Shesh

I finished reading Chokher Bali. 


The reading was frantic towards the end.  The guy who served me coffee and cake was worried about the mosquitoes hovering around my feet. There were so many!  He was sweet enough to keep 3 fans whirring but it made me terribly cold!  I requested for only one! I didn't want to settle inside the cafe on one of their cushioned sofa chairs. The way the book was twisting out and the way I was feeling...the glassy, cushioned, air-conditioned interiors of the cafe seemed anomalous. I preferred the hardness of the chairs outside, the breeze, the traffic sounds, the glimpses of the busy intersection through leaves of potted plants and the mosquitoes. 
I was stooped much of the time over my book.  The guy at the cafe would approach hesitatingly, move a chair or two, create noise and I would look up! He did that twice to know if there was anything more I would need. Much to my delight he asked me which book I was so engrossed in and having gotten to know that I intended to finish it, he wished me a good read and promised to not disturb!  He didn't. No one did. No one!


And I finished Chokher Bali. 
Shesh hoye gaecche.
No one could have been different.
Nothing could have been done differently.
The way I see it, they were all liberated from their weaknesses and liberated through what was lost to them. 




Loss is liberating, the process of losing is what is tedious!


....Tagore regrets the ending and has said so himself.
Want to know more about that....