Ekdin ami chokh mele cheyechilem,
Oi chand er dike.
Ashaye buk pete
tomar songot ey.
Sohag dhamani pari dewa jyotsna
Madhu swar sei gaan
Nibir, shanto snigdho mon
Akashe megh jomeche
Kora roddur gaye
Sotej tarange barbar ucchosito
The day we were born, did we know one day we have to meet our fates? Did our innocent, unabashed childhood prepare us for the ultimate truth? Life never treats us fairly. We carve our spaces from what we have at hand and struggle to meet our fate. Then the whole journey becomes inconsequential. The pen quivers before the mighty truth. For, THE truth is no stranger to fiction. It is no force to fight the struggle.
The coffee on the bedside table shall one day remain unattended, the page mark inside the book will never guide any fingers to the continuing chapters, and neither will the playlist reshuffle itself to suit the mood of the day. The sun will set and rise again, the buses ply to their directions, rain drops will kiss the ground and eventually evaporate. A name that was famous until now will be lost in the woods of oblivion. No one will know. No one will care. Life will win its battle but lose the war.
It can happen fifty years later, may be sooner. Or may be tomorrow. Why, now, as i type the final words in this post? Can it not? After all, it is all my will.