Some Poems

Fateha-i-Doazdaham [The Passing Away]

Fateha-i-Doazdaham [The Passing Away]

What an amazing sight is this!
Tears well up even is Azrail's eyes!
His stony heart lies in a sea of grief

trembling like a leaf.
His iron fist, ever alert to make the kill,

is weak and palsied,
his mind dull and inert, his heart lacerated,
his blue headgear kissing the dust in despair!
Even Gabriel's fiery wings appear to be in pieces,
The debt of the world is all but paid,
and yet the heart is full of pain.
Mikail ceaselessly pours all the waters
of the salty seas on the bosom of the earth.
In the dark still night pine branches swing

endlessly in the stormy wind.
Is this the same moon of the twelfth night?
Is this the same Rabiul Awwal?
In the northeastern sky a dark flag flies.
Even Israfil's bugle of annihilation cries weakly.
The heart-crushing thunder, too, weeps

in inconsolable grief.
O Azrail Satan, why do you stand at the

prophet's door?
But even in his eyes tears well up
and they flood the plains of Medina!
The mighty Borrak raises his head
and with his prancing feet spans the earth

and the sky;
he looks at God's throne and neighs angrily

and yet with pity!
All the angels and fairies weep today,
Even the flames of Hell die
leaving only a sea of weary waters.
Today even all the nargis lala of Firdous

break down in a flood of tears.

Mother earth clasps to her bosom

the corpse of her son,
her whole body shakes with deep sighs,
and in the caves of hell mourn the genii.
Well, did Solomon die a second death?
The doe does not care today for her young ones,
they go without their mother's milk'
The birds, too, have forgotten to sing.
All the leaves and flowers fall off from tile trees
and a chilly north wind blows heavily,
The world seems to have reached the end of her days,
all her veins and arteries appear to have snapped.
Mecca and Medina, overwhelmed with grief,

look desolate and dead.
It seems all have assembled in the plain
of Roz-Hashr


and are now crazily running about everywhere.
Even the Kaaba trembles violently every now and then.
The whole creation seems to be suffocating!


All happy tunes sound weak and subdued;
a sad strain pervades the whole atmosphere.
Whose sharp edged sword strikes at the distant moon?
Tears roll down Abu Bakr's cheeks in an endless stream,
and mother Ayesha's cry frightens even the stars


in the sky.
Maddened with grief, Omar brandishes his sword

and cries,
'I shall not spare even God,
Him I shall kill!'
Bereft of his senses the mighty hero rants,
'Who says that the prophet is dead?
Who wants to take his body to the grave?
Let him come near, and I'll severe

his head from his neck!'

Who cry with such broken hearts
in the mosques and over the domes and minarets.?
The muazzin, too, is upset.
Deep is his grief, his heart dull and heavy.
Even Belal's voice breaks in uncontrollable anguish


as he recites the azan! -
The call for janaza, as it tearfully trembles

in the air,
seems to pluck one's heart out!
grief-stricken Usman lies in a swoon,
and the heroic Ali sobs like a child,
sorrow and pain have blunted his double edged zulfiquar!
And, look, there the prophet's darling-daughter

Fatima sobs in heart-breaking grief.
'Where has father gone?', she cries,
and wildly runs about with per uncombed hair,


all dishevelled and awry.

Hassan and Hossain writhe on the ground

like two stricken doves,
'Where has grandpa gone?', they wail,
and look for him everywhere.
The day has lost its sun,

the night its moon and stars.
The world looks sombre and dark
and all eyes shed tears of blood.
The seven seas chum and foam

and appear to drown the heavens above,
they seem to be sweeping away the whole universe,
leaving nothing behind but a vast ocean

of salty tears.


Even God looks sad and restless,
He longs to clasp His friend to His breast,
and yet a strange pain sears His heart;
how can He snatch one away from the


bosom of the earth
for whom the whole creation laments

in this fashion!
There is a great rejoicing in Heaven today.
A mood of festivity prevails there.
All the angels and fairies heartily sing;

'SalIa Allahu-Alaihe-Salam!'
They stand row after row with folded hands
and sing the prophet's praise.

Tears well up only in mother earth's eyes!
Have Amina, Abdullah and the ever devoted
Khadija come?
Look! A gracious smile lights up the face

of even the Lord of the universe! .
Only the children of mother earth lament;
'What is this injustice of yours, O God?'
Today the bright lights of Heaven grow brighter still,
and a happier laughter rings out there,
while mother earth's light dies

and an inky blackness engulfs her!

Today over the tears of the earth
Heaven's laughter rings out endlessly,
and like the roaring of the ocean
from every comer resound the words:

'Salla Allahu-Alaihe-Salam!'

[Original: the same as above; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

Robbers and Dacoits

Robbers and Dacoits

Who calls you a dacoit, friend,
Who calls you a robber?
All around dacoits reign today,
And thieves prosper.


Who is judging the robbers and the dacoits?
Who is the lord of justice?
Ask him, friend, who is not a dacoit today,
Who is not a robber chief.


My lord, raise your mace of justice and punish
Those wealthy and the rich who thrived
Robbing the humble poor and the deprive.
Today the greater the robber, the bigger the thief


and the cleverer the cheat
The more honourable, the more distinguished

and the more dignified his seat
In the assembly of nations.
All around
Bricks red with the blood of the subjects
Go to raise the king's palaces
And the factories of the gangster-rich flourish
Rendering thousands homeless.
The cunning devils start mills
Where men are ground to pieces,
Where from hungry millions emerge,
Sucked dry like sugarcane,
Bereft of their juices.

Squeezing out the life blood of millions of men
The mill owners amass vast wealth in their hidden den.
The money lenders grow rich
Robbing the helpless,
And the Zamindars on joy rides go
Rendering the weak homeless.
The greedy merchants in this earth
Have built a house of prostitution of wealth
There the vice Saki dances and drinks
The gold demon's health.

Losing health, food, life, hope, language and all
Bankrupt man is heading to a terrible fall.
There is no way of escape
The gold-hungry monsters have dug
Deep invincible moats all around,
The world today is a prison sound
With cruel gangsters working as sentinel.
Thieves are friends here
Cheats are comrades dear.

Who calls you a dacoit, dear friend?
Who calls you a robber?


You may have stolen money or goods,
But you have not dug a dagger

In some one's tender-heart.
You may be thieves all right
But not inhuman like the so-called great
You can turn Valmikis yet
When true men you meet
You who are the Ratnakars.

[Original: Chor-Dakaat; Translation: Kabir Chowdhury]

I Sing of Heroes

I Sing of Heroes

I sing of Heroes -

The youth, the revolutionary,

Who armed with a sharp Excalibur

Today go forth in all directions

With valiant steps and steady

Upon a campaign for the impossible,

The Egyptian Pyramids of Antiquity,

Stand as a chronicle of such campaign,

Heroes whose mere breath

doth drive away into oblivion

The dead leaves of moth-eaten scriptures

Who hew down the haunts and
temples of false gods. .

And the time-honoured ale-house

Of the grand hypocrite

In the person of a reputed Moralist;

Whose mighty streams of. ideal reform

Swept away the long-standing nuisance

The awful and heavy stocks and stones of customs,

The old fossils of dead scriptures.

Those who came fearlessly

To the temple of the unreal

Armed with the stout relentless club,

To break the bondage of 'Maya'

And did with undaunted courage

Strike, by means of mighty hammer

The Chinese walls of superstition.

Those who ploughed the Burial Ground

And pushed away the dead bones

To layout a garden of blooming flowers,

Who now crowd the sea shore of life,

As 'Cynosure of neighbouring eyes'
I sing of Heroes.

Who today march forward

Upon the path of life in tune, with the world

-At dead of night the other day
A passenger who, all alone,
launched his boat
On the dangerous Deep,
Did not return to the shore next morning.
In memory of that fearless adventurer
I shed my tears and write an Elegy
Even today in the stilIness of Night
Even today I keep sleepless night
And sing a song of welcome to him
He who did not return on the morrow
Did indeed take an aerial journey over night,
As a traveller of infinite space
In search of a far-off New World.
The eternal Sentinel at the gate of Death
Trembles in fear of him,
And keeps ever-wakeful vigils.


Those who under the mighty impulse of life

Pursue Death ceaselessly

In the depths of the ocean,

In the boundless sky,

And all over the surface of the Globe,

Those who go down into the Hades

And despoil the palace of Yakshas

of its rare gems,

Who disregarding the nite of the
terrible cobra

Steal the jewel from its head,

Who have controlled the thunder of Bajrapani,

And made the proud lightning,

Daughter of the clouds,

A captive and a maid -

I have come to salute and sing

Of those who are attended by the wind

As an obedient servant

Refreshing them with its balmy breath -

My wailings and lamentations ill all the air for those

Who mount the Scaffold

And the Scaffold itself is tired now

Of hanging them.

And in whose prison,

Behold, the fair Dawn held in fetters

Doth wake up and smile

A flowery smile!

[Ami gai tari gaan; Translation: Abdul Hakim]

Faith and Hope

Faith and Hope

Don't look up to them-those
who have lost faith and hope.
They move-yet they're dead-the living dead,
the devil has finished them, robbed them
of their integrity.
Out of fear, their souls have escaped
to the land of Death.


If there are wants, poverty, debt, disease,
suffering, humiliation-don't just succumb
to hopelessness-fight them!
The real enemy is within-fear; and
only the ones who will accept defeat out of confusion,
lies and unnecessary fear will go on suffering every day.


'Oh, what is going to happen? '-those who just sit at home
trembling in fear, are the ones already defeated
in the battle of life.
They are the captives in the prison
of humiliation and subjugation.


They are repuIsive-allowing the helpIess
to be treated with injustice.
They are afraid for no reason, weak and ignorant.
More than pity, I feel infuriated by them.
They lie dead with their tongues stuck out.
Flowers blossom in burial grounds, but
in these dead trees, blossoms nothing.


They are fatalists-sitting alone they think,
'This is my fate, you can't change that! '
They deny their own power,
accepting defeat without a fight.
They are senile, morbid-.don't mix with them.
They are the death's leftover garbage in this world.
They are diseased from the inside,
they see only darkness around them.
With eyes closed, even when they see light,
they say, 'This is not light.'


For those with intense, unshakeable confidence,
waves of youth and life flow melodiously.
They enliven the dead earth-bountiful
with crops, flowers and fruits.
Nothing can block their way.


Fearless-any defeat is their ladder to heaven.
The darker the days, the more they see the light of hope.
Go to them-they wear the amulets
of fearlessness and victory over death.


Those who can imagine loftily, dream nobly,



they are the ones who bring welfare to the earth.
They show the paths of exploring the impossible,
even angels abide by them.


Possessing soul, yet allowing themselves
to suffer bodily pain,
not vowing their lives against the oppressorthey
are like caged animals, not human beings,
their hopelessness leads all human hopes and faith
to dissolution.


Possessing hands and feet, yet sitting inert
hiding faces in a dark muddy hole out of fearthey
have disavowed their humanity.
They belong to burial and cremation groundsnot
amongst us.


I say, listen people, lead a life of fulfillment.
You'll see, the earth is shaken by its power!
This is the message of God: 'Human beings get
what they wish for.'
Their hands, feet, eyes become God's own.


If hopes are lofty, and so are the efforts to achieve them,
then victory awaits at the door.
Impatience never overtakes that soldier
even at times of great difficulties.
Determined, calm, engrossed is the pioneer hero.


He replaces gloom with divine joy.
Like the moon, his love moves the sea of humanity.
His heart is filled with courage.
March along with him on that path of victory!


Have faith- you will get what you hope for!
And don't touch him-he's dead-one
who has lost faith.


[Original: Bishshash o Asha; Translation: Sajed Kamal]
Kazi Nazrul Islam (24 May 1899 - 29 August 1976) Kazi Nazrul Islam was a Bengali poet, musician and revolutionary who pioneered poetic works espousing intense spiritual rebellion against fascism and oppression. His poetry and nationalist activism earned him the popular title of Bidrohi Kobi (Rebel Poet). Accomplishing a large body of acclaimed works through his life, Nazrul is officially recognised as the national poet of Bangladesh and commemorated in India. Born into a Muslim quazi (justice) family in India, Nazrul received religious education and worked as a muezzin at a local mosque. He learned of poetry, drama, and literature while working with theatrical groups. After serving in the British Indian Army, Nazrul established himself as a journalist in Kolkata (then Calcutta). He assailed the British Raj in India and preached revolution through his poetic works, such as 'Bidrohi' ('The Rebel') and 'Bhangar Gaan' ('The Song of Destruction'), as well as his publication 'Dhumketu' ('The Comet'). His impassioned activism in the Indian independence movement often led to his imprisonment by British authorities. While in prison, Nazrul wrote the 'Rajbandir Jabanbandi' ('Deposition of a Political Prisoner'). Exploring the life and conditions of the downtrodden masses of India, Nazrul worked for their emancipation. Nazrul's writings explore themes such as love, freedom, and revolution; he opposed all bigotry, including religious and gender. Throughout his career, Nazrul wrote short stories, novels, and essays but is best-known for his poems, in which he pioneered new forms such as Bengali ghazals. Nazrul wrote and composed music for his nearly 4,000 songs (including gramophone records), collectively known as Nazrul geeti (Nazrul songs), which are widely popular today. At the age of 43 (in 1942) he began suffering from an unknown disease, losing his voice and memory. It is often said, the reason was slow poisoning by British Government. It caused Nazrul's health to decline steadily and forced him to live in isolation for many years. Invited by the Government of Bangladesh, Nazrul and his family moved to Dhaka in 1972, where he died four years later. Early Life Kazi Nazrul Islam was born in the village of Churulia near Asansol in the Burdwan District of Bengal (now located in the Indian state of Paschimbanga).He was born in a powerful Muslim Taluqdar family and was the second of three sons and a daughter, Nazrul's father Kazi Faqeer Ahmed was the imam and caretaker of the local mosque and mausoleum. Nazrul's mother was Zahida Khatun. Nazrul had two brothers, Kazi Saahibjaan and Kazi Ali Hussain, and a sister, Umme Kulsum. Nicknamed Dukhu Mian (Sad Man), Nazrul began attending the maktab & madarsa ; the local religious www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive school run by the mosque & dargah where he studied the Qur'an and other scriptures, Islamic philosophy and theology. His family was devastated with the death of his father in 1908. At the young age of ten, Nazrul began working in his father's place as a caretaker to support his family, as well as assisting teachers in school. He later became the muezzin at the mosque, delivering the Azaan and calling the people for prayer. Attracted to folk theatre, Nazrul joined a leto (travelling theatrical group) run by his uncle Fazl e Karim. Working and travelling with them, learning acting, as well as writing songs and poems for the plays and musicals. Through his work and experiences, Nazrul began learning Bengali and Sanskrit literature, as well as Hindu scriptures such as the Puranas. The young poet composed a number of folk plays for his group, which included "Chashaar Shong" ("The drama of a peasant"), "Shakunibadh" ("The Killing of Shakuni a character from the epic Mahabharata"), "Raja Yudhisthirer Shong" ("The drama of King Yudhisthira again from the Mahabharata"), "Daata Karna" ("Philanthropic Karna from the Mahabharata"), "Akbar Badshah" ("Emperor Akbar"), "Kavi Kalidas" ("Poet Kalidas"), "Vidyan hutum" ("The Learned Owl"), and "Rajputrer Shong" ("The drama of a Prince"). In 1910, Nazrul left the troupe and enrolled at the Searsole Raj High School in Raniganj (where he came under influence of teacher, revolutionary and Jugantar activist Nibaran Chandra Ghatak, and initiated life-long friendship with fellow author Sailajananda Mukhopadhyay, who was his classmate), and later transferred to the Mathrun High English School, studying under the headmaster and poet Kumudranjan Mallik. Unable to continue paying his school fees, Nazrul left the school and joined a group of kaviyals. Later he took jobs as a cook at the house of a Christian railway guard and at the most famous bakery of the region Wahid's/Abdul Wahid and tea stall in the town of Asansol. In 1914, Nazrul studied in the Darirampur School (now Jatiya Kabi Kazi Nazrul Islam University) in Trishal, Mymensingh District. Amongst other subjects, Nazrul studied Bengali, Sanskrit, Arabic, Persian literature and classical music under teachers who were impressed by his dedication and skill. Studying up to Class X, Nazrul did not appear for the matriculation pre-test examination, enlisting instead in the Indian Army in 1917 at the age of eighteen. He joined the British army mainly for two reasons: first, his youthful romantic inclination to respond to the unknown and, secondly, the call of politics. Attached to the 49th Bengal Regiment, he was posted to the cantonment in Karachi, where he wrote his first prose and poetry. Although he never saw active fighting, he rose in rank from corporal to havildar, and served as quartermaster for his battalion. During this period, Nazrul read extensively, and was deeply influenced by Rabindranath Tagore and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay, as well as the Persian poets Hafez, Rumi and Omar Khayyam. He learnt Persian poetry from the regiment's Punjabi moulvi, practiced music and pursued his literary interests. His first prose work, "Baunduler Atmakahini" ("Life of a Vagabond") was published in May, 1919. His poem "Mukti" ("Freedom") was published by the "Bangla Mussalman Sahitya Patrika" ("Bengali Muslim Literary Journal") in July 1919. Rebel Poet Nazrul started a bi-weekly magazine, publishing the first "Dhumketu" (Comet) on August 12, 1922. Earning the moniker of the "rebel poet”, Nazrul also aroused the suspicion of British authorities. A political poem published in "Dhumketu" in September 1922 led to a police raid on the magazine's office. Arrested, Nazrul entered a lengthy plea before the judge in the court. "I have been accused of sedition. That is why I am now confined in the prison. On the one side is the crown, on the other the flames of the comet. One is the king, sceptre in hand; the other Truth worth the mace of justice. To plead for me, the king of all kings, the judge of all judges, the eternal truth the living God... His laws emerged out of the realization of a universal truth about mankind. They are for and by a sovereign God. The king is supported by an infinitesimal creature; I by its eternal and indivisible Creator. I am a poet; I have been sent by God to express the unexpressed, www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive to portray the unportrayed. It is God who is heard through the voice of the poet... My voice is but a medium for Truth, the message of God... I am the instrument of that eternal self-evident truth, an instrument that voices forth the message of the ever-true. I am an instrument of God. The instrument is not unbreakable, but who is there to break God?" On April 14, 1923 he was transferred from the jail in Alipore to Hooghly in Kolkata, he began a 40-day fast to protest mistreatment by the British jail superintendent. Nazrul broke his fast more than a month later and was eventually released from prison in December 1923. Nazrul composed a large number of poems and songs during the period of imprisonment and many his works were banned in the 1920s by the British authorities. Kazi Nazrul Islam became a critic of the Khilafat struggle, condemning it as hollow, religious fundamentalism. Nazrul's rebellious expression extended to rigid orthodoxy in the name of religion and politics. Nazrul also criticised the Indian National Congress for not embracing outright political independence from the British Empire. He became active in encouraging people to agitate against British rule, and joined the Bengal state unit of the Congress party. Nazrul also helped organise the Sramik Praja Swaraj Dal, a political party committed to national independence and the service of the peasant masses. On December 16, 1925 Nazrul started publishing the weekly "Langal”, with himself as chief editor. The "Langal" was the mouthpiece of the Sramik Praja Swaraj Dal. During his visit to Comilla in 1921, Nazrul met a young Hindu woman, Pramila Devi, with whom he fell in love and they married on April 25, 1924. Pramila belonged to the Brahmo Samaj, which criticised her marriage to a Muslim. Nazrul in turn was condemned by Muslim religious leaders and continued to face criticism for his personal life and professional works, which attacked social and religious dogma and intolerance. Despite controversy, Nazrul's popularity and reputation as the "rebel poet" rose significantly. "Weary of struggles, I, the great rebel, Shall rest in quiet only when I find The sky and the air free of the piteous groans of the oppressed. Only when the battle fields are cleared of jingling bloody sabres Shall I, weary of struggles, rest in quiet, I the great rebel." Mass Music With his wife and young son Bulbul, Nazrul settled in Krishnanagar in 1926. His work began to transform as he wrote poetry and songs that articulated the aspirations of the downtrodden classes, a sphere of his work known as "mass music." Nazrul assailed the socio-economic norms and political system that had brought upon misery. From his poem 'Daridro' (poverty or pain): "O poverty, thou hast made me great. Thou hast made me honoured like Christ With his crown of thorns. Thou hast given me Courage to reveal all. To thee I owe My insolent, naked eyes and sharp tongue. Thy curse has turned my violin to a sword ... O proud saint, thy terrible fire Has rendered my heaven barren. O my child, my darling one I could not give thee even a drop of milk No right have I to rejoice. Poverty weeps within my doors forever As my spouse and my child." [Who will play the flute?] www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive In what his contemporaries regarded as one of his greatest flairs of creativity, Nazrul began composing the very first ghazals in Bengali, transforming a form of poetry written mainly in Persian and Urdu. Nazrul became the first person to introduce Islam into the larger mainstream tradition of Bengali music. The first record of Islamic songs by Nazrul Islam was a commercial success and many gramophone companies showed interest in producing these. A significant impact of Nazrul was that it drew made Muslims more comfortable in the Bengali Arts, which used to be dominated by Hindus. Nazrul also composed a number of notable Shamasangeet, Bhajan and Kirtan, combining Hindu devotional music. Arousing controversy and passions in his readers, Nazrul's ideas attained great popularity across India. In 1928, Nazrul began working as a lyricist, composer and music director for His Master's Voice Gramophone Company. The songs written and music composed by him were broadcast on radio stations across the country. He was also enlisted/attached with the Indian Broadcasting Company. Nazrul professed faith in the belief in the equality of women — a view his contemporaries considered revolutionary. From his poet Nari (Woman): "I don't see any difference Between a man and woman Whatever great or benevolent achievements That are in this world Half of that was by woman, The other half by man." (Translated by Sajed Kamal) His poetry retains long-standing notions of men and women in binary opposition to one another and does not affirm gender similarities and flexibility in the social structure: "Man has brought the burning, scorching heat of the sunny day; Woman has brought peaceful night, soothing breeze and cloud. Man comes with desert-thirst; woman provides the drink of honey. Man ploughs the fertile land; woman sows crops in it turning it green. Man ploughs, woman waters; that earth and water mixed together, brings about a harvest of golden paddy." However, Nazrul's poems strongly emphasise the confluence of the roles of both sexes and their equal importance to life. He stunned society with his poem "Barangana" ("Prostitute"), in which he addresses a prostitute as "mother". Nazrul accepts the prostitute as a human being, reasoning that this person was breast-fed by a noble woman and belonging to the race of "mothers and sisters"; he assails society's negative notions of prostitutes. Who calls you a prostitute, mother? Who spits at you? Perhaps you were suckled by someone as chaste as Seeta. ... And if the son of an unchaste mother is 'illegitimate', so is the son of an unchaste father. -"Barangana" ("Prostitute") Translated by Sajed Kamal) Nazrul was an advocate of the emancipation of women; both traditional and non-traditional women were portrayed by him with utmost sincerity. Nazrul's songs are collectively called as Nazrul Sangeet Nazrul geeti. Exploring Religion Nazrul's mother died in 1928, and his second son Bulbul died of smallpox the following year. His first son, Krishna Mohammad had died prematurely. His wife gave birth to two more sons — Savyasachi in 1928 and Aniruddha in 1931 — but Nazrul remained shaken and aggrieved for a long time. www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive "Come back my birdie! Come back again to my empty bosom! Shunno e bookey paakhi mor aaye! Phirey aaye phirey aaye!" His works changed significantly from rebellious expositions of society to deeper examination of religious themes. His works in these years led Islamic devotional songs into the mainstream of Bengali folk music, exploring the Islamic practices of namaz (prayer), roza (fasting), hajj (pilgrimage) and zakat (charity). This was regarded by his contemporaries as a significant achievement as Bengali Muslims had been strongly averse to devotional music. Nazrul's creativity diversified as he explored Hindu devotional music by composing Shama Sangeet, bhajans and kirtans, often merging Islamic and Hindu values. Nazrul's poetry and songs explored the philosophy of Islam and Hinduism. Let people of all countries and all times come together. At one great union of humanity. Let them listen to the flute music of one great unity. Should a single person be hurt, all hearts should feel it equally. If one person is insulted; it is a shame to all mankind, an insult to all! Today is the grand uprising of the agony of universal man. The badnaa, a water jug typical in usage by Bengali Muslims for ablutions (wazu) and bath (ghusl) and the gaaru a water pot typical in usage by Bengali Hindus, meet and embrace each other under the peace of the new pact (between the rioting Hindus and Muslims in Bengal during the British Raj on certain politico-religious differences and disputes that had preceded the said pact). There is no knife in the hand of the Muslim and also the Hindu does not wield the bamboo any more! Bodna gaaru te kolakuli korey! Nobo pact er aashnaai! Musholmaaner haatey naai chhuri! Hindur haatey baansh naai! Nazrul's poetry imbibed the passion and creativity of Shakti, which is identified as the Brahman, the personification of primordial energy. He wrote and composed many bhajans, shyamasangeet, agamanis and kirtans. He also composed large number of songs on invocation to Lord Shiva, Goddesses Lakshmi and Saraswati and on the theme of love of Radha and Krishna. Nazrul assailed fanaticism in religion, denouncing it as evil and inherently irreligious. He devoted many works to expound upon the principle of human equality, exploring the Qur'an and the life of Islam's prophet Muhammad. Nazrul has been compared to William Butler Yeats for being the first Muslim poet to create imagery and symbolism of Muslim historical figures such as Qasim, Ali, Umar, Kamal Pasha, Anwar Pasha and Muhammad. His vigorous assault on extremism and mistreatment of women provoked condemnation from Muslim and Hindu fundamentalists. In 1920, Nazrul expressed his vision of religious harmony in an editorial in Joog Bani, “Come brother Hindu! Come Musalman! Come Buddhist! Come Christian! Let us transcend all barriers, let us foresake forever all smallness, all lies, all selfishness and let us call brothers as brothers. We shall quarrel no more”. In another article entitled Hindu Mussalman published in Ganabani on September 2, 192 he wrote ‘’I can tolerate Hinduism and Muslims but I cannot tolerate the Tikism (Tiki is a tuft of never cut hair kept on the head by certain Hindus to maintain personal Holiness) and beardism. Tiki is not Hinduism. It may be the sign of the pundit. Similarly beard is not Islam, it may be the sign of the mollah. All the hair-pulling have originated from those two tufts of hair. Todays fighting is also between the Pundit and the Mollah: It is not between the Hindus and the Muslims. No prophet has said, ‘’I have come for Hindus I have come for Muslims I have come for Christians.” They have said, “I have come for the www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive humanity for everyone, like light’’. But the devotees of Krishna says, “Krishna is for Hindus”. The followers of Muhammad (Sm) says, “Muhammad (Sm) is for the Muslims”. The Disciple of Christ is for Christian”. Krishna-Muhammad-Christ have become national property. This property is the root of all trouble. Men do not quarrel for light but they quarrel over cattle.” Nazrul was an exponent of humanism. Although a Muslim, he named his sons with both Hindu and Muslim names: Krishna Mohammad, Arindam Khaled(bulbul), Kazi Sabyasachi and Kazi Aniruddha. Later Life and Illness In 1933, Nazrul published a collection of essays titled "Modern World Literature", in which he analyses different styles and themes of literature. Between 1928 and 1935 he published 10 volumes containing 800 songs of which more than 600 were based on classical ragas. Almost 100 were folk tunes after kirtans and some 30 were patriotic songs. From the time of his return to Kolkata until he fell ill in 1941, Nazrul composed more than 2,600 songs, many of which have been lost. His songs based on baul, jhumur, Santhali folksongs, jhanpan or the folk songs of snake charmers, bhatiali and bhaoaia consist of tunes of folk-songs on the one hand and a refined lyric with poetic beauty on the other. Nazrul also wrote and published poems for children. Nazrul's success soon brought him into Indian theatre and the then-nascent film industry. The first picture for which he worked was based on Girish Chandra Ghosh's story "Bhakta Dhruva" in 1934. Nazrul acted in the role of Narada and directed the film. He also composed songs for it, directed the music and served as a playback singer. The film "Vidyapati" ("Master of Knowledge") was produced based on his recorded play in 1936, and Nazrul served as the music director for the film adaptation of Tagore's novel Gora. Nazrul wrote songs and directed music for Sachin Sengupta's bioepic play "Siraj-ud-Daula". In 1939, Nazrul began working for Calcutta Radio, supervising the production and broadcasting of the station's musical programmes. He produced critical and analytic documentaries on music, such as "Haramoni" and "Navaraga-malika". Nazrul also wrote a large variety of songs inspired by the raga Bhairav. Nazrul sought to preserve his artistic integrity by condemning the adaptation of his songs to music composed by others and insisting on the use of tunes he composed himself. Nazrul's wife Pramila Devi fell seriously ill in 1939 and was paralysed from waist down. To provide for his wife's medical treatment, he resorted to mortgaging the royalties of his gramophone records and literary works for 400 rupees. He returned to journalism in 1940 by working as chief editor for the daily newspaper "Nabayug" ("New Age"), founded by the eminent Bengali politician A. K. Fazlul Huq. Nazrul also was shaken by the death of Rabindranath Tagore on August 8, 1941. He spontaneously composed two poems in Tagore's memory, one of which, "Rabihara" (loss of Rabi or without Rabi) was broadcast on the All India Radio. Within months, Nazrul himself fell seriously ill and gradually began losing his power of speech. His behaviour became erratic, and spending recklessly, he fell into financial difficulties. In spite of her own illness, his wife constantly cared for her husband. However, Nazrul's health seriously deteriorated and he grew increasingly depressed. He underwent medical treatment under homeopathy as well as Ayurveda, but little progress was achieved before mental dysfunction intensified and he was admitted to a mental asylum in 1942. Spending four months there without making progress, Nazrul and his family began living a silent life in India. In 1952, he was transferred to a mental hospital in Ranchi. With the efforts of a large group of admirers who called themselves the "Nazrul www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive Treatment Society" as well as prominent supporters such as the Indian politician Syama Prasad Mookerjee, the treatment society sent Nazrul and Promila to London, then to Vienna for treatment. Examining doctors said he had received poor care, and Dr. Hans Hoff, a leading neurosurgeon in Vienna, diagnosed that Nazrul was suffering from Pick's disease. His condition judged to be incurable, Nazrul returned to Calcutta on 15 December 1953. On June 30, 1962 his wife Pramila died and Nazrul remained in intensive medical care. In 1972, the newly independent nation of Bangladesh obtained permission from the Government of India to bring Nazrul to live in Dhaka and accorded him honorary citizenship. Despite receiving treatment and attention, Nazrul's physical and mental health did not improve. In 1974, his youngest son, Kazi Aniruddha, an eminent guitarist died, and Nazrul soon succumbed to his long-standing ailments on August 29, 1976. In accordance with a wish he had expressed in one of his poems, he was buried beside a mosque on the campus of the University of Dhaka. Tens of thousands of people attended his funeral; Bangladesh observed two days of national mourning and the Indian Parliament observed a minute of silence in his honour. Criticism and Legacy Nazrul's poetry is characterised by an abundant use of rhetorical devices, which he employed to convey conviction and sensuousness. He often wrote without care for organisation or polish. His works have often been criticized for egotism, but his admirers counter that they carry more a sense of self-confidence than ego. They cite his ability to defy God yet maintain an inner, humble devotion to Him. Nazrul's poetry is regarded as rugged but unique in comparison to Tagore's sophisticated style. Nazrul's use of Persian vocabulary was controversial but it widened the scope of his work. Nazrul's works for children have won acclaim for his use of rich language, imagination, enthusiasm and an ability to fascinate young readers. Nazrul is regarded for his secularism. He was the first person to cite of Christians of Bengal in his novel Mrityukhudha. He was also the first user of folk terms in Bengali literature. He first printed the Sickle and Hammer in any Indian magazine. Nazrul pioneered new styles and expressed radical ideas and emotions in a large body of work. Scholars credit him for spearheading a cultural renaissance in Muslim-majority Bengal, "liberating" poetry and literature in Bengali from its medieval mould. Nazrul was awarded the Jagattarini Gold Medal in 1945 — the highest honour for work in Bengali literature by the University of Calcutta — and awarded the Padma Bhushan, one of India's highest civilian honours in 1960. The Government of Bangladesh conferred upon him the status of being the "national poet". He was awarded the Ekushey Padak by the Government of Bangladesh. He was awarded Honorary D.Litt. by the University of Dhaka . Many centres of learning and culture in India and Bangladesh have been founded and dedicated to his memory. The Nazrul Endowment is one of several scholarly institutions established to preserve and expound upon his thoughts and philosophy, as well as the preservation and analysis of the large and diverse collection of his works. The Bangladesh Nazrul Sena is a large public organization working for the education of children throughout the country. Works: Sanchita (Collected poems) ,1925 Phanimanasa (The Cactus) , poems,1927 www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive Chakrabak (The Flamingo) , poems,1929 Satbhai Champa (The Seven Brothers of Champa) , juvenile poems,1933 Nirjhar (Fountain) , poems,1939 Natun Chand (The New Moon) , poems,1939 Marubhaskar (The Sun in the Desert) , poems,1951 Sanchayan (Collected Poems) ,1955 Nazrul Islam: Islami Kobita (A Collection of Islamic Poems; Dhaka, Bangladesh: Islamic Foundation,1982) Agni Bina (The Fiery Flute) , poems,1992 Poems and songs Dolan Champa (name of a faintly fragrant monsoon flower) , poems and songs,1923 Bisher Banshi (The Poison Flute) , poems and songs,1924 Bhangar Gan (The Song of Destruction) , songs and poems,1924 proscribe in 1924 Chhayanat (The Raga of Chhayanat) , poems and songs,1925 Chittanama (On Chittaranjan) , poems and songs,1925 Samyabadi (The Proclaimer of Equality) , poems and songs,1926 Puber Hawa (The Eastern Wind) , poems and songs,1926 Sarbahara (The Proletariat) , poems and songs,1926 Sindhu Hindol (The Undulation of the Sea) , poems and songs,1927 Jinjir (Chain) , poems and songs,1928 Pralaya Shikha (Doomsday Flame) , poems and songs,1930 proscribed in 1930 Shesh Saogat (The Last Offerings) , poems and songs,1958 Short stories Rikter Bedan (The Sorrows of Destitute) , short stories,1925 Shiulimala (Garland of Shiuli) , stories,1931 Byathar Dan (Offering of Pain) , short stories,1992 Aladin Novels Bandhan Hara (Free from Bonds) , novel,1927 Mrityukshuda (Hunger for Death) , novel,1930 Kuhelika (Mystery) , novel,1931 Plays and drama Jhilimili (Window Shutters) , plays,1930 Aleya (Mirage) , song drama,1931 Putuler Biye (Doll's Marriage) , children's play,1933 Madhumala (Garland of Honeysuckle) a musical play,1960 Jhar (Storm) , juvenile poems and play,1960 Pile Patka Putuler Biye (Doll's Marriage) , juvenile poems and play,1964 Essays Joog Bani (The Message of the Age) , essays,1926 Jhinge Phul (The Cucurbitaccus Flower) , essays,1926 Durdiner Jatri (The Traveller through Rough Times) , essays,1926 Rudra Mangal (The Violent Good) , essays,1927 Dhumketu (The Comet) , essays,1961 www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive A Belated Call Him whom I could not then love much Why do I now remember thus at this late hour, a Mother? Today I remember every night he lulled me to sleep by kissing my eves, Kisses followed kisses breaking my early dawn sleep under their heavy load. I felt then much distressed And sought an early release. The memory now fills my eyes with . a flood of tears. Me unfortunate! Under griefs overwhelming weight vanity doors now kiss the dust. The over-flowing caress of the fuIlness of his young breast I trampled under foot, a Mother! Why then this hankering today These feet he pressed on his breast And on them did print a thousand kisses, While tears inundated his eyes, With no response from me, so vain was I, a Mother! Thus awfully disgraced he had to go away. Indeed I saw his breast with scars of neglect, From pillar to' post went he disgraced, He thought of mea a haven, A protection from insult, an abode of peace. A fool that I was I shut my door upon my lord through ignorance. In disguise of a beggar called at my door my King of Kings. He lost his way and came, he, my welcome kingly beggar, Me wretched! How could I recognize him, O Mother? So his offerings of worship, His garland of pearls I refused, My Lord himself worshipped me with ample offerings, Alas! I knew not the worshipper amid the encircling dark smoke of burnt incense. Who knew he came to me last? Nothing is left behind save farewell message of the princely guest. O my Love! Where didst thou nestle, When called at this door my King? Earth now heaves a sigh: 'He is www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive not here, seek him in vain.' He is an eternal traveller, free. of the bonds of home. From far afar comet the magic call of the shady path Beyond the heath, in the thick of the forest, Hark, the amorous jingling of his tinkling anklet? He blossoms with the flower, wanders over hills with the clouds, Now here, now gone, I know not whom he wants. Mother, where should I get power enough to hold this gypsy lover? For him is not love, nor evening lamp to call home. So the doors of my heart Responded not to his knockings, I thought I then loved some one else. I pushed afar the homeless wanderer, with his offended sentiment. In loving embrace, he wanted to press me closely to his bosom, A wretch I was to run away in trembling fear. The shade of kingly beggar's eyes From a distance charmed me, At his near approach the tearful depth of his long hungry look, Overwhelmed me with pain and the lyre of my mind went out of tune, Why then, Mother, do I hanger now for him to come back, And long for his touch of love and caress I then disregarded? Today, I feel I can bury my face in his bosom in deep felicity, And can easily weep out my soul laden with sorrow. Will my wails reach him across the dim forest of his abode, O Mother? Today, I understand, my whole wealth of life's peace and happiness My lover, the King of thieves, has stolen away. O My King of Spring Season! Come back and take my garland as laurels on thy brow. Today, my bosom bursts under the load of grief and lamentation, Come and see how heart-rending are now the wails of that marble-hearted one. Thy prophecy comes true, blood flows out of stone www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive The terrible conflagration of forest burns today a mountain of stone A stupendous flow-tide arises in my bosom, Breaking barriers, breaking bulwarks, In the breast of the dumb appears the God of speech amid a tempestuous sea- Now my bosom bursts, my mouth speaks Whom can you stop, Mother? My heaven was lost with his departure, Now I toss on my sleepless pillow alone with no companion on this sad night- He ill not come by my side up To wake me up before peep of dawn Never will he come at deep of night in the, amorous pursuit of stealthy kisses, His companion is doomed to weep out. a stormy night across a forest. Had I but found him today. I would, O Mother, have fallen flat at his fear Holding his lotus like feet on my breast bathed them in my lake of tears Seated him on one-half of my skirt, The flood of dears appearing unbidden I would have wiped out the wet collyrium from his eyes, face and lip's corner, With my disheveled hair wiped his feet imprisoning him within my embrace. Thou couldst see then, Mother, this Wayward girl, this cause of all ills Leaning her face on his generous bosom and saying, 'I love you' While thus unbosoming herself, a pleasing bashfulness Would make her blush and swear, Her face would unwillingly descend from his breast and roll unawares on his lap I would see, Mother, how could he then restrain himself on ground of injured sentiment! Thus now arises in me many a hope and thirst for love, From offended vanity, anguish, passion' and attachment rolled into one. Leaving me as a debtor of tears, Has he crossed high seas for an unknown island? Is it far beyond rivers, Mother? Is it that tempest itself cannot reach that far-off land. O Mother? If he now learns that I do love him, In wild ecstasy will his sepulcher burst open? His shouts will make www.PoemHunter.com - The World's Poetry Archive
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রুটির দোকানের কর্মচারী থেকে বিদ্রোহী কবি। কবি কাজী নজরুলের জীবন কাহিনী। Kazi Nazrul Islam Biography
কাজী নজরুল ইসলামের জনপ্রিয় ১০টি গজল ২০২০ Kazi Nazrul Islam best bangla gojol 2020 Islamic tune
Last Journey of Kazi Nazrul Islam
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কবি কাজী নজরুল ইসলাম ও প্রমিলা দেবী। National Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam. Kazi Nazrul Islam Live video.
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কাজী নজরুল ইসলামের জীবনী। Kazi Nazrul islam biography in Bengali.
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সাম্যের গান গাই... | কাজী নজরুল ইসলাম ‘‘নারী” কবিতার শ্রেষ্ঠ আবৃত্তি | টিটো মুন্সী
Tumi Sundar Tai Cheye Thaki তুমি সুন্দর তাই চেয়ে থাকি - Nazrul Sangeet
Bolo Bir @ Kazi Nazrul Islam বিদ্রোহী কবিতা

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