& çâÌæÚUæð´ ·¤è ¥ôÚU Îð¹Ùæ ÁæÚUè ÚU¹ð´ ¥ÍæüÌ ¥ÂÙð ÜÿØ ÂÚU ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´Ð ãæÚU Ù ×æÙð´, €UØô´ç·¤ ·¤æ× ·¤ÚUÙð âð ¥æÂ·¤ô ©gðàØ ·¤è Âýæç# ãôÌè ãñ ¥õÚU ÁèßÙ ·¤æ ¹æÜèÂÙ ÎêÚU ãôÌæ ãñÐ ÖÜð ãè ÁèßÙ ×ð´ ç·¤ÌÙè Öè ·¤çÆÙæ§ü €UØô´ Ù ¥æ°, çÁ™ææâæ ¥õÚU ©ˆâæã ÕÙæ° ÚU¹ð´Ð ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´, ÜÿØ ã×ðàææ ¥æÂ·Ô¤ Âæâ ãôÌð ãñ´ çÁ‹ãð´ ÂæÙð ·Ô¤ çÜ° ÂýØæâ ¥æÂ ·¤Öè Öè àæéM¤ ·¤ÚU â·¤Ìð ãñ´Ð

Celebrating poetry's rebel

Syed Badrul Ahsan
A moving spirit worked incessantly in Kazi Nazrul Islam. He was a poet, of course. But more than that, he was symbolic of huge energy, for there was something of a mpleteness in him. He lived for more than three decades following the onset of his affliction, a period in time when he truly would have soared, infinitely higher than he already had. FROM PAGE 16
And yet, for all this lament over what might have been, Nazrul remains that embodiment of the human will to explore the diversity of life, to give it newer shades of meaning. And who better than he to inform a politically conscious people that life could be lived on a higher plane, that for such a plane to be scaled it was often necessary to give oneself to rebellion? And that is when songs like durgomo giri kantar moru come our way. Patriotism was an integral part of the Nazrul psyche; and into that patriotism he injected the spirit of resistance through such songs of grandeur as ei shikol pora chhol moder ei shikol pora chhol.
Poetry for Nazrul subsisted on a level higher than the idealistic. It had to be lived from day to day. And that for him, as for millions of his countrymen, was the reality of eking out a bare existence under British colonial rule, a phase in life that needed to be put an end to through concerted resistance. Or call it militancy. You spot that militancy in the high notes of chol chol chol. In Bidrohi, it is a clear, unambiguous call to divinely ordained rebellion on the part of the poet.
Nazrul's genius was in many ways a reflection of the myriad qualities of the Bengali soul. The Bengali was nothing if not a symbol of the fundamental characteristics of the human personality. In his poetry, love came in waves, sometimes in the placidity of ripples. There is that primordial desire to see the beloved in all the raiment of beauty, which is when you hear the song mor priya hobe esho rani / debo khonpa-e tarar phool. It is melody where the poet takes care to adorn his lover in every aspect of poetic charm he can bring forth. And then hear the poet sing Laity tomar eshechhe phiriya or mora ar jonome hongsho mithun chhilam. You will not miss the ripples meshing into the waves, or the waves going peacefully into the state of being happy ripples.
The versatility in Nazrul is all. Every poem and every song is tinged strongly with vibrancy; and that includes his
thoughts on religion. His speeches on different occasions were proof of the profound scholarship which informed his works. In 1937, at an Eid reunion, he held forth on such difficult subjects as literature, life and youth. Not one to genuflect before power, Nazrul was forever ready to describe reality for what it truly was. His spell in prison, one of those rare times when a man given to producing verses is sent into incarceration, was one of the earliest signs of the spirit of rebellion which would characterise his personality all his productive life.
The story of Kazi Nazrul Islam is essentially the tale of a struggling soul. There are all the images of despair, of deprivation you associate with the poet. Poverty dogged him for nearly the entirety of the early phase of his life. He acted as imam in a mosque to meet his needs. And he worked in a bread shop to keep himself going. And yet there was in him an absolute sense of self-esteem and confidence which would not let him submit to anything that demeaned the individual. Poetry came naturally to him. He could set tunes to a song on the spur of the moment. His Islamicg/tazuls, like the songs he fashioned on various Hindu religious aspects, demonstrated the natural flair and vigour he brought into an expression of his literary sensibilities.
Nazrul lived life in all the intensity of romance. He shaped his poetry in the piercing sounds of thunder. He saw in women, all women, a pristine epitome of beauty. And sadness he knew from up close, through death in the family. Remember that piercing number, shunyo e buukepakhi moraaye/phireaaye?
We celebrate Nazrul. And yet it was Nazrul who celebrated us, the collective spirit in us, long before we knew what poetic rebellion and active resistance to authority were all about. Why, then, must we not hum the old song, amar aponar cheye apon je jon / khunji tare aami aponaye I
(Kazi Nazrul Islam, born on 11 Jaishtha 1306, died on 12 Bhadra 1383)