A few poems of Lutfa Hanum Salima Begum
The Autobiography of a Chair
The words that remain to be spoken do not want to bid adieu
That is the first chapter of the autobiography
I do not know to whom I belong to
Neither anyone else
I do not go to anyone
I do not want anyone
No one knows what I want
Still
I keep on waiting for someone
Lay the serene-cozy lap of rest
Someone sits
Someone else does not want to vacate for others
Sometimes I become ones property whoever sits
Do I remain wherever I am kept
I don’t know but I know for sure that
I am very simple
My body a very easy equation
With four legs and two hands Still
So much critical equation
For so many
For me
What invitation do I get From dream merchants
It need not be said
My wakeful life is dedicated to others
I do not know how to dream
As I don’t know how to go to sleep
Wherever I stay
That becomes my address
But I do not have a permanent address
My position is respectful in schools and colleges
But I wish to take a seat on the benches
Transformed into students
I am there in courts and offices since ages
In spite of being a witness of many events
I cannot pose as the witness
I am an uninvited guest in a marriage ceremony
I am a blind spectator in the auditorium
I am a hungry citizen in a restaurant or hotel Being
A Delicate co-passenger in an aeroplane
A Ruffian one in a city bus I am not happy
Perhaps not unhappy too Sometimes
I remain with the table Generally do not –
I prefer not to be
I do not like the pride filled opulence of the table
I am not happy in my work and name
I seek freedom from the binding of the repetitive job
I wish to amend my name from chair
In the court of mankind
Translated by – Bibekananda Choudhury
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I slice up the entire day
Into many a pieces
Like a loaf
One slice enters into
Children’s breakfast or Tiffin boxes
One slice reserved for my husband
Another slice I thrust into my bag hurriedly
For my students
Store a slice in the kitchen
Another in refrigerator
For casual visitors or relatives dropping by
For marketing or medicine mart
The number of slices and their measures
Of the day is not equal
It is necessary to slice up each day carefully
With the knife of adroitness
So that they are in required measure
But I don’t remain in any of them
So I feel sad at night
When I remember about
The whole loaf of the morning
I pray silently
For eternal peace of the sliced soul
Therefore I refuse to slice up the nights
Hide them under the pillow
Or inside my diary
After dishing out every day
Shall arrange on the dining table of time
An empty plate for the future
Translated by: Bibekananda Choudhury
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Since long there had been many holes
In hell
Now a hole has appeared
In heaven too
The teardrops of heaven
Are falling to the ground
Drop by drop
Through the hole
In a flood of
Unearthly happiness
The earth is deluged Gradually
Translated by: Bibekananda Choudhury
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I have not been remembering happiness
For a long time now
It had been long time
That it left me
Planting a kiss on my forehead of sadness
Actually no one perceives
When happiness comes and departs
Heard that happiness arrives
Sometimes riding proudly on the stallion of fortune
Sometimes alighting on the train of peace
It keeps on coming slowly spanning centuries
It is not the property of happiness
To come easily and frequently
Sometimes entering through the tunnels of wind
The fountain if happiness flow secretly
Moving amongst gain laughter joy
Happiness is actually king of itself
But happiness is impatient and restless
Dreamy and sensitive
Rising momentarily setting momentarily
Happiness makes people laugh and cry
But whoever it stays
Stays like a king
Flutters like a flag
Through remaining in the same orbit of truth
Sadness can never get to behold
The beauty of happiness
Both are actually
Quite lonely
Translated by: Bibekananda Choudhury
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House
You built a house
Fixed your nameplate at the gate
To ensure that all the happiness of achievements cannot escape
Fixed grills and put locks at the gate during the night
You built a house
Escaped being branded as homeless
Of course your anxiety soared at trivial issues
But you had literally turned mad for the house
You were restless
To venture out
If you are inside
You were restless
To return home
If you are outside
Still, staying inside home
You got drenched in the shower of thought
The sprout of your dream
Wilted under the soft sunlight
You are felled inside your own abode
By the bullet of worry
You could not comprehend
That
The body of the house is true
But yours own is false
False does not protect truth
Neither do they live together
Home is stable and consistent
You are unstable and inconsistent
House is speechless and you garrulous
Things just does not match
But, still
One day perhaps
You can just dangle
Transformed into an oil painting
On the wall of the house you built
May be
Or
May not be
Translated by – Bibekananda Choudhury
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You won’t wait
At the threshold of lips
You came in through the gate
You are fire
the parlous, the boudoirs
the kitchen all are on fire
the above of my heart
built with your tears
You’re burning of heart
burning unrelentingly
yet you are no fire
You must be somewhere around
and wrapping the burning sky round me
here I am, waiting at the doorway
guarding my burning heart
Translated by Pradip Acharya
About the poet
Lutfa Hanum Salima Begum is a noted Assamese poet. She occupies a distinctive position in the field of Assamese poetry. She has published six collection of poetry. Her poems have been translated into other languages-English, Hindi, Nepali, Bengali, Kannada, Gujarati, Uzbek and French etc. She has received the Munin Borkotoky Award in 1996 for her second collection of poetry.
She has translated Chitra Mudgal’s international award winning Hindi novel Awaan into Assamese. She also has translated many Bangla poems and Hindi fictions into Assamese.
Her poems have been collected in various important poetry collections of India. She has published more than ten research papers.
She has also acted as a visiting faculty at National Institute of Design, Ahmedabad. She presently teaches Assamese literature in Cotton University, Guwahati , Assam, India