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  //Dreams Unfulfilled Forever//   That is not impossible, when Our life is cheaper than a rat, or a cat When killings become a culture.   Yet some deaths haunt our conscience Cost a great deal from us As the Death of our Father did. The beauty of a drop of dew on a grass leaf The smiles of a shapla on a lake water The whistles of a  doel sitting on a wall Were all more charming to you than The charms of a General’s badge.   You wanted to find a meaning of your life In a madly pursuit, few could understood. The dream to showcase your motherland beyond Remained beyond, unfulfilled forever. Come down on wings of angels Pass some time with seagulls at Teknaf Become a scholar gypsy, avoiding us enough.     
     I am Khuki What are you doing professor? Why are you gazing at me this way? Why are you calling my hair, golden fibre? It is no more golden– simply call jute fibre! What are you searching into my eyes? It is no lustrous with a woman of sixty. But I know you are sad, tired of Looking at vultures tearing off heads Decomposed flesh out of the grave Disfigured, grim bloated after postmortem.   Professor, do not grieve, this soil is holy Look at the trees, at the blue sky I am khukhi, my name rhymes with pakhi.
  Juggernaut  Something dearest was in my heart I left it somewhere. A desperate attempt was to return to it. But I got lost, I didn’t know how. No mobile phone, no address could I remember Modern ICT baffled me. A juggernaut in disguise on my way.   A graveyard I have crossed Met some dead people Some known some unknown A little solace have I got When my dearest friend with awe, Peeped from grave’s foot, and saw.   A rarest heart was he God’s favourite die young! A line of worry in his face   Thinking of human race.   ‘Haven’t  you read Waiting for Godot ’ said he, ‘All absurdities you must ponder normal But my friend fight against juggernaut  The evil must be defeated at last.’  
  Fruitless Love  I have given you much You gave me little But I was in need of that little Corporate interest of give-and-take!   Once I risked my life for you Taking   you on my back I flew up Like a spider man. My flight was the peak of Everest.   You didn’t like that flight That spell of an Iblis possessed you Jealous of my strength! –And then came the advantage of coronavirus. Their wish was fulfilled Separating me from you The death of a relationship!   Day in day out You will continue disturbing Blaze my heart with love and hatred But I am not revengeful Will not throw acid on your face   In solitude, like Sisyphus I will roll the stone up Only to fall down and try again Days, months, Years, centuries and millennia.

Man behind creation: A tribute to Shamsur Rahman

  Shamsur Rahman has depicted almost every aspect of life and often his poetry becomes very personal, but ultimately this personal emotion turns to general and herein lies his success as an artist It was a typical day of August 17, 2006, the sun was setting down behind the flaming clouds with all its glory, birds were finding their nightly shelter in the nearby Ramna Park, and after... CLICK HERE TO READ MORE

Rosy’s Story: Not to Give in, Not to Give up

Sobbed with grief and humiliation she ran out of her school-gate and walked fast towards the Ramna Park which is a short distance from her school. She was so emotionally agitated that she damned care the traffic signal. If a microbus had not braked so hard and stopped instantly it might have run over her. She did not bother the driver’s grimy remarks, and stalked off. ‘Something awful might have occurred if the driver had not braked so hard, but it was better to have been run over by that microbus than my present situation, ’ she thought, and began to walk angrily along the shady pavement. The Ministers’ lodges are on both sides of the road. These posh areas of Dhaka city are well-known to her. She looked at her watch. It was 11-30 am. One hour and a half has passed since her exam started. It was her Class Nine final examination. Now she is out of the exam! Not only that, she was threatened to be out of the school with a transfer certificate. She is a plucked bud, a half-slaughtere