Stay tuned to our new posts and updates! Click to join us on WhatsApp L&C-Whatsapp & Telegram telegram Channel
L&C-Silhouette Subscribe
The L&C-Silhouette Basket
L&C-Silhouette Basket
A hand-picked basket of cherries from the world of most talked about books and popular posts on creative literature, reviews and interviews, movies and music, critiques and retrospectives ...
to enjoy, ponder, wonder & relish!
 
Support LnC-Silhouette. Great reading for everyone, supported by readers. SUPPORT

Bindu’s Son: Sarat Chandra’s ‘Bindur Chhele’ (Chapter – 7)

June 26, 2024 | By

LnC brings you Bindu’s Son, Lopamudra Banerjee’s translation of Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s novella Bindur Chhele — a beautiful story of a mother’s unwavering affection for her son. Enjoy Chapter – 7 of this unusually moving, emotional saga of love, sacrifice and pure human bonding, published every Wednesday as a Special Series 📖💕

Bindur Chhele Chapter 7

She bolted the door of her room and fell on the floor, weeping uncontrollably

Chapter – 7

In their new house, everybody was present, except Annapurna and Amulya. Bindu’s relatives—including her aunt, aunt’s daughter and grandchildren, Bindu’s parents, the maids of her paternal home filled the house with their mirthful banter. Bindu was initially absent-minded when she stepped foot in the new house, but then her behavior soon turned normal. She didn’t have an iota of doubt that Annapurna would come once her anger subsided. There was a puja ritual to do in the new house, followed by a grand feast; Bindu busied herself with the arrangement of the puja and the festivities.

Bindu’s father, upon noticing Amulya’s absence, asked her: “Ma, why can’t I see your son?”

“He is in our old house.” Bindu replied curtly.

“What about your elder sister-in-law? Couldn’t she come too?” Her mother asked, inquisitive.

“No.” Bindu replied curtly again.

Bindu’s mother remarked: “I understand, dear, everybody can’t come together—or else, who would stay in the old house? One mustn’t lock up the ancestral property, after all.”

Bindu silently went away to attend to her chores.

Every day in the evening, Jadav would come and sit outside the new house, talk with everybody and enquire about their wellbeing. Then he would leave silently, without entering the house for once. In the night prior to their puja rituals, he stepped inside the house for the first time and called for Elakeshi, his cousin sister to get some news. Upon knowing, Bindu hid herself in a silent corner and tried to overhear their conversation. Bindu revered her elder brother-in-law more than her own father, and he himself, since her childhood till this date, doted on her, filled her with so much of love and affection. Jadav would always call her ‘Ma’, not ‘Bou Ma’, the traditional way of addressing brides of the house. All these days, Bindu went up to him with so many complaints about her sister-in-law whenever they had a domestic scuffle; he never neglected or ignored any of her childish pleas.

Seeing him from a distance today, Bindu’s voice felt choked in an infinite sense of shame and guilt. When Jadav left the house, like the other days, she locked herself in her room and her tears knew no bounds. Tucking the aanchal of her sari in her mouth, she continued to wail, trying hard to hide her tears from the crowd inside the house.

The very next morning, Bindu called for her husband and enquired: “It’s getting late…and the priest is waiting—why isn’t Borthakur (elder brother-in-law) here yet?

Madhav replied, surprised: “Why is he needed?”

Bindu was even more surprised to see her husband’s reaction. “Why is he needed? What kind of answer is that? Who else but he himself will take care of these rituals?”

Madhav replied: “Either I, or Priyo Babu, my brother-in-law will do those. Dada cannot come today.”

Bindu replied, enraged: “What sort of an answer is this: ‘He cannot come?’ Why will I listen to it? Nobody else in the house has the right to do those rituals other than him. It is simply unacceptable! I won’t allow anybody else other than him to do all these tasks!”

Madhav said: “Then let us stop the rituals altogether…Dada is not at home today; he is out for work!”

“I see, all this is a ploy of Boro Ginni (elder mistress of the house)! In that case, she won’t come as well!” Bindu said, in a teary voice, and left the scene. All the puja rituals, worshipping the Hindu gods, the festivities, the grand feast appeared fake and meaningless to her in an instant. For the last three days, all she was hoping for was that—Borthakur would come to their new house, along with Didi and Amulya. Nobody else other than herself knew how much she depended on their presence for the proceedings of the entire day. At her husband’s utterance of the harsh truth, all her hopes turned into a mirage and vanished, and soon enough, the arrangement of the festivities seemed like a hard rock sitting over her bosom and crushing her soul.

Elakeshi came to her and said: “Chhoto Bou, give me the keys to the pantry, the confectioner is here with the sweets.”

With a weary voice, Bindu replied: “Keep them somewhere you deem fit, Thakurjhi, I’ll see to it later.”

“Where will I keep all these sweets? The crows will munch on them and destroy everything!”

“Then throw it all away!” Bindu said, in a fit of anger, and left.

Pishima, Bindu’s aunt came to her and asked: “Bindu, how much of flour will the cook need to make the dough? Can you instruct them?”

Bindu replied with a glum face: “How will I know how much? You are expert mistresses in the domestic domain, you tell me how much!”

Bindu’s Pishima said with an astonished look: “Goodness! How will I know how many people will have lunch in your house?”

Bindu was enraged. “Go and tell Didi, then! You know, during Amulyadhan’s sacred thread ceremony, so many people of the city had their daily meals for three days, not even for once did she instruct me to oversee anything. Nobody among you is worth a single bone of hers!” Thus saying, she stormed out of the room.

— xxx —

Kadam came and said to Bindu: “Didi, Jamai Babu is asking about the attire for the puja rituals—” Before she could finish her sentence, Bindu shouted: “Eat me up, you all; eat me up! Go away from my sight, right now!”

Kadam fled from the scene in fear. After some time, Madhav came and called Bindu a number of times. “Can you listen to me?”

Bindu came near him, and her voice resounded in terrible angst: “No, I can’t, I won’t listen to you! I can’t, are you happy now?”

Madhav gaped at her, amazed and shocked. Bindu said again: “Why are you looking at me like this? Will you hang me to death? Do it, then!” With her shrill, teary voice, she quickly moved away from him.

Meanwhile, hours passed by and the day was fast approaching its end. Restless and agitated beyond measure, Bindu went on loitering from one room to the other, blaming everyone around her. When she saw some utensils scattered on her way, she shoved them forcefully towards the courtyard, teaching a lesson in domestic chores. When the wet clothes which were hung in the clothesline to dry fell over her body by sheer accident, she tore them away to shreds. Everybody around her was terrorized to see her actions. If somebody confronted her by sheer luck, he or she would move to a distance and stand silently, in fear.

The poor priest came inside the house and remarked, a bit hesitatingly: “The day is fast approaching, but no arrangements have been made yet—”

Bindu, standing in a quiet corner, replied with a stern voice: “Yes, it is a busy household, and getting a little late for the rituals in such a busy day isn’t so uncommon, after all!” She threw away a utensil that came in her way, went to another room and sat on the floor, lifeless and utterly lost. Within ten minutes, she happened to hear a familiar voice ringing from some corner of the house. She lifted her body, as if with a sudden jolt and peeped outside to see Annapurna standing at the courtyard.

Bindu was in tears to notice the sudden arrival of her elder sister-in-law after a long spell of anguish and pain. Wiping her tears from her face, she came up to Annapurna, wrapping the aanchal of her sari around her neck and folding her palms, and said: “It’s eleven o’clock already, Didi, how much of enmity would you still foster in your mind? If you’ll be happy with me swallowing poison, go home and send me some of it!” She threw away the bunch of keys in front of Annapurna’s feet and went away to her own room. She bolted the door of her room and fell on the floor, weeping uncontrollably.

As for Annapurna, she silently picked up the bunch of keys from the floor and entered the pantry. After lunch time and the primary rituals, the crowd of relatives subsided, but Bindu loitered in the whole house restlessly, as if in the quest for something.

“Amulya Babu isn’t there in the school!” Bhairav, the servant came to her and reported.

Bindu looked at him with fiery eyes and replied: “Stupid man! Do boys stay inside the school till this late?  Are you new to the house? Couldn’t you go and check in our old house?”

“Well…I checked…He isn’t there too!” Bhairav replied, hesitatingly.

Bindu’s temper escalated at this news. “He must be playing dang-guli* with some lowly born boys somewhere! Is he afraid of anything at all? If he loses an eye in playing that sport, Boro Ginni, I’m sure, will be satisfied; her wish will come true! Go away, now, and find him from wherever on earth you can!” She said.

Annapurna was sitting at the door of the pantry and chatting with some elderly women who gathered for the occasion. She happened to hear Chhoto Bou shouting with her high-pitched voice.

After an hour, Bhairav came back and let Bindu know that Amulya was found in their old house, but the boy didn’t agree to come along with him. It was utterly unbelievable to Bindu.

“What are you saying? Did you tell him I called him?”

“Yes, I did. Still, he didn’t come.” Bhairav replied, nodding his head sheepishly.

Bindu was silent in sudden shock for some moments. Then she raised her voice and said: “It’s not his fault, after all. He is taking after his mother, which was inevitable all along! I swear, I’ll never see the face of both mother and son ever again in this life!”

Late at night, when Annapurna was hurrying to go back home, Madhav came up to her, desiring to accompany her. Just then, Bindu came after them in quick footsteps, and addressed her husband in her enraged voice: “Well, well, you’re going with her, right? But do you know she didn’t touch any food in the house yet, not even a drop of water?”

Madhav replied quietly: “I’m not supposed to know that, but you are. In the morning, as I saw everything in the house in a disrupted state, I myself went and brought her here…Hence, it is my responsibility to escort her to her own house again.”

“Oh, this means you two are together in this conspiracy against me! Good to know that!” Bindu replied.

Madhav didn’t reply to Bindu, but said to Annapurna instead: “Bouthan, let’s go, it is getting late already.”

“Let’s go, Thakurpo!” Annapurna said, and started walking. Bindu lost her senses and roared in anger: “Do you know, there’s this proverb, ‘One’s own turns to his/her enemy?’ It was she who quarreled, uttered a bunch of rubbish words, swore to belittle me, then deprived me of seeing her son’s face for four days and four nights! May God ensure justice for all her deeds!”

Thus saying, she tucked the aanchal of her sari in her mouth to stop herself from crying, and went away to the verandah adjacent to the kitchen. But just as she entered there, she fell on the floor, prostrate, and fainted within moments.

There was a furor in the kitchen, and both Madhav and Annapurna heard it. Annapurna looked behind and said: “Let me see what happened!”

“No need to see…Let’s go now.” Madhav said.

— xxx —

The news of this cold war between both women didn’t remain a secret for long. The very next day, as the women of the house gathered for their chitchat, Elakeshi remarked: “I understand there has been a scuffle between the sisters-in-law, but what about the boy? Couldn’t he come for once? No, Chhoto Bou wasn’t wrong, the son is taking after his mother, of course! So many have I seen like him, all my life, but haven’t seen such an ungrateful one, truly!”

With weary eyes, Bindu glanced at Elakeshi and then lowered her eyes in terrible shame and disgust. This didn’t deter Elakeshi one bit. She went on: “I know you love children, Chhoto Bou…Why don’t you take my Narendranath then? Really…I am offering him to you! Beat him up, kill him, do whatever you wish to, and he will never utter a word! I didn’t give birth to an unworthy offspring!”

Bindu was sitting silent, wordless. But then, Bindu’s mother spoke up on her behalf. Being a matured woman, with the blood of a zamindar in her veins, she was endowed with wisdom and insight. She laughed and remarked: “What are you talking about? Amulya is embedded in her soul, her flesh and blood—No, please don’t instigate her in this way! Bindu, your tiff with your sister-in-law is just a matter of days, but it cannot take away your son from you!”

Bindu looked at her mother silently as her eyes brimmed with tears. In the evening, she called for Kadam, the maid and asked: “Kadam, you were there the day when all of it happened…Tell me, what was my fault? Why did she swear so strongly that day?”

Kadam, the maid couldn’t believe that Bindu had invited her, of all people, to discuss such a personal matter. With a lot of hesitation brewing within her, she remained silent. But Bindu didn’t pay heed to that, and went on: “Above everything else, you all are elder than me, hence, I might as well listen to you—tell me, what was my fault?”

“No, Didi, not your fault!” Kadam replied, shaking her shoulder.

Bindu said: “Then go to our old house and tell that on my sister-in-law’s face, can you? What is there to fear?”

With a newfound sense of courage, Kadam remarked: “It is not a question of fear! But what is the point of all this quarreling? What was inevitable has happened already, isn’t it?”

Bindu replied: “No, no, Kadam, you don’t know—It is always good to speak up the truth. Otherwise, she will forever have this impression that it was all my fault and none of hers. Didn’t she always talk about driving me away, banish me from the house? Did I ever get angry for that? But why did she give money to Amulya, hiding it from me? Why didn’t she let me know for once?”

“Okay, let me go tomorrow then, it is already late in the evening today.” Kadam replied.

Bindu was dissatisfied at Kadam’s coldness. “It’s not that dark yet, what are you saying, Kadam? It’s only because it is winter, and the daytime is short! If you want, you can take somebody along with you…” She said. “Bhairav, listen!” She called out the servant and ordered him: “Please call Hebo, and tell him to accompany Kadam.”

“But Babu has occupied him with some other task…he is cleaning the lamps now!” Bhairav replied.

Bindu lifted her eyes and looked straight at him. “Ah, again you started arguing with me?”

Bhairav couldn’t tolerate the fire in those wide, intense eyes, and ran away within moments. After sending away Kadam, Bindu moved from one room to the next restlessly for some time, and then, entered the kitchen again. The brahmin cook woman was preparing the dinner there, all by herself. Bindu sat at one corner and asked her: “Bamun meye, I’m supposing you are one of the witnesses…Tell me the truth, whose fault was bigger among us both?”

The cook couldn’t get the context. “Fault regarding what, Ma?” She asked, with a blank expression.

“It’s about the quarrel of that day, don’t you get it?” Bindu was annoyed. “I had only said to her, Didi, did you give any money to Amulya recently? Who on earth doesn’t know that one shouldn’t give money to young boys? Couldn’t she just say, Amulya was crying and begging for money, so I gave it to him? It would have been easily resolved! Why create such an uproar over this simple matter? If you keep five utensils together, their co-existence will create a commotion, and we are humans, after all! Didn’t she commit a huge sin, tell me, swearing in her son’s name that day? Then let me swear too, I will not see her face in this entire life…Even if I have to look at my enemies, I will never look at her…”

Bamun meye, the Brahmin cook woman was quiet by nature. She kept her silence, not knowing what words would suit at that moment. Bindu’s eyes became moist once again; she wiped her tears and said, with a broken voice: “Whoever doesn’t swear in rage, in anguish, tell me? It is right that she didn’t even have a sip of water, just because of that? And moreover, she didn’t let the boy come to our new house, imagine what an offense! Did she forget that I am much younger to her? I might be impulsive, but do I deserve this behaviour? If I were her own daughter, could she have done the same thing to me? No, I swear I won’t utter her name ever in my life…never, never!”

The cook woman remained mum in spite of all that Bindu said. Amid her silence, Bindu went on: “What does she think? Only she can swear, and I can’t?” Tomorrow if I go to our old house and tell her, send me a bowl of poison right away, or else I too swear the worst will happen, what then? Don’t take my silence for granted—but maybe in a couple of days, I’ll go there and swear by my own name, or else swallow a bowlful of poison and then let everybody know, Didi has sent it for me! Yes, I want to see the consequences, I want to see whether everybody blames her or not, once that happens!”

The cook woman was scared to think of the disastrous events that Bindu was mentioning in her ramblings. In a soft, pleading voice, she said: “Ma, you shouldn’t think such negative thoughts…All these domestic tiffs are temporary, after all. Neither she, nor Amulyadhan can stay apart from you for long, we all know that! We are only wondering how the boy is living without you for all these days!”

With an eager voice, Bindu replied: “I hear you! I’m quite sure she has beaten him up, bullied him and terrorized him in some way…The poor boy who couldn’t sleep without me by his side for a single night is staying apart from me for five nights! Didn’t I say, I don’t want to see her face ever in my life, even if I look at my worst enemy?”

The cook woman pointed towards a blackened, bruised spot near her elbow and said: “See, Ma, I’ve got this…It happened the day you fainted, so you don’t know anything! Amulyadhan rushed to the room and fell on your bosom, appearing out of nowhere, and sobbed so loud! ‘Chhoto Ma is dead!’ He went on sobbing and repeating those words…Poor boy, he didn’t see you in such a condition before! I tried to pull him away from you, so that we could tend to you at that moment, but then he bit me like this! When Boro Ma went to pull him from you, he bit her and scratched her face, tore her clothes…he was so uncontrollable that day! We couldn’t figure out whether to take care of you, the patient, or the boy and his violent actions…Then, the servants came and moved him from the room with all their might.

Bindu glanced at the woman’s face with gaping eyes, as if swallowing every drop of her words. Then she heaved a huge sigh and went away to her room. She lay down in her bed, bolting the door tight.

Four days later, when Bindu’s parents and her aunt were about to return to their own home, Bindu was lying in her bed, weak and weary, as an after-effect of her fainting episode. Kadam, the maid was fanning her. Bindu gestured her to come nearer and uttered in a feeble voice: “Did Didi come?”

Kadam replied: “No, no, we all are here to look after you, why call her and create an inconvenience?”

Bindu remained still for a few moments and then uttered: “That’s where you all go wrong, I say! Why do you try to apply your weak brains in everything? You’ll kill me in this way soon, you know! Just remember, so many of you were there during the day of the puja in this house, could you perform anything properly till that person stepped foot inside the house? You are no match for her; you don’t have the power of a single finger of hers!”

Just then, Bindu’s mother stepped into the room. “Jamai** has agreed to our proposal, Bindu, come with us and stay at your parents’ home for some days, please.”

Bindu looked at her mother’s face for a while and replied: “Ma, does it depend on his opinion alone? How can I go unless my enemy gives me permission to do it?”

Her mother understood the reference to the enemy and said: “Are you talking about your sister-in-law? I don’t think you’ll need her permission. Once you have been separated, your husband’s permission is enough.”

Bindu nodded her head and said: “No, Ma, it isn’t enough. As long as they are alive, they are the ultimate guardians. Whatever I might do, I cannot leave the house without asking them both—or else Borthakur (elder brother-in-law) will be upset!”

Elakeshi entered the room and listened to the conversation. She said: “Okay, I am giving you the permission on their behalf, you can go with your parents.”

Bindu didn’t reply to her. Her mother said: “Well, then fetch some people in your old house and seek their permission, Bindu!”

Bindu was astonished. “Fetch some people? Ma, that will look terrible! I know her mind, Ma…She might agree to send me off verbally, but deep within, she will surely be enraged—and perhaps, also lie and embellish things to Borthakur, her husband! No, no, you rather go back without me.”

Her mother understood the complexity of the situation; she didn’t insist further, and returned home with her family. After they left, Bindu felt the empty house was almost devouring her, every single moment. Elakeshi lived with her family in a room downstairs, and she had her own room downstairs. All the rest of the house seemed like a barren desert. With an empty heart, she loitered around the house and came to a room in the third floor. She had designed this particular room with sweet thoughts of the future when Amulya would be married and live with his wife in the room. Entering the empty room, she couldn’t help her tears from flowing. When she was coming downstairs, she came face-to-face with her husband. At once, she asked: “Listen, how will it be?”

Madhav stared at her blankly, without getting the context. “What is it?” He asked.

Bindu couldn’t reply, her voice was being choked. Suddenly, she heaved a sigh and replied: “No, no, please go…let it be!”

The very next day, Madhav was working at the formal drawing room, as Bindu entered the room all of a sudden. Preventing her tears and her intense emotions, she enquired: “Your brother has joined a job recently, I heard?”

Madhav didn’t lift his eyes from his papers, and replied curtly: “Hmm…”

“What does ‘Hmm’ mean? Is he fit for working at this age?” Bindu was impatient.

As usual, Madhav fixed his gaze on the papers of his study and replied: “Do men always work according to their age? They work because they have to make ends meet. It’s their necessity to earn for their living…”

“But why would he feel compelled to earn money? Is there any lack of it, and why so? In fact, forget about us women, we are outsiders, but you are his own brother!”

“No, he is my step-brother, a relative, not my own sibling.”

Stunned by the irony of her husband’s words, Bindu uttered slowly: “Would you let him work at this age, while you are alive?”

At this, Madhav lifted his eyes and glanced at his wife. Then, with a quiet voice, she replied: “Why not? In this human world, one has to face the workings of his own destiny within his lifetime, and I myself am a living example of this truth. You know, I don’t even remember when both my parents passed away, but I’ve heard from Boro Bouthan (elder sister-in-law) that we were very poor…but strangely enough, I didn’t feel an iota of pain that poverty begets, in my entire life. Till date, I haven’t known from where a set of clean clothes were given to me, I haven’t known from where my school fees, the expense for my books, the rent for the house were given…When I grew up and became a lawyer, I have earned quite a handsome amount! Meanwhile, you appeared in the household, as if from nowhere, with a fat bunch of money—and then, this mansion was made, brick by brick…But then, look at my Dada, all his life, he has slogged silently, laboured hard to protect our family—always wearing old, torn clothes, stitching them up, never wearing warm clothes during the winter months…always surviving on a few morsels of food, saving it all for us—I don’t remember everything though, and there’s no need to remember too—But come to think of it, he was really content and resting for a few years, and now, God is making him pay double price for his leisurely days…”

After this, he looked away from Bindu and started searching for an important document.

Bindu, amid her long silence, could gauge with every drop of her blood how much her husband reprimanded her through the simple narration of his childhood story. She hung her head in a strong feeling of misery and shame.

Meanwhile, Madhav went on, while searching for his document, as if in a quiet soliloquy: “What a job he has joined! What terrible misery he’s suffering! He has to commute to the faraway office in Radhapur, travelling more than ten miles every day…At four o’clock in the morning, he sets out from home, survives without food almost for the entire day, then comes back home at night and then only he can eat something. And all this for a paltry sum of twelve rupees as his salary!”

Startled, Bindu replied: “Twelve rupees, that is it? That too, after remaining hungry for the whole day?”

“Yes, twelve rupees! His age is advancing these days, and moreover, he takes opium every night…He doesn’t even get an ounce of milk, on top of that! Perhaps the almighty God is intending to take away his earthly pain, after so many years!”

Tears streamed down Bindu’s eyes, and she did something that she never cared to do in her entire life. She stooped down to her husband and said in a teary voice, hugging his feet: “I beg of you, please do something to stop all this! The frail old man won’t live if this continues…”

Madhav was in tears too, but he wiped his eyes somehow and replied: “What can I do about this? Bouthan (sister-in-law) has sworn not to take a single penny from us. How would their family sustain if Dada doesn’t go out to earn?”

“I don’t know anything!” Bindu said, in utter desperation. “I only know that you are my God, and he is superior to you too! Shame, shame on me, I uttered such vile words, how could I utter…” Bindu’s voice was getting choked.

Madhav gauged Bindu’s repentant mind and replied: “Okay, then go to Bouthan and ask for her forgiveness—make her happy, can you? I am incapable of doing anything here, even if you cling to my feet for the entire day.”

Immediately, Bindu let go of her husband’s feet and said: “It’s not my habit to touch anyone’s feet and beg, you know that very well! But I can see that you are playing your part in this too! I can see now, why Didi didn’t have even a sip of water that day, and in spite of that, you remained mum like an enemy? Didn’t your silence make me more of a sinner?”

Madhav tried to concentrate on his papers and replied: “No, my silence is a lesson that I received from Dada. May God gift me this precious silence till my last breath on earth!”

Bindu left without uttering another word. She went upstairs in her own room and bolted the door tight.

Just when Madhav was thinking of going upstairs, Bindu came up to him again, and Madhav noticed her eyes, red and swollen. With a tinge of pity, he said to her again: “Go to her, I say. You know her for so many years—once you go to our old house and stand in front of her, the ice will break between both of you, I’m sure.”

With a teary, pitiful voice, Bindu pleaded: “You go to her, please…I swear in Amulya’s name…”

Madhav understood her mind and said in a warm, affectionate voice: “I can’t say anything to Dada, however much you swear. If he himself doesn’t come to me and broach the subject, I cannot…I don’t have the courage to do it, even if you cut off my neck!”

Bindu listened to it all, transfixed to the ground. Madhav asked her again: “Can’t you go and ask for their forgiveness?”

Bindu didn’t reply. Lowering her head, she walked away, slowly.

————–

* a game with a stick, popularly known as gilli danda

** Jamai – son-in-law

 

To be continued….

Bindu’s Son Special Series is published every Wednesday.

Click here to read the chapters

Sarat Chandra Bindur-Chhele (Bindu's Son) english translation

 

More Must Read in LnC Translations

Rabindranath Tagore’s Chitrangada: English Translation

Yashoda: Poetry in Translation

Sakhi Bhaabona Kaahare Bole — English Translation of Tagore’s Song

Two Tagore Songs of ‘Puja’ Parjaay in Translation

Lopamudra (Lopa) Banerjee is an author, editor, poet and writing instructor staying in Dallas, Texas with her family, but originally from Kolkata, India. She has a Masters in English with thesis in Creative Nonfiction from University of Nebraska and also Masters in English from University of Calcutta, India. Apart from writing and editing some critically acclaimed books and being awarded with the Reuel International Prize for Poetry (2017) and for Translation (2016), she has dabbled in all genres of writing, from journalism and content writing to academic essays and fiction/poetry. She has been interviewed in various e-zines, literary blogs and also at TV (Kolkata) and at radio stations in Dallas, Texas. Very recently, she has been part of the upcoming short film 'Kolkata Cocktail', a docu-feature based on poetry, but her love for writing feature stories go back to her journalism days when she interviewed people from all walks of life and wrote essays and articles based on them. She loves performing poetry as spoken words art and has performed in various forums in India and USA.
All Posts of Lopamudra Banerjee

Hope you enjoyed reading...

... we have a small favour to ask. More people are reading and supporting our creative, informative and analytical posts than ever before. And yes, we are firmly set on the path we chose when we started... our twin magazines Learning and Creativity and Silhouette Magazine (LnC-Silhouette) will be accessible to all, across the world.

We are editorially independent, not funded, supported or influenced by investors or agencies. We try to keep our content easily readable in an undisturbed interface, not swamped by advertisements and pop-ups. Our mission is to provide a platform you can call your own creative outlet and everyone from renowned authors and critics to budding bloggers, artists, teen writers and kids love to build their own space here and share with the world.

When readers like you contribute, big or small, it goes directly into funding our initiative. Your support helps us to keep striving towards making our content better. And yes, we need to build on this year after year. Support LnC-Silhouette with a little amount - and it only takes a minute. Thank you

Support LnC-Silhouette

Creative Writing

Got a poem, story, musing or painting you would like to share with the world? Send your creative writings and expressions to editor@learningandcreativity.com

Learning and Creativity publishes articles, stories, poems, reviews, and other literary works, artworks, photographs and other publishable material contributed by writers, artists and photographers as a friendly gesture. The opinions shared by the writers, artists and photographers are their personal opinion and does not reflect the opinion of Learning and Creativity- emagazine. Images used in the posts (not including those from Learning and Creativity's own photo archives) have been procured from the contributors themselves, public forums, social networking sites, publicity releases, free photo sites such as Pixabay, Pexels, Morguefile, etc and Wikimedia Creative Commons. Please inform us if any of the images used here are copyrighted, we will pull those images down.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Today’s Motivation

<div class=at-above-post addthis_tool data-url=https://learningandcreativity.com/carve-luck-hardwork/></div>Success is an outcome of hardwork and sincere efforts, not the luck.<!-- AddThis Advanced Settings above via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Advanced Settings below via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Advanced Settings generic via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons above via filter on get_the_excerpt --><!-- AddThis Share Buttons below via filter on get_the_excerpt --><div class=at-below-post addthis_tool data-url=https://learningandcreativity.com/carve-luck-hardwork/></div><!-- AddThis Share Buttons generic via filter on get_the_excerpt -->
Success is an outcome of hardwork and sincere efforts, not the luck.