PRADIP Ranjan Das
Just the other day, a carefree lad,
Left his chores, through the city he clad.
Wandering round with a puzzled gaze,
Lost in the market’s winding maze.
Bowbazar’s lanes he searched in vain,
Till a man he knew called out his name.
"Bhuto, my boy, where are you bound?
Look at yourself, you're dusted, drowned!"
"Haven’t you eaten? You look so pale!
When did you come? Will you tell your tale?
Why so restless? What’s the rush?
Sit down a while, don’t make me push.
First, drink this water, take it slow,
Then tell me what I need to know."
Bhuto sighed and said, “You see,
My uncle’s soon to wed, and we
have searched for brides both near and far,
Till I thought, let’s try Bowbazar!
That’s why I came at morning’s break,
A bride to find for uncle’s sake.
But where’s the bride? I’ve searched all round,
Only shops and crowds abound!”
The man then laughed, “Oh, Bhuto dear,
That tale is old, not known ‘round here.
Long ago, a widow stayed,
Who lost her groom, her heart dismayed.
Her father-in-law, so wise and bright,
Gave her a market, set things right.
So ‘Bow Thakuranir Bazar’ became,
Bowbazar, the well-known name.
Goods of all kinds, this place will show,
But for a bride? Oh, Bhuto, no!
Go tell your uncle, search anew,
For Bowbazar won’t bring one to you!”
(Bowbazar, derived from ‘Bou Thakuranir Bazaar,’ historically meant ‘Bride’s Market,’ though today it is just a well-known locality of Kolkata.)