I do not know the name the of the poet

“Ahista chal zindagi, abhi kai karz chukana baaki hai
Kuch dard mitana baaki hai, kuch farz nibhana baaki hai
Raftaar mein tere chalne se kuchh rooth gaye, kuch chhut gaye
Roothon ko manana baaki hai, roton ko hasana baaki hai
Kuch hasraatein abhi adhuri hain, kuch kaam bhi aur zaruri hai
Khwahishen jo ghut gayi is dil mein, unko dafnana baaki hai
Kuch rishte ban kar toot gaye, kuch judte judte chhut gaye
Un toote-chhute rishton ke zakhmon ko mitana baaki hai
Tu aagey chal main aata hoon, kya chhod tujhe ji paunga?
Is saanson par haq hai jinka, unko samjhaana baaki hai
Ahista chal zindagi, abhi kai karz chukana baaki hai”

Roughly translated…

“Slow down your pace, Oh Life! There is a lot of debt yet to be repaid
Some pains are yet to be erased, some duties are yet to be fulfilled
Oh! Life! Your speed led to some being angry; and some just went away
The upset are yet to be pacified; the crying ones are yet to be comforted
Some wishes are yet to be fulfilled; some work is yet to be completed
Desires that are imprisoned in my heart, they are yet to be buried
Some relationships broke after they bloomed, some broke away even before they could bloom
All those wounds of broken relations – they are yet to be healed
Oh! Life! You carry on. I will come along. (But) can I possibly live without you?
(After all), He who controls my every breath, I am yet to come to terms with Him.
Slow down your pace, Oh Life! There is a lot of debt yet to be repaid”

The alarm clock shook me up early in the morning. Half sleepy, still in bed, I was scanning quickly the mails and messages on my phone to check on the important items of the day. It was a FB message that completely shook me out of my bed.

Many hours later, I am still trying to process the news. It has been a whirlwind of emotions. Often my mind goes back to the king snake. That my father in law saw in our property when he was visiting us. That led him to recoil. And lose balance. And fall. And break his hip. Without that I would have never taken him to my brother in law’s house in Kharagpur after I accompanied him back to India. And without taking him there, I would have never realized “Oh! this is an hour away from Midnapore. Maybe I should visit Sibapriya and his parents!!”.

That was barely six months back. His dad was frail and was not in a physical or psychological shape to hold a conversation down with me. He could barely even recognize me from nearly thirty years back when his son and I used to go to the same school in white shirt and grey shorts. But I took a lot of pictures of him.

And the FB message was essentially to let me know that those were the last pictures I would ever have of him.

It is that finality of death that intrigues me and befuddles me. I know I am not supposed to be sad at death. I realize that death is a part of life. If I accept existence, I have to accept lack thereof. I recognize that I ought to celebrate Sibapriya’s dad’s life. Coming from the humble beginnings that he had, what he made of himself is something to be emulated. That he has raised a child as kind, humble and successful as Sibapriya is something I want to say about myself someday reflecting on my children. I get all that. I know that achievement is to be celebrated. And I do.

But it is that lingering…. “yes, but”…
…. I cannot barge into his house one more afternoon just to have a coffee….
…. I cannot go to his bedroom and ask him to sit on his bed so I can take a few more pictures…
…. I cannot ever say to him again “Porer baar abaar dekha hobey. Tokhon bosey aaro golpo hobey”. (“Next time I will see you again and we will sit down and talk about some more stories”)
…. like I did in September

It is that even small ray of hope that death absolutely extinguishes once and for ever….

For all that, I will take his limited life on earth any day. Without that, I would have never had a friend called Sibapriya in my fifth grade.

And that is the lasting legacy he has left for me….