Last Sunday morning was a huge surprise for me. A car came and stopped near the gate of my next door neighbour.
A faint sound of a song came inside the car. It didn’t get distinct until the doors were thrown open and the insiders tumbled out with that verve and spirit which the sun sizzled all around with, perhaps invoking autumn on the last day of monsoon.
“Andhar amar bhalo lage” – came out the song. The young driver himself came out last and stood against car, head down rather fixated on the rain-corroded metal road.
I sat on bed by the first floor window, kept on listening to the song I’d heard long ago in “Boroliner Sangsar” on Bibidho Bharati on a forlorn Sunday noon.
The song had been with me whole day. Late evening when the yellowing moon appeared on the eastern sky days after full moon, I looked up at the sky. Some stars started becoming twinkling.
A bird flew across overhead calling out in its small voice to an invisible. The anxiety in tone was unmistakable.
“Tara die dhekona amar akash” – the second line resonated on youtube from my phone. An impassive face was highlighted in a frame. Pratima Bandyopadhaya was written over it.