Many years ago Ranjan Bagchi had written an outstanding story titled "Ganggreen" in Desh Patrika (Year 57, Number 28, 12 May 1990). Writing in the story, Nagkeshara wrote a letter of error, wrote a letter from the Belur Math to the monk Buddha, praising the story, he wrote:
The word 'Nagkeshar' means that the tree is called its Bengali standard name 'Couragita guianensis'. Although the name of many trees is not standard Bengali name 'Mesua ferrea' is a standard name.
The letter written by Bhikkusa Buddhadeb , published in the special issue of the country published on the occasion of the birth centenary of Bangla Chancellor Sunitikum Chattopadhyay (year 57, number 39, July 28, 1990), is also authored by the easy-to-read book published from Anand Publishers . Nagkeshar's scientific name, he wrote, is not of Nagkeshar , but Nagaswar- Nagkeshor , Nagaswar and Naglingamam, three different species of flowering trees. In the story of Ranjan Bagchi, what was the description of Nagkeshar, I came later, I have said earlier, even if there is a debate on scientific name or accepting the name of Naglingimam, I do not see any shortage of storytelling. The story is standing on the fertile soil of human love.
Kala Paratha, a fourth-class employee of a school in Murigram. He gets plenty of leisure and leisure time all day long in the garden service. The trees are like his child. If the toes of the toes are cut short, they are black and do not dry up. Diabetes is diagnosed with blood tests. The big doctor told him that gangrene had been done, he had to cut legs. Surgery is also impossible due to diabetes. Because there is no man in the hospital, he is being sent to his village home without being black in Kolkata, as well as school teacher and storyteller Mohim. To change the black leg footage, medicines, insulin, and all the warmth of the journey. The distance from the local bus to the Kharagpur station, from there to Nizamuddin Eucal Express train, lying on the bed of Katak, Katak will go to Jagat Singh in the bus, then rickshaw and walking on foot, the house of the Kalor in Haridasai village. Sarda's daughter Sarada will be seen in the village,
What are the many master? Haridasai village is admitted to our relatives. There's a lot of stuff, there's a head, there's swie. Everyone is Kayastha Everyone can say a big family together. When I was young, my father worked hard. I am a man on the shoulder of Arjun's dungeon. Arjuna Swai Is he not my own cove? In our Haridasai village, you will not get all these. No sharing.
After hearing this conversation with his kaloda with Mohite on the bus, it will be remembered that the picture of village greetings of Abdur Rahman at home and abroad ; Samlat Abdur Rahman, the house of Syed Mujtaba Ali in Kabul Prasad, his home in the village of Panashir in northern Afghanistan, where the winter reigns in the winter. Abdur Rahman's words:
What kind of snow is he? Sometimes it is like a torn tilted pejah cotton, on the other hand, the sky-like surface is visible. Sometimes the ghoraghutas come down like a blanket and drag the screen before the eyes! Sometimes the winds blow up - the storm On the right side of the ice, on the right side, left and right, the rush is running, and once again, the Taji runs on horseback, and then all the foggy darkness will be heard only, so -on-on-it-again, sometimes with Darul-Aman City sound of the engine It is not caught in the storm, where it will be taken away, or you will become unconscious, on the ice bed, it will accumulate on the ridge. The jungle-heap of high ice, pile, bamboo bamboo.
The details of the ice are quite long, but when the author expresses interest to Panashir, he does not seem to have such a good place in the water compared to Kabul, then 'Abdur Rahman looks like an idol of Buddha-art for a while. Then came out of the interior of his stellar, big house, 'Inhthat Watanam-this is my birthplace.'
In relation to Abdur Rahman, I will remember the postal drama Amal of Rabindranath's post office . At the time of Amal's call, the Deewail expressed his displeasure with 'why do I give my book'. At first, Sai-Dewalai, after being overwhelmed with Amal's words, wanted to make a single-day yogurt free of cost. Amal said what? What is the dream of a Goalpara in the foothills of 'Panchmura Hill' on the banks of the river Shamli, which made Deywalla forget the tire of the path?
No, no, I will never be a scholar. I will bring you the curry from the Goalpah under your old yard, along the streets, and roam in the villages far away. How do you say, yogurt, curd, yogurt-good yogurt! Teach me the tune.
On the road of Haridasai village, a charity tree is worshiped in black and white, this is its 'Arjun khora', which is a man on its lapel. The tree planted by Arjun's own hands. Then he recognized his 'grandfather' as black-haired Mahanamagacha. As usual pronouncing black on the tree, the black says:
What are you grandfather How have you seen my legs? What are you saying Boil your leaves with boiled water and wash it with water? Pretty much do
This dark language of blacks does not seem to be uncommon in glory, but people may live in such a way that they are in the veins of the descendants. So, when a kanchanacakake was called 'Mother', when he bowed his head with black pants, he used to tie his knees to the pigtail, but still he did not see any drama in his stance. Abdus Sattar's Aryan janapada (Adil Brothers & Co, Dhaka, second edition, 1975), I have read in the book that each species of Mrood is known as the tree tree, the descendants of the tree plantation are descended from the same tribe. As the people of the tribe of Niger (jackfruit) think:
There was a jackfruit tree in the old forest. It was a wonderful jackfruit on the tree. One day when the jackfruit fell out, suddenly a silver girl came out of her. Unexpectedly from Dengoa (Banana), a beautiful man came out in the past. Their children are descendants of these tribes today.
But black hair is not the result of any faith.
But after a long time, after walking on the path of the village, the change of the people of the village is also not seen, it is not black. People in the village, the Congress, the CPM have entered, the 'Bhagagiri' game is going on. So children do not run balloon or chocolate loophole. Come home with big shocks and come home to black. The tree in which he thought he would live, the nagkashaghat is no more! Last year, Vijay Kaka was cut off because of the home boundaries. 'The cut nagkeshar fell on the ground just like a tree' heard, cried, cried,
Oh ho ho ... master you wanted to cut off my legs. These are the ones that cut off my throat. How will i live? How can I survive the ball master?
What was the reflection of the blacksmith or Naglingamam? Black said:
Heavy weird trees. All of the foliage of the huge tree is absolutely begun. The flowers are really funky nag However, if the fruits look like a huge ball, it is the ugly bad odor. This is like my rotten foot. Haha ha The tree has been enormous. Our kyutalaya Even if I bring water, my relatives, Haridasai people will recognize me by looking at the tree. Will remember
Nagkesharagachha's words will also remember the foliage of a Shimulagacha. Rabindranath's' Balai 'story also speaks to the grandchildren of the children, we talk with the plants' new-growing tender leaves. On the day when Ghasiyara comes to cut grass, 'the most dangerous day' to say, because there are many weeds, including Kantikari, who were killed in 'cruel hoe' who are not 'fancy trees in the garden, there is no one to hear their complaints'. Shimulagachhi stood in the middle of the road, for which it was able to speak. His father suddenly took his child from his family to Shimla, and said, "Beyond Laxmi Shimul tree," the expansion of the Shimul tree became a 'inconsistent' one day. Meanwhile, I have written a letter to send the picture of the tree. He was shocked to hear about his kakis, because Shimulagachi was in his childless life as 'a parable of valedictory words, he was the attendant of his life'.
2
The language of plants was understandable, without a crescograph. Shankuntala came to the house; Anasuya and Priyankada, Shakuntala's two beloved friends, Birbhavathur is also making the Sankuntala-this shakakul bhadimatu also asked for the trunk of the king's approval:
O young girls! Who did not drink water without watering you; Who was praised and loved, without affection, did not break your lip; When the time of your delivery was over, there was no limit to happiness; Today you are going to the Shakuntala picnic, you all agree.
Let's remember the next scene from Ishk Chandra's Shakuntala :
The movement of Shakuntala has taken place due to some passage. Shankuntala, pulling my area by pulling it, turned his face away. Kanah said, boy! When you became mother's mother, you were like a mother. For the food you eat, you always get the Shyama. If your face is wounded by the nozzle of the cushion, you can do the bronchitis by indigenous oil; The grandchildren are interrupting you.
And Shakuntala? The woman who was born in the womb of Rishi Vishwamitra and his wife, who had left the world, and after that Menkao, who was abandoned by the forest, covered the child with a pistachio peacock. Pratwakkumar Mukherjee's 'Adrini', Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyayer's 'Mahesh', Tarashankar Bandyopadhyayer's 'Kalapahad', Mahbub-ul Alam's 'Korbani', even Anton Chekhov's 'Kastanka' - all the unforgettable stories, in one sense, seems to mean the story of Shakuntala. The little brown dog had a 'mischief' in his house, in the house of Luca Alexandond, the master of his master's carpenter, the son of his son, who was his friend, was a sportsman. At the bottom of the table, he was lying on a wooden crossbank, and he made it very impatient. One day, after losing the path, Kashtanka, after a variety of artwork, got a place in the circus trainer. There is no shortage of food, no beating,Igor Matyashov said in the role of the son of Circus (translation and editing: Arun Shome, Raduja, Moscow, second edition, 1983), "The return to Kashtanka is the victory of love, that love can not be bought with stomach food, not even by paying bribe. ' Igor Matiasov, who wants to call this unique compilation of eleven stories, is called 'love writing'.