The Palm Tree

The Palm Tree

Palm tree          One legged he stands,

Tallest in these lands,

Peering at the sky.

Dreaming          Like the monsoon cloud,

Will he be endowed?

With downy wings to fly.

And so              Round leaves on his head,

Like wings does he spread,

For this wish on his mind.

Imagining          On these his wings two,

Shall he fly to lands new,

Leaving his home behind.

All day              The leaves sway with ease,

In the wet monsoon breeze,

As wings, they flutter mid-air.

Imagining          Across the skies, afar,

Beyond the farthest star,

Flying, to who knows where.

And then           When the winds subside,

And his wings, pacified,

His wondering mind returns.

Realizing           Like a mother, these lands,

Where for ages, he stands,

Her love again he yearns.

Translated by: Chinmoy Bhattacharjee

Original: “Taalgaach” by Rabindranath Tagore

Taalgaach (তালগাছ) by Rabindranath Tagore is yet another of my childhood favourite – a lovely fragrant memory of those monsoon swept days in the lush green valleys of Shillong. In this poem, Tagore personifies a palm tree – gives it a mind of his own. Tied to its moorings for ages, it longs to float amongst the clouds and fly away to lands unknown. Much like the lonely child, watching the swaying trees through the bars of his windowsill on a wet, windy afternoon. Before long the winds die down, the romance of the moments pass and his wondering, restless mind is brought back home, perhaps by the call of his mother. Burying his head in her bosom, engulfed in the endless warmth of her loving embrace – the child without hesitation would forfeit his wanderings for the safety of his home. In that way, the palm tree is like the child – innocent, dreamy and pure.

Tagore’s poetry for children is without a hint of condescension. They do not preach. They do not sermonise. They are not written by adults, for children. They are the musings of a child himself. And so it is easy to connect to them, to relive those moments which had perhaps inspired the poet himself.

This attempt at translation is dedicated to my teacher, Mrs Bhattacharjee. For many years, she set aside syllabi and curriculum in class. She read poetry to us. She read short stories to us. It was much later when I realised that all she wanted to do was sow the seeds of love for Bengali literature, open our minds to the wealth of our heritage, inspire us to explore and discover. What is education if not this?

Like always, the original is included below for those who are conversant with the Bengali script.

তালগাছ             এক পায়ে দাঁড়িয়ে

সব গাছ ছাড়িয়ে

উঁকি মারে আকাশে।

মনে সাধ,           কালো মেঘ ফুঁড়ে যায়,

একেবারে উড়ে যায়

কোথা পাবে পাখা সে ।

তাই তো সে        ঠিক তার মাথাতে

গোল গোল পাতাতে

ইচ্ছাটি মেলে তার

মনে মনে           ভাবে বুঝি ডানা এই,

উড়ে যেতে মানা নেই

বাসাখানি ফেলে তার ।

সারাদিন             ঝরঝর থত্থর

কাঁপে পাতা পত্তর

ওড়ে যেন ভাবে ও,

মনে মনে           আকাশেতে বেড়িয়ে

তারাদের এড়িয়ে

যেন কোথা যাবে ও।

তার পরে            হাওয়া যেই নেমে যায়

পাতা কাঁপা থেমে যায়,

ফেরে তার মনটি

যেই ভাবে           মা যে হয় মাটি তার,

ভালো লাগে আরবার

পৃথিবীর কোণটি।