The sounds of the dhak are too loud,
But alas! Your ears fail to hear them..
when it is the happiness of millions of people,
waking early in the morn,
to listen to the holy words, to hear
the beats so loud in the heart,
"pujo aashche","pujo elo!" "Pujo je eshei gelo"
As the first bells of the temples welcome
the arrival of Durga,
and a hundreds gather to share the joy,
Alas! You are absent...
though the absence felt, it seems,
everyone forgets to hear thy voice,
hidden beneath the loud sounds of the "Dhak"...
In the middle of the night, Ma arrives,
people shout and sing and dance,
and the three days they pray,
may go with peace and harmony,
and sounds of laughter surrounding,
wearing new clothes, with matching shoes and
contrasting shades,
I remember people said, you too had got dresses,
you too had told your mother,
"Please don't interfere,
I will get a hairstyle I like this time,
I am grown up, mother, understand"
Then why did suddenly you had to disappear
to a world from where nobody can hear from you again?
Have you ever thought the trauma upon your mother,
whom had I seen carrying you in her womb for those
nine long months,
who seldom gets out now...
The Puja all people await since a year,
has fallen upon like a curse on her...
And what now remains in her arms,
while we shout and enjoy ourselves,
is a corpse, a dead body of her own daughter,
falling prey to disease and a damaged liver,
You lay so empty,
and the tears that flow through your mother's eyes,
washes all dreams and happiness...
If only for once,
it could wash away the memories so far...
