A lonely man
On a lonely bridge
In a gray gloomy night
In the dwindling light
Saw the image of a loner,
Who has never been a moaner
As he look down far
In the ashen blue water,
While floating with a stagger.
And he walks on alone
Spilling droplets of blood
In the petals of his pain.
And the Moon over his head,
Instills in the drops of Moon
Through his shrinking veins.
The
lined up shadows
Of
walking dreams
Kept
marching on
In
the creamy spell
Of
camouflaged vows.
Down
the withering
Valley
of death
They
kept strolling in blinded bouts
Under
a wavering cast of clouds
And
the flickering
Fireflies
beneath.
Suddenly
the Moon rose high
And
the dreams ceased
To
fly
Into
the cemetery
Of
Hopes, Colors and Sighs.
She had dreams,
Like an autumn blast
Caged in a white frame,
Until the shredded hopes
In a pacifying twilight
And the dune of moonlight
Kept melting and falling
Splat
Onto her soul
To spill it out
Of its dear home.
And there was a postmortem,
Only to find a big void inside
With the shimmering shadows
Of a Moon blanched night.
The
lake view restaurant was costly. I used to walk past it in my evening or
morning walks and sometimes during the noon under the shades of large beautiful
trees, especially on the weekends. And sometimes I would enter the restaurant
in some special occasions because of the serenity and aroma playing around the
entire atmosphere and the captivating view of the soothing lake with crystal
clear water mirroring the color blasts of the tree line; in the special and
magical effects through the glass window of the restaurant.
During
the pandemic lock down for covid 19, the restaurant incurred a huge loss too
and it was apparent in its look after the year-long closure with hardly any
maintenance and the massive job cut. And it remained closed for months even
after the withdrawn of lockdown for a much needed renovation work, which paved
way to another amazing window to earn some more revenue by introducing an improvised lake view café
on the open space by the lake. It appeared to be more flexible and convenient
for the walkers who happen to pass by the restaurant all around the day, partly
because of the open tranquility and mostly because of the reduced price
comparing to that of the main building.
And
it was the reason why I became a more regular frequenter to the café to spend
some more moments under the shades of nature after the regular workouts. And
the coffee was really good; always freshly brewed from the finest quality of
well roasted beans.
The
man was in his late 80s, and he was looking more aged with his thin, devastated
and delicate health: burdened with the shredded hopes in this stage of his life;
and torn with the burden of struggles for sustenance. In an age-old ragged and
faded shirt, he was quivering with a bundle of jute bags hanging from both his
weakened shoulders. As a street hawker he sells those bags to the reluctant
customers, mainly seeking a satisfaction in winning the bargain: so careful to
let him get away with hardly any profit margin.
‘Can
I have some water, please, just a glass of water?’ He requested in a timid tone
defeated by time.
The
waiters got startled with the sudden and unexpected appearance of such an
unwelcomed guest in the terrace. And a senior among them, himself in an old
age, handed him a bottle of water to shovel him away as fast as possible.
What
we normally do in a situation like this is to ignore in a magnificent silence,
sometimes with a camouflaged gesture of disgust playing around our frowning
eyebrows, thinking how could these sort of guys can trespass into our sweet
moments. Or with a delicate style to slide our sights out of the things
unseeable, in a fragile attempt to sugarcoat our guilty conscience thinking
that he will either survive anyway or will go beyond the necessity of surviving
all the way.
But
apparently, he needed some calories to consume; with contrast to the regular
customers of the café who spend hours to burn their calories and then add some
as part of the refreshments and I was probably one like them, seeking some
pace-less moment of solace in the reckless racing for life. He was quivering in
hunger and reached a point to fell down on earth anytime. And still his burnt
out dignity shuttered his mouth to not ask for some food instead of a glass of
water. But, you can easily get away with it by putting you in the dilemma of
noticing and not noticing; whatever is comfortable for you. And whatever was
comfortable for Philip, the wealthy husband of Rosemary Fell.
The
first thing that strike my head was how we possibly can bring a positive change to the destiny
of these kind of people: burdened with the age and ravished off their rights to
the commonwealth society; the carcass of a circus.
And
then Katherine Mansfield’s short story, ‘A Cup of Tea’ flashed back to my vision.
Answering
to the appalling request for alms enough to buy a cup of tea, Rosemary Fell took
Miss Smith to her plush house in the posh area. The image of the poor, pathetic girl
somehow matched with the hungry old man. The girl apparently in quiver and
shiver for hunger and winter, was asking for enough alms to buy a cup of tea.
Her condition was pathetic enough to drive Rosemary’s mind away off purchasing a painted
ceramic box in a posh antique shop. And she drove her instead to her luxurious
palace as a harbinger of destiny vowing to change the fate of the fretted girl.
She was certain of her heart-felt intention to do good and stood irresolute to
her husband’s diplomatic denial. She fed her well and kept her good vibe intact
as long as her husband tricked her with jealousy and a sense of insecurity by
praising the beauty of the poor girl.
With
the slightest risk of our fortune, we back away from all those well wishes to
change the destiny of people, to show them how good-hearted we really are. We forget about our preaching on how a strong hope can change their life and make them land onto their dreams.
Most of us can’t change the society. But we can at least change a particular moment if we are
yet to master the art of looking away dodging our sleeping senses. I know I
can’t do big; but, it’s not good enough reason to force myself away from doing
the least thing I can do. And as I myself was not in either of the categories
of the doers and the ignorers and as I really didn’t belong to the class who would think of their budgets inside the main building or outside in the
terrace, I asked a young waiter to come close. He knew me well as a recent
addition to café for the love of a good cup of coffee.
I
asked him to get the old man to a vacant corner table, which usually remains
unchosen and unoccupied for a hard angle of the beautiful view. I ordered a set
menu combining fried rice, chicken and vegetables. And of course, the action
was not cordially welcomed by the guy in charge of the café. At least this is
what I can ignore. But the way the hungry old man was grabbing the food served
was something I couldn’t bear.
Leaving
behind the half-finished cup of my favorite coffee, I paid the bill with a tip;
bigger than I can afford happily and far lesser than what the other frequenters
usually take back to their wallet from the changes.
In a gloomy morning of dilemmatic and whimsical winter, we set out, on a sudden unplanned tour, to reach the serene tranquility of Dhaleshwari River at Dhaleshwari Camping & Kayaking, without any prior knowledge to the stunning surprise awaiting us.
Dhaleshwari is a distributary river flowing out of Jamuna to make a solo trip to cover a long journey along 160 kilometers on Tangail, Dhaka and Narayanganj districts until it merges with Shitalakshya and then the mighty Meghna.
Unlike the other rivers flowing inside the heart of Dhaka, Dhaleshwari still holds the natural look of a river with the natural flow, uncontaminated water and soothing view on its both banks, especially in the Keraniganj part, which is where the Dhaleshwari Camping & Kayaking is located at.
As I said earlier, it was entirely an unplanned Friday morning tour. Waking up a little earlier than the usual Fridays, I felt like making an escape plan from the motored life and a river outside the mechanized city was the very first imagery to have struck my mind. And I ran into the unplanned trip.
I have
explored several tourist spots based on the river Buriganga in the heart of
Dhaka, but was utterly disappointed with the odor and the water quality of the
near dead river. In this regard, Dhaleshwari River was a little far from the
heart of the city, and the little distance was enough to avoid the unavoidable
pollution streaming out of an over-burdened city.
I had heard about the Dhaleshwari Camping & Kayaking site from several Facebook posts, especially from a group on a cleaning campaign to free the St. Martin’s Island off the curses of plastic wastages. And Jayed Khan Khaled bhai was the one who carried all those wastages all the way from Teknaf to his camping site on a hired truck to make an eco-friendly barge on the Dhaleshwari River.
Even without the necessary pre-booking for the site under maintenance, Jayed Khan Khaled bhai cordially accepted us as friends, not as clients and arranged a late breakfast along with the mouth-watering lunch with the aroma of a blissful village home and a mind-blowing site-seeing.
We had already made our day, quenching the long-cherished thirst for spending an entire day by the spell of a river, far from the mayhem of maddening crowd. And it was all possible because of the unbelievable congeniality and hospitality of Jayed Hasan Khaled Bhai.
We had been
enjoying the short trip way beyond the expectations. And then it became a very
very special one with the sudden visit of Anisul Haque sir. It was one kind of
a moment to feel really fortunate about. Felt so blessed to have the company of
such a celebrated personality from this close!
The Nature is kind,
Enough to get you
find
The ultimate solace,
Floating within
And hidden behind
The water and the
wind.
It was close enough to
reach the spot in about 40 minutes from the Dhanmondi area of the city, but
still far enough to dodge the deafening chaos into the calm and quiet serenity
on the very lay of the Nature. But, the Dhaleshwari Camping & Kayaking is
targeted for the people in love with the raw nature in an entirely village
setting. If you happen to look for the luxury offered by the traditional
resorts, this might fall into plan ‘B’ for you. But, if you want to dive deeper
into the tranquility of the Nature, want to enjoy the soothing greenery of a
village, the bliss of a serene river and the peace hidden deep down your heart,
this is the perfect kind of place that you can choose for a camping site for a
day long stay or for a night to explore the magic of melting Moon flooding the
flow of Dhaleshwari.
We took an uber ride to
get to the spot and the car took about 35 minutes to drop us at Dhaleshwari Camping &
Kayaking at the expense of 600 BDT. CNGs are also available from Muhammadpur bus
stand at Basila to get to Kalatia Bazar, Keraniganj and from there any
auto-rickshaw can drive you to the camp site on the bank of the river in a few
minutes.
I talk to shadows.
A lot many, from
The passing days;
In new bottles
With newer shades,
New looks
And dazzling glows.
And all my questions
Change back to phonemes
In a big void,
With no place to land
Like a newbie in twitter
With no returning flows.
And I'm a shadow myself
Waking up a new born,
Rising from the deaths
Of the earlier nights
In every single morn;
Putting on well a new day
And the colors of past to adorn.
With the flow of crystal
From the mountain ridge
My soul glides along,
Winging on
A northern breeze.
How deeply I miss
The beauty
And the bliss
Of a southbound trip
By a coral sandy beach.
Along the green
Flowing deep
And the blue, swinging high
In a wayward leap,
There lies a heaven to reach.
