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Articles tagged "Bengali Literature"

From the Translator: From অপেক্ষা (Opekkha) to Waiting

When I was sixteen, I joined a flood-relief expedition organized by the Red Cross. In the north of what was then East Pakistan, the Jamuna – the local name for the Brahmaputra river – had flooded. With a government rest house in Sirajganj close to the riverbank as our base, we spent the week on a motor launch distributing food and medical supplies. We came across hundreds of people, some stranded on the roofs of their huts, others on patches of higher land. When we had arrived...

Once Again Love

"Cops on our tail, cops on our tail!" "Cut and run, cut and run!" The picnic party microbus is stuck in a traffic jam. Before anyone can react, a hijra— separated from her band which is receiving a drubbing from the police—jumps on board. She finds herself stuck between a crocodile in the water and a tiger on the bank. If she gets tossed out of the vehicle, the police are sure to grab and beat her. Seeing no other choice, the tiger on the bank—the head of the picnic...

from The Ascetic and The Courtesan

A Play in Four Acts *** Author's Note: Tapasvi o Tarangini (The Ascetic and The Courtesan) was published in five consecutive issues of the magazine Desh in 1966, after which it was published as a book with minor changes and additions. On its publication, a number of readers of Desh had written to me objecting to the dating of the legend. According to them, the myth of Rishyasringa was of the 'tretayuga' (the Third Age1), while that of Satyavati, Kunti, and Draupadi...

Parul’s Motherhood

Parul calculated that it had been around six months since the man had disappeared. Some said he had drowned at sea, some that he had gone to Dhaka for work. Parul didn't care where the hell he went, but why did he leave without telling her? Would she have stopped him if he had told her? Would she have started crying? No, she would have done neither. She would have allowed whoever wanted to leave, leave. If there was any pain in her heart, it would have been her own. Why did the man...

from Sparks

Spring, it is time to tell The flowers to open. The leaves are whispering now With expectation. The spirit of life is oblivious Of where earth is, or the sky. That is why Flowers seek it in the stars, Stars seek it in the flowers. He who knows the truth Stores it in a treasure-chest proudly. He who loves the truth Keeps it inside himself humbly. Keep, and the load presses down On your shoulder. Give, and the whole wide world Is its porter. Translator's Note:...

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