I can see that the girl has been expressing special affection for me for quite some time. She thinks about me day and night. The thing is that she is willing to do whatever I say, to do anything to please me. If I want, she will leave everything in her life and family and come to me on one leg. At such a time, one day she said that my poems are like Jibanananda's poems. I asked her why she feels that way? She said that she has read a lot of Jibanananda's poems and where she finds a similarity in her mind. I told her that poets are not their poems, that a poet of sweet love can be an annoying, selfish, egocentric person with whom it can be difficult to live. A beautiful person like her would not even look back if she saw Jibanananda. She might feel bored just talking to the poet.
I had been waiting for the poet's wife's book "Manush Jibanananda" for many days. I found it online that day and finished reading it in one sitting. I was disappointed. There is nothing deep in it except some very light external descriptions about the poet. It is as if my sisters or nieces were allowed to write about me after my death, they would write about some family and behavioral characteristics, who actually have no idea about my inner world. This book is like that.
Jibanananda's poems and his short stories are very different. It is as if they are written by two different people. The short stories and novels are not only very subjective and close to life, but are also limited to the daily smallness of his family and contemporary people. There is no universe, no distant stars, and not even nature. They are mostly like small stories of disappointment, broken dreams, death and separation. It seems to me that the joy of life in stories is a flesh-and-blood person, and the joy of life in poetry is nostalgia for leaving reality, unable to bear the pain of that person. Shakespeare has said about lovers:
"The lover and the madman have such a troubled mind,
They contain such a concentrated imagination,
Which is beyond the comprehension of sound reason"
The 'concentrated imagination' born of Shakespeare's lover's 'troubled mind' is the poet's joy of life, although he was not a romantic at all. He could not enjoy the joy of human company in reality. Various obstacles would come and go. Again, he would suffer from not having that company. He could not find any way to get out of their world, those whom he considered insignificant and not his equal. Again, he seemed to be asking for value from them. He seemed to have written in the language of poetry the nostalgia from the sufferings of that inexhaustible cycle.
Unable to have the relationship that was supposed to be with people, he wanted to have it with nature in his imagination. If he fails, he would like to add to it the eternal irony of the universe in the failure of a small human life. All of these are actually nostalgia. Nostalgia is not only about the memories of the past, it can also be about the present, it can also be about the future. It can be about the abandoned house, it can be about the stars and galaxies of the distant universe. The main driving force of nostalgia is the mental escape from the present.
Reading the poet's wife's "Manush Jibanananda" not only disappointed me, but the real joy of life also disappointed me. A person is gradually becoming alone in the pain of the intensity of feeling, then he separates himself from everything, then his agitated brain takes refuge in a matrimonial romanticism, which results in some gray manuscript. Jibanananda is the poet of that feeling, the sense of feeling was very keen in him. That feeling teased him, burned him, but it seemed that he stopped by expressing that feeling. He has been proud, he has wished for death – the idea is as if someone is feeling his pride, seeing his mental pain, financial hardship, and one day he will reward him with interest, but he does not know that person either – he has no contact with him either.
Let's say a man puts his hand in the fire of the stove. Then he describes with his subtle feelings how painful that feeling is, all the other readers are restless after reading it and crying. If people spend their lives feeling sad like this, then they are masochistic or a people who enjoy suffering. We urban educated Bengalis are like that.
Jibanananda was very much a mother, he was very afraid of his father, so much so that he could not even talk to him. If he needed something, his mother or later his wife would tell his father. He suffered from severe social anxiety. Once there was a theft in their house, the inspector from the police station came to investigate. At that time, his father was not at home, so the responsibility fell on him to talk to the inspector. But he would never say that. He ran away from home. Later, the wife of the house had to overcome all her shyness and handle it. Once, her son's head was cut in an accident and needed to be stitched, and she told her friend, Dr. Jibananand, to hold the boy in her lap and sit him down, so he could stitch it up. Hearing that, the poet ran away. His wife had to hold the son and sit in front of the doctor. All these incidents speak of his excessive social shyness and emotionality.
Anyway, although I think Jibanananda was a person whose “Life Ends at Forty”, who was the ‘Pink’ of this Bengal (those who have not read it can read my “Life Begins at Forty” series). The purpose of this article is not to analyze Jibanananda’s mind, that can be done another day. In this article, I want to say that those who cannot bear the sadness of life and want to spread their wings to nature, planets, stars or the universe or the American Dream should not think that there is only one universe. The universe of the human mind is actually many, which we will call many ‘parallel worlds’.
‘Parallel worlds’
With you all alone in my head
I wander around the streets of this city
Perhaps I pass in front of your office
Or cross the road in front of your house
To go to my friend’s house
Perhaps we stand face to face at the same traffic signal The two cars are waiting for the green signal;
But why doesn't our meeting signal turn green somehow?
Maybe just a little longer, the two of them could have met, but it doesn't happen,
Is it due to pure fate or is the unity of space and time broken at that moment of farewell,
A parallel world of our own has been born?
You and I are living in the same city, maybe in the same room, balcony, window, bed,
At the same time,
Laughing and joking with friends,
But without touching anyone's life,
The same sky, the same air,
Maybe that bunch of oxygen particles,
Your breath coming out,
Entering and returning to my body,
Is that why this city feels so sweet?
Maybe some famous poet,
With some unknown woman in his head,
Lived in a parallel life,
Like this, in another city;
When he was on a tram line in that city,
Then, in some cosmic delusion,
He Two worlds forever.
Shall I also wait for such a moment of error to be freed from this unbearable parallelism? Or will you have mercy?
Will that stone heart melt one day?
By some cosmic mistake!
Every human being is born with his own universe. Where his parents are the protectors and providers of that world in the role of God. In my universe, all the rules and regulations are mine. Gradually, we make playmates, friends, and with them, our own universes are created to create a world of shared joy. To create that world of joy, we have to give up our own rules and accept the rules and regulations of others. Mistrust of others and shame of expressing ourselves prevent us from creating that shared world. Then we gradually start thinking that my world is right and the other is bad, so he is excluded.
This parallel world is not only about individuals. Institutions are all different parallel worlds. Religious organizations, common rooms of school and college teachers, university administrative offices From buildings, government offices, secretariats, corporate boardrooms to newspaper offices, television studios, Marxist party offices, and even the world of women, married life – everything is a parallel world that is planned and formed according to the mental character of the majority of its members.
The climate, oxygen levels, air humidity, and temperature of all these parallel worlds are not the same. Some harmful chemical gas levels are beyond our tolerance. We have to accept that and live in relationship with everyone. If I think why everything is not suitable for me, we can express our anger, we can fight to change it, but there is no use being arrogant. Either break it, or if we can't do that, learn to accept it, even if it is temporarily - there is no way out of these two.
I always think that if I could draw, how great it would be. I could express many things that come to my mind through pictures. Once, a friend's elder brother introduced me to a famous artist. When I went to his house for a few days to take painting lessons, I found out that I am Rabindrik in this regard. That famous artist saw my picture and said that my picture was childish, like Rabindranath's picture. Then I was scared when I saw what he wanted to teach me. When I listened to him, I had to destroy the feeling that came to my mind when I looked at a beautiful woman. He wanted me to stop looking at the world, to look at the lines and shapes of a beautiful woman's face, the light and shadow.
I thought this was a terrible suggestion. If I learned to paint like this, I would completely lose the joy I feel looking at all the beautiful women in the world. I don't need to learn to paint. It is much more necessary for this insignificant life to be amazed and amazed by the face of one woman than to be the center of interest of thousands of beautiful women by becoming a famous artist.
I did not want to be a citizen of that parallel world of painting. If I had wanted to have the fascination with the beauty of my woman as a citizen of that world, I would never have had it. These two cannot coexist, just as parallel worlds cannot be combined. If you want to become very big in business, you cannot trust people. If you lose faith in people, you cannot fall in love. There may be profit-making, a serious attraction may arise, but that is ultimately the attraction of materialism and emotion, not love.
Our modern life is full of these many parallel worlds. The previous rural life was not like this. There was only one world and people could sail along the small river of life and float in comfort without any fear of losing their way. Now that is no longer possible.
Today we are afraid of getting lost in various parallel worlds. Everyone has to first be sure of what are the strongest impulses for his own survival. He has to choose a world where those impulses are nurtured. He has to live in that world and he will go to different parallel worlds temporarily, as needed in life. In my mind, poetry and I became an engineer, in my soul, freedom and I became a BCS officer, I do not like my bond and in my mind, I hope to marry a wonderful man and my husband will set me free – these are the attempts at a strange combination of parallel worlds, the result of which is a big explosion, the destruction of the mental world.
Sirazul Hossen
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