Moods, Moments আর প্রেম - বিন্দু By Supatra Sen

That Celestial Sonata

Often I wonder Whether I’ve ever been Really and truly loved As in novels or films As lofty…as towering…

When grandmom would wash my clothes Despite a nagging cold Was that love… Or our man Friday would defer His annual leave To make sure That festivities of Vasant Panchami Went unhampered Dada would befriend the vendors For the best fruits And to Nahoum’s for the finest bake Love…was it ?

Ma would save my books All the copies with my name written In child-like artistry Every bit of paper where I had Marked with an abstract stroke Love it was then… Father would let life flow Without words or advice Let her choose…let her learn…let her fly Detachment… or love I wonder…

Mentors would command perfection From mathematics to embroidery Handwriting to public speaking Teachers’ nature must be Or love…

I return… After a long long nothingness The arm-chair On the balcony sways to the gentle breeze The whispering leaves of the ‘gulmohar’ Create a mystic architecture On the petal carpeted floor Of the centurion home My old faithfuls chase each other’s tails Conjuring some fantasy figure Out of their own shadows

The fragrance of old books A dust-coated transistor And a figure in the mirror Lost …yet found All that I could have held close…

Deep within me A voice says You are loved… Loved like no other And the Universe orchestrates That celestial sonata...

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