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Bibhas Roy Chowdhury
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(For Oishi) Our selfish days pass in eating, sleeping , brawling , and bragging. Thus, I’d forgotten one of my daughters. Her name is Oishi, a brilliant student, timid ,and fond of parents’ love. A wee lass! What’ll the fathers dream about her ? Is it about her winning a big job one day, or her touring around the world, or her making a nest with her lover, or rather her bringing along another wee lad and saying, “Dad ,handle this imp!”? We people sleep within these dreams , as if life were all bread and butter. Meanwhile, I’d forgotten that Oishi herself was an imp. The rising crimson sun is her friend. She can’t stand the sight of any injustice. While protesting, that little imp becomes the strongest ever person in the world. Her tight fists are the big trust to her college and university mates . Within the siesta , alack ,I’d forgotten my daughter, Oishi ! And when I remember her , the vile goons have already pounced upon her , upon her mates & lady-teachers as well. A river of blood gushes out from her head & forehead. Where’s the river flowing away? I can’t see its end. Should I do something? Shall I flee? Shall I slay the goons into bits? How to fight them out? Where’s the blood of my daughter trickling to? After a long time, I’m getting angry, and feel like bursting into tears. And I can’t sleep anymore. I murmur, “Oishi , my love! Oishi ,my baby!” At about dawn , suddenly, her voice broadcast, “ I’m coming , I’m coming.” The voice seems to be coming close, and when it comes more so , my soul took a toss and turn. Leaving the bed , just as I open the window , I see her river of blood is coming towards our selfish living in eating ,sleeping ,brawling, and bragging . I should have died from shame & disgrace, but I gave it a second thought, and stepped into the street. My own daughter’s blood wave drove me afloat into a new country, into a new India where every Indian, in a rally, says , “Oishi is my daughter. I’ve smeared my daughter’s blood all over my body only to see the last of it. Come , fight with me! How dare you touch my daughter, you bastard!” *** Translated by Bankim Let |
Bibhas Roy Chowdhury ( born 1 August 1968) is a Bengali poet, novelist, and essayist. He is the author of more than twenty books including five novels and numerous essays in various Bengali literary magazines. He received awards including Bangla Academy Award (Paschimbanga Bangla Akademi) in 2013, Krittibas Award (1997), and Nirmal Acharya Gold Medal for poetry. He is the chief adviser of the Bengali literary magazine, Kabita Ashram, and founder member and director of a theatrical troupe named Bongaon Natya Charcha Kendra.
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