When did I book a cabin in that steamer
I don't distinctly remember
Among the upper deck row
It was in a corner
By its side
Separated by walls
Cabins there were more
And all of them numbered
According to the rules
Which were strictly adhered
Outwardly they were similar
But behind closed doors
The travelers were various
All were traveling in the same boat
But different were their modes
As if paddling at the same speed
By different wheels they were powered
The helmsman remained unseen
He sails many channels
But the destination is unknown
To him
There is no classification among passengers.
Each has his small cubicle reserved
As they open their doors
There's the vast sea
Opening their eyes
They see the same vista
It is fathomless and formidable
An unfordable barrier.
Now and then bells ring.
At the dinner table
There are smell of food, wine and perfume
All get mixed up
And dressed up in myriad colors
All gather in a room
Lit up by electric lights
Though their acquaintance is momentary
And not so deep
When their senses are elated
By various stimulants
In passing passion each other they grip.
Like wine's froth
Their short acquaintance and small talk
Bubble up but soon die when burst.
Outside, the sky is full of stars
And the foaming ocean is full of fear
Where danger and death lurk.
Suddenly I took a fancy to explore the liner
And got down from the upper deck
Before I proceeded far
I lost my way
It was a veritable labyrinth
Lined by officers' quarters
Entering the saloon I found
The barber was giving someone a shave
Then there was the kitchen
With a number of fat cooks
Someone in dressing gown passed by
Hurrying to the bath
Some were playing
On deck-chairs others were lying
With books on their chest
A few were fast asleep
Still there were those
Who were taking a walk.
I found the steward
Going to serve someone sherbet
When I asked him the way to my cabin
He wanted to know its number
As I fumbled and failed to give it
Gently smiling he left
In shame and anxiety I started to sweat.
Again I began to go back and forth
Checking the cabin numbers
Each one I saw it seemed mine
But felt very shy to knock at its door.
When I was thinking, what should I do
And what had happened to me
Then suddenly I got up and found
That it was a sheer dream
Where were those travelers
With whom I had started my journey!
The night is deep
The wind is sharp
My window panes are rattling
Far away
A train is passing
Blowing a whistle.
Translation of the poem Jatra from the collection Akashpradip by Rabindranath Tagore.
The original poem is at
