SWEETSWORDS 88 [ The Amazing age of Aminamina ]
SWEETSWORDS 88 [ The Amazing Aminamina ]
Poga Humayun Dundiwala
The eye of the mind is logical,
But the vision of the heart is magical.
In the law of logic,
Emotional Heart will remain criminal.
Poga Says in The Foolington Maze
Her silent treatment,
Increased my loud malady.
Her domestic remedies,
Turned me into nomad.
My name Amin Ali,
I am twenty five years old Sylheti Bangladeshi.
I live in east Borhat,Moulvibazar, Sylhet, Bangladesh.
In the land of Pir, Shadu and Darvesh.
So to speak of weird eerie and the strange,
I am your man from nameless nowhere of the Ruhani range.
I have seen the dead walks during nights,
And the living slumber during the day.
I have seen beautiful gardens housing the butterfly,
To turn the fresh flowers into the decay.
I have seen magical footpaths,
Running on hidden wheel.
I have seen
dead song bird,
Writing lyrics by itís feather quill.
So when I reflect on my life,
How uncanny and fearful it was,
With struggle and strife.
I was born in family of land owners.
Who tilled theirs own land
by them selves,
Also by other labours.
Land owner and the tennant are like,
Masters and servants in our social system.
Land owners are called Zamindar,
And tenant are Ryoth in our social custom.
So when I write this as like He man Arjuna,
Who became the No Man Hijra.
So I am an impotent imbecile in whore house,
Servings malechauvinist pigs doing the Mujra.
Every woman was silly cow to me, Including even my own mother.
Only theirs boobs came to my view
Even for those who call me
But only my Grandma,
A woman equals ten men.
My Grandma even as bird,
She is the golden egg laying hen.
She knows me more than anyone.
It is like I am her shadow,
And she is my sun.
Where ever what ever I am doing, Even in her absence.
By the unseen unheard sensory, She know me from dark and silence.
I feel I am always under her caring eyes,
Protecting me from
My lowly opinion of woman in general,
Never stopped my head to
take the fall.
Under those blessed feet's,
My Grandma is the person,
Where honor of humanity meets.
My Grandfather died before I was born.
Yet in her darkest wintery days
His memory brings her the spring season.
Only men she loved more than me,
Why she loved him even more than her entirety.
But when I was twenty five years old.
In my nights of silvery moon,
And days of sunny gold.
We lived by Manu river.
And on other side,
We also had relatives living there.
In one rainy day Grandma said to me,
To visit our cousin on other side.
River was full by monsoon rain,
Flooding the banks and became very wide.
This small canal what now looks like the sea.
Everyone forbade but I said,
I will take her to other side by my dingy.
I make the crossing everyday,
I know the rive as the potter knows the clay.
You all know that
I am the boating expert.
I am the best boatman in Borhat.
Everyone agreed to what I say.
And relieved to know,
I will go with her as the companion on the way.
Everything was okay and easy.
Suddenly lightning stuck,
And I felt very light and dizzy.
And fell unconscious as dead in the tomb.
And when I woke up,
I saw I was in a room.
Lit by oil lamp made less light,
But more gloom.
I saw I was laying on bed,
Room full of strange people.
Everyone was wearing olden days clothing,
Jewellery and eye kaajal.
And there was very handsome young man among them.
Sitting on a chair in the gloomy room,
Shining like a luminous gem.
I was slowly trying to understand the situation.
Suddenly I was as electrified by shock and suspension.
With utter horror I felt my breast,
What magical trick is this,
What kind of sorcery test.
My tits are grown so big,
Very fearfully I took my hand.
Under the blanket to check my private parts,
To recognise my body to understand.
And I realized someone has cured me of being,
The malecheuvinist pig.
With horror I realized,
My penis was replaced by pussy,
By some demonic dramatic jig.
Only Jinn can do this kind of horror,
I thought by my self in the house of terror.
Slowly as time passed,
I came to know I am still living in Borhat.
I was found by Mr Abdur Rahim,
By river bank near Manumukh Ghat.
He found me on Fifth of July Nineteen Twenty.
And as much as I could depend on my sanity.
I was with my Grandma in my dingy,
In Fifth of July Nineteen Eighty Five.
Sixty five years has passed since I died by drowning,
Yet in time I did not exist I survive.
To Mr Abdur Rahim I told,
I do not remember my past.
Only this my name Amina Bib,
And only in Allah I place my trust.
I do remember my Grandfather's name was Abdur Rahim
And Grandma's name was Amina.
I got married to Mr Abdur Rahim, With ten acre of land and two thousand taka Mohorana.
I looked no more than thirteen or fourteen years of age,
Even rough estimate no more than fifteen.
I was beautiful and charming,
In fully my blossomed teen.
I gave birth to three sons,
And one daughter.
And in pleasure and pain time passed,
And after forty years later.
My youngest son,
Fathered a son.
Whom I named Amin Ali.
And now I know how my Grandma,
How she knew me so intimately and truly.
How she used to know about me,
Even when she was not there.
Now I know as Grandma,
Heartbeat of Amin Ali was mine to hear.
From my within and from far.
Grandma knew what I was doing,
Because she done that as me before.
As Amin Ali everything I do,
She done that and even more.
Now as Amina Bibi,
I am awaiting for Fifth July Nineteen Eighty Five.
To ride with Amin Ali to die,
And as Amina Bibi to survive.
Awaiting for Amin Ali's magical boat,
So Twenty Five years old Amin Ali can drown,
So Fifteen years old Amina Bibi can float.
Now I Amina Bibi eighty years old or only sixty five.
As in the year Nineteen Twenty,
I died by drowning yet survive.
I got married aged fifteen,
Written on my Nikhanama by the scribe.
I must have live from Nineteen o Five,
To Nineteen Eighty Five.
For Eighty years to be met.
And in the year Nineteen Eighty Five
I died by drowning written on my death certificate.
But my conscious memory is from Nineteen Twenty,
To Nineteen Eighty Five.
Now for sixty five or eighty years, As Grandma did I survive.
Now if I take twenty five years of Amin Ali,
And add it to Amina Bibi's eighty.
Amina Bibi lives for hundred and and five years,
In amazing age of Aminamina duality.
I do not know I am jinn or Insan.
From Nineteen Sixty to Nineteen Eighty Five,
I lived as the malecheuvinist pig,
Not as man woman or as human.
I have lived as a man and woman,
And as the Hijra.
But if I could have lived,
As the horse donkey or zebra.
I will not be the male,
Who looks down on woman.
But now I know as the Grandma,
And as the Grand son.
This continues cycle of life,
Gives me now very clear view.
As you want others to treat you.
Live your life as you see fit.
Your heart is your only,
For no else does it beat.
You call me lier,
Creating fabrication and hoax.
Telling you strange tales
The fantasy of Grandfathers paradox.
You are free to think,
What you like.
I only urge you break no heart,
So no one may break yours in disgust and dislike.
I urge you to live as we do,
As Grandma and Grandson.
Dont think your life is just yours.
But live your life is for all,
For his and her and yours and ours.