faith that things will get better soon. One thing
that I must tell you here is that every time we
moved to a new place, the first thing my father did, was to
search for good schools, so that our studies
weren‟t affected. He never compromised with a few things. Our
education and well-being were in top of that
list.
Q: Had you been younger once again, or if you could go back in
time, how would you have spent your
life?
A: See, it is impossible to tell, what I would have done, if I
could go back to the old times. Because even if it
would have been possible in some miraculous way, I don‟t think I
would have gone back with all my
experience that I‟m living with, at this moment. But yes, had I
been younger once again, I would have spent
some more quality time with my friends.
Q: Would you like to tell us about something or someone or may
even be some feeling, which once
used to be an inseparable part of your daily life, but has gone
missing or has disappeared completely
from your life?
A: The only person, whom I truly miss, almost every second of my
existence, is my husband. His presence,
his voice, memories attached to him – I just can‟t explain these
things verbally!
Two other things that I really miss are cooking and reading
books. Cooking was my passion. I used
to cook many things for many people – not just for my family,
but other relatives, neighbours and friends as
well. My grandson was very fond of the cake which I used to
make, even a few years back! But at present, it
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is impossible for me to cook, with such a frail health. Also,
reading books was something that I had
promised to myself, never to leave. But again, my poor health
and weak eyes took it away from me.
Q: This city has changed quite a lot, in front of your eyes,
both physically and emotionally. Would you
like to tell us something about it?
A: I have seen the city change. I have seen it grow with time.
Massive buildings, wide roads, increasing
connectivity and development in technology – I have seen all of
them come one by one. Today, life has
become much faster than it used to be, even 10 years ago! The
change that strikes me the most, however, is
the change in human nature and behavior. These days, more and
more people are getting acquainted every
minute but the bonding and the warmth has somehow gone missing.
Also, today, I see people lying to each
other very easily, and without any reason, most of the time. We
would not do this, when we were young! For
every lie spoken, my father abstained from eating anything for
the whole day; neither did he talk to us.
Because he thought that it was his fault that he couldn‟t guide
us properly. Nowadays, such emotions don‟t
exist. To tell you the truth, I don‟t quite search for it
anymore.
Q: All these changes must have had a great impact on your mind
and soul. How do you cope with it?
A: The world has definitely changed a lot. Such changes were
inevitable in a way. But I must say, of every
change that occurred, all were not necessary – especially when
it comes to humanity, tolerance and
accepting the diversity that is within mankind.
On the other hand, changes like advancement in science and
technology were much needed. I, in
spite of being old, am always ready to accept changes that make
a step towards the progress of human race.
For instance, the mobile phone has been a very useful invention,
because of which I‟m able to keep in touch
with relatives and friends I don‟t meet every day. Indeed, the
pace of day-to-day life has increased,
somewhat riskily, for people like me, but I‟m trying to keep up
with it, as much as I can.
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A New Year | Ahendrila Gowami
It all started on the last Poila Boisakh morning. My grandmother
was distributing sweets among us –
a big cube of sandesh, lapped in ghee – when my father broke the
news:
“We have an invitation for halkhata today”, he said as he sipped
noisily from his cup of morning tea.
(Just for revision, let me tell you that halkhata is the
accounting ledger of businessmen which is
inaugurated on every Poila Boisakh and all the regulars at the
shop are invited to celebrate this occasion
who in turn credit some money into their account as a mark of
respect, loyalty and tradition.)
“But you did not show us any card, where is it?” my mother
inquired.
“No. It’s in my inbox”.
He smiled with his eyebrows raised, a funny expression of a
sort, and brought out his phone to
show us the message that had been forwarded to him on WhatsApp,
a technologically superior social
media application that has revolutionised communication in the
present age (evidently). It was an e-card
with an animated pot-bellied Ganesha putting one laddoo after
another into his mouth and smiling at the
end of it, the words “Welcome” continuously glittering in silver
inscribed under it followed by the date, time
and place of the shop. My grandmother, looking more disgusted
than ever, cursed modern technology,
humanity and everything else that she laid her eyes
upon while drinking her cup of tea. “It is the beginning of
Kaliyug”, she proclaimed and enumerated upon those
days of her childhood when the halkhata invitation was
considered prestigious. I could not deny her. Since my
younger years, I have been seeing father return home
with a fancy number of invitation cards the day before
Poila Boisakh. In fact, we divided the invites within the
family and everyone brought back a fair share of food,
sweet packets and calendars from the shops they went
to. At dinner, we all chirped about the various people
we met, the decorations in the shops, the food they
offered and didn’t, the conversations, the new collection
of clothes and others. I had noticed the gradual
disappearance of the tradition over the years but a
Illustration: Akash Kumar
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WhatsApp message for halkhata? I could not bring myself up to
believe in the sorry state of society either.
When everyone was busy recreating the good days of the past in
mind and aloud, my brother interjected:
“I think it is better this way. Why waste paper for stupid
invitations which will be garbage after few
days, anyway?”
The reality of the comment brought everyone back to present and
we dispersed to our rooms.
However, I knew my family was eagerly looking forward to the
evening.
This whole episode from the morning escaped my mind in the
course of the day. My social media
accounts kept buzzing all along – distant relatives (who aren’t
aware of my existence) forwarded long
messages. Wishes, in the form of not-so-economical offers,
poured in from Zomato, Swiggy, BookMyShow
and other sites. Facebook was an admixture of responses –
debates over poila boisakh, memes made on
Bengalis and their habits, some pointing out that it was also
Bihu in Assam, others uploading pictures in
traditional clothes, grammatically incorrect wishes littering
the news feed and more. I was drained by it. I
only stirred back to the scene of crisis when I heard my mother
let out a shriek of terror in the evening. My
father had gone to the shop for halkhata but had left his purse
at his study. My grandmother, startled at this
discovery, began chanting the names of all the Gods and
Goddesses that she could remember to save the
family from humiliation. She dipped her sombre tone into a rant
that encompassed her experiences of such
occasions where the invitee had left a shop without crediting
any money and had missed out on all halkhata
invitations in future.
When my father returned, it had already been past an hour of
tension. He looked at our grave faces,
puzzled, when my brother reminded him that he had forgotten his
purse at the study. He also briefed him
upon grandmother’s recounting about the shame that would ring
down upon the family. Hearing this, my
father roared in laughter saying, “Once I was in the shop, I
realised that I have forgotten my purse so I
credited the same sum of money via Paytm...”
He followed grandmother’s quizzical looks and had barely
finished telling her what it meant, when
she raised her clapped palms to the heavens and thanked God for
technology. What an irony! That night
we debated largely over the pros and cons of technological
involvement in traditions. My grandmother
concluded that technology was God’ gift to men to prevent them
from blatant disasters and the incongruity
of the situation made us to discontinue the discussion for
another. My brother later told me that
grandmother had asked him to guide her through installing and
using WhatsApp before going to bed.
Albeit, A new year.
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ফপরয দেখা | াঞ্চারী ফযানানজজ অর েুুযটা মখন ফছু টানরফ, মখন ভন
দেভরনয ফবর়ে প্রফিফেরনয এেরঘরেফভ ভরন েফযরে দেরফ এখনও অরনে েূয দেৌ়ে
ফাফে, িখন দই ফ রাযাঙা ফেরন দছাট্ট ফিধাীন আফোয আয দখোররয ফােনাে
িুফভ দেরো। আভায ভন খাযারয ারে, আভায অফাধয ফেছু বাফনা আয বাররা
োেরি চাওোয ভারঝ।
Illustration: Arghadeep Saha
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The Butterfly Effect | Subarna Banerjee
There is a reason I am here.
Not here as in alive, on this planet.
But here as in with you, right now, in
this moment.
If you are reading this and seeing me on
this page, it is already too late for me.
But it is not too late for you. Remember
that, and listen to me very carefully.
Listen to every word. Because if your
attention slips for even a moment,
it's gone forever.
I will not begin by saying where it all
began, or when. Let me begin by
saying, instead, with who it all began. It
was a person I knew very well, or I thought I knew. Perhaps I
didn't know him after all. I didn't even know
his name, or what he looked like. Just a voice.
A voice which asked me, pleaded with me, tantalized me. And in
my busy life without a moment to
spare from texting and living, I paused. That pause of a few
minutes changed everything.
Suddenly, I was walking in a slightly different way. There was a
strange look in my eyes which was
not there before. People said it was like an ember. It made me
feel strangely uncomfortable. Not in a way
that made me scream or claw at myself, but in a way that made me
think. And really think.
As each day passed, it was as if an eclipse took place within
me. I was unfurling in new ways as my
old self began to shed its skin in darkness. It was like waking
up after a long life of sleepwalking and sleep-
talking only, waking up from continuous night terrors in the
days of my mind. Waking up to something I
never knew existed with me, which spread its wings now. I began
to be strangely free, while the older part
of me was suddenly caged in the coils of this new skin. It rages
within me. It drives me to write this (or does
it? I can't tell which is which anymore now...) to you in
warning, if you can listen to it.
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I only heard their voice once, just by chance, but it echoes in
my mind till date. Until, I saw its strains
everywhere I looked.
There is not much time left in me, until this part of me that
warns you, is lost forever.
So, let me say this again.
It began with a person. A person I didn't know very well
perhaps. A person speaking to me in letters.
A person reading a voice in his head.
It began with you reading this.
There is a reason you are here.
Illustration: Arghadeep Saha
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ELIXIR| April
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একটু জলরয খ োঁলজ | প্রফভি যোয েরিা িুফভ অনয দোোও, অনয োযও
এেরা ছারে ীরিয দযারে আজও দিভন ফরা। আফভও এখন অনয া়োে োফে। অেভমণ্য
েুুযরফরায ফিয-ফভরেয স্বপ্নগুররা এখনও খআ যফঙন েরয আঁরো? গল্প দানাও?
দখাঁজ না ফনরেই োফে... ফযস্ত ফেরনয াি রিরযা, যারিয দরল অফ দচারখ াই
না ভাো যাখরি দিাভায োঁরধ। ক্লারফয ভারেয দোরনা েু'দটা েীঘমোরীন
অনবযার ফফরের ররই আজও খাফনে োঁরে।
Illustration: Sagarika Biswas
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ELIXIR| April
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ননরুলে | ূফমা ফাে
ধরয ফনন, গরণ্ গাঁজা দখি, গুফর দখরিা, ফাাংরায নারভ দচারাই দখি,
ভারঝ-ারঝ টাো ারি দরর আরযা ফেছু এেটু“ গরণ্রয ভা আরছন, োর ািটায
রক্ষ্মীোন্তুরয িারে দেখা মাে। গরণ্রয এে োো আরছ, ৮ফফ-দি ফযোে আরা
রেফছর মায ারে। দছাট দভরেটায ফুরে ফেম ফর দগরছ, আভযা ফররাভ, দেফফ ফনরে
এরা। িারি ফররর, অি েূয দেরে আনা মাে না। ওখারনই োউরে এেটা দেখারে,
ফিনরা টাো ফবফজট। বাইরেয েো ফরর ওরেফন। ৮ফফ দেরে ফফজেগ়ে, েি আয েো
ফরা ে। অেফা, ফফরেয ফছয চারযে রযই েরিা োো দফৌফে আরাো রে দগফছর।
এেফফাং িাব্দীরি দোন্ দভরে দনা়ুে দেওয যে েরয মারফ! দ ভাফধযফভরেয
আরগযফেন ফাফ়ে ারারনা দভরে ররও না।
গরণ্রয জনয দোরনা দভরে ারার না। ফছর না দেউ? দেউ এেটা? এেটু দফঁরধ
যাখায ভরিা? েরিা ফছর। আভায ারে আরা রে ওরেফন। িারে দভরট যাং এয ফঁেুয
ফেরে দফঁরধ ফেরেফছর েরিা গরণ্। দও েরিা াশুফ়েয ারে দফরযাে োররফরা।
নাফে এরেফারযই দফফযরে ফগরেরছ দ?
বাফফছ, গরণ্ েরিা দনা েযিই না। এেটা দছাট দোোন ফছর ফাফায, িারিই
ফি ও। ফ ফছর, ফাই ফছর। েরিা বাররাফাায জনয, ঘয দছর়েরছ। এফ ফচন্তা
শুধু ফিনরট ফফরউফি ফরনভা দেখরর আর না, দে়োিা নারা ফযরাটম ়েররও
আর।
ফিযফ েো ফররি, গরণ্ ফযরে ফগরেরছ, দটা ফ়ে নে। গরণ্ ফপরয আরফ ফেনা
বাফফওফন। ভরন ররা গরণ্ দেন াফযরে দগরছ, িাইফনরে এেটা গল্প নাভারি াযফ
েরিা। ভরন ররা গরণ্রে দেরখফছ দোোও। মােফুয দেরন? ফফফ়ে ধফযরে ফগরফছর
আভাে, িাই ভরন আরছ? গফরয াভরন িারয আড্ডাে? ফল ফেরেফছর ফরর?। না
ফযোে? খুচরযা ফনরে েো োটাোফট? গরণ্রে দচনা দচনা রাগর ফ়ে। িাভারট
চাভ়োে দযােজ্বরা বাফ। োঁিটা উঁচু। দচারখয নীরচ োফর। দাোযটা অভনই
ফছর। ফনরখাঁরজয দাোয। দেওোরর দেওোরর, ফনিঃরব্দ, খঁুরজ দেওোয
িাে।
মােফুয দেন যাং রে। দযরওরেজ অফপায চূ়োন্ত ফফযক্ত রে ফরররন,
"ভারফমররয ওয দাোয রাফগরেরছ। এখনও দিারা েফন দেন? ফগফগয ফযষ্কায
েরুন।"
Illustration: Sumanta Gayen
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ELIXIR| April
14
Morpheus Confined | Utsav Jain
On the wayward shores of Dreaming,
My castle of sand stands tall, gleaming,
Through time trapped, forever turning,
I see the stars in skies a-burning.
No enemies snarling I do loathe, yet,
My love, my seed, I lost them both;
Walking in dreams a solemn path,
Serving forever my Endless oath.
I have loved never to feel, but to hold;
Too often seen forevers lie cold,
Inspiring forevers never foretold,
I tell them tales Desire sold.
Grains of sand fall through my fingers,
When they fall they're life-bringers,
A touch of love, a scent of dangers,
A feeling fleeting forever lingers.
My raven harks in silence still,
In worlds that I have yet to fill,
While wander I upon this hill,
Creating dreams with iron will.
Illustration: Prapti Roy
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ELIXIR| April
15
From darkness deep, heeding call,
chains rattling make me fall,
Binding me in a lightless hall,
As strange shadows start to squall.
Trying to trap the tricky Death,
Stumbling 'pon a dreamer's wraith,
Weaved they their funeral wreath,
Incurring dreaming's chilling wrath.
A mistake made, a crime condoned
Trapped in a loop devilishly adorned,
Father Time and Mother Night mourned,
For an immortal child falsely scorned.
Escaped, free, but to what extent
Hearing a call from mortal descent
Fell I to my dome, falling broken, bent;
See me now, see me spent.
Trapped for ages, no hope divined,
Locked away, his freedom denied,
I am a lonely being awaiting the end,
The King of dreams, Morpheus confined.
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ELIXIR| April
16
খভক আট র জজ | খদফয জ খদফন থ
ঞ্চ ছুোঁআ ছুোঁআ বদ্রভনর ক লন খপ ন ননল নটনবয খেক চর ক রীন কথ
ফরলছন : "অজ খত য নলভ কলকমুগ
য ভলন ভুল য নদলক ত ক আল ; ফলর, নতি খত , ফড্ড খয গ ল খগছ !
ওলুধগুলর ুফ কড় ?" কথ ফরলছন অয খথলক খথলক ন চ লছন। খেক খল লত চরলর খপ
নট খকলট নদলরন। নটনবয খল খেকট নছর ননক এযকভ : এক অট দ ফছলযয খছলর
ফনু্ধলদয লথ কথ ক ট ক নটলত খলয নগল আলকর ফ আলযআ খপলর খবতলয ভু খগ ভড়
কলয ঢুকনছর। খঢ ক য ভুল খছলরনটয ফ ফ ফলর আলকরট ননল ঘলয ঢুকলত। খছলরনট
ভু ফি জ য কলযআ ননক ফ লদ ম ফ আলয অফ য অয আলকরট ননল অল।
বদ্রভনর ফিস্ত নছলরন খপ লন। তট খচ ল ড়নন নফজ্ঞ নট । অভ য খচ ল ড়র।
খমব লফ খচ ল ক চল ক লড় , খব লফআ খচ ল ড়র। ফ নড়লত এক তুরীতর অলছ। ল
দুলট খোঁল গ ছ নছর। এক দুুলয নি। ঠ ৎ ব্দ। খোঁল গ ছদুলট খবলঙ লড় খগর।
এযয খথলক খ লন একট কলয খছ ট যস্বতী ভূনতজ থ কত , অয একট রক্ষ্মীয ট।
খম ট অয খম ভূনতজ ুলজ ল খমত , খআগুলর চলর অত তুরীতর য ল। খভলেয ননয খত
, শ্র ফলণয ফৃনি খত, ক লন ক লন খত নফড় লরয আলও। ঠ কুভ য চয চয এযকভ ন
চ য ছন্দ কলযন । গ র খদ ফ নড়য ভ ঙু্গখর ফউলদয। ফছয ঘুযলত ঘুযলত খদ খমত
ভূনতজ নভল খগলছ প্র ভ নটয লথ , খমব লফ ং লয ক্রভ নভল ম ঠ কুভ য ; অয
ভল অলযক ন ভূনতজ ও লন খযল খদ ম লফ, তুরীতর য ল, ং লয।
ফ ভ নুললয জীফলনআ নকছু গল্প থ লক। অয এআ খছ ট খছ ট গল্প ননলআ গলড়
ওলঠ এক নফয ট উনি । ম য অনদট অন্দ জ কয ম , এফং খলট খদল অোঁতলক ওঠ ম ।
এআ চভলক খদও উনি লকআ অভয একটু ফড় লথজ জীফন ফলর থ নক। জীফলনয খল কী ?
ভলয ম ও ? ভলয খগলর ফ খল ? অি , খছ ট গল্প খত খল ল ম । নকন্তু ওট আ নক
গলল্পয খল? ন নক এ লনকট কভ , দ োঁনড় ফ খনভলক রন -এয ভত , একট ফ কি ন থ
ভলর লযয ফ কি শুরু লফ কী কলয,
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ELIXIR| April
17
ফ কিগুলর ন জুড়লর গল্প লফ কী কলয, গল্প গুলর খথলভ খথলভ নতুন কলয
শুরু ন লর উনি ল নক অয প্র ণ থ লক ? জীফনলক, খফোঁলচ থ ক লক থজভ কলয
তুরলত ভৃতুি ফড্ড জরুনয।
ঠক নক ধ ক্ক লিন ? অননও খত খবলফলছন , নঠক অভ যআ ভত , ভ লন এআ আক নয
- ুচলয খকন লফচ য ফ জ লয ফড় ও অয কলরয ভতআ , কী কলয ‚আট' আওয র আপ,
খভক আট র জজ ‛ - খক ফ স্তলফ রূ খদলফন। কী কলয জীফনলক বযুয খচলটুলট খচল
খনলফন , এ অননও খবলফলছন। খবলফলছন এফং ধ ক্ক খ ললছন , খমব লফ ধ ক্ক
নফদলবজয এ ন তুনয , দু’ র ট ন য য য তৃতী লন ম ন অরুয দ ভ অন এক খকনজ।
ব লফন, জীফন ফড্ড দ ভ ীন। নঠক নকন ?
Illustration: Manosij Kanjilal
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ELIXIR| April
18
A Forgotten Sonnet | Anamika Roy
I was running through the dark woods. My eyes reflected my inner
phase of colossal trepidation. I
threw my arms around, screaming and panting, running away from
all the deadly fears
encompassing me. All those nightmares and bad days. They were
not to leave me behind, they
followed me into the woods, howling and screaming. As I felt
that maybe this time I’ll get engulfed
within those four black walls of ‘fear’, I prostrated upon a
small, scenic ‘home’. It was a waft of
fresh air, a dispassionate breeze in the scorch trials. It was
surrounded by lush green grass, the
symbolic color of youth; by red roses and blue violets. The door
opened as if welcoming me and I
went in without a trace of fear. The walls were a bright, warm
yellow, which provided luminosity
and splendor after spending days in a dark, rampant world. I was
mesmerized. I ventured to peer
in through every window that came my way, every door that
blocked my path. I felt as if I was back
‘home’.
The ‘home’ welcomed me back the same manner next day.
I kept coming back to that ‘home’. I started talking to its
walls. It was like they listened to me in
rapt attention. Even though they never replied, within, I felt
serene and inconspicuous.
I left all my so-called friends behind. “We searched for you all
afternoon, where were you?” they
would ask, a bit perturbed after I returned once the sun had
emitted its last ray. “I was at home.”
Of course they never knew what I meant or where I was.
It was one such day when the story changed. It was almost the
same; I was running to my ‘home’,
crying, when I saw that there was an unequivocal emptiness. The
roses and buttercups had wilted.
The violets had turned gray. The meadow looked burnt and there
was only the yellow wallpapers
and brown wood work, all in ruins. Another passion had left me
broken and flaccid like the roses,
unable to cope with my darkness. I don’t blame them. The world
works that way.
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ELIXIR| April
19
I came across a lot of homes. Though initially I cherished their
sweetness and memory, I
eventually fell out. They say, Time’s the best healer. I’ll come
over this one too, but…
“…I have examined and to find all that favor me,
There’s none I grieve to leave behind but only, only thee…”
Illustration: Rupak Ghosh
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ELIXIR| April
20
উচ্চ ী | ূযজ প্রাভাফণ্ে অভ লদয লনক ফড় একট ছ দ অলছ। ছ লদয ওয নদল
ভ নজনডজ, নফ.এভ.ডনিউ. ম , এফং অযও কত কী! অভ লদয ছ দ খথলক খগ ট
ৃনথফীলক খদ ম । অভ লদয ছ দ খথলক কত খর ক ননলচ ন লভ। অভয আ শুধু ছ লদয
তর থ নক, এক লথ। উনুলন ড র খদ্ধ লি। খভলট অফছ ন্ধক য অয খ োঁদ গলন্ধয
ভলধিও ড় ল ন কযলছ। খও একনদন ছ লদ উঠলফ...
Illustration: Sourin Das
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ELIXIR| April
21
Lean in | Debroop Basu
I listen to a lot of shoegaze
My eyes are still drawn to yours.
The reverb piling up one layer
after another.
The sound of your voice filtering through
your smile
The crooked shape of your teeth
And how your lips open when you smile.
I notice these things about you.
I don’t need you to do the same.
Just lean in at the right moment.
Illustration: Nilanjana Goswami
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ELIXIR| April
22
একনট ভজ য গল্প, কলকজন ভ নুল ও খজ ক য | নযন্দভ খভৌনরক
প্রথভ দৃি :-
১ভঃ খদ খদ , খেন ৭:৩০-এ থচ খছলরট খআ লন্ধ ৬ট খথলক দ নড়ল অলছ। অয
প্ল টপলভজয এনদক খথলক ওনদক এআ কলয ম লি ।
২ঃ খকন ফরত?
১ভঃ খকন অফ য! ও খত খজ ক য , ফুযফক ত য উয, ক লক ন ক লক ব রলফলনছর
গলরয ভত - ওয ভ থ য নঠক অলছ ন নক এ ন?
২ঃ তুআ নচনন ওলক?
১ভঃ ফ হ্! নচনফ ন ? ও খত অভ লকআ...!!
খথলক কুনর খগ লছয একট খছ কয (খপ োঁড়ন ক লট) – ট ট ট ট ! ট ট কযলত
এললছ – খলল!
খজ ক য টুনট ক্ত কলয খচল ধলয। টুনয ক লর ছ ঘনতয ল অল খজ ক লযয ভুল
খচ ল ।
২ দৃি :-
খজ ক য খলট চলরলছ – লত নকলয একট ি লকট, জনফহুর প্ল টপভজ – লন্ধ ল
খগলছ লনকক্ষণ, চ লয খদ ক লন রম্ব র আন, নকছুনদন ধলযআ ীত অলফ অলফ কযলছ।
ফি স্তত য ভ লঝ খক একজন খেন ধয য ত ড় খজ ক যলক ধ ক্ক নদল ছুলট খগর। খজ
ক লযয লতয ি লকটট নছটলক লড় খবতলয থ ক নকফ নছনটল নপ খপযত এক ফ ফুয ি
ন্ট নবনজল নদর। নভনিয য-ট
খগ লছয নকছু লফ ত। ফি যট ফরলত মতট ভ র গর ঘটন ট ঘটলত ত য খচলও লনক
কভ ভ খরলগনছর। খজ ক য নকছু ফুলঝ ওঠ য অলগআ খর কট খতলড় এর। দুলট নকর
ড়র- একট লজ লয ন ক অয ভুল য ভ ঝ লন, অয একট ক লনয ননলচ। খজ ক য ফল ড়র,
খচ ল ন্ধক য খদ নছর খ। প্ল টপলভজয অলর গুলর খধ োঁ -খধ োঁ র গনছর। খকউ
ঝুোঁলক লড় নজলজ্ঞ কলযনছর খফ ধ – ুফ খরলগলছ? ততক্ষলণ খ ভ নুললয ফফলক
অফছ খদ লত শুরু কলযলছ। খজ ক লযয ভু নদল যক্ত খফলয লি- জ ভ ক লড়ও
যলক্তয দ গ স্পি। এফ য ত লক নতিআ খজ ক য র গলছ- দ োঁলতয প োঁক নদল
উষ্ণ ননঃশ্ব , যক্ত অয র র খফনযল অলছ। টুনট লড় অলছ এক ল,কত খর লক ভ
নড়ল নদল খগর। ন , টুন ছ ড় খজ ক য খফভ ন ন। ত য খচ দুলট নক অজ একটুও
অদ্রজ লনছর? নকংফ ঝলয লড়নছর দু’খপ োঁট জর? জ ন ম নন।
খজ ক য নজব নদল খচলট ননর খঠ োঁলট খরলগ থ ক যক্ত – অঃ! খফ খন নত খত
। ভ থ ট নঝভনঝভ কযলছ খজ ক লযয।
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ELIXIR| April
23
৩ দৃি :-
খজ ক য খযরর আন ধলয ফ নড় নপযলছ। খনআ, খফহুোঁ ল নছর লনকক্ষণ – দু’-দ
ট ক ম নছর ফ খকলড়কুলড় ননল খগলছ। তলফ টুনট খমন খক খফ খঝ খড়-খটখড় ওয খক
লরয ক লছ খপলর নদল খগলছ। খজ ক লযয খেলন চ য আলি খনআ – বি ভ নুললয নবলড়
নপলয খমলত খ উদ ীন খফ ধ কযর। বিত য ফ লনআ ফ চ ল খকন? ভলন নগন র ফুজ ল
অলছ। খেন অলফ খফ ধ । অি , জীফলনয ফ নগন রআ নক নকছু থজ ফন কলয? ব ফলত
খচি কলযনছর খজ ক য – নকন্তু ফুঝলত লযনন।
খছলন রুদ অলর , লঙ্গ ককজ অও জ। খেন ত লর এলআ যর। ন হ্! খজ ক য অজ
দৃঢ়প্রনতজ্ঞ, খ ওআ র আন নদলআ খোঁলট চরর। খেলনয নজ নফযত ফ জলছ,
ভ্রূলক্ষ খনআ খজ ক লযয, ক্ত কলয খ টুনট খচল ধযর অফ য- ত ত য খচ ল য ভ
নণদুলট দ কলয জ্বলর উলঠআ ননলফ খগর।
ুআ আড কয য খছলর খজ ক য ন। জীফলন লনক দুঃ কি খনযল অজ খ এআ জ গ অলত
খলযলছ। নক্ষপ্র যীৃলয ভত র আন খছলড় লয জংর জনভলত নগল দ োঁড় র। ননঃশ্ব
ড়লছ দ্রুত। খেলনয ভস্ত ভ নুল খমন খজ ক যলক খদল ভু নফকৃত কলয খল উঠর। ত
যয খেনট ও ত য গনত ফজ খযল নদগলে ফ োঁক ননর। নগন র র র ল খগলছ
লনকক্ষণ।
ুনশ্চ ১ – গল্পট নঠক এআ লনআ খল ন। খজ ক লযয বীলণ ন খলনছর খনদন,
এতগুলর ভ নুল ত লক খদল ভজ , ত য ভলধি ননশ্চ অনলন্দয পুয ন ব ণ্ড য অলছ
এআ ফি লয খ নননশ্চত র। অয ত লতআ খজ ক লযয ন খলনছর। এতনদন খত অন য খজ ক
যলক খদল আ শুধু খললছন – ক ন ও খবলফ খদল লছন খজ ক য অন লদয খদল খকভন লত
লয? খ ন ভভজস্পজী, হৃদনফদ যক, ম খদল নছর খনদলনয ূনণজভ য চ োঁদ , প
নণভন ও নি নি িুত ন ভ -ন -জ ন ক োঁট লঝ অয র আলনয ধ লযয খ থযগুলর – ত
য ও কনিত লনছর খনদন।
ুনশ্চ ২ – অন য মনদ ড যউআন ললফয ‚Survival of the Fittest‛ ত
ত্ত্বনট নঠক প্রভ ণ কযলত চ ন, তলফ খজ ক যলদয নঠক এযকভব লফআ লত নদন, ক
যণ ত য আ খথলক ম লফ, ম য ফি ক্ত ননম্ননরন ত কলকনট কথ –
নকে খত ভয খত জ লন ন ,
কলফ অভয জ্বলর উঠলফ
ফ আ – খল ফ লযয ভতন!
Illustration: Dipsuvra Ali
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ELIXIR| April
24
Pieces |Chandra Shekhar Pal
I thought you were woefully misunderstood by everybody
Except me
And I considered myself lucky to see that wonderful person
But it turns out that I was the one
Trapped in a mirage, unable to see the wasteland that
surrounds
You said you thought the pedestal I kept you on was too high
I said that when you fell that was my problem, not yours
Now I stare at the million tiny pieces on the ground
Of who you used to be
Shattered by your own hand
I can’t help but hope you felt that fall
So I know I wasn’t the only one who suffered
I take one last look at the pieces for posterity
One last look at the man I hoped you’d be
And I walk away
Leaving something behind –
That piece that cared, that single piece of me.
Illustration: Aditya Das
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ELIXIR| April
25
খয লদয জন্মনদন | ংনত নি র এ ন ফ ংর কি লরন্ড য খতভন ও ম ন । খলরও
ত লদয রূলয নদলক নফলল নজয খদও ন , ফযং নিক খথলক
খট ক নকছু নতনথ নক্ষত্র অযও খফন ননছল নদললছ ত লদয। খমভন গুরুত্ব
নদল আংলযনজ কি লরন্ড লযয জনি পলট শুট কয , খতভন কনিনক লরও ফ ংর কি
লরন্ড লযয ব লগি খজ লট ন । শুধু নফফললজয নদনট অয োঁচট ছুনটয দলর একটু
ফ ড়নত ুন খম গ কলয। যনফফ য লড় খগলর গ র গ নর । খচ েআ এনপ্রর ড়লরও, ক
যণ ফ ফ লফ অলম্বদকলযয জন্মনদন জুলড় ট ন দু’নদন ছুনটয পূনতজট ভ লঠ ভ য
ম !
তফু, একট ‘ফিযক য নদন’ খত ফলট! একট ফজণ! অভয হুজুলগ জ ত। নঠক উৎফ
কলযআ খপরফ। খকন ন নস্ট রনজ , খকন ন অলগক য নদলন কয ত। এআ খমভন র ত ।
ভপস্বলরয কনচলদয এক ফ ক-নদফ। নঠক এয অলগ অলগআ নতুন জ ভ , দ য ওয
পুর-পুর নকংফ রক যলঙ টুনক-ট নক। খচ ল য অয ভ, গ লয অয ভ। খক থ ও খক থ
ও অজও স্ন লনয য উড য ভ য খযও জ
অলছ। লন্ধলফর গ ধুল, নতুন জ ভ য অদলয গ গনরল, উড লযয ভ ফী গলন্ধ
খবল খফনযল ড় । ল্প ঠ ন্ড ও খদ, গ খদ র য নদলনয ত লত ঝরল ম ও ত য ।
নস্নগ্ধ ছ ড় নি খক নও ন ভ ন খফ খগ ধূনরয। আনত-উনত জ লন যনঙন অলর , ত
লক নঘলয পুর, ত , খ র য কদভ, ভঙ্গর অরন । খ অলর লক অযও যনঙন কলযলছ খদ
ক লন ফল থ ক ভ নুলনটয ন। নতনন ভুক খস্ট য ফ তভুক ব ন্ড লযয ভ নরক নন,
নচযক লরয খচন ফ নক কু নকংফ গলণদ । দু’ট ক ুচলয ন ুোঁলজ খলর নমনন ফ নড়
নগল ড়লত ফ’ ফলরন। নকছু নদন খদ ক লন ন এলর নবভ ন কলযন ভ লয ওয। ড় য খভ
লড় ঝ লভর লর নমনন ল দ োঁনড়ল ম ন। খআ নদনট ত োঁলদয খদ ক লনয জন্মনদন
খমন, খমন ঝ নরল খনও ট ক - য ফ আলয থ ক িকজ। এ ন খদ ক লন ধ য-ফ নক খযল
অ য ভলত গনযফ খকউ খনআ, লথয গনরট ও োঁচ ট ক য নফসু্কট নকলন ত ভ লট কলন
গলফজ খফয কলয ুোঁট খথলক। তফু এআ নদন েত ঞ্চ ট ক লত ননল অলন ভ -ফ ফ ।
‘নি-খত ট ক নদি খকন?’ নজলগি কযলর খআ চ নন খপযত ফ চ্চ য , প্রথভ নভলথি
ধয ড়লর খম চ নন এল খফোঁলধ। ভূরিলফ ধ কলভ ম ও য নতযস্ক য ভ খ নজলয।
খনদন খম বিথজন অল যফলতয লত্র, ঘুঘননয র ত , নভনিয ঢ উ ফ লে, ত য ভূরি
ধয ম নকছুলত? অয ওআ একনদন, একট নদন উ লযয ভমজ দ ফ ংর কি লরন্ড য।
যং-খফযলঙয থলরয খবতয অনতলথত য ভ ধুমজ লঙ্গ ননল ফ নড়লত ফ নড়লত আলত লযয
ভলত নফনর । এআ ন ও ুভ, ফ আলক লঙ্গ ননল ক নটও।
GUEST COLUMN
Guest Column
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ELIXIR| April
26
এলত খগর ভপস্বর। নগলয গ্র লভ প্র েলয আআ কলয ম নতুন ফছলযয অগভনী গ
, ত য ন ভ ‘চচত্রলর’। ক রবফ ীলত গ লছয ত ঝরুক ন ঝরুক, গুদ লভয
ঝড়নত-ড়নত ভ র পদ লভ ঝলড়য খফলগ নফলক লফআ। চনট খথলক চনং ন আপ, গ ড়ু
খথলকগ নড়, জ ভ খথলক জুলর নয, ফ নকছুলত নফশ্ব ি ছ ড়! য স্ত য ধ লযয খদ
ক ন খথলক নং ভর, ‘কভলক্ষ ৫০%’-এয খভ ল নবড় জভলফ ফ লনআ। খক নট খক নট
নজনন নকলন খপর য য ঠ য , খগ ট কলক ফ েয নজননও খকন ল খগর।এত্তফড় খভল
ননলজয ি লকট, ক োঁনড় ক োঁনড় খকৌলট , নতন পর ছুনয, নতনলট ঘলযয জনি োঁচট
ল ! ম য থ ক য ভলধি একট আলকর, খও স্ত খল ক য নর নকলন খপলরলছ। রুনট খভক
য নকলন খপর য য খদ ম লি খদ ক নদ লযয ভলত খপ র লন রুনট লি ন নকছুলতআ।
এফ গন্ডলগ র, ম লক ফলর খক রি ট য র ডি লভজ, থ কলফআ জীফলন। অর র তবনতজ
নজনন। য ফছয নুন অনলত ে পুলয লন দ য য এক নদন ফ ঘ-নং নক য। অনন্দ খত ।
ন অুক খর কজন, এআ খম নফলকরলফর প োঁক ঘলয এক এক আ নতুন চ দয খলত ফ , খ
নক কভ? নতুন ক ল ন খআ ুযলন চ -আ খদও র, তফু ভ নুলট ‘ফ ঃ, খফ খদ লত’
ফরলফ খত ! ফছযবয শুনলত ‘তুনভ এলক্কফ লয নলফ খফ লঝ ন ’, একনদন েত নতনল
ট ক নতনলট ভি নে নকলন ত ক র নগল খদও ম লফ। এআটুকুআ খত লথ, এআটুকুআ
নতুন নচননল খদ। ম ন ঘয-খদ য উলচ লড় প্র চুলমজ, নঠক নজননট নঠক জ গ বয
-বনতজ ল থ লক, খআ খত নফফলজ।
ফ ঙ নর হুজুলগ। ফ ঙ নরয ফ উৎফ অল ফিফ য ত ধলয। ত য ক রীূজ নদও নর
অয ধনলতয, ত য খপ্রলভয নদন খড নয নভরৃ, ত য ুলজ ভ লন ফ ি য প য। নফফলজ
ভ লন ক যও ক যও ক লছ নেননলকতনী লজ বজনয ভ ন্ন নগল ‘কচুয ক’ খচল খদ ভ
ত্র। নকন্তু ওআ দ য তজণটুকুও মনদ ক উলক েত ভলন কয ... ১৫ এনপ্রলরয
ছুনটট অলর র চফ , অলর অভ লদয অন ংসৃ্কনত খভলন নদনলগ ন , ঋতুচলক্রয অফ
ন... ক্ষনত কী? জন্মনদন রন কয য ওলযআ খত অভ লদয ফলয নলফট ও অনন্দভ ল
খর লত থ লক ফছয ফছয। ভলযও একট জন্মনদন থ ক। ফ ঙ নরয ঘলয। ফ ঙ নরয
ভলন।
Illustration: Rupayan Saha
