Great was the nature, so great was the river,
So was the mountains—I wish they lay hither!
The journey ended, began from where;
Journey will end, started from where!
We, the mere players of the play,
Have the right to nurture or slay—
It’s our own choice, which to act on.
Clouds were gathering on the horizon,
Upon the mountains of the North-Northwest,
Blazing was the air from the South-Southeast.
I merely looked up, when I saw a light,
Was only a reflection. Unclear was the sight,
Never knew what it was, there wasn’t a guide,
Food was bad, so the people, and so was the ride.
’Twas a battle, and I have lost many a soldier,
In a smily-face, there I was, determined to ignore.
The journey was, as I look through, a fabulous one, indeed,
Learned so much, watched many things, and was pled indeed.
But what I realize seeing the border, at the very first moment,
Nationalism—what it could do. Without further comment,
Keeping everything up to you to decide which to act on.
’Cos clouds were gathering upon the hills on the horizon.
Mithapukur
04:53, 3 January 2017 (slightly edited in 1 August)
In memory of my journey to Bangla Bandha.
[Imported from Blogspot]