KABOR BY JASIM UDDIN POET OF BENGAL - BANGLARKABI скачать в хорошем качестве

KABOR BY JASIM UDDIN POET OF BENGAL - BANGLARKABI

RECITED BY JASIM UDDIN 'Kabar', first published in 1929 in Rakhali (Pastoral Poems),was as a text for the Matriculation Examination of Calcutta University while Jasim Uddin was still a student of I. A. class. "I was surprised when in 1929 I read Jasimuddin's poem "Kabar" in Calcutta Universitys selection of Bengali texts for the Matriculation examination. A poem by a Muslim writer in the Matriculation selections! And that too under the auspices of the University of Calcutta? . . . A teacher of mine told me a story about this. There was forceful opposition in [the University's] Syndicate to the inclusion of by a student. But Dr Dinesh Sen was the number one advocate for Jasimuddin. . . . Apparently, he countered the opposition by saying, "All right, please be patient and just listen to me recite the poem." He had a passionate voice and could recite poetry well. He read the poem with such wonderful effect that the eyes of many members of the Syndicate were glistening with tears." KABAR - GRAVE Here, under the pomegranate tree, is your grandmother's grave; For thirty years my tears have kept it green. She was a little doll-faced girl when she came to my horne, And she wept to be done with the play ofher childhood days. Returned from my travelling onee, I suddenly knew She had been in my thoughts all the time. Like the dawn her golden face would blind my eyes, And from that day I lost myselfamong smallj oys of hers. There along that path I'd take the plough to the fields And, leaving, would turn For a last look at her to take with me. How she'd smile, my long-wed sister-in-Iaw, because of this! When she went to her father's house she said, touching my feet, 'Do not forget to visit me soon at the village of 'Ujan-toli.' So when I sold melons at market I saved a few coins And bought her a neeklace ofbeads, tobaceo and toothpowder. (And what's sofunny in that, my lad?) How happy your grandmother was when she got these small gifts; If only you could have seen her fingering her nose-ring. She said, 'Y ou have come after so many days; I have beeil waiting in tears, Watehing the path for you,' smiling now. When we parted for a mere few days you couldll't console her; I wo nd er how she sleeps in her grave in this lonely place? Fold your hands, grandson, and pray: 'Corne, oh merciful God, Let Paradise descertd for my grandmother.' Empty the life I endured when she left me; Yet it seems each one I embraced here has gone, Following her to that distant land. A hundred graves are carved on the stone ofmy heart; I get con~used counting the number, computing it over and over again.