writing prompt : Dearly Departed 365 days jan 25 2014 wordpress.com

Writing my eulogy sounds strange . Let me see what I’d want others to write. I was a nice person. My neighbors liked me. I didn’t have many friends. Ones I had didn’t have anything negative to say about me.

I did not interfere in the private lives of my friends or family. Sometimes I went out of my way to help,which was cautioned by my Dad at a very early age. I was happy doing my own thing. I loved music and didn’t mind playing the records repeatedly.

I liked reading spiritual books. Tagore, Iqbal and Ghalib were my favourite writers.

https://sabethville.wordpress.com/2014/01/365-days-jan. 25-dearly departed/

tagore song tumi je shurer agun you have touched the fire of music by Tagore translated and post by ranu

You have touched the fire of music

in my heart.

This fire is spread everywhere.

It is dancing between those

dead tree branches.

Who is it pointing  to in the sky.

In the dark  the stars are watching

with surprise.

From where is the crazy

wind blowing?

At midnight a flower

blossomed

O it is a gold waterlily.

Who knows how much

power the fire has!

Kazi Nazrul Islam : A Biography The song is translated by Ranu Post by Ranu

Kazi Nazrul Islam

Kazi Nazrul Islam (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Weary of struggles,I, the great rebel,

Shall rest in quiet only when I find,

The sky and the air free of the piteous groans of the oppressed

Only when the battle fields are cleared of jingling bloody sabres

Shall I, weary of struggles,rest in quiet,

I,the great rebel.”

This is a part of the poem of Kazi Nazrul Islam. He was imprisoned, tortured,poisoned slowly, still he did not give up fighting for the country he loved. This is one of the characteristics of an individual that makes him immortal. His name will remain in the hearts of people for generations to come.

He was born on the 25th May 1899 in a small village named Churulia near Asansol,Burdwan district of undivided Bengal, in India.His father was Kazi Faqeer Ahmad.He was the Imam and caretaker of the local mosque and mausoleum. He had two brothers and a sister. He studied in a madrassah ‘It was run by the mosque. He learned to read the Quran at an early age. He was only ten years old, when his father died. He started working in his father’s place to support his family. In a short time he was able to take the job of the Muezzin in the mosque where he studied.

Despite his poverty,he continued to  study. He worked with theatrical groups. He learned the art of writing poetry,drama and literature. He made strong verbal attacks against the British Raj in India. He preached revolution through his poetic works.’ Bidrohi,the Rebel’ was his most famous Bengali poem.It was collected in a volume titled,”Agnibeena” in 1924. The first anthology of his poems.

His poems depicted elements of romanticism,heroism and love.He called for rebellion against all forms of oppression including the oppressive acts of the British Raj in India. It is believed he got his inspiration from Walt Whitman’s ,’Song of Myself’.

His activism landed him in prison. He wrote ‘Deposition of a Political Prisoner’, while in prison. He worked for the freedom of the downtrodden masses in India.

He enrolled in schools whenever he was capable of paying the fees,he loved to study . He had an insatiable thirst for knowledge,which he acquired whenever he got the opportunity.

Throughout his career he wrote short stories,novels and essays.He was well-known for his poems. He wrote and composed music for  nearly four thousand songs.

At age eighteen,he joined the Indian army. He enrolled in the British army for two reasons; his inclination to study the unknown,secondly the call of politics. He was posted in Karachi cantonment. He wrote his first prose and poetry in Karachi. He read extensively and was influenced by Tagore and Saratchandra Chattopadhay,also the Persian poets, such as Hafez,Rumi and Omar Khayyam. He learned Persian poetry from the regiments Punjabi Maulvi. He practiced music and pursued his literary interests.

At the age of forty three this vibrant poet lost his voice and was silenced forever,he also lost his memory. He died in Bangladesh in 1976 at the age of seventy-seven!

I will leave far away forever,

I will not let you forget me.

I will turn into wind and hang on to your hair,

when you untie your hair.

I will not let you forget me.

When you are weary,

the sky is drowsy

and the wind-god cries,

I will come as lamentation

in your chest to shake.

I will not let you forget me.

when you have your ultimate celebration,

you will remember all your dear ones,

think which beggar did not get alms

I will stop on your way in fright and pain

you will see someone dead

on your path.

I will still not let you forget me.

I will leave far away forever,

still I will not let you forget me!

The song is translated by Ranu

Khaila Bhola (Absent-minded Play) Poem by Tagore Translation By Ranu

“Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged ...

“Yes, there he sat, on the back of the winged horse!” (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Do you think my mind is  occupied in play?

It is not true at all Mom,listen.

when I woke up early  the clouds were gone,

Sun , peeking through the trees.

Pooja music was coming from a distance,

three birds fighting on the roof.

toys scattered in front   what will I play,

I was thinking.

Spent the whole day undecided___

Sat holding the railing deep in thought.

I have  days of absent-mindedness Mom__

times when I have a queer feeling.

I see  the terrace

a little girl putting  a purple sari in the sun.

Quietly I watch, is it the wilderness__

I guess yonder is the king’s palace.

If I had  a winged-horse,

I would go immediately.

flying along the river bank

I would correct my way under a tree.

At times I see you with Dad’s letter

what do you think so quietly.

You look someone from an unknown land,

as if you are my mother from far away.

coming close I touch you__ it seems it’s my lost mother,

under the oak tree mother of flute .

I forget my play, I think

where is your home on which shore of the ocean!

I wish to go back to that strange island

you and me sailing on the sailboat!

DP Daily Prompt: Critical Eye Post by Ranu.

I am sorry this prompt does not give me any confidence.A Music Critic? This is just a joke I think.I did not study music.Yes I love music.Taking the role of a critic is not an easy subject.

I can say I love Celine Dionne’s voice,she sings her songs so beautifully.I love her song in the Titanic.

Madonna’s song ,”don’t cry for me Argentina is beautiful.It feels as though she really means every word in that song.To me she is very talented .She has what it takes to make one believe.

Julie Andrew’s song; The hills are alive with the sound of music  was remarkable.

Yesterday while going to the mall I heard someone singing a song .I asked my daughter who she was,it was Pink.Now she has talent,the way she can change her voice according to the lyrics is truly amazing.

I only picked the ones I like. The ones who have no talent and still are doing well,is amazing.I wonder why?

You can tell I have failed as a music critic.But it was fun writing about some of the talented ones.

There are hundreds of Indian singers who are blessed with remarkable voice and are also gifted lyricists. I am not sure if I name them people will recognize them. Just for fun I’ll name one.His name is Mohammed Rafi. He is not alive but he still is very popular. One song I have listened several times in the past few days begins thus:   Dil jo na keh saka wohi Raa-ze dil kehne ki raat ayee,from the Bollywood movie ‘Bheegi Raat’.

Mohammed Rafi

Mohammed Rafi (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

This is all I can say about my knowledge of Music.

(Moreecheeka)Mirage by Tagore Translated by Ranu

(Moreecheeka) Rabindranath Tagore

I am roaming around anxiously for the smell

that resembles mine.

On a spring night  I cannot find the direction of the southerly wind.

What I want I mistakenly want, what I get I do not desire.

What I am longing for in my heart

comes back to me like a mirage.

I extend my arms to receive it in my heart  but I cannot find it .

What I want I mistakenly want, what I get is not desired by me.

It seems my flute wants to hold on to my music

anxiously.

What I capture does not have my music anymore.

What I want I mistakenly want , What I get I don’t want.

.

The Blessed One by Tagore translated by Ranu

The Blessed One       Rabindranath Tagore

Rare is your dwelling  with the garden in the middle,

O Blessed one, your work goes on without any trouble.

English: Rabindranath Tagore Русский: Рабиндра...

English: Rabindranath Tagore Русский: Рабиндранат Тагор (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The cuckoo sings sweetly perched from the tree,

the baby in the house makes delightful sounds with glee.

And I have reserved my very last song only for thee.

Morning makes its visit with baskets of flowers,

evening shows itself from the tower.

Inside your house     a soft music is playing,

the bracelets have joined in with jovial singing.

And my last best song I present you as my offering.

The fair young maidens leave their offering on your feet,

the bright young ladies bring garlands for you ,they want to meet.

Your fate is lined with a bundle of ray,

your heart is visible like a gorgeous sunny day.

I bring my last best song for you today.

Winter,spring, age, or youth ,does not worry you,

it does not take away your throne from you.

the lamp doesn’t cease  burning, neither do you,

your unwavering radiance is surrounded all over you.

My last best song is reserved for you.

You showed yourself like a flowing river,

you flow towards the ocean without stopping forever.

The story of your motion is read in a house,

I’m sure no one is moving,not even a mouse.

My last best song is reserved only for your house.

Your countenance spells peace to all the travellers,

your love and affection unites them together.

In my writing shelter the restless breeze

is blowing flowers and buds off the trees__

And I want to offer my last song ,if I may please.

Ancient by R.Tagore Translated by Ranu

The sunlight shining through these clouds in E...

The sunlight shining through these clouds in England is an example of sunbreak. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Human nature always strives for something new. Ancient or Old carries no value.Let us see what Tagore thinks of Old or Ancient . Old or Ancient is the title of his poem.

You have to leave this place,O Old ,

here a new game has begun.

The flute is playing again,  the laughter has begun.

the spring air is blowing.

In the bright blue sky            the layers of white clouds are shivering

they are exhausted  by the strong sun-light,

the birds are flapping their wings,     the branches of the trees are  trembling,

making the boys and girls play.

Right in the front              the lights are flashing,

the shadow is quivering___

a girl  sitting on a wharf       is watching the water,

and listening to the sound of leaves.

Who knows what kind of expectation is going on all around

so many people each with their happiness and sadness,

all of them have forgotten,  some are laughing some are dancing___

why do you stand in the front.

The wind is blowing away,  why are you from moment to moment

letting out a sigh in the middle of it!

far away someone is playing a flute,       why do you come here

and show your emotional outburst!

The sun is rising in the morning             it is drawing a golden picture,

why are you throwing your shadow on it!

when someone leaves             no one wants him,

still why is there so much affection for him!

Why in the evening then     behind the walls you quickly

hide and look at the surface of the earth,

in the darkness of the night            by the side of the old house

why do they come again and leave.

what did you come to see__       whatever you left behind

who will look after them!

All the souvenirs           were left for a few days

like the fallen leaves from the tree___

today  the spring air  has       sadly one at a time

blown them away every day,

they are in the dust                  their smiling lustre

is fading every minute!

Ancient

Ancient (Photo credit: kakeyzz—-)