Thursday 24 May 2012

The Prodigal Son

My Father called him Kakumoni - The Crest Jewel among his Uncles. Barely seven years older than him, he was the youngest among my Grandfather's siblings. Charming, Handsome and having a noble bearing, Kakumoni was an extremely lovable person . But this lovable person had an extreme Life , leading it  like "A candle in the Wind". Kakumoni was "Born Free" - Free like the wind. 


This is a tale that dates back eighty years  to a rich aristocratic family of Chittagong. The Head of the family was a very famous lawyer of his time. Jogen Chowdhury, or Jogen Ukil as he was fondly called, was not only 
a famous lawyer of Chittagong court, he was also actively involved with the Indian Revolutionaries , aiding  them in their fight against the Mighty British Raj. The only earning member of the family, he had to support a large number of relatives who led an ostentatious life at his expense.  Jogen Ukil died at 
a very early age leaving behind four Children , the eldest one not more than 15 years old, the youngest only fifteen months, and a unlettered wife who couldnt even count money . Sensing a golden opportunity , the parasitic relatives rushed for all that was up for grabs, by devious means they usurped the entire property of the good lawyer, leaving his immediate family destitute. My Grandfather, the eldest of the siblings , took up the responsibility of the Family . A Brilliant student, he obtained a free education at the local school and meager financial aid from some kind-hearted relatives . Post Graduation, he obtained a job in the railways and was married to my grandmother, the eldest daughter of another wealthy and respected Lawyer of Chittagong , Rai Bahadur Janada Ranjan Dutta SharmaThe family situation improved and my grandfather was able to send his younger brothers to school. It was here that Kakumoni's life took a drastic turn.


The little boy was a Born-Bohemian with a heart as broad and pure as the blue sky above, a mind as colorful as the rainbow and a personality that tolerated no bondage. Extremely courageous and self-respecting, he 
couldnt brook injustice and slight. Kakumoni had spent much of his childhood among the open fields and broad rivers of rural Bengal, school life set admist an urban environ made him feel like a caged bird. He yearned to break the cage and fly away. At school he made acquaintance with a few boys of questionable character. Not good at concealing or hiding , he revealed his new found friendship to his brother and his wife. Alarmed, they warned him to sever his friendship . Kakumoni rebelled. He started being even more paly with this group. His Guardians rebuked him severely. He rebelled even more. There were a few among his relatives who started instigating him against his Eldest Brother and his wife. The simple hearted lad believed all that was said, his eternal bohemian nature popped up again, he started planning his escape. A good student, he now developed an intense distaste for education .


Matters came to a standoff one day; Scolded probably a bit more than normal, Kakumoni was Gone. Along with a few boys of his group, he went in and around Chittagong. Soon the scant finances they had were exhausted, the other boys returned to the safety of their homes, but Kakumoni cried, "How can I ever face Dada(Elder Brother) and Boudi(Sister-in-law). I can never return, and I will never return till I have become  worthy of my family". He was hardly in his teens then. Now began Kakumoni's GREAT JOURNEY into the unknown. Befriending a few sea-faring boatmen, he started living and working with them. These kind hearted simple folk developed a liking for this charming young boy and took him under their tutelage. Dressed as a boatman's son, he sailed far and wide with them and one day he arrived at Teknaf . Bordering Myanmar, Teknaf is the last bit of land in the Southwestern corner of Bangladesh. Situated on the Eastern bank of the Beautiful Naf river as  she flows languidly on her way to the ocean, it faces Akyab in Myanmar on its opposite shore. On an impulse, Kakumoni sailed into Akyab . Akyab was then a heavily forested region, home to fierce tribal groups. As luck would have it, while crossing a jungle, he was captured by one such tribe and taken a prisoner to be offered  as a Human-sacrifice to their Goddess. The tribal chief was quite pleased to see such a perfect sacrificial object. Kakumoni was to be slaughtered at the altar of the Goddess on a dark moonless night. Here again providence helped him. The tribal king had a large harem, it turned out that one of his wives was a Bengali. She quickly got to hear about the young Bengali boy who was to be sacrificed. Her maternal instincts got better of her loyalty to her husband, at the dead of night, she  set the boy free and helped him escape. Kakumoni arrived at  Akyab town, here he started doing odd jobs to make a living. Sometimes a cleaner in a roadside eatery, sometimes an errand boy, occasionally a vegetable seller, he tried everything to eke out a living. He could never stay long at a place, he now turned towards Rangoon, the capital of Myanmar. At Rangoon he resumed his odd jobs, when his attractive bearing and bright looks caught notice of a Bengali Pharmacist from Chittagong. He took  Kakumoni as his assistant and tutored him in the business of Pharmacy.


Kakumoni was a now a young man, a respected figure in Rangoon. He had married a local Bengali girl here, things were looking bright for the family, when all of a sudden they had to leave Rangoon for India. Myanmar was now under a military rule. The rulers  were expelling non-Burmese from Myanmar. Overnight, Kakumoni became a pauper once again. But he could never accept defeat, he started his life all over again. He travelled to Calcutta, thence to Assam and finally to Itanagar, the capital of Arunachal Pradesh, where he would eventually setup his own Medical store; all the while the faithful wife accompanying him through his ordeals.


After all these years , he lived upto his promise of meeting his Dada and Boudi after becoming worthy of his family name . His family had long taken him to be lost, some even believed that he was dead, his sudden appearance after nearly a decade caused a stir. The Prodigal son was finally back, back as a young man, his  innocence and childlike nature untarnished by the long harsh years in a Big Bad world. His large-heartedness would become a legend, there were instances when he would gift  his wrist-watch to somebody who happened to admire it. All these years, he had seen the good, the bad and the grotesque. Yet he never lost his faith on MAN. He never lost hope.  After all there was good all around, the good far outweighed the bad. And Kakumoni would vouch for the innate goodness in everyone till the end of his days - or was it that he could never see bad in anything or anyone? Well he is dead and gone, probably he alone would have known it. But he still lives on  as a spot of sunlight in the lives of all who knew him, and was blessed to have lived with him. 
Kakumoni
Beautiful Naf river at Teknaf - It was from Teknaf that Kakumoni
sailed towards Akyab in Myanmar
Chittagong - Where Kakumoni grew up



Akyab - Myanmar


Wednesday 23 May 2012

Translations from Tagore



Tagore's songs are a world in them self. The heart wrenching love for God and the mundane love of a man and woman are found in equal measure in his songs. The beauty of Nature, as well as the pathos at the  condition of destitute humanity make for ingredients of his songs or poems. Truly, he is a world poet, no doubt the Chinese and Russians are as keen a student of Tagore as the Indians and Bangladeshis. Tagore loved his country passionately, yet he was a world citizen . He is the poet of the National Anthems of two countries, one country has a national anthem penned by his disciple. Here is my humble tribute to Kaviguru . I have tried to translate two of his songs in English, extremely gross and rough they will seem, yet its my work of Love for this Great Being.


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                                     EMONO DINE TARE BOLA JAYE




Emono dine tare bola jay
Emono ghono ghoro borishay
Emono dine mon’o khola jay
Emono megho shore, badolo jhoro jhore
Topono hino ghono tomoshay
Emono dine tare bola jay


Shey kotha shunibe na, keho aar
Nivrito nirjono charidhar
Du’jone mukho mukhi, gobhir’o dukhe dukhi
Akashe jol’o jhore onibar
Jogote keho jeno nahi aar




Shomaj shongshar’o miche shob
Miche jiboner’o kolorob
Keboli akhi diye, akhir’o shudha piye
Ridoyo diye ridhi onubhob
Adhare mishe geche aar shob


Tahate e jogote khoti kar
Namate pari jodi mon’o bhaar
Srabono borishone.. ekoda griho kone
Du kotha boli jodi, kache tar
Tahate ashe jabe ki ba kar
Bekulo bege aj bohe bay
Bijoli theke theke chomokay
Je kotha e jibone, rohia gelo mone
She kotha aji jeno bola jay




On this dark day…..When darkness seems to have been engulfed by darkness…..when the wind outside  howls with the Joy of Freedom….When clouds rumble , and the sword of lightning, having  been taken out from  the rapier  of dark clouds, shines with effulgent  brilliance  and occasionally rips  through the darkness and gloom of the environ around..on such a dark day can I open up my mind to her…Can I open up my heart to her….




My words are unheard to the world at large..Not a soul  gets to hear it…There is no one around…..We sit facing each other….The unrevealed   sorrow  in our hearts having filled its brim, tend to break its bounds. The sky, a mute witness to this pain,  lets lose incessant teardrops  from heaven,
Why does it seem to me now , that apart from us, nothing else exists in the world?


The world but seems to be a hazy dream to me now…The cacophony of the external world has suddenly vanished..Or was it ever there?
Using the Wine-goblet of my eyes, I drink deep from her lovely eyes…
With my heart alone do I realize whats going on in her heart
I have forgotten everything else..Everything else has just dissolved in this ocean of darkness..


How does this exhilarating joy of mine  affect anybody else..How does it trouble anybody else if it helps me forget my pain and sorrows…
In this dark day..ravaged by the waters from heaven….as we sit at a concealed corner of this house..forgotten by all..having forgotten all , if  we exchange a few soothing words..how does it affect anyone else??




The mad wind outside gets unrulier by the minute…
The occasional lightning, seeming more like brilliant waves rising  on the surface of the  ocean of darkness  , can be seen outside.
Those words which till now had been concealed  inside  the darkest chambers of my heart…
Let those words see the light of day on this very dark day…
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                         MAHABISWE MAHAKASHE MAHAKAL O MAJHE




Mahabiswe Mahakashe Mahakalo Majhe, AMi Manob ekaki bhromi biswoye bhromi biswoye,
Tumi acho Biswanatho , Osimo Rohossho majhe, Nirobe, Ekaki, apono Mahima Niloye, 


Anonto ei Desho Kale, Ogonno Ei Dipto Loke, Tumi acho more chahi, Ami Chahi toma Pane,
Stobdho sorbo kolholo, Shanti Mogno Chorachoro,
Eko tumi, toma Majhe, Ami eka nirbhoye.




Admist the boundless Universe…surrounded by the infinitude of space and time me  a mere mortal,  gasp with wonder, bewitched and bewildered.


THOU, Oh LORD of the Universe..The beginning and end of this creation..Oh LORD…
Thou art there admist every particle of this infinitude..covered by a shroud of illusion…
Cloaked by an unfathomable mystery.
Thou THE ONE WITHOUT A SECOND..thou art there…….admist eternal silence..pervading everthing..You do exist eternally in Your abode of eternal glory…


Admist the  millions of universe that exist like dust particles on the shores of time,
Through  the numerous constellations that  bejewell dark  space, 
You  look at me..And I look at You!!


The cacophony of the world around  has ceased to exist,
The sounds and noise of existence  gradually melts away,Entire creation is bathed in peace and bliss…
Admist all this....You the transcendent one, Only you do  exist….And I do exist in and through You..Oh LORD..THOU IN ME..I in THEE….All else has vanished…Only I do exist fearless and deathless.
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Thursday 3 May 2012

St.Martin's - The Hidden Coral Island

I love Islands and Island stories. My fascination for islands started with a small Childrens Picture book version  of Robert Stevenson's "Treasure Island". As I grew up,  stories of the uber rich owning private islands in the middle of the verdant blue pacific ocean fired my imagination. That "I must own one some day"  syndrome has already started showing signs  . Not that I have gone anywhere close to achieving it . "Huzoon Dilli Durast". Dilli is still far off. To atleat live the Great  island dream, I island hop whenever i get a chance. Islands like those mentioned in Treasure Island have a special charm about them; filled with dense vegetation, small hills all around ; probably remnants of a volcanic past , parrots of different hues, coconut trees ,  sea facing huts of fishermen colony   beckon me like nothing else . However crass commercialisation has stripped off most island destinations of these sights and scenes.  Most of the famous island locales have become "French rivieras". It was thus a pleasant surprise for me when I came to know of St.Martin's. Located about 10 kms off the extreme Southwestern Tip off mainland Bangladesh , bordering Myanmar,  St.Martins is a tropical island paradise. The whole island is filled with corals, thus the name "Coral Island".  Miles and miles of untouched Coral Shoreline , the sun ,the surf ,dense flaura and rare fauna  is what St.Martin's is all about. The whole island is not more than 8km2, shrinking to about 5km2 during High tide. Home to about 7000 people, mostly fishermen, this island doesnt have a electricity supply yet. 

The Ocean in and around the island is an amazing deep blue hued sometimes taking shades of emerald , very much like the Atlantic. 

The ideal time to visit St.Martin's is between October to February. Post these months, there is always the danger of cyclones getting you stranded on the island , or your steamer being rocked violently on turbulent seas. We arrived at Cox's Bazar , boasting of the worlds longest beachline - 125kms from  point to point , on a sunny April end. Braving such fears and the warning of well meaning locals, we decided to make the journey upto St.Martins. A bus takes the travellers to the last bit of Bangladeshi land called Teknaf. From Teknaf a 2 hour Cruise journey  takes you to St.Martin's. This Journey Sure is Fun!!! Our  cruise was quite romantically named the "Keari Sindbad". It was the biggest and best in its category. Usually there are about 4-5 steamers that operate in this route during the tourist season. Being off-season , with the flow of tourists having reduced to a tickle , the other steamers were out of service.  Having seated  ourselves comfortably in the main deck, it was time for a recee of the Cruise. A two storeyed liner, not ultra - luxurious , it was filled with young couples, some of them probably on their honeymoon , middle aged potbellied gentlemen and elderly ladies, comprising of the neo-affluent Bangladeshi middle-class. The Diesel engine struts to life, spewing out black smoke,the only eyesore in such peaceful and virgin environs, there is a Public announcement system welcoming you on board and briefing you about the journey. The steamer will speed up the River Naf which flows between Bangladesh and Myanmar, arrriving at the Delta of the River , thence it will be a rolling journey up the Bay of Bengal till the Coral island is in sight.

The Naf river rises in the Arakan mountain ranges of Myanmar, thence it flows through Myanmar and Bangladesh. Akyab in Myanmar is on its left Bank, Teknaf in Bangladesh is on its right bank. Outside the famed Sundarbans, the river is home to Sundari trees . Flowing between mountain ranges, dotted with little fishing boats, Silver Hued and wide as the heart of a Saint,  the river was in true sense the "Daughter of the Mountains". As the boat cruised through the Naf, Myanmar came into view, the 36X zoom of my Nikon P-500 revealed a beautiful land nestled at the foot  of sky kissing Mountains and dotted with beautiful pagodas, but fenced with tall barbed wire fences  all through. It was a reminder that this was a country which is warning the entire world , "Keep OFF". Cut off from the world for the last 24 years , Myanmar is an enigma in itself. We are all awaiting the day when Myanmar will be opened up to the world at large and tourists would flock back to this lovely place.

The journey upto the delta of the river takes around 30 minutes. The smooth ride now becomes rather rough. The steamer starts rolling, "Welcome to the Ocean". The waves play with the boat as a small child plays with his toy boat. The silver colour of the river is replaced by the deep blue and emerald green shades of the Bay of Bengal. Its a rolly ride  upto the island. People with nauseating tendency should take adequate precaution on such journeys.
The Boat drops us at main Jetty located at St.Martin's Bazar.It would be docked there till 3.00 PM in the afternoon. Passengers returning from the Island would need to board the steamer by then. Since we didnt intend to stay back, we had much to do within a couple of hours . 
 In such circumstances it is best to go with one of the numerous Flatbed Cycle rickshaws ; these anyway are the only mode of transport inside the island. Well decorated, with flat seats that will accomodate 3 people comfortably , these colourful rickshaws are unique to this part of the world. We were taken to a beach  on the Western  End of the island, very near the cottage of the famous Bangladeshi writer Dr. Humayun Ahmed. Even  for those who have been  to some very  exotic beaches around the world, this beach would  seem stunning. White  as moon beamlight, filled with dense vegetation, dead corals strewn all around ; some of them millions of years old ;  here was something closest to the Beaches of "The Lonely Planet". Miles and miles of sandy beach   devoid of merry making holiday crowd, water as clear as a crystal revealing the bosom of an ocean filled with  corals and  jellyfish, here and there a wooden boat just back from overnight fishing, fishermen proudly displaying their Catch , tiny picturesque sea-side huts of fishermen; these sights  regaled us . On Fullmoon nights,  the island devoid of man-made illumination,  comes to life; Moonwashed; there is a mystic aura all around. On moonless nights, the island is flooded  with millions of stars above and little fishing boats out in the ocean twinkling like stars on the ground. Weary travellers running away from Overhyped and over-crowded  travel destinations would find St.Martin's  to be a welcome break. 

Time constraint forced us to skip a few interesting to-do's. The biggest attraction of a night stay at St.martin's is the night sky. On a moonless night sitting under the sky, with the small generator powered light sources shutting down within 10.00 PM, the traveller is greeted by a spectacle so unseen in big Metro cities. The Canvas of the sky is fille dup with countless stars, it seems as if the sky will collpase due to the weight  of millions of diamonds embedded on it. You will surely be blessed by this sight, the illeffects of long city stay, will definitely be washed off. In and around the island are many sights to chose from.  There is a Sea Turtle Hatchery on the Western  Side of the Island. Scuba diving enthusiasts can go Scuba diving near the southeast end of the island . Chera Dwip  is another small island near St.Martins which is accessible during low-tide only.  For foodies there is plenty to chose from ,  Lobsters, Prawns, Fresh Sea-food. Try out Shahina Restaurant in the main Bazar area . It serves some of the best sea-food in the Island.

The day was drawing to a close. The steamer started is journey back to Teknaf. As I looked back at the fast receding shoreline of St.Martin's,  I pondered  whether this island would be still around when we are back. The future looks bleak for such Island paradises. With a fast rising Ocean level, many of them would be just fables like Atlantis. The time to act is limited and the work to be done is enormous. But each bit counts. After all "The Journey of a thousand mile begins with a single step". 


                                                       On the way to Teknaf

                                             
                                                    The Naf river is home to Sundari Trees.

                                               
                                                 Keari Sinbad - Our Cruise to St.Martin's



                                          Picturesque  Naf River - The Daughter of the mountains !!!



                                             The Naf flows through sky touching montains



                                              Burma - An enigmatic world!!
   

                                           Dead Corals strewn all along the Beach @ ST.Martin's

                                               
                                                            Coral Island!!!



Coral!!!

                                                  The Crystal clear sea bed reveals corals and Jellyfish


                                  

                                                      Flat Bed Cycle Rickshaws




                                                                      Lobsters!!!

How Blue is my Bay!!!


                                  Fresh Catch from the ocean!!!


(A special Thank You to Wiki Travel for some Factual Data)