Proyaaxh 1st Edition Dr.Ashok Kumar Pansari Dr.AshokChancellor Kumar Pansari RoyalChancellor Global University Royal Global University Patrons Patrons Sri A.K. Modi SriPro A.K. Chancellor Modi RoyalPro Global Chancellor University Royal Global University Prof. (Dr.) S.P. Singh Prof.Vice (Dr.) Chancellor S.P. Singh RoyalVice Global Chancellor University Royal Global University Mr. Ankur Pansari ExecutiveMr. Ankur Vice-President Pansari ExecutiveGyan Sagar Vice-President Foundation Gyan Sagar Foundation Ms. Angira Mimani Ms. AngiraRegistrar Mimani Royal GlobalRegistrar University Royal Global University Prof. A.K. Buragohain Prof.Chairperson A.K. Buragohain - Academic ChairpersonRoyal Global - University Academic Royal Global University
Members Prof. (Dr.) Krishna Barua Dr. Jasmine Choudhury Dr. Nilakshi Goswami Ms. Indrakshi B Ms. Riju Devi Ms. Chandni Khaund Ms. Tamsin Islam Ahmed Confluence of thoughts What's Inside?
5 The Boatman's Song - Prof. Krishna Barua, Department of English
6 Kumiho - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English, 2nd semester
8 জীৱনৰ ৰং -ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক
9 A Tragic Thought - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester
11 Jacaranda- Prof. Krishna Barua
12 Abode of clouds- Samayeeta Singha, M.A. Geography
13 Art According To Me – Dianalaxmi Nameirakpam, BFA, 6th semester
13 The Incredible Story of Bhoot Jolokia - Senorita Das, 4th Sem RSHMCT 13 One Day - Biraj Poddar, B.A. English, 6th semester
15 আশা- িৰকী তালকু দাৰ
17 The Only Constant – Change - Parismita Baruah, M.A. English 2nd semester
18 The Poesy Closet
23 Assamese Cinema on Crutches - Pratik Deka, B.A. Political science, 4th semester
Is the catalyst of the “longest” budget enough to fight slowdown? - Namrata 27 Nandi, Parbin Sultana Saikia, B.A. Economics, 4th semester 29 Chakpa Phayeng - Fiza Choudhury, B.Sc 4th Travel and Tourism Management
Through the eyes of Rene Girard - Petrus Baraik, BFA, 2nd 30 semester
32 Photo Stock
33 In Art
Inside Poesy Woman with a Red Shawl Reema Swargiary, M.A 2nd Closet English
ফা নীৰ িবয়া by Jeemani Chowdhury, MA Economics
নাৰীৰ িনিমে আহা য ু িদওঁ এবাৰ by Prantik Prabal Roy, MA English
The Green Eyed Monster by Syeda Mehnaz Jahan, MA History
The Golden Bird - Prajoyeeta Kashyap, MA Political science.
Pink and Black - Firoza Kauser, BA English.
A Woman's Memories - Nayanika Saikia, BA English.
Blackwater Bleeding - Anuraag Das, BA English. The boatman's song -Prof. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English
Leaning on the forehead of a dusty day, we crossed avenues lined with trees mimosa green and scarlet from the big river to the small river Kulsi .The river, saffron mantle clad, combing with a comb that is golden the wet hair of memory as white as snow. The teeming river flowed on, through the eternal longing of kohl lined eyes astir in floating clouds and the sighing trees. This magh ,and so many other maghs was suddenly a joy , a surprise, bursting into a blaze of flames.
The boatman sang the song of the Bard, ‘Moi jetia ai jibonor maya ari gusi jaam ….” then with the beating of the oars he sang a rabha song,handed down to him a thousand aeons back, the words and language lost in the folds of time. “What is the meaning of the song” asked Ayushman. The boatman shook his head and sang on. the song, reverberating in anguish under overcast skies caressed the slumberless river with the hues of the blazing terracotta sun, burdened with betrayals and years of grief. It echoed over the scorching earth uncovering and peeling off layers and layers of scorned loves and tales; as the unseen sun filtered through the river,creating thousands of colliding, cascading, dilating desires ! And Chandni’s tinkling laughter touched the shadows slowly sliding up the edges of the dusky sky , like a soft silken scarf with scarlet dreams — sky the color of amethyst,of russet leaf . A walk back, still. Then the sun was endless and so was the February sky, Playing on each day apiece.and as I pressed my fingers on the the ripples of the river time disappeared for a moment. Down the bend, the dismantled ribs of the dry trees stretched out, across the riverway, pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss. At that time the light crossed the threshold to start the days of a sun drenched summer. On another boat I embarked once more,with new mates, off an alien shore .
Maybe at night, the sapphires and diamonds would come out in their thousands and a poet with a quiet voice and wistful eyes would carry those gems over to that secluded green bank pure and clean, with drooping trees and the inky bower overhead. What sky? What lane? What words? Someone else. Something else. .
0 5 . THERE IS SOMETHING MORE COMPLICATED THAN FALLING IN LOVE ITSELF AND THAT IS FALLING IN LOVE WITH A NINE TAILED FOX
KUMIHO Parismita Baruah
Love is never a blinded voyage into the sea. No one ever goes on a quest, searching for it. In most cases, love simply happens without anyone ever hoping for it or even consciously looking for it. Love finds you, you don't find it. Love comes into your life as unexpectedly as a storm and tangles itself into it. And once it tangles itself in, it will never let go. If what I have just said about love makes you think that love alone is complicated enough, then that is wrong. There is something more complicated than falling in love itself and that is falling in love with a nine tailed fox. What is a nine tailed fox you ask? Well, that is where my story begins.
I went to the enchanting country of Arcadia once, and to an equally enchanting forest known as the Forest of Shalom. Being a city dweller, I took quite a while to really explore the place that I was visiting for the first time in my life. And it appeared to be so breathtakingly beautiful that I and my friends decided to go for a forest walk. Due to the scorching heat of the sun, we thought it would be best to venture out in the evening. So, we all embarked on our trip to the Forest of Shalom. Darkness made its way into the forest. I almost lost my senses when I found myself all alone. I got so involved in watching the beautiful peacock and following it, that I got detached from my group. It was pitch dark by then. I could just hear the rustling of leaves and the strange cries of some animals. I had no idea what to do and so I thought I'd better wait for the night to get over. As night fell, the forest looked scarier as ever. I climbed up a tree, and decided to spend the night there. I was tired and so I fell asleep after a while. It was not long when I woke up with a start, hearing a loud cry of what seemed like a woman. It nearly made me fall down the tree branch I was perched on. I peeped through the branches of the tree, trying to see if there was somebody out there in the dark. I saw a human like figure advancing towards the tree in which I had taken shelter. It was a girl! Her face glowing so bright in the dark, she was an extraordinarily beautiful young lady.
0 6 Never had I seen a lady as magnificently beautiful as her. She was in white and looked so serene. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. In no time, she was standing right near the tree, looking up at me. I decided to climb down the tree, thinking she must have lost her way, just like me. She was looking straight into my eyes, as if she was in a constant quest of something. As I stood in front of her, she gave me the sweetest smile ever. I couldn’t help but admire her. I asked her if she lost her way back just like me. She said nothing at all but smiled. After sometime she said something that left me in utter shock. She was a nine tailed fox! Being a skeptic I did not believe her at first but the few moments that transpired after, convinced me beyond any doubt, that I was in the presence of something or someone supernatural. A moment right after her mysterious confession a wild boar came out of the woods into the clearing, charging at us. I could see my life flashing before my eyes. The lady’s (kumiho's) eyes started to sparkle a bright green and she was able to hypnotize the boar into pausing for a brief second and bowing down to her while I remained still, as an innocent child , a mute spectator peeping through tightly shut eyes from behind her. In fear as well as in a newfound intrigue for the woman who had rescued me, I hugged her tight and whispered into her white and tender elf like ear that I loved her with all my heart, with all my being. You see, kumihos eat human hearts and livers in order to survive and so technically you could say that I fell for my predator. The kumiho looked at me with silver lined tears creeping down her face. Most men would fall in love with her instantly for her beauty and would runaway when they found out who she really was, not giving her a single chance to show the genuine goodness of her inner being and this made her drown in silent ponds of sorrow and melancholy. I loved her despite who she was and she loved me for loving her. And with my love for her, I had the power to change her into a human being, as her godmother had always told her about another Kumiho who had come to earth a million years ago and had found her true love, got married and was able to become a human being. You see, a Kumiho is capable of changing herself if she marries a devoted human man as per traditional customs. It was becoming darker towards midnight and with great elation at the thought of me marrying her, the Kumiho flew as a gust of wind into the air and under the silent sparkle of the silver moonlight, I could see her nine tails of white feathers congregate like a peacock fan around her as a halo. Her immortal and pure beauty made me look at her as a human, a woman and I loved her even more. On the day of our wedding I looked into her porcelain face and called her by a name I had given her. The name was Ruth, inspired by the beautiful and pious Ruth of the bible. The days after our wedding were the most beautiful days of my life. We lived predominantly in the Forest of Shalom. Every day I would awake to her strawberry scented fragrance. She would already be awake, staring innocently into my sleeping and silent face before dawn approached. Her kiss every morning would remind me of the wild eyed faery in Keats’ “la belle dame sans merci”. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Lily garlands would cascade down her golden brown tresses. No matter how busy she was, she would always surrender her porcelain body into my warm and tentative embrace. Her smell was the fragrance of the first day of spring soothed by summer rain, the undying, eternally powerful scent of a woman in whom, I would fall into a powerless trance. She was an amazing woman and with her, I felt like a new man. She made me the most powerful man with her tender and deeply faithful touch as well as the most powerless one, in the way she would tease me playfully everyday by the lake. Her presence and her absence meant everything to me and every breath that she left behind in the transparent frozen air became a permanent aching as well as a blissfully soothing deep imprint inside every chamber of my heart. 0 7
One day we were playing as usual by the lake, when I suddenly heard a gunshot and felt a sharp jab in my right shoulder. Ruth came running to me and as I fell into her arms my blood began to spread its crimson talons into her white porcelain palms. A hunter had shot me by mistake while attempting to kill one of the many deer that roam around the forest. It was definitive soon that I was beyond all aid and would die in a few moments. And then my darling Ruth did the most unimaginable thing to save her lover’s life. I suddenly felt her warm and trembling lips on mine while one of her brave and silent tears rolled across my slowly dying face. As she kissed me I could feel something coming into my mouth. It was a sort of an orb of some kind. I could slowly feel the pain that had previously clutched at my body, numbing away until it began to feel as though it had not been wounded in any way at all. It was nthen that I realized what she had done. She had given me a magical bead that resided in her body (in others words her magical heart, the source of all her extraordinary powers). Even though after the wedding, she was slowly turning into a human, she was still only half a human being. Five of her tails had withered and had fallen off. But four still remained and this was what had made her half a human and yet half an animal. After she gave me the bead, the most important and essential thing in her, that kept her alive, she slowly fell unconscious in my arms. I could feel her cold body against mine. She collapsed in my arms and a round heavy tear came rolling down my eyes and fell on her weak lifeless body. Her now-olive toned skin looked pale winter white in the bright daylight, her silky smooth mess of golden brown tresses turned into deep black locks. My eyes were murky with tears; my whole body slumped as I put my arms around her and pulled her close to give her the last kiss of my life. She had died, my lover, quite literally by giving her heart to me. And yet even though she was dead physically with her body decaying, she’ll always live in this world through my love, for my love is immortal. The memories of our life, of our moments of happiness and love will জীৱনৰ ৰং be forever etched in the tumultuous scars upon my heart and shall forever be ------ড° িদেলাৱাৰ হক there until life closes its curtains on me. সেপানৰ বীজ িসিচঁ
সেপান ভঙাৰ আখৰা চলায়…
জীৱন নাটৰ কােনা চিৰ ৰ
িনিবচৰাৈকেয় এেনদেৰই ৰং সলায়
সৰল মনৰ গৰাকীেয়
কৃ ি ৰমতাৰ চাকৈনয়াত িদক হৰুৱায়
কপালৰ িলখন বুিল সা না িদ A Warrior Within, Pringsrang W কৱল িনজৰ ভাগ ক িধয়াই… Sangma BFA 6th বােৰ বােৰ মৰমৰ সেপানেবাৰ sem medium Acrylic on Canvas আশাহত হ আঘাত ৰা হয়
পূৰ ৰ ঘাঁ নু কাওঁেত
পুনৰবাৰ আ ৰা হয়…
ভাগিৰ যাৱা মনেটােৱ
তথািপেতা হািৰ নাযায়
সুগম বাট িবচািৰ পাৱাৰ আশােৰ
জীৱেন গিত পথ সলায়
সময়ৰ সাঁতত সৰল মনেটােৱ
িনজৰ গিত পথত আগবািঢ় যায়…! 0 8
A T R A G I C T H O U G H T
B i r a j P o d d a r
Have you ever wondered what you mean to the author, the one who wrote what you are reading, or the one whose work you like to read? The hours it took; the exhaustion of words, synonyms of better words but with deeper meaning. I believe that the reader is the most insignificant fraction of a book.
In its broader scheme of ideas and the dimensions it touches, the aim of the book is to tell. The aim of the book is to let know. The aim is to tell, but to the society as a large and not one particular reader per say. Yes, people make up the society and these people are the readers. But, people perish one after another and they are renewed and replaced by more people born from the ones who died and it carries on. The society on the other hand exists as a constant fact of life. The society always survives; it thrives in all manner and matter. The society evolves, it changes, and it both develops and decays. But, it always exists. It always survives and that is what the author seeks for their work; survival. The desire for existing with the society, in the society, throughout the many societies that already exist and the societies those are yet to evolve. You reader have never been short in number, never been short of criticism, of your own little words about how and what should have been written. Does all of this matter to the writer? It does for the ones whose idea is not to tell but to sell. I believe that all great writers are great because they tell and though the idea to sell is necessary for their sustenance, it was never their priority. To tell a story is the innate desire of a genius author.
0 9 You postmodern, post-colonial, millennial reader. You are not the society of the yesteryears. You are the society of the decadent future that the poets and writers correctly predicted. Though, some were optimistic about you, but at least once all of them despised the inevitability of you, your existence, you being the future, your present which they did resent. You, the reader of today, you need cafés and coffees and corners to read. You, full of void, fallen from nature and frivolous in mixture, what do you understand of the immense gravity of epics and sonnets and poems of the Great War, of the Great Time and the Great Dream? You do not, you cannot; you can just vaguely comprehend but never truly Be understand. But, there is still hope for you. There is still time, because even if you perish while trying, the society will still exist. Even if you fail, your attempt for renewal, for survival along with the society is a rebel in a sea what will matter. Because it is you who will shape the future of tomorrow, it is you who will give birth to the people of tomorrow, it is you who will fill up and influence the society of tomorrow. So think well, of corrupts and understand well, and most of all; read well. Do not read for the sake of reading, do not read for the sake of measuring, and do not read for the sake of boasting. But, read for your own self and for the sake of degenerates.Ini tomorrow. It will be a lot of labour that you will have to undertake. A humungous task consisting many painstaking labours. But, that is what is required to repair the present and restore the future. Be a rebel in tiate revolts a sea of corrupts and degenerates. Initiate revolts not for disturbance but for betterment. You are the present, but you shape the future. Thus you are the future; the hope of rejuvenation. You are humanity. not for You are mankind. disturbance And me, who am I? I am a tragic figure. Not a tragic hero, but just a figure. What is my tragedy? but for I am part of you. I am you. And I have a lot of work to do, both for you and our children of tomorrow. betterment. And even though I tend to be indolent like you, I cannot afford to be you. I need to be a rebel within.
You need to be a rebel within. I am a tragic figure, not a tragic hero…yet.
Skull and Bolts, Techi Tagu The Bronze Man, Bedanta Whirl of life, Daina Laxmi N Tara BFA 6th Sem Medium Das 6th sem BFA Medium BFA 6th sem medium Found sculpture Fiber object Sculpture
1 0 JACARANDAI n s i d e t h e I s s u e Prof. Krishna Barua, Dept. of English
It was only yesterday, on the dusty lanes lined by the aged trees and the staid concrete structures of the ancient city, that I saw that single tree. A lone Jacaranda , delicate and young, yet flowering, a whiff of poetry as it were, in defiance as it were, round the bend of the stone quarries. If it pleased me to appear to you thus! The Jacaranda ,replete with the indigo, lilac, purple shades of some other life, of shades of some other childhood, and the rolling mists of some other time when the sun would go to sleep in the gorges which had hidden itself between the two mountains. The Jacaranda.
And as quickly, the train whistled past the long stretch of the blue hills,like a lighted caterpillar, and the swirling dust of March blotted the distant sun and the Jacaranda tree. Down the bend,the dismantled ribs of the old city stretched out, across the river-way, pondering whether this was any time to lament a loss.
Even before that, perhaps many aeons ago, when the Jacaranda bloomed, scattering its lilac petals over the lawn, embroidering it as it were, Ma would open her bedroom window just as the dawn broke out , and exclaim: “See the colour of the Lord, Shri Krishna,come a visiting in the morn!” It was much later, when I was about thirteen, that there arose in me a strange feeling of a single acquaintance with this other private boudoir bending overhead, building a cocoon of experiences, intangible and clinging, reflecting and reverberating like waves in a long forgotten tune.
1 1 L I T E R A R Y J O U R N A L
A B O D E O F T H E C L O U D S
Samayeeta Singha
Ibn Battuta rightly said,“Travelling- It leaves you speechless, and then turns you into a storyteller”, for I have been speechless after my trip to Meghalaya with our class.
On the 15th of February 2020, we, the students of the department of Geography, of the second semester, along with our tourism teacher, Mr. Ritwik Sharma, went tracking to the beautiful hilly terrain of Meghalaya. It was a short trip of two days and one night but quite a memorable one. The Living Root Bridge and Wei sawdong were the two places we looked forward to visit. It was my first time and I was thrilled.
We packed our bags with home-cooked food and snacks, and got picked up by the bus. That's when our journey started. First, we decided to visit the Living Root Bridge.
Although, Meghalaya is not far from Guwahati, it took us almost three hours to reach the Living Root Bridge. Located in the Jaintia Hills, the members of the Khasi tribe, trained them to grow from the roots of ancient rubber trees, native to the northeast region. There were more than 3000 steps and everyone had to trek up and down. We bought bamboo sticks from some teenage boys to help climb the steep stairs. The same day, we went to see the Double Decker root bridge, after settling our luggage in our home-stay. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Made out of aerial root of rubber fig, it is 50 meter long and 1.5 meter wide and estimated to be around 500 years old. The other highlights were the waterfalls and the natural swimming pools that made the whole surrounding seem like paradise.
1 2
After a long day, we returned to our homestay. Exhausted, we freshened up and started munching on the home cooked snacks we brought. We played games, told stories, and even heard a few spine- chilling ghost stories from our khasi friends.
The next day, we went to Wei sawdong waterfall, which is located in sohra. Dareenia, Venetia and Lawanri happily guided us to it. We had to walk through a whole forest, but it was all worth it. The Wei sawdong fall is beautiful beyond words. Untouched and pure, this 3 step waterfall is the most beautiful thing I experienced from nature. I tried to capture the mesmerizing view in my mind.
It was almost lunchtime and since, we could not find any restaurant there, we travelled an hour to Cherrapunji and had our lunch in Cafe Cherrapunji, then traveled back to Guwahati around 10 pm.
My trip to Sohra was a wish fulfilled and I realized how magnificent our world is, and how wonderfully blessed, we are, to live in it.
The trip ended but my mind still wanders in Meghalaya.
Anatomy of a wooden slab. Ankita Das 2nd Sem BFA Medium Pen and Ink
A RT ACCORDING TO ME
D i a n a L a x m i n a m e i r a k p a m
For a long time art has played a very important role in man’s life. Art is universal and because art is everywhere, we experience it on daily basis. From the houses we live in, the movies we watch, to the books that we read. Even in ancient culture art has played a very important role; in prehistoric times cave dwellers drew on the walls of caves to record history. Most art is created for a specific reason or purpose, it has a way of expressing ideas and beliefs, and it also recorded the experiences of all people. It might be religious, symbolic, literal, traditional or just a glimpse of the artist’s experience. “Art is an emotion flowing in a river of imagination”. Art, everywhere, is the result of one’s creativity and imagination. Art is in the things we use every day, and always come across without paying attention. Without art one cannot see anything beautiful because art adds attraction and beauty to anything. Art may also help in forgetting the world and letting the mind be a free bird soaring the skies, safe from the dangers of life. Art is very important in our life, because without art the world be extremely depressing, without inspiration, and boring!
1 3 ONE DAY
B i r a j p o d d a r
One day. There will be no regrets
No shying from the truth No need for contempt
No sighing in debts.
One day. We can all sit in peace
Have no more worries Be wholly at ease
Bid not an ear to A Guwahati Skyline, Rebek Rothangmawi Leiri BFA 2ND SEM Medium watercolor fear. And in joy we will pay a visit
To discern how we lived And missed it all before this.
One day.
THE INCREDIBLE There will be time For both you and I
STORY OF BHOOT For both fancy and sublime As we stare at the open sky.
JOLOKIA With broad minds and streets And no bleating retreats;
b y S e n o r i t a D a s Roads all straight with no bends Abating the hideous intents.
That one day,
The king chilli is everywhere at the Ima Keithel. Located in Imphal, the capital of the Northeast India We will not be n state of Manipur, it is the world’s largest women-run marketplace as well as a de facto showcas for the here Or the world for us to bear. chilli, with flaming-red piles on blue tarpaulin where it has been set out to dry. October is the best season if Nor to see the you want fresh and great quality chillies. children grow And avoid the ranting row;
The king chilli is known by many names in northeast India: Bhut Jolokia in Assam, Umorok in Manipur, and As we bid farewell To all who are still well, Raja-Mircha in Nagaland. Although its size, texture and heat level differ depending on the region it’s grown in, it is always plump and smooth, typically as long as an index finger, and can be distinguished by its glossy, As they sell my books and me saturated, red colour and acidic penetrative smell. This pungency divides the loyalists from the naysayers, but Which were ever personal. everyone agrees that the chilli possesses layers of flavour that are expressed differently based on whether it is One day! pounded, sliced or fermented. But in the United States, where the chilli is known widely as the ghost pepper, I still wait for it’s infamous for its fiery heat, not its flavour. In India’s eight north-eastern states, populated by 225 ethnic the day to come, tribes, the chilli has been a way of life for generations; it prevailed even during the decades of violent ethnic Until then sink in conflicts and insurgencies that plagued the region. whisky and rum.
And I think – the ancient order, Everyone thinks chillies only have heat, but they are about much more. Indigenous food culture may be That follows a drink. considered vague in the West, but in the forests of Manipur and the mountains of Nagaland, the king chilli is a “When was it that reminder that spice is a matter of taste, as well as a method of survival. With the constant chaos around, living I last lived?” It was when I still had pomp, a peaceful life has become difficult. Maybe our ancestors knew that hard times would come. So they gave us the malcha, which we put it in meat, grind it, and consume it, that it may keep us safe during trying times. And men had grit.
1 4 আশা
"মিণ, অ' মিণ, ভাতেকইটা দ ঐ!" এইবুিল দীপৰ িচঞৰ িণ মিণেয় তাইৰ িতিনমহীয়া স ানেটাক কাচত ল চৰুত ৰাি থাৱা ভাতেকইট বািঢ় িদেল িগিৰেয়কৈল। িদেপ ক' ল, "বুিজছ মিণ, আিজ টকােকইটা পােলই স য়ত গ িদ থ আিহম, ঋণেবাৰ এেনৈকেয় পিৰেশাধ কিৰব লািগব।" "িপেছ, িকবা হেনা সুেতা িদব লািগব। যাৱােবিল ৰাইেজ আিহ সিকয়াই থ গেছ। নহ' ল আইহঁেত িদয়া কৰুেযাৰেক িদ িদম। ঋণ নমিৰবেন তিতয়া?" মিণেয় বজাৰ মেনেৰ ক' ল। ভাত খাই থকা দীেপ চকু েলা টু িক-টু িক উ ৰ িদেল, " তাক অকেণা সুখ িদব নাৱািৰেলাঁ ঐ মিণ, তাকেনা িকেহ পাইিছল মাৰ দেৰ এটা অকৰ্মণ ৈল আিহবৈল? কণমািনজিনৰ িচিকৎসাত ইমান ধন লািগব বুিল মই কাহািনও ভবা নািছেলাঁ!" "এহ, তই একা এইেবাৰ এিতয়ােহ উিলয়াব পাৱ ন? শাি ত ভাতেকইটা খাই কামৈল যা চান। এেনও কােনা স দৰ মূল তাৰ আৰু কণতৈক বিছ হ'ব নাৱােৰ। ঈ ৰৰ কৃ পাত থািকবৈল এটা পজাঁ আৰু দুেবলা দুমুিঠ আহাৰ আেছ, গাটৰ পৰা লাৱা ধনেকইটাৰ ঋণ পিৰেশাধ কিৰ যাম দ নেদখাজনৰ আশীৰ াদত! বন কৰা ঘৰৰ মািলকনী বাইেদেৱ এেহজাৰ িদম বুিল ক থেছ ৰ'।" তাইৰ কথাত মনেটা অলপ সবল হ'ল দীপৰ।
আিজ সামবাৰ। িৰ াৰ যা ৰীও পাৱা যাব িযেহতু ু ল, কেলজ আিদ সকেলা খালা। কণৈল চাই দীপ গ'লৈগ িৰ াখন ল। ৰিববাৰ দিখ ঘৰৈল যাৱা সকেলা আিজ কৰ্মমুখী হ'ব। ভাল ভাড়া পাম বুিল িস ঘাইপেথেৰ ঢাপিল মিলেল বাছ আ ানৈল বুিল। আিজ আচিৰতভােৱ িপেছ এখেনা বাছ নািছল। িস িনৰাশ হ পুনৰ টাউনৰ ফােল ৰাওনা হ'ল। সৗভাগ ৰেম িস বাটত এজন যা ৰী পােল। যা ৰীজেন ক' ল, " তামাক মই দহ টকা বিছৈক িদম, মাক এই িতিনআিলেটাৈলেক ল ব'লা। ব অসুিবধা বুিজছােন, এই ব েবাৰ িদেছ িদয়ক িক যাতায়াত ব কিৰব নালােগ নহয়।" "িকহৰ ব দাদা?" "আিজ জাতীয় সংগঠনেবােৰ ব িদয়া নাই জােনা?" "অ' হয় নিক, িৰ াৰ ব নাই িদয়ক। উঠক, অিতিৰ ভাড়া অিবহেনই আেপানাক ল যাম।" এইবুিল ক িস যা ৰীজন কিঢ়য়াই িনেল িনৰ্ধািৰত ানৈল।
এইফেল মিণ ব হ পিৰল তাইৰ কঁ চ ৱােটাৰ সেত। টাপিন গ' লই তাই যাবৈগ দনি নৰ দেৰ আনৰ ঘৰত বন কিৰবৈল। তাইৰ স ানেটাক যমৰ দৱু াৰডিলৰ পৰা ঘৰূ াই আিনব পৰােটা তাইৰ বােব তাইৰ মনৰ সাহসৰ এক চৰম পৰী া আিছল। টকাৰ অভাৱত তাইক ভাল িচিকৎসকৰ াৰা িচিকৎসা দান কিৰব পৰা হাৱা নািছল। অৱেশষত এক বজু ন পিৰমাণৰ ঋণ ল' ল তাই গঁাৱেৰ স য় গাটৰ পৰা, য'ৰ ঋণ হয়েটা তাই এই জীৱনত পিৰেশাধ কিৰব নাৱািৰব। যা হওক, ইমান সং ামৰ িপছেতা
1 5 িনজৰ চকু ৰ মিণেটা সু -সবল কিৰব পৰােটােৱ তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ বােব আিছল পৰম সে াষৰ কথা।
গধুিলৰ বিল মাৰ যাঁও-যাঁও অৱ া। িনশােটােৱ যন শংকাৰ দিলচা পািৰ িদেছ কমলাৰঙী আকাশখনত। আিজ দীপ দুপৰেবলা ভাত খাবৈল নািহল। হয়েটা দৈৰৰূ ভাড়া পাইিছল, এইবুিল ভািবেল মিণেয়। এইফেল আেবিল গাটৈল যাৱা কথা কথাও আিছল। িকজািন আেহােত সামােয়ই আেহ। চািকেটা লাই গাঁসাই ঘৰৰ পৰা ওলাই তাই তাঁহাতৰ ঘৰৰ ফােল এখন গাড়ী অহা দিখেল। পুিলচৰ গাড়ী যন লািগিছল। তাই পদিলমূ ুখৈল আ ৱাই গ'ল। পুিলচ এজন গাড়ীখনৰ িভতৰৰ পৰা নািম আিহ তাইৰ ফােল খাজ ল' ল। মনত অলপ শংকা আিছল িকয়েনা তাহািনৰ িদনত দীপ চু িৰ কাৰ ত িল হিছল। আিজও যিদ... "ইয়াত কােনাবা িৰ া চালক থােক নিক?" "হা, অ' হয়, মাৰ ামী, বৰ্তমান কামৈল গেছ।" িঠক তেনেত দুজন কিন বেল বগা কােপােৰেৰ আৱৰা িকবা এটা নমাই আিনেল। মিণেয় এেকােকই বুিজব পৰা নািছল। পুিলচ জেন তেনেত ক' ল, "আিজ অসম ব আিছল। তামাৰ ামীেয় হয়েটা নাজািনিছল। টাউনৈল িৰ া ল গিছল। ব সমাৰ্থক এচােম তাৰ িৰ াখন চু ৰ্মাৰ কৰাৰ লগেত তােকা ৰুলা- ৰুিলৈক ৰহাৰ কিৰেল। আিম হা তালৈল তাক ৰৰণ কৰাৰ সময়েত িস শষ িন াস ত াগ কেৰ।" মিণৰ মূৰত যন সৰগ ভািগ পিৰল। তাইৰ চকু ৰ আগত ভাঁিহ উিঠল তাইৰ আৰু দীপৰ কণমািনজিনৰ মুখখন। তাইৰ যন সাহস নহ'ল সই িনঠৰ হ পিৰ থকা দীপৰ মৃত শৰীৰেটাৈল চাৱাৰ, িকজািন সচাৈকেয়ঁ সইয়া দীেপই হয়! ধৰ হৰুৱাই শাক সহ কিৰব নাৱািৰ মািটত িবচু ৰ্িত হৰুৱাই পিৰ গ'ল তাই।
িপেছ ভু ল কাৰ? কােনা সংবাদ মাধ মৰ লগত স ৰ্ক নথকা, দিৰ ৰতােৰ জৰ্জিৰত, ব স ৰ্েক অ াত হ িদনেটাৰ হািজৰা আৰ্িজবৈল যাৱা দীপৰ, ন সই ৰিতবাদকাৰীসকলৰ, িযসকেল খঙৰ ভমকেত মানৱতা হৰুৱাই পলাইিছল, ন সই গাদীত বহা সইসকলৰ িযসকেল িহংসা অিবহেন হাৱা আে ালনক ৰু ই িনিদেয়। দীপৰ দেৰ পিৰ ৰম কিৰ খাৱা আৰু ঋণৰ বাজাত পাত গ পিৰয়ালক পাহ-পাল িদয়া লাকসকলৰ দুৰ্গিতৰ কথা ভািববৈল আহিৰ কাৰ? াৰ্থপৰ, আেপানেপটীয়া ভাৱধাৰীেনা দৰাচলেত কান? ব ৰ সৰ া ক ৰভাৱৰ বিল িচৰিদেন য এেন এচাম দিৰ ৰ লাক হয় সইয়া িনি ত। ইয়াৰ িপছৰ পৰ ায়ৰ কথা িবে ষণ কিৰ না কােন চায়? আে ালনৰ িপছৰ পৰ ায়ত হয়েটা দাবীও পূৰণ হ'ব, িক িযসকেল ত াগ িদেছ, তওঁেলাকৰ খবৰ লওঁতা বা িবচাৰ কেৰাঁতা কােনা নাই। আিম ইমােনই নীচ পৰ ায়ৈল নািমেলা ন য মানৱতা হৰুৱাই এচামৰ জীয়াই থকাৰ অিধকাৰ খৰ্গ কিৰব পািৰেল!
মিণেয় এিতয়া ইঘেৰ-িসঘেৰ বন কেৰ। তাইৰ কণমািনজনীৰ া েৰা অৱনিত ঘ েছ। ঋণৰ বাজা লাৱােটা তাইৰ বােব ক কৰ হ পৰাৰ বােব গঁাওখন এৰাৰ কথা ভািবেছ তাই। সকেলা সব া হাৱা মিণৰ 'আশা' বত মান তাইৰ কণমািনজনী। তাইেয় যন একমা ৰণাৰ উৎস মিণৰ বােব। এই 'আশা'ক লেয় তাই ভিবষ তৈল আগবািঢ় যাব লািগব।।
গ েটাৰ ৰচিয়তা:
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