On your 5th Birthday

Five long years gone, painfully long
You beat evermore in our hearts' song.
One, two, three, four, and now five
Each year keeps your memory alive.

Why do God give and then reprive?
Sadly true, life without you is no jive.
Your life though short, impact is long
fond memories of you keep us strong.

Time flies, today you have turned five --
But to be by your side, I couldn't contrive.
So, here's a birthday wish moist with tear.
We miss you, we love you, our angel dear!

Hope you loved the balloons we all left
and the wooden clogs for you we kept.
You would have been five, you are five.
In our mind's eye, the dream is alive.

When you are not here

When you are not here --
No thundering sound
can silence my pain.
My timid desire longs
to hold you in my arms
a moment longer.

I know you are out where:
ocean meets the sky
clouds caress the mountain
kids run after drifting kites
autumn leaves keep you warm
dew cleanses you in the morn
birds come to sing for you
starry night blankets you.

I know you are out somewhere,
you are present everywhere
But why aren't you with me?

Each passing day laments
your not being near.
Each moment of joy and sorrow
reminds me you are not here.
Life without you is in vain
unless I'm with you again

He is not here

I whisper his name
but he heeds not.
Could he be afar!
I call out loud
but still no reply.

May be he hears
but responds not.
may be he responds
but I don't hear -
a numbing pain impairs
me momentarily.

Unsatisfied longing
fosters deep emptiness.
A wailing echoes through
the vast, empty field,
searching in vain.

The long drawn silence
finally reminds me-
He is not here.
He is not here.

Embrace

The night is dark
and the stars are bright.
Mid summer breeze whispers
through the oaks,
The stars have come down
to kiss the dark pond.
You lay still in the dead of night -

As I hold you one more time,
in my dreams,
I feel you in my arms.

Galaxy away -

can you feel my embrace?
can you feel my love?

Sleepless in Memphis

I have an acute sleep problem. I don't have difficulty falling asleep, my problem is maintaining a quality sleep through the night due to a medical condition called sleep apnea. I use a CPAP to deal with it. Modern innovation in sleep therapy helps me go through the night so I can function the next day.

But then, I do have moments when I have difficulty falling asleep. This runs counter to how people close to me know me; I am known to fall asleep whenever and wherever. But it does happen that I'm up.

The poem in Bengali is about one of those nights when I am up.

© 2009 Sanjoy Haldar

On Your 2nd Birthday

As time goes by another year
To give you I only have love and tear.

I wish I found the time machine
to fetch for your maa a medicine.
Then travel I must
back right to the past
to stop you from leaving.
But today I pray for your wellbeing!

Today, all sent their special wish
Your absence we badly miss.
From India came a small toy
But missing was the Birthday boy.

We miss you everyday
We miss you even more today
Wherever you are, whatever you do
Know that we will ever love you.

© 2009 Sanjoy Haldar

Reflecting on Durga Puja 2008

This year's Durga Puja is behind us. It is the biggest celebration among the Bengali people. It has evolved from being a religious festival to a socio-cultural phenomenon - a time for joy, fun, and merriment. A time when gifts are exchanged, people get new clothes, travel (because schools and offices are closed) or make capital purchases for their homes with the bonus from employers.

But Durga Puja to me has always brought in mixed emotions. I am always disturbed by the striking contrast of the affluence and extravaganza with which it is celebrated, particularly in and around the metropolitan Calcutta, now Kolkata [the name changed after I had left the country; I find it difficult to say or write Kolkata. I still prefer Calcutta, my birthplace, the city where I had spent my formative years, the city where I moved from childhood to adulthood] and the stark poverty. So much of pomp and grandeur and yet, right outside the glamour of the mandaps [these are temporary structures put up to house the idols of goddess Durga and her four children] is darkness - both real and symbolic. One has to be blind not to see this or be desensitized not to feel it.

Two days before this year's puja, the Nano project [India's effort to come up with the USD 2000 car] moved out of West Bengal. This could have been Bengal's pride. People associated with the project lost their livelihood; some lost all their savings/investment, and most importantly, hope. Mind it; this happened right before the puja - the day when most factory workers typically get their bonuses and do the last minute shopping for their eagerly waiting kids. That one piece of new cloth brings in so much joy. I cried at the plight of these people. I could empathize with these people. I know suffering, the pain of starvation, the indignity of going home empty handed, the misery of deep loss. I only wish Mamata [the political leader behind the failure. Her name is a misnomer. Mamata in Bengali means kindness] had some kindness.

Continue reading...

My dada (the Bengali word for elder brother) sent me an email greetings for the Puja. He rightly characterized the changes in puja celebration these days. The smell of the "Shiuli" flowers (quintessential autumn flower was so common even in the city during this time of the year when we were growing up) is gone. Pizza and pasta have taken over Moghlai Khana (Bengali for royal dish from the Moghul period!?) that we used to savor during the puja days with our pocket money. Globalization and call centers have increased the divide between the rich and the poor. Competition among the local puja organizers is so intense these days that the organizers spend millions of dollars for a simple plaque, for bragging rights for the entire next year. Traditional mandap set-ups are replaced by novel themes representing current world events and trends. Innovation and creativity in material selection (e.g. rice, caps from Coke, etc.), lighting, and every aspect of the celebration. Yet, right outside the puja premise, there may be a poor kid in his tattered clothes sucking on a Popsicle stick thrown away by someone else. This also must be a theme - my dada sighed in his note. Not that this doesn't happen every day but it doesn't get so strikingly exposed. This is what so tormenting, heart wrenching about Durga Puja.

We celebrated Puja in Memphis in our own way - the "Twenty-Twenty" equivalent of Cricket. Life in the fast lane (or is it so? do we small-towner NRIs love to think) forced us to squeeze five days of puja into one and that too after the actual puja is over. Convenience of weekend rules! Idiosyncrasies (where the priest won't do the puja) and availability of rental space all adds to the planning challenge. Despite that, we had fun. And to allow time for the ladies to show their latest acquisitions (Saree and ornaments) there was a "break" between the daytime puja and the evening event. We even had an evening cultural program for the local Bongs to showcase their talent and to claim that they are still in touch with the Bengali culture, often at the cost of completely alienating the audience. It is high time for some of these long time performers to retire. [By the way, why can't we learn from Bengal's pride Sourav who declared his retirement from International Cricket on the day of the Ashtami (8th day of the puja)?]

Since, Durga puja is a time to spend with your family and friends, a deep void in our lives re-surfaced. Moments like these, times of celebrations like this revive the memory of gifts that are lost forever. One craves for that piece of one's heart that is carved out with no treatment known to mankind to heal.

Top right is my reflection in Bengali of how the puja break this year was spent. Click on the image to get a more legible version.
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© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar

To My Son on Father's Day

How I wish you were here.

When I wake up this morning I would rather -
prepare you breakfast than take flowers to your grave,
learn together the birds in our backyard
than hear their chirps at your final resting place,
answer your zillion innocent queries
than be tormented by the dead silence of the night.

I prayed to God, before you were born that, unlike me,
you can become whatever you chose to be.
Little did I know you wanted to be free!

I remember your tiny fingers wrapped around my index.
I wished I could hold your hands as you take your first steps.
I was to protect you, provide for you, till you become self-reliant.
But the odds were against us.
Now, you are my little guardian angel.

I wanted you –
to do things that I couldn't,
to go places,
to be pure, and perfect.
Above all, I wanted you to have fun –
play soccer in the rain
or go camping with friends.

In my mind's eyes,
I have seen you score your first goal.
I see your little arms going up in jubilation and
your eyes searching for us in the stand.

So many books I read at night
but, can I ever read you one and kiss you goodnight?

Many such dreams that I had woven have withered.

I am sad, and at times mad -
what is father's day without you?

But, I thank God for giving you –
my best gift ever -
for you gave me the joy of fatherhood.
My misfortune didn’t let me fulfill my role.

I know you are in a better place now
but, in the dark of the night, as I write this,
I can't suppress my timid desire -
I just wish you were here!

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© 2008 Sanjoy Haldar