PADMA
Now only pictures and legends remain
in books and Google, may be.
Fondly christened Padma,
Rabindranath Tagore’s houseboat or bajra
would now rest on its laurels, well over a century old,
if there were a museum to keep it.
Quietly, meticulously shaped out of expensive mahogany
into a river-faring houseboat complete
with cabins, upper storey, masts,
this ample, often somnolent, sluggish,
keelless great vessel of songs–
a portal for the muses
to waft in and sail around–
would reel hasteless over
the immense Padma midstream or
sail slow along steep rural banks or
ride at anchor close to the shallows
on such a Sravana night as this,
a yellow moon and dark cloud turrets
bringing alive the sky.
In the eighteen nineties, in Bengal under the Raj,
on such a night as this,
or on a full moon night,
the vast river awash with moonlight,
the poet would sing into being
song after imperishable song
celebrating the rains, the seasons,
celebrating also death in life
life in death and launch the songs across
the ungrieving river and sky of Bengal.
(Subhransu Maitra)
