Discordant Paradise

In the celestial rivulets of your paradise, I have traversed with the scythe, my sinews resounding with the symphony of love. The reservoirs of my emotions brim with tears, every drop a testament to my autonomous affection. I have never harbored a sense of absence; instead, all the rivulets have unfurled their tendrils within the chambers of my heart. There is nothing I have not encountered, yet I remain devout in my trust upon this world, upon all humanity. Now, tell me, how will you resurrect love in my heart for the world?

I have witnessed the triumphant beings, those who adorn themselves day in and day out with opulent smiles, with teeth and nails, enveloped in expensive attire and ostentation, maintaining an unyielding heart akin to beasts. I have delved into the recesses of their hearts, and I discern the profundity of their solitude. Whatever humans may attain, I have achieved it all, yet I am profoundly destitute, for these acquired possessions had endowed me with a fleeting tranquility. I understand the yearning for peace, similar to captive animals scavenging for solace in the wilderness of their enclosures. An animal, once it penetrates its heart, and subsequently beholds the completeness, advances toward death with sublime indifference. Yes, I am that contented creature, to whom death has relinquished everything, and having been rendered destitute, it sought alms from other creatures, beseeching for the lost vitality of its forsaken existence.

Labeling sorrow as the pathway of life because happiness tastes bitter—tell me, what else do you believe you'll find if not the pursuit of pain?

As I contemplate, it seems to me that you are futile creatures, weeping incessantly for the elusiveness of warmth throughout the day. I have observed your bright beings, and I ponder, what darkness engulfs these flocks of flesh, those who are so eager to shine in the eyes of others while remaining in perpetual darkness before themselves.

And why do those radiant specters of failure, who gaze at the abyss, appear shameless and audacious to you?

Those who, instead of introspecting, turn their gaze outward, trapped in the pit where they have fallen. I have observed all these successful and unsuccessful individuals, and I have witnessed the tragedy of those who, in their audacity, try to present themselves differently from the chaos within. The safest graveyard for the dead, called a nation by humans, is akin to the lush, fruitful land where all the essence of my being flows. From beneath this soil, I have imbibed all the intoxicants, and amidst its earth, I have seen what a terrifying hell this country can be! Only by succumbing to death and falling into the embrace of the soil can one find solace in the proximity of the earth.

In love, I have never been unsuccessful. All the paramours have intoxicated me with the nectar of passionate love. I have soared with the sun, slept under the moon's enchantment, and women have poured all the essence of their bodies into my eyes. I have fallen asleep in their ecstasy and awakened to realize that compared to love, what could be more dreadful than a prison cell?

Does humanity truly yearn for one another in the name of love?

The first step to rise to the mountain's summit is to discard all unnecessary baggage from the shoulders. Nevertheless, in the pursuit of love, everyone has fallen into the gloomy abyss of the mountain's treacherous foothills.

Ah, humanity!

Prisoners of eternal struggles between victory and defeat!

Those who achieve triumph in all competitions are the ones condemned to death. I have won everything and learned the nauseating pleasure of victory, the bitterness of its reward. Choosing to wait for death's reward rather than aspiring for something in life. Alas, the congregation of the disillusioned, you will die, crushed beneath the weight of your accolades and then you will be so lifeless that you won't even comprehend your own power.

I have seen the capitals of success, the smog of Calcutta, where citizens think, like caged birds, tigers are in the enclosure, and think citizens are in a bigger cage. Tigers are visible for those seeking enlightenment, but citizens have no observer except themselves. I have seen the towering citadels of these great cities, shameless and empty within. Walls painted with numerous colors but hollow inside like a colorless canvas. Children of the colorless era, losing their wings in the quest for colors, searching for hues in the river poisoned by the venom of manholes. Am I proud? There is nothing in your world that can make me proud, nothing that can bring me joy, no eyes of a woman whose pupils can reflect my struggle against myself. There’s no one more powerful than me filled with such hatred for the world.

Ah, the congregation of the pious!

Who else could be a greater devil than you?

After being in your midst, I have forgotten that there can be anything holy.

Ah, the wretched politicians' gathering!

Who could be more monstrous, bloodthirsty, and flesh-eating than you?

I've realized that the world is not worthy of habitation.

Ah, the assembly of poets and artists!

What else could be more lifeless than you?

You, so devoid of vitality, aspire to create advanced beings, and this desire becomes the cause of your shameless, pitiful demise. Yes, I have encountered them all, and they have tried to embrace me, but I prefer to stay away from these three species, forgetting the streams of poison within myself. History has embedded its wax into my body. I become solidified, then ignite, only to extinguish myself in my own outcry.

Ah, the dark history of humanity!

The wax candle that has risen from the scent of blood, as if its wax is crafted with blood, and the fire that ignites within it, a lesson learned from the burning corpse of an unborn child.

I have seen everything—from the best that humanity can offer to the worst that dwells within. I know there is no hope left for humanity. I have acquired all, there is nothing called hunger for me, and my dissatisfaction has nothing to cling to. Yet, I remain indifferent to the world. Now, can you comprehend that I am leaving this discordant paradise? No, I am not willing to bid farewell to my disbelief in the world. I am not willing to say goodbye to anyone, not even to say, "Bring me back from this death trap."

NOTE: This is an English adaptation of a Bengali text by Probar Ripon.