Translation: Chhatradhara
by Kalidas Roy
Year after year, class after class
They troop in, en masse
The leaves juvenile bloom into flowers merry
Radiant in youth’s green glory
You care for them, learn the names of them all
Keep meeting them, through summer and fall
Discipline them, ensure they finish their lessons on time
Yet with the years, the bells of memory no more chime.
These few days together are but lines in the sand
To be washed away by waves new and grand
Footsteps all, into each other do melt
Trodden by marks new and fresh.
They know not what lies ahead
Like travellers at an inn, gathered here from afar
As their friendships grow, do does their knowledge of grammar.
Now, when I meet one of them on the streets,
And am greeted by a voice calling out, “Sir” –
I smile at them, ruffle their hair
Though my memory is no more than a blur
As we part our ways, in vain I search my memory’s maze
Looking for the cherubic version of this man’s face
The daily classes, visits so frequent, we keep meeting everyday
Still the names and faces slip away.
Individuals melt and merge into the collective
In a garland, who can each flower sieve!
The student stream flows on tireless,
Enriching my soul’s soil with blood rich and fresh.
The cheers and exuberant bubbles with time do fade
The waves of youthful energy are put to bed.
The only rays of reminiscence that shine through clear
Are the glum faces – only those do peer.
The shrieks and shouts I might forget, the laughs and noises jolly
But never shall I forget those eyes and faces, drenched in melancholy.
Pangs of hunger shadow some faces, illness cloud some too
While some eyes are overcast by labours old and new.
A few stay locked indoors fearing the whip
While others blink through eyes red from lack of sleep.
Through the window bars, a few eyes try
To escape beyond into the blue sky
Away his mind wanders, sighting kites flying high
Leaving its dark shadow on his face like a sigh.
The winds from afar, hail them with life, with health.
The calls stream in from beyond their locked door.
Fingers and faces stained with ink
Fill my memory to the brink.
I’ve forgotten it all what it felt like, it’s just those faces now,
Those leaden eyelids and those gloomy faces, that tug at my heart’s strings, and how!