Hate but Love

Let’s not fight for so long,
that we forget the reason of the fight,
and only remember
that we have got to fight.
Let’s end this awkward silence,
and take a step,
both of us,
and rewind the tape.
Let’s be like before—
each irritate the other
doing stupid things,
that we hate but we love.

Know your Mother-Tongue ||Assamese

চিৰ চেনেহী মোৰ ভাষা জননী
(Always dear my mother tongue)
Few years back, when I was in school—to be precise, in Class 10— I had friends who said they could not read the headlines in Assamese newspapers. I felt bad hearing that. They were Assamese children, who studied from childhood in English Medium schools. But just because they studied in English Medium schools that doesn’t mean, they should not be knowing how to read or write in their own mother tongue— I felt.
Few years down the line, when I went to Mumbai for my job, and used to attend cultural gatherings in the Assam Bhawan present there, I’d see kids of affluent Assamese professionals working in Mumbai speaking amongst themselves in Hindi. I would be filled with rage. If we do not speak in Assamese, the outsiders are not going to speak in Assamese— I would think.
After spending two years in Mumbai, I started talking with my Assamese friends in Hindi. We cannot escape the influence of the environment. I realized.
But accepting someone else’s language doesn’t mean we will forget our own language.
I recall a few lines from the short story ‘The Last Lesson’ by Alphonse Daudet. (He says about his mother tongue French. The Germans had occupied their land and, only German was to be taught in their schools from the next day. It was the last lesson in French.) He said-
“…we must always retain it among ourselves, and never forget it, because when a people falls into servitude, “so long as it clings to its language, it is as if it held the key to its prison.””
Yes, as long as we hold to our language, no one can enslave us.
I’d like to cite a few lines from one of the songs of Dr. Bhupen Hazarika-
“আনৰে লগতে অসমীয়া অসমতে
যদিহে নেবাচে বাৰু ক’তনো বাচিব
মোৰ আইক ভাল পাওঁ বুলিলে
আনৰ আইক জানো ঘিণ কৰাটো বুজাব…”
(ড. ভূপেন হাজৰিকা)
Which means, if the Assamese language doesn’t survive even in Assam, where else will it survive? And loving ones mother doesn’t mean hating others’.
Assam is the land of Sankardev. It is the land of Jyotiprasad Agarwala, Lakshminath Bezbaruah. Assam is the land of Lachit. Assam has a rich heritage, a rich culture and traditions. It has a rich language. We should never forget it.
Hundreds of people have laid down their lives for the Bhasa Andolon. We should not let them down. We should teach our future generations to respect and learn their mother tongue. This is our moral obligation.
I’d like to end with a few lines of the anthem of the Assam Shahitya Shabha-
চিৰ চেনেহী মোৰ ভাষা জননী
ধন্যে পুন্যে হৃত পাৱনী,
প্ৰকৃতি পৰশ ৰসে অমল কমল
চঞ্চল হৃদি জলে ঢালে পৰিমল
কোমল চম্পাৰ কলি
ফুৰে ঢৌৱে ঢৌৱে তুলি
ৰিণিকি ৰিণিকি কোনে তোলে ৰাগিণী
সংসাৰ গুৰুভাৰে অৱশ পৰাণ
হিয়াত বিলীন হয় হিয়াভৰা গান
কাৰ নিচুকনি শুনা
শুনি বানী ব্যথা পমা
চকুতে চকুৰ নীৰে লয় জিৰণি
জীৱনে মৰণে ৰণে লহৰী সুধাৰ
ৰসনা শিতানে বহি সিঁচা শতধাৰ
হে’ মোৰ মধুৰাননা মাগিছোঁ মাধুৰী কণা
দিয়া দিয়া দিয়া আই মধু ভাষিণী
Always dear my mother tongue
‘Bajok doba, bajok xhongkho, bajok mridong khol, Oxom akou unnoti pothot, Jai Aii Axom bol”.

Autumn Nights

You come only to go,
Like the soothing autumn nights.
You come and bring momentary pleasures,
As if healing the dying trees,
With a new hope of death or life, you come;
And shed the sickness and decaying life,
Fooling people who know the truth.
Still luring them into believing the lie;
You lie you lie.
And all through your lies I could see the truth;
It is your art that I liked.
I loved to believe in your lies,
And make you happy thinking your deceived me.
You come only to go,
And leave me in this never ending winter.


Stupid memories bug me much;
Do you ever visit the memory lane?
I can’t save them how hard I clutch;
Do you ever feel the pain?

You walked out of the door,
I knew you’re never to come back.
I kept looking you through the window,
In the rain till you disappeared.

Once so close I felt your soul;
Once so blessed with your love.
What went wrong that can’t be fixed?
What happened we’re strangers now?

Today I feel so far away;
Much farther than where I stay.
I feel broken like a toy of clay;
I just wish I had a way.


Scripts in Blood

And I burn,
All through the night—
A never ending fire.
And I cry,
My tears make me blind—
Standing on my pyre.

All I try,
All I want.
All I hope;
It’s all gone bad.

And I fall;
Fall on my knees,
Begging you please.
And I wrap;
Wrap my arms,
Across the memories.

All I try,
All I love.
All I want,
Is all I lost.

And I see,
I see nothing;
Why you stranded me!
And I bleed,
Scripts I ink,
Drowning in the sea.

All I get,
All I strive.
All I bet,
Is all my life.

And I feel,
I feel too weak—
You were my energy.
And I miss,
Miss you every minute,
Miss you till eternity.

All I beg,
All I plead.
None but you,
Is all I need.


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