Notes from a living room: 1

Done with my Deutsch classes, and finally today, the Deutsch-Prufung(the test). Max Mueller Bhavan (Goethe Institute) has set its standards very high. Not only the pass marks is 60 percent but also the level of the exam is tough too.

by the way I found a few fascinating poems from Jibanananda Das' page. I will be more than happy to share one of them here.

"আমি কোন এক পাখির জীবনের জন্য অপেক্ষা করছি
তুমি কোন এক পাখির জীবনের জন্য অপেক্ষা করছো
হয়তো হাজার হাজার বছর পরে
মাঘের নীল আকাশে
সমুদ্রের দিকে যখন উড়ে যাবো
আমাদের মনে হবে
হাজার হাজার বছর আগে আমরা এমন উড়ে যেতে চেয়েছিলাম।"

For those who don't understand Bengali or have problems with Bengali font in their computer, here is my English translation...

"I am waiting for a bird's life
You are waiting for a bird's life
Maybe after thousand of years
In the blue sky of a spring
We will fly towards the sea
And remind that
Thousand of years ago we wanted to fly away like this"


The poem has made me emotional enough to confess something today. Many years ago someone wanted to see my stories, and I didn't let her see those. It wasn't that I was ashamed of something, it wasn't that I was shy, it wasn't that I didn't want her to see those or anything else...I don't even know why I said no to her that day. And given a chance, one day, I will sit beside her and read out each and every story of mine to her. But anyway, that's a whole different thing.

The monsoon always makes me emotional, and makes me wonder. So many good memories are there from the past. Times I spent at our ancient place, with my grandparents...our ancient home, the asbestos roof we had on our kitchen, and when the rain would come down it would make a rhythmic sound at the asbestos. I was a child of ten, or less. Soon I went to my hostel and found a different life there. Life has made me wonder on several things...and the best part is the best memories are always with me. I hope one day I meet Ruskin Bond, and I will discuss the effect of rain on human mind.

And finally, why do I call it 'Notes from a living room'...first, it has a similarity with one of Bond's writings 'Notes from a small room' and second, as I rarely mention it to anyone, it's a living room that I pass my life. Our flat is a one-bedroom flat and I have to pass my life at our dining-cum-living room. It's good by the way. But sometimes you would really feel grateful if you had some privacy. It's sort of a no-private room. But anyway, I live. And what is amusing, is that I have actually made a story out of this experience of living in a room where a person doesn't have any privacy, under the heading 'The no-private room'. It's kind of funny though. But I don't regret. Having a separate room for yourself is what everyone wants. Maybe someday I will have a big house for my family. I can wait till that.


And I have a question, as I intend to finish the note...when a person finds his true love, does that love find him back too? Just something to think about.


--11th August.