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We went to the same school together He was late everyday, never prepared his lessons, When asked about grammar Would look out of the window so lost That we all felt sorry for him Some of us wanted to be teachers, others doctors, a few of us, lawyers. Amolkanti wanted none of these He wanted to be the sun. The rain-washed mellow evening sun That softly touches berries and berry leaves Like a mystic fleeting smile. Some of us became teachers, others doctors, a few of us, lawyers. Amolkanti did not become the sun. He now works in a dark printing press. Sometimes he visits me. Sips tea, chats a bit, and then says, "so long, man." I leave him at the door. The guy who became a teacher among us, Could have easily become a doctor. And who wanted to be a doctor, Wouldn't matter if he were a lawyer. They all had what they wished, except Amolkanti. Amolkanti could not become the sun. Amolkanti, who, wishfully thinking of the sun, Wanted to be the sun some day. (Copyright for this poem is with Nirendranath Chakravarty. This translation was contributed by Arindam Basu arindam@aol.com) |
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hits since October 1999