My favorite song by Tagore moved by music weekly challenge,translation and post by Ranu

Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel prize for li...

Rabindranath Tagore won the Nobel prize for literature. It is the first Nobel prize won by Asia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is a song,I heard when I was still in Junior high school. The first time I heard it,I wanted to keep on listening to it. I sat and kept listening to it until I felt my sister’s friend might think I am crazy. After a long time I found the song on YouTube,this time I decided to translate into English. It is a song written by Rabindranath Tagore,our most popular Poet. The lyrics are in Bengali,the language of our dear country Bengal.

The title is, “Chiro Aami”        ” Forever Me”

When my footsteps are no longer imprinted on this place,

I will not row my boat to this wharf,

I will complete my buying and selling,I will take care of my dues,

My going and coming will stop to this market___

You need not remember me then,

Or look at the stars and call me.

When my musical instrument is covered with dust,

There will be thorny creepers growing around my house,

The garden will resemble an exile covered with thick grass,

Moss and lichen will surround the pond___

You need not remember me ,

Do not look at the stars and call me.

The flute will sound the same as now,

Days will go on exactly the same as today.

The wharves will be filled with boats  like now,

The cows will graze,and the shepherds will play.

You need not remember me ,

Or call me by looking above at the stars.

Who can say  I am not there that morning?

I will participate in all the games.

I will be called by a new name,I will have new friends,

I will come and go forever .

You need not remember me then,

Or look at the stars and call me.

This is the lyrics written by Tagore,he made everyone aware everything will go on as usual,except his house,garden and pond will show signs of his absence.

When I first heard this I was unaware this was a song he wrote to let his fans know, he will not be there but nothing else will change. In the last verse he gives a hint of reincarnation.

Submitted by Ranu,

Writing 101,day 19: Feature a guest

Assignment: you reached out to a candidate and gathered what you needed.Today publish this post, and don’t forget to link back to your collaborator’s site.

Philippa @, kindly reached out to me. She interviewed me. She sent me some questions in her email for me to answer.

I answered all her questions. She sent me back to see if there was anything that needed to be changed. I did the editing and sent it back to her, to publish for today’s assignment.

She published it and sent me the link. I’m taking this opportunity to “Thank Her” for writing and publishing the interview.

The link is ,

Thank you again for helping me out, Philippa!

……………………………… :)


Writing 101,Day 18: Compose a series of anecdotes

Assignment: Today, tell a story through a series of anecdotes(also called vignettes): short episodic scenes or moments that together read as variations on the same theme.They can each be as short or long as you see fit they don’t have to be the same length.

Today my story in the form of anecdotes is all about my brother Rafique.

Sorry my brother dear,

You do not have to fear,

I’m just saying what is true,

Even though you do not have a clue!

As far back as I can remember, there were times I felt like disowning him. He’d do things he knew would annoy me, but he thought it was a joke.

The little stories I’ll write are in no particular order.

Once I went for a walk with my uncle Malik, On our way back; just when we were close to the gate of our house, he exclaimed! “I made a terrible  mistake.”

“What is it ?”  I asked.

“I forgot to buy chocolate for you.” He said.

I was very outspoken those days, I said, “No you did not, you made sure you’d be close to the house, so I won’t be able to make you go back.”

He was stunned, all he could say was, “One of these days I will bring you a box of chocolates.”

One evening my uncle came to the house with a box of chocolates for me. When he knocked the door, my brother Rafique answered the door. “Where is Ranu ?” he asked, “I brought this box of chocolates for her.”

“She is sleeping.” My brother replied.

Uncle handed him the box and told him to give it to me in the morning.

Rafique was preparing for his high school exams, curiosity got the better of him. He opened the box and ate one, I suppose the stress of the up coming exams did something to him. One by one he ate the chocolates until he finished them.

Next morning he opened the door,he looked at me with a broad grin. “What are you smiling about?” I asked.

Still smiling he said, “Uncle Malik left a box of chocolates for you, I ate them all.”

All I could say was, “Wait till he comes back, I’ll tell him you ate all the chocolates.”

Uncle Malik was transferred to Bangladesh, I never got the opportunity to tell them, who ate the chocolates.


Once at the airport, we were called one at a time to the flight attendant’s desk to be weighed. The gentleman announced, “Now would the baby come forward to be weighed.”

We the other siblings told Rafique, “Go he is calling you.”

Rafique stood up grumbled why Dad gave his nick name. He then marched forward and promptly stood on the weighing machine. The flight attendant was confused, he said, “Are you sure you are a Baby?”

We laughed so loud our stomach was hurting.

My Dad unaware of the whole incident, Indignantly said, “Children you should know how to behave in public, I thought I registered you in a school where  they teach you manners, what’s wrong with You?”

I wish I could reply, “Rafique is stupid.” But I did not want to push my luck!


One day I found Rafique at the back of the house holding a loaf of bread, as soon as he saw me, he started devouring the loaf in huge sections. He was afraid I’d ask him to share.

………………………………. :)

This one is an anecdote of my sensible brother, Rafique. Whenever he visited us from Sylhet to Comilla ,he’d bring a heavy suitcase with him. He’d take the suitcase and say to me, “Ranu this is for you.”

I’d say to him,”every time you come you  give me the suitcase and say this is for you, what if I refuse to share what is in it  with every one, what will you do?”

“I know you he’d say, you will never take everything, this is why I always hand it to you.”

………………………………… :)

These episodes bring to my mind the song : those were the days my friend we thought will never end!

…………………………….. :)

Writing 101,day, 17: A map your muse


Assignment: Today let a map be your muse.

Tell us about your connection to a place.

I have decided to choose Bangladesh as the place ,  the lyrics  of  the song I am about to post are by  Rabindranath Tagore. I have translated the Bengali words into English.My connection is I am a Bengali and was raised in Bangladesh. My ancestors are from Bangladesh.

Map of Comilla

Pen a poem inspired by the area’s topography.


Mother means Bangladesh in this poem.

Today, from the heart of Bangladesh

O Mother, when did you appear in such an exceptional way!

O Mother I repeatedly  gaze at you,

I cannot have enough of you.

O Mother the doors of your temple are unlocked today!

Your right hand carries the blazing sword,

Your left removes fear and apprehension.

Your eyes reveal affection,

while your forehead conveys fierce resolve.

O ,Mother what an image of you,

I behold today.

O my dear Mother your untied hair conceals thunder

The edge of your garment glitters in the sun.

I neglected to look at you,

thinking my sad mother ,

Is alone in the deserted house .

There is no end to her misfortune.

But where is your miserable attire?

Where is that  sad smile?

The sky is adorned with

The lustre of your feet.

On this night of misery

Flood the world with the flow of happiness,

Your courage resonates in  my heart!

……………………………….. :)




Writing 101, Day Sixteen: Mine your own material

Today’s assignment: If you have trouble finding ideas this way, think about things we leave behind.tell us about an object, place, person,or even an idea behind __ and had to move on.

What I’m writing about is a reply to a question in my online course. It will also explain why I left the place I adored as a child.

The question is : Do you think everyone usually has a political theory?

I began my reply by defining what is a political theory? It is a study of concepts and principles used to describe, explain,and evaluate political events and institutions.

Each one of us believe in some kind of political, theory : A liberal wants the promotion of tolerance and autonomy; socialists want a theory that recognizes the exploitative nature of capitalism;feminists think it must be equipped to deal with patriarchy(system of a society, government ruled by a man and with  descent through the male line); multiculturalists believe the theory should address cultural inequality and difference.

According to John Dunn the purpose of political theory is to diagnose practical embarrassing situation and show how to deal with them.

He says we must find out , how we got where we are and understand why things are this way.

He also says what kind of world we want to have, what actions and at what risk, we can realistically hope to move this world as it now stands towards the way we might excusably wish it to be.

My original home although it is assumed to be a democratic country, the citizens living there do not believe it to be so. Sitting on the helm is someone who was elected by the people, who felt guilty because the father was assassinated.

This person had no experience in politics at all,the link was her father was a politician. This does not qualify her to be the Prime Minister. There is all kinds of injustice going on in  the country, people are afraid to say anything for fear of disappearing and getting killed.

The people who are lucky are leaving the country to save themselves and their family.

My original home is not what we hoped it would be.

John Dunn’s theory is  to diagnose practical embarrassing situation. We diagnosed the   problem but we cannot deal with it, we know what the solution is, but it’s not possible to deal with it  right now  .  This is why I left my original country and decided to move on!

………………………………… :(



Writing 101,Day 15: Take a cue from your readers, my favorite song, posted and translated by Ranu

Assignment: Choose one from the list.

Do you have an all-time favorite song? Why is it significant?

The following is my favorite song, its meaning is very deep, the poet himself writes about his suffering.

My heart cannot rest in this ravaged land,

No one feels fulfilled in this pointless world.

The nightingale does not complain ,

about the guard or the hunter.

I was destined to be imprisoned ,

during Spring harvest.

Tell my yearnings to go somewhere else,

There is no room in my tarnished heart for them.

The Nightingale feels great joy ,

sitting on a branch of flowers.

While my heart is strewn with thorns.

I prayed for a long life,

I was only decreed four days.

I spent two days longing,

and two waiting.

My days are over now,

and evening has fallen.

I intend to sleep with outstretched

legs, in my tomb.

How wretched am I !

I couldn’t even get two yards,

for burial in my beloved land!

The lyrics of the above song was written  by Bahadur Shah Zafar in prison, before he died.




Writing 101, Day fourteen: Recreate a single day

How will you use twenty-four hours as your story’s canvas?

Start in the middle of the action, then zigzag through time,from the moment you woke up to the last thing that happened before you retired for the night.

Structure your story as a play-by-play( or hour by hour) account, complete with precise  time markers.

Zoom in even further, limiting yourself to just one hour of your chosen day.

Ignore these instructions and reveal one day’s significance indirectly, through focusing on its aftermath.

Assignment : Recreating a single day

November eighteenth Wednesday,Writing 101, Day 13: Play with word count

The day was yesterday, our assignment was to try to write a 50-word story or a 100-word story. I read a few samples of 100-word story and felt it was doable .

What could I write in hundred words was the question I asked myself. I read a true story of a mother about her son.

Did I have a true story to tell in just hundred words?

Instantly my father’s face popped up in my mind, I started writing, when I completed it, the trauma of that day’s event refreshed my mind. I thought of my siblings, my mother, how devastated we were that day.

I tried to brush it off and thought the only way was to go to the bus stop and take route 2 to go to the mall. After twenty -five minutes there was a sign of route number two heading my way. I was anxious to get on the bus, it was cold, windy and I was uncomfortable; in my haste to get out of the house; I chose the wrong jacket, it had no hood, I wore a cap and put on a scarf, which I did not wear properly to avoid the wind hitting my face and neck.

I had a few errands to run, it took less than fifteen minutes. I was not in a mood to spend anymore time in the mall, I took the bus and came home.

At home the memory of my father disturbed me. I tried to watch TV, realized soon enough, this piece of equipment occupying space in my room was not worth a dime. It was unable to make me happy. The weatherman was predicting snow, high winds and treacherous road conditions. I was safe in the house but my mind was preoccupied with the thought of my father and the rest of the family.

I remember waking up at 5 AM, finished my prayer, and was happy I’d have a lot of time to do a number of things. Two hours later I was writing a hundred -word true story. The memory of that day echoed in my mind all day.

At nine PM I sat down to watch, “Jeopardy” my favorite player Matt Jackson was competing in the tournament of champions; at first he was slow in responding; then he whizzed through and made it to the finals. I was thrilled my evening turned out better than I hoped.

I went to bed happy, woke up this morning feeling good because I didn’t have nightmares!

……………………………. :)



Writing 101, Day thirteen: Play with word count

Assignment: Pay attention to the total length of your post.

This is my 100-word true story.

My younger siblings and I were playing outside the house on a  Wednesday morning. My mom’s  scream got our attention, we hurried into  our Dad’s bedroom.

What I saw that day is lodged in my memory, I can still visualize everything very clearly. My dad was lying on the bed,my Mom was crying and reading the ,’Holy Quran’  my brother was holding my dad’s arm and saying: Abba(Dad) please don’t go! Dad looked ; tried to say something, couldn’t, within minutes it was all over!

……………………………. :(

Writing 101, Day Twelve: Critique a piece of work

Today, express your opinion on a  topic or a piece of work.this is your opportunity to comment on something you’re passionate about, or review a piece of art or entertainment that you love or despise.

You can approach this assignment in your own style and preferred format.

Signal hill, in St. John’s NL, Canada, wikipedia image

NLA_StJohns1_tango7174.jpg (1500×600)

This is signal hill in St. John’s , Newfoundland, Canada.It is a hill which overlooks the city of St. John’s, NL and Labrador, Canada.

Since mid 17th century fortifications were placed, because of its strategic placement. In 1762 the French surrendered to a British force at the battle of Signal Hill.

On 12th December 1901, the first transatlantic wireless transmission was received by Guglielmo Marconi.

The US maintained anti-aircraft guns on the hill during  the second world war.

Today it’s a National Historic Site of Canada.

It’s a large well kept place where tourists and local citizens visit during the summer months. In winter high winds @ 68 mph deters most people to go there. Those who are heedless of the warning are a few, who perhaps like to dare nature. But we all know it is a futile task and in trying to be brave they are in danger of losing their lives or might be critically injured.

This was my husband’s most favorite place to visit. I was not so passionate about it. For me visiting once was enough. I felt I’d rather visit some other place that I didn’t see.

When we get some visitors we take them to signal hill, hey, we say this is a very important site, you must not miss visiting it.

I sometimes wonder, if our over enthusiasm to view a piece of history might not bode well with our guests, to be honest what else do we have to boast about ? Shopping centers , No, they have better looking ones; immediately there will be a comparison made and we’d look so silly we’d wish we could hide our faces from their sarcastic grin.

So I’ve decided to present our historic site, ‘The Signal Hill’ it’s a special place for us, St. John’s citizens.

…………………………….. :)






















Writing 101,Day Eleven: Update your readers over a cup of coffee

If we were having coffee right now with my friend and neighbor, I’d tell her how much I’m enjoying WordPress, Writing 101.

The best part is I get an assignment five days of the week, week-ends are free. Each assignment is a challenge. I have to dig my brain to see how I can make the current assignment entertaining and interesting.

Today is the eleventh day I’m trying to take my mind back to day one, when we started this blogging course.

It was : Why do I write? Right now I’d say I write because it gives me scope to empty out my thoughts on the page and get ready to fill it with new ones. Do I make sense? It’s something repeated by my brother,every time he completes some writing.

Some days just to tease him, I feel like saying : No brother you do not make sense. It’s something I lay buried in my thoughts, he doesn’t take it as a joke,he will have all sorts of questions why I wrote this. See what I mean? Who wants to start an argument with such a simple statement?

Coming back to coffee and meeting my friend at a place which we both like is a small shop in ‘Churchill Square’ they serve tea,  coffee and biscuits. We visit it whenever we want to have an outing outside our home.

We talk about a number of things, most of the time it’s the weather and the place we visited during the summer.

I drink tea and my friend likes coffee. She also enjoys tea. After about forty- five minutes we leave the shop and walk home.