Bodh (poem)

For the social group in Himachal Pradesh, see Bodh people.

"Bodh" (Bengali: বোধ, in Clinton B. Seely's English translation "Sensation"[1] and Fakrul Alam's "An Overwhelming Sensation"[2]) is a celebrated Bengali poem written by Jibanananda Das in 1930. It was first published in the literary magazine Pragati in 1336 of Bengali calendar. The poem was later included in Jibanananda Das' poetry book Dhushor Pandulipi (The Grey Manuscript) published in 1936. Clinton B. Seely wrote that in "Sensation", Jibanananda gives his readers an account of the burden he bore, the creative process conceived of as a presence, a constant companion, and not always a welcomed one:[1] Prof. Alam opined that the poem is "about a man overwhelmed by the poetic fit and, indeed, consumed by it."[3]

Into the half light and shadow go I. Within my head
Not a dream, but some sensation works its will.
Not a dream, not peace, not love,
A sensation born in my very being.
I cannot escape it
For it puts its hand in mine,
And all else pales to insignificance—futile, so it seems.[1]

  1. ^ ""Sensation" translated by Clinton B. Seely". Parabaas.com. Retrieved 18 May 2012. 

Transliteration of one stanza in the Latin alphabet

Transliteration

Sakal loker majhe base;
Nijer ami mudradoshe;
Ami aka hotechi alada;

  

Translation

As I take a seat among other beings,
Am I becoming estranged and alone
Because of my mannerisms?

—4th stanza

References

  1. 1 2 Seely Clinton B. ""By way of Introduction": The Scent of Sunlight, Poems of Jibanananda Das, translated by Clinton Seely". Parabaas.com. Retrieved 2012-01-24.
  2. ↑ "Barisal by the Bay". The Daily Star. 2010-06-12. Retrieved 2012-01-24.
  3. ↑ Alam, Fakrul (2010). Selected Poems of Jibanananda Das (2nd ed.). Dhaka: The University Press Limited. p. 29. ISBN 978 984 8815 15 1. People writing about their meetings with Jibanananda Das have described him as a man who often seemed to be in a trance. In a short story published in a 1933 at about the time this poem was published Das himself had written: "The desire to create artworks, the thirst for them ... this life-long curse of the artist has destroyed all possibilities of being a social success. Nevertheless, I have not tried to abandon the fate of the artist for the haven of the family; no artist can do so." This, it seems to the translator, is a poem about a man overwhelmed by the poetic fit and, indeed, consumed by it.

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