By Quazi Johirul Islam
At the highest point of equilibrium between emotion and intellect, a cluster of words flashes forth from within the poet like sparks. The finest arrangement of those words is poetry. In creating that arrangement, a poet follows certain principles, among which rhythm is one of the most powerful driving forces. Some have even described rhythm as the backbone of poetry, while others have called it its very life force.
Poet Atahar Khan, one of the notable figures of the 1970s generation, places great emphasis on rhythmic accuracy when composing poetry. Rafique Azad also preferred writing in precise meter. Atahar Khan once told me that when a poem remains within the discipline of meter, unnecessary excesses naturally fall away; rhythm itself removes them. My own experience, however, is that rhythm sometimes carries a poem beyond the poet’s conscious control. Yet it is true that within rhythm, almost any subject can ultimately become a poem.
Rhythm serves not only as the driving force of poetry but also as its regulator. I believe many poets would agree with me that rhythm often takes a poem somewhere other than where the poet initially intended. In this sense, rhythm becomes a governing force, and one begins to feel that the poet is not writing the poem; rather, the poem itself is writing the poet into the journal of time.
Does rhythm then free poetry from the poet’s own perception? Does it make poetry unruly? Poet Al Mahmud answered this question when he said, “Rhythm is the bridle of poetry. Just as a horse without a bridle cannot reach its destination, poetry without rhythm cannot reach the reader’s heart.”
In reality, rhythm does not make poetry uncontrollable. Rather, it brings the poet’s unrestrained thoughts into an ordered structure. Rhythm infuses poetry with musicality, creating pleasure both in reading and in listening. Our memory favours rhythm. Lines composed in meters are far easier to remember. Jibanananda Das considered rhythm to be “the breathing of poetry,” and went even further by declaring that “poetry without rhythm is dead.” Perhaps that is why he famously remarked, “Not everyone is a poet; only some are.”
Kazi Nazrul Islam wrote extensively in the Matrabritta meter. His celebrated poem Bidrohi (“The Rebel”) was also composed in six-beat Matrabritta verse. This was his favourite meter, and he once said, “Matrabritta is the rhythm of my blood; I write poetry to the beat of the drum.”
Rabindranath Tagore reconstructed the cadence of modern Matrabritta verse. While Nazrul and Jasimuddin immersed themselves in this rhythm, a group of their contemporaries, led by Buddhadeva Bose, preferred the slower cadence of Aksharabritta meter. Bose observed, “Aksharabritta is the most natural rhythm of the Bengali breath. It is here that Bengali poetry most effortlessly laughs and weeps.”
Another common meter is Swarabritta, often used for rhymes and songs. Based on syllabic patterns, it is simple and straightforward and is also known as Dalabritta. This rhythm first became prominent in the songs of Lalon and the Bengali Baul tradition. Even today, most lyricists continue to compose songs in this meter.
Tagore made an important observation about rhythm by comparing it to the relationship between body and soul. In his view, rhythm is the body of poetry, while meaning and emotion constitute its soul.
Beyond rhythm, poetry contains many other elements. A significant portion of Bengali poetry is built upon alliteration. Initial, medial, and terminal alliterations create resonant sound patterns. Many readers mistakenly identify end-rhyme as rhythm itself. Tagore explained: “Alliteration is the anklet of poetry. Like an anklet, it jingles at the feet of meaning as it moves. It does not overshadow meaning, but it makes the movement rhythmic.”
Speaking of alliteration, Tagore also surrendered himself to the power of language: “I do not play with words; words play with me. Alliteration is the rule of that game.”
Although he loved alliteration, he also warned poets against overusing it: “Alliteration should be like golden embroidery on the Anchal[1] of a sari. Too much of it dazzles the eye; moderation enhances beauty.”
Among Bengali poets, Kazi Nazrul Islam was truly a magician of alliteration. The Rebel Poet employed it as a weapon of defiance. As he himself put it: “I am a blacksmith of sound. I hammer words into flames. Alliteration is the sound of my hammer.”
Like the ringing of that hammer, he wrote: “Nil siya asman, lale lal duniya / Amma lal teri khun kiya khuniya.” (“The sky is blue, the world blooms red/ But, mother, your beloved child has been murdered by a killer.”) In these lines, beyond the end-rhyme of duniya (world) and khuniya (killer), the repeated word lal (red, beloved child) creates a powerful internal resonance that beats like a war drum in the reader’s mind.
Jibanananda Das offered a slightly different perspective. According to him: “The temptation of alliteration is difficult to resist. Yet the modern poet’s task is to let it be heard by the ear rather than seen by the eye.”
A remarkable example can be found in a line from ‘Banalata Sen‘: “Chul tar kobekar andhokar Bidishar nisha” (“Her hair was the ancient darkness of Vidisha’s night.”)
Simile constitutes another major component of Bengali poetry. The use of simile dates back to ancient and medieval literature and remains alive in modern poetry. The renowned English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley observed: “Poetry is the art of creating analogies.”
Jibanananda Das created many memorable similes, including:
- Eyes like a bird’s nest
- Her face like the craftsmanship of Shravasti
- Evening arrives like the sound of dew
- Death approached like autumn mist
- Your heart today is grass
Poets should strive to create fresh similes rather than borrowing old ones.
Mystery is another defining characteristic of modern poetry. Educated poets consciously consider an array of aesthetic elements such as varied emotional tones and symbolic imagery. Sometimes these are deliberately introduced; at other times they arise spontaneously. After composing a poem, a poet equipped with a sound knowledge of poetic craft often revises it, correcting flaws and strengthening its structure. Rabindranath Tagore himself revised his poems extensively, and nearly all major post-Tagore poets engaged in similar editorial practice.
The finest arrangement of words has always been central to poetry. From some inexplicable, almost divine sensation, such arrangements arise spontaneously within the poet. It was Samuel Taylor Coleridge who first gave this intuition a formal definition: “Poetry is the best words in the best order.”
I have spent my professional life as a manager, working in institutions of various sizes both at home and abroad. Now, at this stage of life, I have come to realise that organisations, too, achieve their highest effectiveness when they place the best skills in the best order. In such situations, the management structure acquires something of a poetic atmosphere.
The poets of the 1930s attempted to give greater importance to intellect than to emotion. Yet throughout the history and tradition of Bengali poetry, a lyrical and mystical current has continued to flow. Walt Whitman, the father of free verse, influenced the spread of that form throughout the world in the early twentieth century. In Bengal, several professors of English literature introduced this trend. Among them were Buddhadeva Bose, Amiya Chakravarty, Sudhindranath Dutta, Jibanananda Das, and Nirendranath Chakravarty.
Their deep engagement with European literature, facilitated by their academic backgrounds, enabled them not only to read Western poetry but also to bring free verse into Bengali literature. They sought to move beyond the overwhelming influence of Tagore and, in many respects, succeeded. In my judgment, however, Bengali poetry suffered a certain loss in the process. We sacrificed some of our distinctiveness. Nevertheless, we must embrace innovation, for literature advances only through such encounters.
Jibanananda Das ultimately liberated Bengali poetry from the dominance of this intellectual orthodoxy. By reimagining the Poyar meter through themes of love and nature, he reconciled the tension between Tagore and the poets of the thirties. Later poets such as Shakti Chattopadhyay, Al Mahmud, Shamsur Rahman, Sunil Ganguly, Syed Shamsul Haq, Shahid Quadri, Rafique Azad, and Nirmalendu Goon, Joy Goswami, Subodh Sarker continued in this tradition while developing their own unique poetic languages.
Inspired by Walt Whitman, Bengali poetry pursued liberation from strict meter during the 1930s. Later, under the influence of another American poet, Ezra Pound, Bengali poets discovered immense possibilities in balancing intellect and emotion through imagery. And the balancing, like walking on a razor’s edge, continues to bring out the most unique in poetry.
[1] Loose end of a sari
Quazi Johirul Islam has been writing for over 3 decades. He has published more than 90 books, 39 of them are collections of poetry. His travelogues are very popular. He has been with United Nations, has traveled all over the world, worked in conflict zones, his bag is full of colourful experiences. In 2023, Quazi was awarded Peace Run Torch Bearer Award by Sri Chinmoy Centre, New York. He has also received many awards and honours in Bangladesh, India and abroad.
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