Priyotamasu (Dearest)- Sukanta Bhattacharya

Today I stand as a soldier on the frontier

Crossing many a bloodied path

Today I have come to a halt-

At my homeland’s border.

From the greys of Tunisia to the pleasant Italy,

From pleasant Italy, we charged towards the rebellious France

Like fate,controlled by the stars

We were unbeatable, with the invincible rifles in our hands;

-From France to even our neighbour, Burma.

Today my body wears the stern uniform of a soldier,

My hand still holds the rifle, invincible,

Through my blood flows the ripples of triumph

And of vanity that shadows power, a burden too heavy,

Now, I am another sentry on the border.                                                                                           
    

But today, the blue sky sends me summons,

The wind from home has delivered your pleas,

Has unfolded a green scroll before my eyes:

I try to ignore it, but how can I?

How can I ignore my uniform, either?

The war is now over. Peace stretches over the lands out far,

The cool breeze from there grazes my eyes,

At each moment my grip on the rifle loosens,

The uniform wants to slip off my body,

And though the moon rises high up the night sky, my eyes know nothing of slumber.

I have thought of you on so many days,

In the brief respite while waiting for the enemy’s footsteps,

Even as the cannonballs flew.

The mind had been disobedient, who knows how many times, in between victories

And how much has the heart burned in remorse

As I worried about you.

I have left you amid utmost poverty

Thrown you into the flames of famine,

Hit by storms, floods and epidemics,

Your very existence has been threatened over and over again.

While I raced from one battlefield to another.

Till this date, I don’t know whether you still are alive, or not,

Whether our home is left barren by the famine or has it been drowned in the floods.

No, I don’t know that either.

Even then, I am writing to you

I am writing to you with the hope that my pride still ignites in me

It is time to come back home.

I know, no one is waiting for the likes of me

With garlands and flags, or other charms of good will;

I know, there will be none to extend felicitations,

Or any awards for valor with a collective joy of many.

Yet, one heart will leap in delight upon my arrival

And that heart would be yours.

I no longer wish to fight, the war has ended, so;

Nor do I wish to stride across Indonesia

No longer will I march forward,

It is time for turning back.

I have fought a lot of their wars,

It is time I fight ours.

If you ask what have I gained from so many wars? The answer is-

Victory in Tunisia,

Friendship of the populace in Italy,

In France the spell of liberty,

And the urge to return home in thornless Burma.

Dear, I am but the lamplighter,

Who lights up the lamps down the streets and highways,

But cannot afford to light up his own house.

In his own house piles up an unbearable weight of darkness.