Kill You, Sure (17)

             Kill You, Sure (17)

                                         Nidhu Bhusan Das

 

“You’re with me the whole day

Remain till I’m awake

Appear in dream, when asleep.

You’re no more, yet how much with me!”

Bithi remembers the verse often, when alone or feels lonely. Now she jerks to wakefulness at the announcement:” The Boac flight to London takes off soon.Passengers’re requested to be aboard and take seats right away. She takes to her feet and heads on, happy to be again in the region of clouds and be able to float with them like downy cotton which rises when gets released from the boll. She’s slim and in a tryst with the shapeless and spaceless when in thought and on the wings of imagination. A supreme joy visits her in the state of stance. A smile hovers over her face as soon as the plane has taken off.

“My God! I should have told papa and mom. Okay, they’ll know. Tell them at the next stoppage,” Bithi decides and glides to the realm of creative thought.” How come my grandparents are still so fresh even as they’re touching their 50^th anniversary? What’s the unique chemistry between them who are from two distinctly different stocks?”

Her thought veers round to love. Love’s there in everything and everywhere, she perceives. It’s sharing. The sun shares his glory with every member of the solar system. The planets orbit round the sun in love, and do not deviate from their paths.Love’s equality. The polar tips of the earth are as important as the Equator. For her love isn’t, what many think, merely having sensual pleasure. She’d been to Ajmeer and Mathura-Vrindabon with her parents and experienced the serenity connected with this real-ethereal phenomenon.Love, she realizes, is transcendental. The smile generated by love and the other way round, glides higher up – the union of the two humans emerges as the oneness of their souls; at that level the lovers feel the supreme joy.

Again images appear in her mind, her second encounter with Nizam at the Dhaka University campus, the ‘Kill You …’ episodes at JNU, the latest Conor’s ‘Tá aithne agam ort’ greeting,              and all such experiences.” How things happen!” she wonders. Now the world appears to her as a vast and complex entity within the boll of the vaster and still vaster universe.” We’re like cotton in the boll, and like cotton tend to rise higher and higher for the unknown and the coveted when feel free. We’re unlike cotton as we feel the pull of the bond with the earthly relations,” Bithi understands. Her thought is much quicker than the speed of the plane.

She’s now nostalgic about Ireland; she’s visited several times her grand aunt Sharon Kennedy, a professor of Anthropology at Dublin University. The granny told her about the charming folk traditions of Ireland. Sharon took her to the Abbey Theatre which served as a nursery for many of the leading literary figures of the 20th century, including W.B. Yeats, Lady Gregory, Sean O’Casey and J.M. Synge.She told Bithi folktales like that of Leperchuan, a mischievous fairy in emerald green clothing. The Leprechaun is said to have a pot of gold hidden at the end of the rainbow. If ever captured by a human it has the magical power to grant three wishes in exchange for release. The tale of Halloween is also charming.  A popular Irish folk tradition Halloween has its roots in pagan beliefs. Halloween marked the Celtic New Year and was originally called Samhain. The ancient Celts celebrated Samhain with bonfires, games and comical pranks.

Bithi likes folktales as they’re means of travelling to the pagan past and can enjoy being transported to the romantic past. When nature and natural phenomena were given the form, in imagination, of anthropomorphic deities and worshipped, people could have been happier than we’re, thought Bithi depending on her study of social-anthropology. The present day world in which monotheism dominates is fraught with violence and terrorism, she laments. Here man kills man, destroys Nature, and shows scant respect to all living forms as the pagans did. So, we’ve the problems of ecological degradation, terrorism – violence against Nature and fellow beings, she ponders. She’s aware a neo-paganism emerges in the world as some people fed up with the violence tend to find peace of mind. The neo-pagans have respect for all and the desire to participate with other beings.Bithi appreciates this and has the pantheistic view which takes her to the lap of Nature, often.The folklores attract her for this reason.

“Should I call my grandparents neo-pagans?” Bithi asks herself, considering their sustained love in the 50 years of happy conjugal life. She knows they aren’t bothered about their respective monotheistic religions they’re born in. Love’s their religion, and she inherits this from them through her parents.Nizam’s a humanist and nature worshipper like her. Love dominates his thought and action. She isn’t sure of Ankit about this aspect of life.”Maybe, he’s different, it’s better I shouldn’t think on it,” she argues. Nature remains with her always, even when she’s on her wings.(Next to follow soon)

Kill You, Sure (16)

Kill You, Sure (16)

                                             Nidhu Bhusan Das

            
             
                              



           The Boac Boeing has stabilized midair over Dhaka after take-off from Shahjalal International Airport in the winter December morning. The flight is to terminate in London. Bithi set her eyes on the clouds which keeps her thought downy. She hears a greeting: “Maidin mhaith!”(Irish for “Good Morning”).
“Irish!” she exclaimed and turned around, astonished and annoyed.
“Tá mé Conor. Tá aithne agam ort,”( I'm acquainted with you )said the young man,unperturbed. 
“Níl a fhios agam agat,” (I don’t know you )snarled Bithi,annoyed being interrupted.
Conor daresn’t proceed further.
Nothing but the impending get-together on the occasion of the anniversary of her grand parents is absorbing for Bithi.She is headed for Maryland to attend the event.However, the unexpected interruption has brought to mind the face of Anik at JNU,the charming boy,gentle and innocent.”This is  sort of quirky,” she thinks” that a disturbing incident stirs memory which is not unwelcome ,if not acceptable.Memory distracts,and often leads to comparison that may confuse.Anik isn’t Nizam... Nizam never deviates.Anik has someone to influence his decision, that girl, the naughty and envious Divya.The sense of etiquette doesn’t allow Bithi to use harsh language, or she would say Divay’s wicked,crafty who doesn’t have the sense of decency expected of a JNU student. Now she feels pity for Anik.Why? Unaware so long, Bithi has formed an idea of Anik being in love with her but unable to express.Is it that he has the religious inhibitions,being from a conservative region of India. Maybe, it isn’t so. He smiles always,an inviting and innocent smile. Such innocence cannot harbour any inhibitions,Bithi’s sure,almost.
“But I’m bound...cannot respond,”Bithi is conscientious. The face of Nizam’s in her mirror.She smiles,and the shining cloud greet the smile.She remembers her grand parents who’re a profile of honesty in their bond.Her parents’re also models of beauty and truth in their love life in togetherness. “I will be happy with Nizam ... why to look for someone else?” Bithi thinks,unaware that the plane’s now flying over the sky of Delhi,waiting for signal to land at the Indira Gandhi International Airport for a stopover.The announcement of the pilot breaks her reverie.But the smile lingers with the dream she has been in so long in the air.
She’s to wait at the lounge a couple of hours and have lunch before re embarking for the second leg of the intercontinental journey.The lounge is global in ambience, and abuzz with cheerful people around.With every flight landing new people arrive, and as many leave as other flights take off for different destinations across the world.Bithi remembers Tennyson writes,”For man may come and man may go...”, and a philosophic gloom visits her about the entry and exit of humans in this world.Usually sociable,in such a state of trance, she cannot interact with people.The thought about her grand parents being septuagenarians comes to her mind and reinforces the gloom.Never before did she have such a thought about her ever green and cheerful grannies.Her green eyes glitter with tears and some drops glisten her cheeks.Quickly she puts on the    glasses and employs efforts to hold back the liquid.Since she has read the poem of Tennyson,she fears a brook which symbolizes permanence against the evanescence of individual life.She doesn’t want to see a couple of brook run down her cheek.
The cell phone buzzes.Bithi sees it is her papa calling.”Hello Papa!” she answers.Despite efforts she couldn’t prevent her voice from being choked.Anis Chowdhury,struck by the sadness in her tone,asks,”D’you feel lonely,dear? Why? We’re coming and go together from New York.”He hands over the phone to Reba.
“I know,Papa...but..,”Bithi utters,laboriously.
“Had lunch?” asks Reba,her voice wet.
“Going to have,Mom,” Bithi says,to console her tender mother.She looks at her watch.Time to have lunch,she remembers and goes to the restaurant.She doesn’t feel hungry,and might go without lunch had her mother not reminded. She often forgets meal,not that she’s habitually melancholic;she remains absorbed in thought.She feels life more in thought.Whatever happens,she transforms that into thought to analyze it, to comprehend the essence.Now she thinks of the greeting of the Irish boy,of  Anik and his “Kill you” refrain,of Nizam.( next to follow soon)