Tag: poem-12 (বাংলা)

They used to call her Sagufta.
Hearing it made my blood boil.
Shah Gufta.
Such a beautiful name.
And yet they twisted it in calling her.
Suman-bhai too,
he was said to be Apa’s lover!
A lover who couldn’t even
say his beloved’s name right.
There was no internet then,
no messenger like today’s.
For Suman-bhai and Shah Gufta-apa
I was the messenger.
Shah Gufta’s
handwriting was as fine and small as her name,
her writing carried the same elegance as her name.
Before handing it to Suman-bhai
I would read it over, several times.
In my imagination, in Suman-bhai’s place,
I myself would weave a secret rendezvous.
Shah Gufta
carried that same elegance, name and all,
through her whole body.
There was a strange fragrance about her.
One day,
for some reason I never knew,
she drew me close,
stroking my back,
and, right on the top of my head,
placed a gentle kiss.
Even now I stroke that spot,
searching still for those lips.
In trying to come close
my nose, my mouth, my eyes touched
Shah Gufta’s soft breast.
That much, only.
Strange! Strange! A strange touch.
A whole lifetime has passed, and yet
that touch, that scent
has never returned, never returned,
that longing to drown.
Shah Gufta.
Does she know!
Even now I search for that touch,
that scent.
The one who first wove into me,
in this life, a woman’s soul, a woman’s scent.