প্রবাহ ১৪২৫

Probaho - Soikot’s Annual Magazine 47

LIFE CALLED AND I WENT TO
SEE


Triparna de Vreede

Life called and I went to see
What is it they call ecstasy?
I loved what I saw, I loathed what I saw
But, then I realized - it is just me
Life is but life itself; you see what you want to see

There is pain, there is fear, and there is untold misery
But there is hope; there is fun and childlike glee
I am born into a life that is good and blessed
But its upto me to get sad or distressed
Life is what it is; I am what I want to be

Through my eyes I see the world, I act and things unfold
Sometimes it’s mine and in others it is life’s responsibility
At times attitude helps, at times it’s just bad luck
At times, it’s waiting for some divine mercy

Is life a simple formula that we can solve? Is there only one way to evolve?
I am a child in the eternal game; I am but just an unknown name
Learning the rules, finding my way; maybe I will understand some day
In this life or some other, as me or as some other entity

For now, I know I want to live life being the best I can be
For now, I am glad I was born and was born as me.
I am glad that life called and I went to see
What is it they call ecstasy!

বাহ ১৪২৫



























Probaho - Soikot’s Annual Magazine

ইস, মােগা তার িক হাল আিজ, আঁ চড়-কামড় খামচািনেত?
িক বীভৎস জ া থাবা, র ঝের তার বেকেত?
ক য তােক বােস ভােলা, পারিল য কার আপন হেত, 
তা জািননা, ধ জািন তই পুেড়িছস তার র েপেত!

মানেব না হার বার দ- গালা, মানেব না হার দসু দানব! 
হারেব না কউ এিদক ওিদক.
মরেব তব মানেব না হার, মারেব তব মানেব না হার, 
এিদক আজও  "র া" বেল, ওিদক আজও বেল “উ ার"!

এরই মােঝ দখিব য তার সব গিরমা লু েয় ধলায়,
ফেলর মালায় বরন বধ, লেছ ধই কাটার ালায়-

হয়েতা কবর নয়েতা িচতা সািজেয় তার স ােনরা, 
ডাকেছ এখন, ডাকেছ তােক মা মা বেল, হায়ের মােয়র ভাগ িলখন!

টকেরা হেয়ও হািসস আজও? আি জান আর মা ডাক িনস?
িনল না পাগল হিল? িনেজর কিফন িনেজই বিনস?
িববT হেয় জীণ শরীর দখিব তলায় লু েয় রইিব,
নীল ওড়না, সবজ চাদর, িক নই উধাও সবই!

পাে যােব সব ছিবটা, কবর িকংবা িচতার কােঠ,
পাে যােব সব কািহনী, িশকারােতই  িশকার বােট,
পাে যােব র েপর ছটা, কািল লেপই মখু লুেকািব,
পাে যািব লােকর মেু খও, কা া িদেয় গাল েকািব!

আেগও িছিলস বরফ মাড়া, রইিব পেরও বরফ মুেড়,
আেগও িছিলস বরফ মাড়া, রইিব পেরও বরফ মেু ড়,
ধ থমটা নীল ওড়না ঘরা, আর পেররটা ওই কিফন পের!!

বাহ ১৪২৫ 61

Probaho - Soikot’s Annual Magazine

SOIKOT: IT’S OUR OWN
COMMUNITY


Buddhadeb Basu & Sandip Lahiri

“You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us”

We all know this is the chorus part of the famous John Lennon’s awe inspiring song
“Imagine”. That was John Lennon's big dream, and now we would like to share ours with
you. - and like John, we hope someday you’ll join us too.

Over the past three decades, the Tampa Bay area Bengali community has come together
as a closely-knit society, with more than 120 families. As you are well aware, we band
together frequently to celebrate our main festivals, organize cultural programs, host yearly
picnics and assemble many family gatherings. Recently, we’ve even started our
community outreach program and thanks to your active participation, we’ve been able to
make an impact on people’s lives.

We should all feel proud of what we have accomplished as a community in a short period
of time. – but, it’s also never too soon to start thinking about the future. Where do we see
ourselves as a community in two or three decades? Let’s start by answering a few
fundamental questions:

• What should a strong, vibrant Bengali community look like? “…we’ve been
• What is our common purpose? What matters most to us? able to make
• How do we see ourselves evolving? an impact on

What should a strong, vibrant Bengali community look like? people’s lives.”

Strong, lasting communities are built on 4 pillars:

1. Cultural
2. Religious/Spiritual

3. Educational

4. Support for one another- Social and intra/inter community outreach/philanthropic
work

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Probaho - Soikot’s Annual Magazine

FREEDOM


Nandini Bandyopadhyay

She realized her hair was never hers long before Swati mashi pointed it out.  Thick black
serpentine coils hung by her waist while Piyali and Ishita’s  curls  danced around their
chin, neatly trimmed and trendy.

Ma took care of her hair like it was ma’s other child. Brushing every night before bedtime,
washing it with soap nuts once a week,  and then the elaborate ritual of oiling her  hair
three nights a week… it  was done like  clockwork. The warm coconut oil with flecks of
dried hibiscus leaves smelled like Ammi’s trunk. 

She  could see the slice of kitchen from where Ma would make her sit to have the hair
brushed and oiled. The opaque ceramic bowls nestled on top of one another, the glint of
Ammi’s copper jug so bright that the finger smudges made flower petals  and the shiny
stainless-steel bucket to hold extra water in case the public water
system malfunctioned floated like luminous images in front of her

eyes. “Ammi, her

While Ma parted the hair meticulously to massage the oil to her grandma and
scalp, she dozed off often to be yanked back to the reality. Once Aparna mashi
Ma was done with the oil massage, she would  make two thick and all of ma’s
braids and only then was she allowed to go to bed. 

Ammi, her grandma and Aparna mashi and all of ma’s friends friends talked
talked about her hair. Everyone at school commented on it. She about her hair.”
hated it but had learnt years before not to breathe her thoughts
to anyone. It was inexcusable, she knew. They would think she
was crazy not to like it. No one was ready to even listen to her.

She tugged and pulled at it when no one was watching.  The way it got kinky after it came
undone from the braids, the way it smelled like old people, that she could wash her hair
only when ma wanted to, made her angry. She envied Ishita and Piyali as they washed
their hair whenever they wanted…no routines to follow. She despised how Ma would fix it
with coils of jasmine garlands around the braids for parties and get-togethers and how it
was so obsolete with skirts or salwars. All her friends looked chic and fashionable with
shorter trims of straightened or curled hair, typically leaving it down or tying a pony with
silver barrettes. Oh, how she longed for a pony! Sometimes she would dream of a simple

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