Neeman Sobhan

Shimu and Tushar had grown up together on an alley in the Mirpur area of Dhaka city. Their neighbouring houses were separated only by a brick wall, about two meters high. The branches of a tree growing beside Tushar’s house overhung the wall, its foliage shading a part of Shimu’s courtyard.

Last week it flew in, landing on my doorstep, and flapped open its wings released from its bubble wrapped cage. As the delivery man from Amazon Italy drove away, I regarded the poetry book in my hand.

The story of the ailing Bhawal prince, Ramendranarayan Roy, the Mejo Kumar, who while taken to Darjeeling to recuperate, died and was cremated there, under mysterious circumstances, and who then returned years later as a wandering ascetic with partial amnesia!

[Casa di Romeo, Via Arche delle Scaligere: Historians say this was the house of Cagnolo Nogarola, a Guelph supporter, like the Capulets, Juliet’s family. But according to legend and literary texts, the Monetcchi family, or the Montagues, lived here until the 14th century, and the V-shaped battlement was the ‘swallow tail’ symbol of the opposing faction, the Ghibellines, which Romeo’s family supported.

The passed away, in his sleep, I hear; leaving us, his family and friends, to awaken to his unfathomable, unacceptable absence, almost as resounding as his laughter, his jovial voice, and his life-affirming joyful presence.