OPHELIA

You said the time is cursed

But my love is cursed by time

And I am cursed by my love

You have only one time

 to set right the time out of joint[1]

I have too a single time

For my love

Your time is yours

Mine is mine

A firefly reminds the moon

I have a time too

For my ambition

“Life is a nightmare. Death?

   That is also a mere consolation.”[2]

A nightmare has a time

A consolation has a time

The time has no time at all.

*

Ophelia was first planned in December 2003 and staged in a national campus theatre festival, organized by Abhivyakti, New Delhi in February 2004 and then in Kalabhavan, Santiniketan on 11^th March, 2004. After Delhi and Santiniketan I tried to (re)present Ophelia on 10^th January 2007, as a part of National Workshop for Students on Gender and Sexuality in the Disciplinary Paradigms, held in January 8^th to 11^th, in the Dept. of Art History and Aesthetics, M S University of Baroda. On the basis of the same text, with another text from Mahashweta devi alternative theatre director Parnab Mukherjee experienced Ophelia and O connecting the women all over the world referring Steven Bercoff’s The Secret Love Life of Ophelia  as a sub-text.

On April 24, 2013, Multiple Monologues, Aloud Asides, a Disposable Theatre by Kankhowa took place at Gati Studio, Delhi as a part of the festival : The Ghosts of Shakespeare. 

[1] ("The time is out of joint; O cursed spite!/That ever I was born to set it right!" [I.V.211-2]).

[2] Ophelia, Homen Borgohain

When I miss you

When I miss you, I lose my mind.

My life swings with - you are that source of wind.

You make me an expressionist. I try to cry,

but my voice is lost, my throat - it's all dry.

I call you with all my wishes:  

come and blow my body like a whistle,

make me an instrument that I never could play.

Burn it, my body, as they rightly say:

the human body - it's all but made of clay.

Be there, for me ever, oh bidi of a Kendu leaf,

blow me up to the eternity.

A makeshift of Memory (Sonnet)

No one dies for somebody else; we know it well, but whatever,      

It is important to say: I’ll die without you. At least say it for once.

I do not have a faith in eternal love. Nothing surpasses the limit of the times.

Still it is important to speak up: I’ll always be yours, forever.

At least say it for once. You don’t have to mean it either.

Otherwise it would be painful if no memory remains at your absence

We all is a memory, or a constellation of memories, of any distance,

Of somebody else, or, just our own rather.

I find no meaning of life if not in creating some memories for a strange someday.

Emptiness would be if there remains no memory of you when you are absent,

Empty, not the universe is. If someday you hold my hand, be it just for a day;

Please consider that single day could encapsulate our entire lives in consonant.

I know in this world we all walk alone. Nobody is made for anybody, anyway.

Still try speaking out: I am yours, and you are mine. Speaking up is important.   

Come woman, let’s bathe together

Come woman, let’s bathe together

We know which shampoo can remove dandruff, cleans your hair,

We know which soap can keep the germs away 
We know, we know, we know all, you know,
What to apply on nails, what to apply on toes,
What to, and, what not to apply on our faces.
Come woman, let’s bathe together
What we don’t know is what to apply to remove the age-old dirt
The dirt of hatred
The dark marks of imposed power on our bodies
Where is the herbal, where is the chemical
Where are the brushes, sponges and scrubbers?
To remove the glutinous norms
Come woman, let’s bathe together
Bring the sponge luffa
Let’s remove the marks of those measures today
Come woman, let’s bathe together today
by cleansing ourselves
You’ll become you
I’ll become me
By being yourself you’ll be mine
Being myself I’ll be yours
Today is the time
Come woman, let’s bathe together

(To Til Jethai, my aunt who used to scrub me when I was a child)

An Ode to Your Loneliness

I know how lonely you have become,

Even after splitting into two from one single body,

When you have gained the warmth of closeness of an 'other'

mesmerizing each and every moment of the days and nights,

even then,

you have become extremely lonely.

Because it is only you who would take care of him,

it is your lonely body, where milk is being produced for the child,

the loss of a siesta without any scope of an alternative

it is all yours

all the disarranged hunger and thirst

it all is yours,

extremely isolated you are walking through this

endless passage, which is all yours,

It is your lone and last shelter, and yet, you are helpless in front of it,

embracing the absolute wealth of life and the universe

you are destitute today

Mother, how could you do it?

How could all women do?

you are asking this question again and again

to yourself

Women, even if I could touch every inch of you

We could never touch this helpless loneliness of your motherhood

what an inevitable role the universe offered to you!

I salute to the unbearably terrible loneliness of every mother on earth.

Happily Biased

I am not impartial, do not ask me to be the same.

I am biased, and I mean it. This is not a sarcastic comment in any means.

In fact, I'm gradually prejudiced, by my choice, more and more, day by day...

The day you said, 'I really loved you', it meant you were about to leave.

Words make no sense.

I keep remembering the epic fail of the epic story of becoming

when Ma-Ra turns to Ra-Ma...

And then the fiction becomes history.

You asked me to say 'I love you' utterly loud every day.

If I said, it were just a flattering to your wish.

If I didn't, it were also a conceit.

That's how I may decide not to listen you carefully.

When meaning lies elsewhere, sense echoes at far distance,

I may not agree to follow your words only for the sake of

political correctness.

When one shouted Azadi, you understood it as per your understanding.

Words failed again.

That's how I am partial. Biased. I am just happy in that way.

Before you drop a word, tell me first, which side you are on.

I'm on the side of love. Thus, biased for love.

I won't stop loving. I'm prejudiced that way.

[Please make sure, even if you are on the other side of the road,

when I wave my hands, you too wave your hands for greetings!

Either bless me, or curse me. I'll be fine with both. But do it for sure.]

# HappilyBiased #PoliticallyIncorrect

What the hell would I do with a Nation...

If someday some intruders come and occupy my country,

I wouldn't have any problem.

I am not at all anxious in the increasing population of the Muslims,

The Bangladeshi Immigrants have never spoiled my peace of mind.

I do not like the hue and cry you make in the name of your country.

I do not have any problem if my country gets scattered into pieces.

I don't care someone's statue

whether placed or not at the crossroad.

Who just came and started farming upon whose land...

it were never a matter of concern of mine.

What concerns me is if the land is still a barren land...

This stagnancy you brought to the everyday life -

with a mockery towards social concern and revolution

- I have problem just out there.

Slurring life, this numbness  of soul,

and next to it the huge discontent you make for power

- I have problem just out there.

An open green field turns to a dirty slam in the name of development

- I have problem just out there.

 This country is full of rivers, water bodies and heavy rainfalls

and then there is always scarcity of fish in the market,

- I have problem just out there.

Pushing behind a world of love, I cannot embrace a country of hatred.  

Pushing behind a world of love, I won't embrace your nation of hatred.  

Even today people try to segregate people in the name of religion

- I have problem just out there.

If I fail to become a human first, what would I do with a nation?

Nation was only human's need. Wasn't it?

(*badly Translated from Assamese)