Sometimes I get very upset. Upset for no reason. Getting depressed. Then everything seems unbearable. Home is unbearable, abroad is unbearable, people are unbearable, love is unbearable, market is unbearable, food is unbearable, quarrels are unbearable, cars are unbearable, house is unbearable, bank balance is unbearable. It all seems pointless.
There is no creativity in any world. All families are full of boredom. Every day is the same. Panse, Pantavat type. There is no diversity, no specialness, only complaints and blame. No love, no love. No one understands anyone, no one knows anyone, different culture, different thoughts, different ideals. There is never a point of convergence, not in thought, not in love, not in compromise. Most households are undercurrent.
I never feel bad about asking for anything. I don’t care about what I have and what I don’t have. I am still the same as I was when I had nothing. When there was nothing there was my mother. Now there are many things but no mother. Mother understood me, Khuub understood.
Only mothers understand children. I was always lonely, arrogant, stubborn. Mother understood my pride. Only mother could sense that I was a little different, unconventional. Why still the smell of the mother’s body comes to the memory of the memory! Takes me to a wonderful childhood. I always see the pattern of mother’s face like the face of Durgamurti. When did the mother lift the anchor of the world and travel. But people do not live in the body, they live in the memory of self-giving, in remembrance, in the mind.
Even today I remember my mother and father every morning. Doesn’t seem late. It seems to be a little behind. Looking at me with great affection and love. They accepted my worship. I feel Ever since I left Barisal, I have understood the pain of being separated from my mother. My world was dark without my mother. My mother’s anxiety and worry about me was the most because I was calm and forgetful. No one else will worry like that! When mother died, Jasim calls still. Mother is calling me, as she used to call me as a child. In the illusion of boyhood, in the midst of the darkness, flees a dry, confused, neglected youth, whom no one but his mother has ever loved. That unqualified teenager with a chest of pride has been hit by the door of reality. However, his dream is not over even today. The walk is still going on today.
I want to be alone a lot these days. He wants to go out to find his mother. I search in the forest, on the path, in the market, in the field, in the mountains, in the sea. As I walk through the lonely empty streets, a deep, unnerving silence surrounds me. The smell of wet earth surrounds. Surrounded by trees. I think they are my friends. People are nothing to me. Every tree, insect, meadow, river, animal is my friend.
At a very young age I knew nothing of the outside world except Barisal. How to leave the house one day! The water-air-soil there wanted to tell me something. Everything was like my friend. I used to talk to trees, dogs, cats, cows, birds. It was always like a river of joy flowing through the chest. It seemed like I was never alone. All plants and animals are with me. And there is my mother. Even at this age, an irrational kid just pulls me by the hand. very tight
Toronto 30 May 2024
