Shohojatri (The co-passenger)

Aaj, aekhon, theek ei mohoorte nijer upore khoob hansi pachche. Kano? Ta theek bole bojhate parbo na. Hoyeto kende-kende ei baar hansar pala. Ke jaane. Amake khoma korte parbe? Khoma chaichi bole kichu mone koro na jano. Tomar kache khoma na pele je aar kichoo kora cholbena.

Ki je boli aar ki je na boli ta jodi boohjte partam, tahale aajge eta likhte hoto na. Eta maane ei chithi ta. Tomake shei je prothom tram theke nabte dekhe chilam Lawrence Road'er stop ta te, she din theke je jibone shob chola chol bondho hoi gache. Kada bhora rasta paar kore tumi footpath ta te uthe podle. Ek baar amar dike takiyo dekhle na. Kintu aami dekhlam. Tomar chotir strap ta aar kichu diner mehman. Maane ei galo bole. Somoye thakte palte nebe.

Bodhai thakte dilei bhalo hoe, tobe thakte dile je aar bancha cholbena. Taar maane ta boojhle. Taar maane banchte na holei bhalo hobe hoyeto. Aami kintu amon chilam na. Maane tomar lal chata ta je shob brishti aatke debe, sheta theek bhabte parini. Dekhte besh chotto-khatto chilo je.

Kalboishakhir jonno she din theke shudhu jokhon tokhon load-shedding hochche. Bodhai shob power line gulo jole dube gache. Aar dube gache shob aalo.

Khoma che niyechi ageyi, nahole ei chiti lekhar shahosh jogate partam na. Er theke bhalo bhabe kichoo bojhabar khomota je aamar nei ta na bolleyi noe. Jodi paro to tram e jawar shomoye ta paltiyo na.

iti,
tomar ek shohojatri

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Translation in English

Today, now, in this instant I feel like laughing out loud on myself. Why? That is something I will not be able to explain in words. Perhaps after crying again and again, now it's my turn to laugh. Who knows. Can you forgive me? Please do not mind that I ask for forgiveness. But sans this forgiveness I cannot proceed with anything else.

If I could ever understand what to say and what not to say, then I would not have had to write this today. By this, I mean this letter. The first time I had seen you getting down from that tram at the Lawrence Road stop; since that day all the gears in my life have stopped turning. You had deftly crossed over the mud crusted road onto the footpath. You did not even notice me. But I noticed. The strap of your slipper does not have very many days left to live. I mean that it's about to go. Get it changed in time.

Perhaps it would be better if I let it go, but if I let it go then I cannot survive. Do you understand what that means? That perhaps it would be better if I do not survive. I was not always like this. I mean that I had not quite expected your red umbrella to totally blanket out all the rain. It seemed quite ordinary when I saw it.

Since that day there has been rampant load-shedding because of the Kalboshakhi rains. Perhaps all the power lines in the city have been submerged. As has been all light.

I have already asked your forgiveness, otherwise I would not have been able to muster up the courage to write this letter. Let me not make this any worse by admitting that I cannot express myself any better than this, If possible then do not change the time at which you take the tram.

I'll end here for now,
your co-passenger