poem#23

We had met after many days-
after many days of fight
many days of silence
many days of debating whether you or I was right.
On the rickshaw you began to sing an old Hemonto Mukhopadhyay song
your head on my shoulders, your hand holding mine all along:
'koto raginir vul bhangate
bashi vore gelo aghate
projapoti pelo je betha
kata bone ful jagate.'

So lovely was the tune
and the lyrics so sweetly rhymed-
Today,
miles away
when  I listen to the song on youtube- everytime
it seems the song was sung better in your feminine voice
it reminds me of you- your face.
And I sing:
So many flutes in vain
wooing the lady's scorn
so many birds in pain
flowering in a forest of thorn.