Sukumar Choudhuri

A Young Poet’s Lyrics

The timid poet felt helpless as excited by his humming tune
His father did indicate. That he must recite in full.
So sang he up his freshly writ lyric perforce:
“By inner sheen of the eyes I have seen all beyond eye,
I shall look into my soul now as the light has gone by.”
His wide eyes were moist with passion.
Entire creation got stilled by charming strokes of sound and tone.

Real estates were left behind, the ledgers and so many bustles.
The overwhelmed  father shedded tears of joy.
He embraced his reverend son after so long.  Thereafter
signing a  cheque  of Rs.500 in his office he
gave it to the handsome poet.
Eyes affectionate, solemn voice, be gone.

‘Mughal Emperors in the past used to show respect to the adept
in this manner`, he said. ‘The Mughal Empire is no more now. But
your essence of genius deserved such a royal prize.`

His servants were happier than the poet. They have been
his companions all-time. Raising the winner poet overhead
they filled the worshiper’s corridor with uproar in celebration.

Now there is deceptive and confused noise in the verse domain.
Postmodernist poets recite poems of expansive consciousness.
In those poetical venues the great father is an outcast now.
Affection of father so sparse.

If anyone places a reward in the hands of a young poet even now
we still remember the great old father.
We remember that old-time young poet,
of the ancestral heritage of worship corridor.

 

The Escape
I quit the trial.
For that matter I’m none special;
have no magic wand
and the dying souls march towards the end.

Not that I’m shameless so much,
but it’s then short-lived often;
so many things to feel sorry for,
crowd and chaos,
glooms and glitches.

I keep on quitting.
But nothing extraordinary of that;
have no touch stone
and just then the news spreads,
“Kanuda hanged himself;”
it pricks my heart pierces my head,
it’s so pain enormous.

It’s so strange I feel.
But I really don’t know
if culminations are all tragic…..
and then the escaping withdrawal that stays back.

I escape away…..
from such botherings,
from the temple of my faith….
from things undone.

Sukumar Choudhuri, he enjoys an enviable reputation. Brimming over the 10007420_10205767657049296_5688512102922199982_ngeographic confines of Bengal as well as Vidarbha, his fame has now permeated throughout the Globe. His susceptibilities are many. Among
them, his love for literature is foremost. He may rightly be called the mainstay of the life force of the 80’s world of Bengali Poetry. Forsooth, the ever-reactionary transit of Bengali poetry had never known so much of virulent and dynamic probing into the abysmal threshold of vivisecting self-analysis leading to precariously revealing impacts. Never had so much of unmatched translations of elusive humane experiences found such bohemian ebullitions. To date his publications number only twelve or thirteen volumes, each tracking a different trail. The diversity of style, the floridity of expressions and the varied nuances rather suits him because he writes ‘to transgress art to reach the art beyond’.He loves diversity and therefore ponders over man’s contrasting and contradicting role and its gamut of variations. Life reveals its little secrets before us in bits and pieces and intellectual perceptions can manage to grasp only a tiny flitting glance of them. The remaining only rest in the realms of imagination. This aspect of life is his pet theme and therefore always exists as a signature refrain in his writings. This is also the reason why a veil of romantic mysticism prevails around him.The person, like his poetic frugality, is a spartan in speech. He is the Creative Editor of ‘Khanan’, the only Bengali Little Magazine of Vidarbha. A little more about Sukumar, who is averse to publicity and is leading a self-exiled life in Maharashtra. He was born on 14th January 1962 in Balarampur village in the Purulia District of Bengal. He had his childhood days in Jhalda, a small town surrounded by hills, jungle,falls and rivers. One of his poetry works in local dialect of Jhalda, has initiated a storm of controversy. The book has been awarded by ‘Durer Kheya’ of Kanpur as the best book of the year (1999). His works has widely been translated in Marathi, Hindi, Kannad, Urdu, English and Telugu languages. We are amazed at the effortless  ease with which he courses into the various tributaries of literature besides poetry and drawings. He has been awarded “Ekhon Kabita Puraskar (1997)’ for the best poetry, ‘Maya Megh Puraskar (1998)’ for the best short story and ‘Mahadiganta Puraskar (2000)’ for the best editing. He has recently been awarded with Sadvabana Puraskar in the year 2009. Little Magazine Library O Gabeshana Kendra of Kolkata, All India Radio, Nagpur,Kabi Pushparani Smriti Sangsad, Bhilai, Vidharbha Sahitya Sangha, Nagpur and many other academies invited and felicitated him on different occasions. Besides he has been awarded with the prestigious ’Sahitya Setu Puraskar (2001)’ for his sincere contribution to the world of Bengali literature. Moreover his well-researched papers presented in different occasions triggered the mankind for his different and unparallal evaluation on specific issues. In the recent past on 30th December 2005 his edited journal ‘KHANAN’ had been awarded ‘Munshi Premchand Award’ as the Best Little Magzine of India’ at Jalpaiguri Book Fair. As on date his published works are ‘Manush Hey’ (1986) ,’Mangso O Manisha’ (1987),’Mayer Baper Bari’ (1989, 2nd Edition),’Aamader Parjyatan’ (1996), ‘Chhannamoteer Kuhu'(2006, 2nd Edition) (Eng Translation ~ ‘Bohemian Songs’ (1999) by B Sudipta),’Lal Leel Hoeelda Tin dikey Jhaeelda’ (1998), ‘Fanimansar Ulu'(2000), ‘Libidore Haarmala’ (2000), ‘Padya Pratibeshi'(2001), ‘Gadya Pratibeshi’ (2002), ‘Rajaneer Neel’ (2004) and ‘Aamar Katiye Otha’ (2004). He prefers working on different tributaries at a time. He is bit slow in processing his creations, as he believes in spontaneity. His creation can only be compared with the virgin dew drops. Most probably he defined it as the ‘silent notation’ in his poems. Whatever it may be, with his non-stop creations, everybody thus experience the flow of his witty love and finest feelings towards life and literature.