ঘরে ফেরার গান

A person's true homeland lies only in the mind. This line from the film Ontorjatra by Tareque Masud is hard to comprehend without the context. 

Perhaps, if I specify this idea to the idea of a ‘home,’ maybe it would make a little more sense. 

How can you even explain why it feels home in some strangely unfamiliar places sometimes? While some people don’t even feel home on their own so called ‘home?’

Is home more about the people than the place itself? I would think so.

Had it never occurred to you that the same place felt dramatically different over the course of time? 

Keeping apart the discussion of what is, and what is not home, let’s dive into the sheer tragedy of losing the coordinate of the space-time that we call HOME! 

“আমি প্রায়, এখনো খুঁজি সে দেশ

জানি নেই অবশেষ

মারিচীকা হায়, স্বপ্ন দেখায়

শৈশবে আর ফেরা যাবে নাতো

নেই পথ নেই হারিয়ে গেছে সে দেশ।”

 

Maybe it all started on the night, when I had been sobbing in my bed, back in my home, before leaving that place forever on the quest of merging into the universe. 

 

I read some lines in a story on Chutir Dine , someone wrote something like this: the more we grow up, the extended our address become, in childhood maybe it was suffice to say, ‘I am the son of Razzak Master,’ a little older, then when I moved to the school in the town nearby it became: I am from Chowmuhony (my village,) then when I moved to College in Dhaka, it was “Oh! I am from Saidpur/Nilphamari/Rangpur,” now being abroad it’s bigger than ever: ‘Bangladesh,’ or the opposite “Hungary/Europe.”

 

I remember holding the bed sheet tight, with a tighter clasp, sobbing and crying in darkness with some deep sadness and inability to change my fate, yet I couldn’t hold on and I had to move the next day leaving that place forever. Now I am a mere guest in my room for the time being. The time coordinate changed, and I lost my HOME forever. 

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

 

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

 

Maybe that was the beginning of our Bohemian life, of having no ground under the feet, of having no place to return to, a place to stop by, following all the rushes and mad races.

 

Was it all worth it?

 

I don’t know man! I have been looking for the answer all along, yet, no progress. Perhaps, just like our selective inability of not being able to do certain things, to imagine or conceptualize certain things, we will never know. 

 

Is it true that, “The unexamined life is not worth living?”

 

I don’t know. 

 

I just know, I have been longing for a HOME. I am too tired to run to and fro. I am too tired with everything. I just want to have some peace, and relax in the coziest bed I ever had in my HOME.

But, perhaps, a warm hug, or sleeping in someone’s lap would give me the same feeling?  

 

Having heard “Welcome to Bangladesh!” from the UBER driver, or being offered some exclusive free fruit  juice from the local fruit shop where I used to go as a child, having been recognized by Nehal bhai from the great ‘Nehal Bhai’s Fuchka’, or Wasim bhai’s hospitality added to the Haleem, or being offered some free cold drinks from Mama’r dokan, all feels good and homely. 

 

But I just feel like a mere guest in the end!

 

When would I find my HOME, again?

 

 

“সন্ধ্যের মুখোমুখি কার মুখ দেয় উঁকি

কার কথা আজো বাজে কানে!

কেনো এতো খোঁজাখুঁজি, এতোদিন পরে বুঝি

জননী শব্দটার মানে।

সেই ঘর সেই বাড়ি,

দুষ্টুমি বাড়াবাড়ি—

তাঁর কথা কখনো শুনিনি

অবাধ্য ছেলেটাকে স্মৃতি কেনো পিছু ডাকে

ভালোবাসা মানেই জননী।

পাগলা ঘোড়া ছুটে ছুটে যায়।

দিনটা কাটে শুধু ব্যাস্ততায়

রাতটা কাটে গানে গানে—

রাতটা কাটুক গানে পানে…..”   

For now, maybe let’s be happy with the closest things that are like HOME: My Maa, My beautiful Family in Saidpur, Dhaka, or in the imaginary touch of my beloved ones…

Does it even need a caption?