Jaage Nath Jyotsna Raate / Jagere Antare… My Sahaj belongs to the enchantment, the magical realm of a starry sky.
When the Lord of the three worlds chooses the Starry Sky as the moment of birth, her great beauty assumes another dimension, perhaps that of a metaphor, or an ecstasy. And when this illumined firmament tiptoes in to our everyday world, a strange circle of light embraces her; our all so known Jyotsna Milan brings that light/ twilight as her Sahaj being and essence.
Jyotsna Milan… a being as real as the joy that emanates from the name. At home, everywhere… here with me or out there in the sprawling kingdom of words. Making the world a simpler, Livable place with the ease of her being... she is a Poet, a sorcerer in literature. Untarnished by the aura of usual acclaim or adulations. To this sacred interiority replete with love, gems and treasures owe their birth.
Un-expecting of requital or returns, Jyotsna loves the world of humans unconditionaly. She empties herself out… embracing the world with a spirit unbound by clauses, drinking life to the dregs, often on our own behalf... simple, unfettered. When she asks, she asks from Nature Herself. Crossing the everyday threshold of matter and …. She asked for an open sky outside her window, grand assembly of rainclouds singing their Raag, the world spread out under a full moon, a long long night immanent with stars. I’ve the rare fortune of being near her at many intimate moments, as she loved and lived the world… myself soaking in, feeling one with the rupture and angst of her earthly Being.
I remember seeing the purest light when she smiled one afternoon. Clouds had taken over the blue creek rolling to the sea. She spoke on, as if enchanted by the stars that had turned Kolkata into an image of the Cosmos. She could do that, whenever she wished. On Purnima, the Lake glittered and dreamt under the Full Moon… in that light we knew each other as befitting of an eternal conversation as if; as if Everything was us, as also everything else. I listened to how Poesis happens in the spark of a passing moment, or how Person and Persona in the Novel are born to frictions of matter and memory... how sometimes they begin to speak in our voice, break into a Song that one hums when lonely. And every time, with her something returns… what does one call it… Faith! Simplicity! … Sahaj Manush!
It was an impossible parting everytime… having to return from her embrace, to let her swim back home across the gulf of tears and farewell. How does one do that; how does one…?
And yet our dialogue has been so brief, scattered as we are across the Universe of Hours and Miles. Maybe that’s what taught us to trick the Body and the Distance, made every moment stay and grow. And every meeting turned as prismatic and intimate as the last time.
Jyotsnaji is the quintessential Poet, resplendent in a light of her own. Call it Prajna, Imagination, Consciousness. In that Light an Emerald turns green, the Ruby receives its gift of red-ness. Jyotsna has spread that light everywhere, now. In the blue canopy of our Sky, the viridian earth waking to every rain, among us… lighting up from inside, making us real to everything else. In a nimble boat of clouds, rocking like a cradle and adrift across the Universe, Jyotsna is dreaming her Poetry. She is here, like Starry Nights swimming in the ocean of bright bright days.