Old photographs embroidered in threads of new words and whose count equals to my height measurement in centimetres…
Abba would often sing out loud the national anthem of my homeland, “Amar Sonar Bangla”. Sometimes in the kitchen, other times in the car and, quite often, whilst just simply sat on the settee, and on all occasions I would instinctively sway my head to and fro. I noticed that though he continuously made a pitiful hash of every other song, the national anthem was consistently immune. Perhaps it was a song forged out of an incorruptible spirit so that the tune always flowed out with the natural desire to reach the heart of the listener with intact virtuosity.
I cannot explain why it is that as a child, who did not speak fluent Bangla, that I should have felt a deep strangeness and unputdownable sense of familiarity in the imageries evoked of fertile green paddy fields and the besieging enchantments of Spring.
I am certain it is a love letter destined to follow me in every incarnation… ♥♥♥
Photography & Poem Originally Posted In: ‘Abba & My Orange Vision Veena-Oculars’ | © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 1983/2014
Words: © Masufa Khatun | Mazzy Khatun Photo Stories | UK 2016