Inna lillahe wa inna ilaihe rajiun

the sky cried that day

that day the wind cried

not the rain of shravan, there were tears in the eyes of the sky

the leaves of the tree fell incessantly in mourning that day.

15 August was a terrible day

the killer weapons all around

they wanted to abolish the father of the nation’s body with blood marks

there was a pent-up sigh in every Bengali house

this country was silent with the fear of mourning in its chest,

fearless nature just uttered

inna lillahe….  rajiun.

that mourning is visible in the blood strained flag

that mourning is perpetual in Bengal

ever flowing like a river

immortal mourning is uttered everywhere 

the fire of mourning will burn from time to eternity

read it out, dear Bangladesh 

inna lillahe …. rajiun.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Eternal in History

(dedicated to the Father of the Nation of Bangladesh)

If I look at the height of the Himalayas, it still doesn’t match

I can’t find the right analogy anywhere in this mortal world

If I look at him with the vastness of the sea, maybe a little

with fervent courage and generous heart close to similarity.

One day I faced that great man in pre-adolescence

I think I was just staring with dumb eyes in fascination

I heard his thunderous voice in March 1971

As if the rain came down suddenly in the wave-ridden Bay of Bengal.

I’ve read the story of many heroic patriots in different countries of the world

I’ve known they were very brave

I’ve never heard of a leader who is like a mountain

He was adamant knowing certain death only for his country.

He had heartfelt passion to the nature and cosmos of Bengal

He loved his people more than his life.

Fearlessly for language, for the homeland he fought against the enemy

His golden youth was cut off in prison.

Bengalis never knew what their basic rights were

He was the first to light the torch of freedom 

In the houses of Bengalis,

the procession of liberation on the blood-soaked highway-

He is the father- millions of people’s voices ring through him.

Father means the beloved Sheikh Mujibur of crores of people

The sound of a name spread far and wide 

Brave slogan flourishes in the voice of Bengalis – We want, We want freedom.

Horrible genocide! Yet how fearless the seven million people!

In the dream like independent country, the soil becomes red with the blood of the father of the nation!

The flame of inspiration-Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib is eternal in history.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Tree-worship 5

suddenly a bee buzzes from a pleasure garden

the house is filled with the smell of wax and honey on this night of loadshedding.

in the blissful air, the fragrance is all random

in such a gloomy night, the mosquito net suddenly starts rambling

two white seagull flutter their wings

I jump up and get out of bed

there are no houses, no mosquito nets, no pillows

huge moonlit washed sand beach in the front

deep zhawgarden in the back – endless green there.

what kind of zhawgarden from his chest

the scent of sandalwood – mind uplifting  scent!

I am obsessed with the smell of honey 

am I such a bee?

the same bower storms inside the brain!

no home, no house, no bed-pillow

only the sound of sea waves, sea-gull, dense zhawban and

the combined scent of honey sandalwood!

as if throwing a smile of ridicule

the wild moon of chaturdashi is going on in mother’s home.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Tree-worship 8

I don’t keep my eyes on any other lady now

love fell asleep in the grave of fatigue long ago

I have buried him.

To the tune of the mysterious water wave of the luxuriant lips

there is little interest, far from the defeat of the beauty

come to this cosmic exile today

I wipe the dirt off the palms of the hands, the ink on the eyelids

in the dewy grass.

I forgot that night on the roof of the yellow house

the olive-colored tiger gave a paw, 

that wound mark or any memory, wailing

nothing remains. but deep behind this forest

when I came to my senses, she suddenly stood up

I see with unfading smile

young trees wearing firefly tips tell stories.

in the heart-deep restaurant immersed in the blue light of the stars

suddenly, in the evening darkness, a virgin tree welcomes me saying ‘good evening’.

I understood his indescribable words only through feeling

it will be  forty today

I have crossed the boundary of the circle, the slob of the kitchen

realizing such success, I feel the applaud of leaves all over the forest.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Surrender to faith

In these cruel and adverse times, you’ve exiled me; I’ve accepted it

with a smile, thinking you’d be happy

I’ve surrendered my life and the hereafter to your sacred will.

Sacred as you gave me heavenly happiness.

Hence still I can dream of good times after so many disasters.

In your joys and ignorance, I cover all the adversities.

You’ve a great influence on my past, present, future – everywhere.

Once a skeptic, I surrendered to you in full confidence.

If you ever could get into the smallest fraction of these

indescribable feelings, you’d die, I know for sure, burning with joy

and you’d be reborn with the infinite power of love.

If you could touch this long sigh,

the five fingers would turn the red china rose.

You fell asleep leaving me outside the blizzard

Beneath the thick blanket, I am in the whirring cries of that intense glacier

I am waiting for the absolute tolerance to be united with the suffering ice.

Wait for the dawn to give warmth at your window becoming the morning sun.

If only you could feel this hostile time and me

Then with which mantra could I make you mine? Then you’d jump in the endless emptiness of despair. I never wanted you to realize

I did not want my insomnia to infect your happy world.

A poet is fated to fly forever in the sky 

Where hides catastrophic cyclone in the guise of azure.

Translated by Kushal Bhowmick, He is a renowned poet & translator doing his job as government employee,assistant Professor, department of English, Nagarpur govt college, Tangail through 28 th BCS.

His first book of poems ‘Ultojale katci santar’was published in 2018.

 His other book of poems are ‘Mrittikay dhore rakhi sabtuku jal’, ‘Dukkher kono matrivumi nei’ ‘Bedoner Hieroglyphics’ ‘Shabder Onkar’ and a novel ‘ Kusumpur O ekti khuner galpo’

Illustration : Najib Tareque

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

shares