-"We're approaching the place it seems"
-"Can't be sure though, can we!"
They paused by the road to confirm the direction. Unfortunately, they we're on the right path. The destination was a few hours ahead of them, on the second right. It has been resting there, without any human interference. Devoid of any human sounds in its confines, it had accepted the silence that befell on it. And as a perfect end to any hermitic life, it was calmly decaying into oblivion.
-"I was mildly hoping that we had lost our way and could head back to city. There would have been an excuse then for not finding."
-"Now we ain't that inadequate, are we! Lets face it, there have been worse situations and we've survived and thrived."
-"Yes and now we're heading to abyss. That place is dead. It's a no man's land I'd say. Do you suppose that even any four-legged creature has stepped foot there!!!"
-"We'll find out, soon enough."
Both fell silent. Occasionally the grass on the sides would sway in the wind rustling against each other, or the meeting of the clouds would cause a thunder. Apart from that, there was no noise on the journey. It was amber when the evening had began. As dusk approached, the sky was smeared with splashes of red on blue canvas. Occasionally, the defiant leaves, who have strayed from the herd would wave and fly by. Their ochreous appearance and the wind, carrying the fragrance of that distant jasmine, described the prologue for the coming autumn. The silence still intact, was calm and reposed now.
The mansion, or whatever remained of it, stood there, lost in its own memory. However, what stood in front of them was ruins. Night had taken charge of what remained of the day. There was no going back for the evening now. It was decided to look for shelter in the adjoining village. Soon enough, a speck of light, cutting through darkness drew them to its source. The villager was more than happy to have them for a night's meal.
-"What brings you here to this remote village?"
-"We came here in search of something. But darkness darkness fell quickly so we came here, looking for a place to stay."
-"Yes darkness falls quickly here. Ever since they left, it has been darkness all around. People from the village have ventured out to search for brightness..it's very unusual of yours to come searching anything here", her voice, burdened with despair, spoke of the time when the village would be dressed like a bride during the puja, their very own durga puja.
-"Oh it was a sight to behold! For those five days, the whole village would be gathered there, at the palace. shimmering lights, all that glitter and the holy smoke made us feel were in abode, a surreal vision before our eyes, as if god was right there."
-"What happened then..what happened to those who were living there?"
-"You know, it's a home when there are people, otherwise it's just walls. It wasn't only theirs that broke apart, along with the village also fell apart. Sons, daughters and their children: the palace had a noise of its own with which we could relate. Their family and the village began to prosper together till the time when the young ones, those grand kids, toke wings and moved away one autumn. Young birds are the restless lot, eager to fly far and high from their shelter. Sometimes they return back by evening on the branches. This time, they didn't. The elders waited every puja for their return, till they lived within those walls. Death is what remained of that house. The kids have decided to get rid of the last burden and we hear that the place will be sold. Although that shouldn't be surprising-when there is no consideration of human relation, you can't take responsibility for something that doesn't have a voice."
They retired for the night shortly after meal. They would leave by sunrise to get back early to the city. Their host tried to reason, wanting to hold them back till tea. Strangers they might have been, but you tend to rebuild on the ruins of emotions with them, allowing your words to recreate some lost time.
-"Well we did found out who has stepped foot there!"
-"Do we really need to do this. The money could be returned back and claim that this place cannot be sold"
-"Don't let conscience get the better of you now. It's for them to decide what to do, not us."
-"What 'bout your conscience, where is it?"
-"It's in my wallet and says we'll be ruined if we can't get this place sold off. Get some rest now. We'll have to leave early tomorrow."
They'll head back, put the place on the anvil and the hammer will strike, bringing down the leftover crumbling to the ground. There will be a 'viable' alternative for that place, commercial, scalable, returns and prosperity. Villagers will have a livelihood and Durga Puja will be more grandiose. Story is over. But there will be some voices which remained silent.
'Aar koto din eibhabe katahobe boloto. Nijer choke nijer bhangon dekha jayna. Ichche hoye karor haath diye nijeke dhongsho koredi.'
'Dhongsho korlei ki shob shesh hoye jaye boloto. Sheta hoyto manush pare..amra noye. Parbe nijer modhe lukono shob sriti bhenge felte. Aaj jodi amader bhenge fella hoye, jodi ei badir dewal matir shathe miliye dewa hoye, taate ki shob mite jabe.'
'Kichu metanor aar ki baki ache-dewaler rong, barandar janalata, chader shidi, uthaner pathor, ghorer mejhe shob kichui aste aste dhose gache. Royegache shudhu oi shomoyetar bojha. Shei haanshi, kaanna, joy-joykar, aanondo, utsav, pujor dhaakh, shonkho, mohaloya theke bijoya obdhi badir anache-kanache koto shobdo.'
'Jokhon ora choto chilo, shara dupoor chute barache badir modhe. Sondhe hotei utthane eshe porto aarotir shomoye. Dhaaker bajneye neche uttho- ki anondo oder. Protimar dike amon bhabe cheye thakto jano kono manush, shakhat devi dariye ache. Shara badir rong rup palte jeto. Kano, kano aajo mone ache..etodine to bhule jawa uchit. Ora pere galo aar amra pathorer tukro hoyeo bhulte parlamna!'
'Hoyeto pathor bolei akhono daag roye gache. Notun anondote manusher purono sriti chapa pore jaye, tokhon taake khuje baar kora shohoj noye. Dewaler opor daag katle roye jaye; hajaar baar rong korleo ektu khudle beriye ashbe. Ekdin amader bhangon hobe nishchit, kintu mati te mishe geleo, sritir aasthapon thakbe. Hoyeto etai amader prapti.'
The ruins thus remain, within us, outside us, around us. Silently, they decay till nothing is left of the past. But they had spoken to us, only we couldn't listen.
-"Can't be sure though, can we!"
They paused by the road to confirm the direction. Unfortunately, they we're on the right path. The destination was a few hours ahead of them, on the second right. It has been resting there, without any human interference. Devoid of any human sounds in its confines, it had accepted the silence that befell on it. And as a perfect end to any hermitic life, it was calmly decaying into oblivion.
-"I was mildly hoping that we had lost our way and could head back to city. There would have been an excuse then for not finding."
-"Now we ain't that inadequate, are we! Lets face it, there have been worse situations and we've survived and thrived."
-"Yes and now we're heading to abyss. That place is dead. It's a no man's land I'd say. Do you suppose that even any four-legged creature has stepped foot there!!!"
-"We'll find out, soon enough."
Both fell silent. Occasionally the grass on the sides would sway in the wind rustling against each other, or the meeting of the clouds would cause a thunder. Apart from that, there was no noise on the journey. It was amber when the evening had began. As dusk approached, the sky was smeared with splashes of red on blue canvas. Occasionally, the defiant leaves, who have strayed from the herd would wave and fly by. Their ochreous appearance and the wind, carrying the fragrance of that distant jasmine, described the prologue for the coming autumn. The silence still intact, was calm and reposed now.
The mansion, or whatever remained of it, stood there, lost in its own memory. However, what stood in front of them was ruins. Night had taken charge of what remained of the day. There was no going back for the evening now. It was decided to look for shelter in the adjoining village. Soon enough, a speck of light, cutting through darkness drew them to its source. The villager was more than happy to have them for a night's meal.
-"What brings you here to this remote village?"
-"We came here in search of something. But darkness darkness fell quickly so we came here, looking for a place to stay."
-"Yes darkness falls quickly here. Ever since they left, it has been darkness all around. People from the village have ventured out to search for brightness..it's very unusual of yours to come searching anything here", her voice, burdened with despair, spoke of the time when the village would be dressed like a bride during the puja, their very own durga puja.
-"Oh it was a sight to behold! For those five days, the whole village would be gathered there, at the palace. shimmering lights, all that glitter and the holy smoke made us feel were in abode, a surreal vision before our eyes, as if god was right there."
-"What happened then..what happened to those who were living there?"
-"You know, it's a home when there are people, otherwise it's just walls. It wasn't only theirs that broke apart, along with the village also fell apart. Sons, daughters and their children: the palace had a noise of its own with which we could relate. Their family and the village began to prosper together till the time when the young ones, those grand kids, toke wings and moved away one autumn. Young birds are the restless lot, eager to fly far and high from their shelter. Sometimes they return back by evening on the branches. This time, they didn't. The elders waited every puja for their return, till they lived within those walls. Death is what remained of that house. The kids have decided to get rid of the last burden and we hear that the place will be sold. Although that shouldn't be surprising-when there is no consideration of human relation, you can't take responsibility for something that doesn't have a voice."
They retired for the night shortly after meal. They would leave by sunrise to get back early to the city. Their host tried to reason, wanting to hold them back till tea. Strangers they might have been, but you tend to rebuild on the ruins of emotions with them, allowing your words to recreate some lost time.
-"Well we did found out who has stepped foot there!"
-"Do we really need to do this. The money could be returned back and claim that this place cannot be sold"
-"Don't let conscience get the better of you now. It's for them to decide what to do, not us."
-"What 'bout your conscience, where is it?"
-"It's in my wallet and says we'll be ruined if we can't get this place sold off. Get some rest now. We'll have to leave early tomorrow."
They'll head back, put the place on the anvil and the hammer will strike, bringing down the leftover crumbling to the ground. There will be a 'viable' alternative for that place, commercial, scalable, returns and prosperity. Villagers will have a livelihood and Durga Puja will be more grandiose. Story is over. But there will be some voices which remained silent.
'Aar koto din eibhabe katahobe boloto. Nijer choke nijer bhangon dekha jayna. Ichche hoye karor haath diye nijeke dhongsho koredi.'
'Dhongsho korlei ki shob shesh hoye jaye boloto. Sheta hoyto manush pare..amra noye. Parbe nijer modhe lukono shob sriti bhenge felte. Aaj jodi amader bhenge fella hoye, jodi ei badir dewal matir shathe miliye dewa hoye, taate ki shob mite jabe.'
'Kichu metanor aar ki baki ache-dewaler rong, barandar janalata, chader shidi, uthaner pathor, ghorer mejhe shob kichui aste aste dhose gache. Royegache shudhu oi shomoyetar bojha. Shei haanshi, kaanna, joy-joykar, aanondo, utsav, pujor dhaakh, shonkho, mohaloya theke bijoya obdhi badir anache-kanache koto shobdo.'
'Jokhon ora choto chilo, shara dupoor chute barache badir modhe. Sondhe hotei utthane eshe porto aarotir shomoye. Dhaaker bajneye neche uttho- ki anondo oder. Protimar dike amon bhabe cheye thakto jano kono manush, shakhat devi dariye ache. Shara badir rong rup palte jeto. Kano, kano aajo mone ache..etodine to bhule jawa uchit. Ora pere galo aar amra pathorer tukro hoyeo bhulte parlamna!'
'Hoyeto pathor bolei akhono daag roye gache. Notun anondote manusher purono sriti chapa pore jaye, tokhon taake khuje baar kora shohoj noye. Dewaler opor daag katle roye jaye; hajaar baar rong korleo ektu khudle beriye ashbe. Ekdin amader bhangon hobe nishchit, kintu mati te mishe geleo, sritir aasthapon thakbe. Hoyeto etai amader prapti.'
The ruins thus remain, within us, outside us, around us. Silently, they decay till nothing is left of the past. But they had spoken to us, only we couldn't listen.
