Camellia - Translation From Bengali Poem By Rabindranath Tagore Poem by Malabika Ray Choudhury

Her name is Kamala.

saw it - on the cover of her notebook -

She was travelling in a tram, with her brother. on the way to college,

I was sitting on the bench behind her.

I could see the fine curve on one side of her face,

and the silky hair in a bun on her shoulder,

There were a book and a notebook on her lap,

I didn't get off where I was supposed to.

From now on I calculate the time before going out,

That time might not have matched with my working hours,

But, matched with the time when they travelled,

We met quite often.

I reasoned in my head - it might not be related,

but she was my co-traveller.

Her appearance projected high intelligence,

brilliant as brilliant could be,

The hair was brushed away from the forehead,

The bright eyesight had no bashfulness.

I wished - there could arise a distress,

I rescued her and felt blessed -

Some kind of strife on our route,

some arrogance shown by a trouble-maker,

these things happened all the time

But, my fate was like a hole with muddy water,

Nothing significant happened there.

The humble days croaked in a monotonous tone, like frogs,

Not the Sharks or Crocodiles were invited, nor the Swans!

It was a heavily crowded day,

A half-British gentleman was sitting beside Kamala,

wanted tosweep the hat away from his head,

shove him off to the street,

There was no reason, my hands looked for some excuse.

At this time he lighted a fat cigar,

and started smoking it.

I went close to him, " Leave the cigar",

He pretended not to hear me,

Kept smoking, creating circles of smoke,

I pulled out the cigar from his mouth, and threw it in the street,

He clasped his hand, gave me a smouldering stare,

But didn't say anything, jumped out of the vehicle.

Perhaps he recognized me.

I was quite renowned as a soccer-player,

My name was well-known,

The girl's face reddened,

Lowering her face, she pretended to open a book and read it.

Her hands were shaking,

Did not even glance at the brave hero.

The office-going passengers said, " well done, sir! "

After a short while, the girl got off at an unfamiliar spot,

called a cab, and left.

Didn't find her the next day,

Even the next day after,

On the third day, I found her

Going to the college in a rickshaw!

Realized, I, like a pig-headed individual, had done a blunder,

That girl was capable of taking responsibility of her own,

I was not needed at all.

Again said to myself,

My fate is like a pond with muddy water,

The memory of bravery was mocking me in my heart,

like a joke,

Decided - I was going to fix the mistake.

I had the information - they went to Darjeeling in summer vacation,

That year I drastically needed to change the weather.

They had a small house, they named it - Motia -

off from the road, in a corner, hidden behind the trees,

There were mountains in front of me.

heard, they were not coming that year.

I was almost returning, then met a follower of mine,

Mohanlal,

Skinny man, tall, wearing specs,

weak digestive system improved with climate in Darjeeling.

He said, "Tanuka is my sister,

She will not let me go without introducing to you",

That girl was like a shadow,

Her body was just enough for sustenance,

Her focus was on academics, not on food,

That's why she had so much respect for a soccer-player,

She thought, my compassion was the reason that I was meeting her,

Alas! What a game of fate!

Two days before I was about to leave, Tanuka said,

"I will present you something, so you will remember us -

A flowery plant! "

That's a trouble! I stayed quiet.

Tanuka said " it's an expensive, rare, type,

It needs a lot of care to survive in our country".

I asked " What's the name? "

She said, " Camellia".

I was shocked -

Another name appeared shining in the darkness of my heart.

I smiled, and said, " Camellia,

perhaps it's not easy to win her heart! "

I didn't know what Tanuka thought - all of a sudden, she looked shy, and delighted at the same time.

I was on my travel carrying the plant in a pot.

Found out, the co-passenger was not an easy co-traveller,

In a two-compartment vehicle,

I hid the plant in the bathroom.

Let's not talk about the details of the travel,

Let's skip the trivialities of a few more months.

In the vacation celebrating Puja, the curtain opened

In Santhal Parganas.

It's a small place. I don't want to mention the name.

The fanatic group of changing weather, was not familiar with this spot.

Kamala's Uncle worked as an engineer with the railways,

He built a home here,

in the shadows of Shaal-woods, in the locality of squirrels.

The blue mountains can be seen in the horizon,

A stream in the far is running through the sand,

The buds of Tasar appearing in the forest of Palash,

The buffaloes are grazing under the shade of Hartuki trees,

with naked Santhal boys on their back.

I had no other company,

I had that Camelia.

Kamala was there with her mother.

Before the sun rises,

in the dew-touched pleasant breeze,

she went for a walk holding an umbrella, in the saal-forest,

the wild flowers in the field touched her feet,

but did she notice?

walked on her feet past the river with shallow water,

crossed to the other side,

read books there under the Shishu tree,

And, I knew she recognized me,

because she made sure not to show she noticed.

One day found that they were having a picnic on the sand beside the river,

Felt like joining and asking them,

Could I not be of help for anything?

I could carry water from the river,

I could chop and bring woods from the forest,

And, wasn't there close by in the forest,

any kind of a gentle bear?

Found that there was a young man in the group,

wearing shorts, and a silky foreign-made shirt,

smoking a cigar, sitting besides Kamala stretching his legs.

And, absent-minded Kamala was ripping

petals of a white Hibiscus.

An English magazine lying beside them.

I realized that moment - in this solitary corner of Santhal Parganas,

I was unbearably extra.

I would have left immediately, but there was one job to finish.

In a few days, Camellia was going to bloom,

I would be done after sending it.

Every day I roamed around in the forest carrying a gun, looking for a hunt,

before evening set, I came back and watered the plant,

and checked how much the bud has progressed.

I was ready at last.

The Santhal girl who brought the woods for my cooking,

I called her.

I would send the flower by her in a pot made of leaves.

I was reading a detective novel inside the tent,

heard a melodious voice from outside -

"Why did you call me, sir? "

Came out, saw Camellia

on the ears of the Santhal girl,

beautifully placed and lightening her dark cheek.

She asked again " why did you call me sir? "

I said, " because of this".

Then I returned to Kolkata.