Familiar Unfamiliar||Sinaki Osinaki

Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
There is so much chaos, I’m tired;
The blueness of the blue sky is blurred;
That familiar tone of sifung calls me endlessly…
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
 
Such is the tenderness in mother’s voice;
Warmth of love is so pleasant.
By the river, in the soothing breeze
Is life-calming intoxication.
In the autumn-night’s moonlight
Grass like tender dreams arise.
Nudged by the Jasmine flower’s fragrance,
My heart starts flying endlessly.
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
 
Looking back into the past-sweet memories,
Strength of heart turns into bold melodies.
Looking back into the past-sweet memories,
I find those simple cultural philosophies.
Country stories, Mula Joymoti,
And Lachit’s Saraighat.
Grandma’s those Borgeet prayers
Tremble silently in my heart.
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
 
For the sky-thirsty people,
For the mask-sick age,
Knitting with Sifung flute’s tune,
I compose this new melody
With true love of the heart,
With sweet emotions of the mind.
 
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
 
 
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
There is so much chaos, I’m tired;
The blueness of the blue sky is blurred.
That familiar tone of sifung calls me endlessly…
Familiar faces, unfamiliar hearts;
Everyone is lost, wearing masks.
 
~KMnO4
PS:
Sifung- A traditional bamboo flute of the Bodo tribe in Assam.
Mula- Mula Gabharu was the wife of Phrasengmung Borgohain, the then Ahom commander. Mula Gabharu, died fighting against the Muslim general Turbak Khan of Bengal in 1532 A.D. to revenge the death of her husband at the hands of the enemy.
Joymoti- Joymoti Kuwori was the wife of Ahom Prince Gadapani. She was accorded the honorific Soti or Sati on account of her heroic endurance of torture until the end, dying at the hands of royalists under Sulikphaa Loraa Roja without disclosing her exiled husband Prince Gadapani’s whereabouts, thereby enabling her husband to rise in revolt and assume kingship. (The crucial point being the title was given to a woman who put up a valiant fight; widows committing Sati was not common in Assam, as it was in Bengal.)
Lachit Borphukan- Lachit Borphukan was a commander in the Ahom kingdom known for his leadership in the 1671 Battle of Saraighat that thwarted a drawn-out attempt by Mughal forces under the command of Ramsingh I to take back Kamrup. Lachit beheaded his maternal uncle for showing laxity in the construction of an embankment for the protection of the Ahom Kingdom from the Mughals, saying দেশতকৈ মোমাই ডাঙৰ নহয় which means: my uncle is not greater than my country. The best cadet of NDA is awarded the Lachit Borphukan gold medal.
Borgeet- A Borgeet is a vaishnava devotional song, popular in Assam. Literally meaning great songs, Borgeets were composed by Srimanta Sankardev and Sri Madhavdev in 15th to 16th century. They were written in Brajaboli language.
(It is my attempt to translate the song ‘Sinaki Osinaki’ by Papon. I tried my best. Forgive me if I could not do justice to the song _/\_ .)
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In search of Peace

Give me peace, give me freedom—
To craft a golden Assam.
Give me pastures, give me harvests—
Forever let us blossom.

You have tried guns and bullets and bloodsheds,
You have made innocent children cry in their beds;
Enough of this ghastly dance of death.
What will you reap?
What will you give?
Say…

Give me peace, give me freedom—
To craft a golden Assam.
Give me pastures, give me harvests—
Forever let us blossom.

The path to truth is never too late;
The heart of truth is always novel;
Too vast is the love-meadows.
The path to realization is never too late;
The heart of realization is always novel;
From ideas erupt volcanoes.

You have tried guns and bullets and bloodsheds,
You’ve made innocent children cry in their beds;
Enough of this ghastly dance of death.
What will you reap?
What will you give?
Say…

Give me peace, give me freedom—
To craft a golden Assam.
Give me pastures, give me harvests—
Forever let us blossom.

To speak the truth, we have the right;
To seek and pursue, we have the right.
What will we earn from these streams of bloodsheds?
To create a dawn new, we have the right;
To seek and pursue, we have the right;
Why will we act blind when we have our eyes perfect?

You have tried guns and bullets and bloodsheds,
You’ve made innocent children cry in their beds;
Enough of this ghastly dance of death.
What will you reap?
What will you give?
Say…

Give me peace, give me freedom—
To craft a golden Assam.
Give me pastures, give me harvests—
Forever let us blossom.

~KMnO4

PS: It is my attempt to translate the song ‘Xanti Diya’. I tried my best. Forgive me if I could not do justice to the song _/\_

For Once|| Eibeli Muk

For once, keep me in your heart.
For once, wrap in in your arms.
For once, in your shroud,
And in a blink every moment shall pass;
Every night shall.
For once, let the world see,
With feelings, light a lamp for me.
 
Thinking about you,
I spend my life.
For anyone else,
I have no time.
From the land of the moons, you bring me news;
I need nothing else, nothing else but you.
 
For once, don’t keep me waiting.
With love, please overwhelm me.
 
Every night, you come in my dreams,
And give me a kiss,
Pouring the sweet aroma of yours,
Leaving me in a state of bliss.
I feel like flying; how can I hold it?
For once, flying like an unleashed bird.
 
For once, let the stars see,
A night of union and intimacy.
For once…
And in a blink every moment shall pass;
Every night shall.
For once, let the world see,
With feelings, light a lamp for me.
 
~KMnO4
 
 PS: It is my attempt to translate the song ‘Eibeli Muk’. I tried my best. Forgive me if I could not do justice to the song _/\_ .

Westerly Winds || Mon Mur

The tender westerly winds…
 
My heart flies far away;
As if it is losing something it had someday.
My heart flies far away;
As if it is losing something it had someday.
The tender westerly winds;
The soothing shade of the trees.
 
The blooming daisies spread their petals,
And murmur some words into the ears.
The flying flock of birds,
Amidst the light and darkness of the skies.
Pouring the pang of their hearts,
Will they ever be able to say?
Will they ever be able to say what it looks for?
 
Why do I have this strong urge today?
My heart looks for a way.
The tranquilizing breeze of your scarf;
Today, it’s a sad lonely dusk.
Oh, crazy westerly winds,
Fly me and take me to the hills.
The tender westerly winds;
The soothing shade of the trees.
 
My heart flies far away;
As if it is losing something it had someday.
My heart flies far away;
As if it is losing something it had someday.
The tender westerly winds;
The soothing shade of the trees.
 
The tender westerly winds;
The soothing shade of the trees.
The tender westerly winds;
The endless stream of my dreams.
 
~KMnO4
 PS: It is my attempt to translate the song ‘Mon Mur/Phagunore Posuwa Baa’. I tried my best. Forgive me if I could not do justice to the song _/\_ .

*The Moonlight Seek*

The moonlight-
What does it seek ?
The autumn breeze-
What does it sing ?
You..
You..
Yes you..
Just you..
You..
You..
Oh you..
Just you..
The moonlight-
What does it seek …?

Early morning,
As the cuckoo cries…
A pang comes by,
And wets my eyes…
A pang comes by,
And wets my eyes…
The clouds swallow,
My dreams today,
The wind robbed me
And flew them away.
The moonlight-
What does it seek …?

In a moonlit night,
The twinkling stars…
Unleash a new magic,
Into my eyes…
Unleash a new magic,
Into my eyes…
My heart,
Flies by,
To a far away land…
To reach my village,
My village courtyard…
The autumn breeze-
What does it sing …?
You…
You…
Yes you…
Just you…
The moonlight-
What does it seek …?
The moonlight-
What does it seek …?

~KMnO4

PS: It is my attempt to translate the song ‘Junake Bisaare ki’. I tried my best. Forgive me if I could not do justice to the song _/\_ .

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