KAAZI NAZRUL ISLAM
Tribute to a great man who dare to think out of the box in such a narrow society like ours.
am not a poet of today, nor a prophet of a future day,
Poet or worthless, call me whatever, I put up with anything you say.
Some say, to the future you belong,
Your place, as a poet, tomorrow will come along.
How come you lack message enduring like that emanates
I am blamed, but I wont' quit playing rising sun's music
My fellow poets are disappointed, they read my works and
Saying: the good one is becoming no good, as he can't say
Does not read a book - finished is this chap!
Some say: His wife has brought, indeed, all this mishap!
Some say: The fat one is spoiled, playing cards - non-stop - in
Others say: You were better there; toward jail again you
Mentor says: You're no good, except shaving using a sword!
Every Saturday my lover's letter conveys me, "Nothing
I say: Honey, shall I reveal the secret?
Letters stop in a hurry; not one more, I get.
Sacrificing everything, I got married: Hindus say, "Get lost"!
Am I Muslim or a heathen? Where is my pigtail or beard, or
All the goody-searching priests or Mollahs wave their hands
This one invokes names of deities; this rogue one we must
Hear the Fatwa: Kafir is this Kazi; nothing else,
Even though, he wants martyrdom, or so he tells!
Some scripture we know, and we still earn our livelihood!
Hindus detest my use of Persian words saying: from us, this
No one is happy with me; the disciples of non-violence? of
I am blamed I play the violin of violence; I get the
The revolutionaries say: This one is non-violent,
My songs deal with spinning wheels: they resent.
Top Brahmins find me atheist, lesser ones regard me as one
Independence lovers don't accept me; their opponents prefer
Men think I am a feminist; women, however, think otherwise,
I never went to England; I am worthless in my expatriate
My admirers see me as Rabi of new age,
If not of new age, at least a poet of these trendy days!
I hear all these, bemused; exercise for a stronger heart,
Lie down with eyeglasses on; sleeping through the day is my
I don't know what I write; Do I even understand anything of
I couldn't raise my hand in protest, so I write with my head
Dear friends, I did not find appreciation in you,
but my name shines in government's list in lieu.
Honoring my works as invaluable, without value people take
Have you heard anything else? Be careful, may not be far a
Friends, you have seen me engrossed in my own mind's
I rebuke and admonish my mind, but bringing it under
Every time I chain itself, somehow it escapes free
I beat it, and the same I repeat, to complete my victory,
I wish this mad mind would listen to me, but even to Rabi or
Abruptly it wakes up and then wanders in the jungle's
I say, O this insane one, you are doing so great in the
You are already a half-leader; but if you lose this opportunity,
would you ever be a full leader,
Pick up the fish in the net now, O fool, before it slips away, I
Take this break to get your leaky house fixed, otherwise soon
Who understands that this minstrel's mind roams around
This name hardly rings any bell; Days are passed chewing
May be some day there won't be any more of epidemic of
Especially, since the autonomy is coming in its full pomp and
Yes, we want moon, but those hapless ones cherish a meal,
The agonized mother shouts: Hush, you miserables! See,
But those hungry kids can't care less about autonomy; their
Ah! the hour is late; nothing they have nibbled yet; the flame
When I hear that cry, my insane mind charges in a rush,
My intoxication for autonomy seeks shelter merely in my
I say, bemoaning: O God, are you still there? Why are they
Humiliated or destroyed, those who suck the blood of these
We all know, to bring independence, those lofty slogans we
And, at the same time, how burning hunger of so many
So much money was raised, but independence still remained
as the hungry people can't pay enough, they are so weak
When a baby is snatched away from the mother's bosom, we
The mother keeps begging from door to door, while in her
My friends, I can't say any more; my mind feels so much
I have gone mad; now, I utter whatever my mouth throws
My own blood won't make much difference,
With blood-ink I keep writing, hence,
My head can't forbear robust ideas or big thought any more;
All those who are in peace and happiness, it's your privilege
I don't care any more, if I live or don't, when gone is this
Rabi is shining above our head, and then there are you, the
Those who usurp the morsel of three hundred thirty million
In my blood-ink writing, may it be engraved and sealed their
