Reading up on books that talk of your soil and smell of your own language can be heady..but then one must know how to smell, in between the pages, between the lines, even between the words, to find oneself there..and I have been waiting to feel you so long, where poetry ended and you began, who knows.
'Suddenly I saw Pakhi standing by my desk. The moment I saw her I realized, this is what I had been waiting for. Yes no point trying to hide it. I felt I had made her appear with the force of my longing- She had no choice, she could not have done otherwise. So I was not surprised, I said nothing, I only looked at her in silence.
Pakhi was the first one to speak. I remember her words clearly.
"I'm a lady. You should stand up when you see me"
I stood up obediently.
"Reading so late in the night?"
"I glanced at the fat, open book in response."
"Are you up only to read?"
My head lowered itself in guilt. There was a silent pause. I could hear the ticking of the clock in the next room. There was one more sound, probably a sound in my heart, a strange one.'
As I read, in the distance of the neighbourhood plays 'Chompa Chameli..' and somehow I am home, where you are..where I reside
( Conversation lines from, 'My kind of girl' By Buddhadeva Basu- Translated By Arunava Sinha)