A drop of thought...

I doubt whether I can break,

I doubt if my 'hope' can shake...

It's not that I love to doubt :

But of my doubts I can't partake..

এ পরবাসে ...

পরবাসের একাকীত্ব, অনেক ছড়ানো স্মৃতি;

এই আঁধারে টুকরো ছবি পায় পূর্ণাকৃতি -

যত যাই দূরে সরে তত যে দেখি আলো,

তত যেন বুঝি তোমায় সখ কত যে বেসেছি ভালো।

প্রাণ

Might be thinking what this promisary note can do - the answer - MAGIC. The magic is manyfold, there are those who are the direct beneficiaries and those who see the magic to realise the life that runs through the veins of a city called Kolkata. A man aged about 62-63 has walked from Shyambazar to Moulali in the scorching heat of May (his pocket is picked). He plans to go to Parkcircus by the same means to his nephew to get Rs 10/-, to return home, some far flung place to which he needs to take a train. He asks a boy of 19-20 at Moulali the way to parkcircus. Seeing the panting sweaty exasperated old man, he inquires and comes to know about the problem, takes out a 20/- note and hands over to the man, fully realising he'll never get it back.

What do we get, a collage that gives the true picture of a city which can make a seemingly useless piece of paper into something very precious...

______________

(Based on atrue incident and not a mere hear-say story)