Tag: Rabindranath Tagore

Categories
Contents

Borderless, March 2026

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

Is Sky the Limit?… Click here to read.

Feature

A brief introduction to Aruna Chakravarti’s Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories and an interview with the author. Click here to read.

Translations

Nazrul’s lyrics of Mor Priya Hobe Eso Rani (My Sweetheart, Be My Queen) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

Eight quatrains by the late Majeed Ajez have been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

Four of his own Malay poems have been translated by Isa Kamari. Click here to read.

Open Marriage, a story by Lakhvinder Virk, has been translated from Punjabi by C Christine Fair. Click here to read.

Jatra ( Journey), a poem by Rabindranath Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Jared Carter, Tim Tomlinson, Mohul Bhowmick, Nma Dhahir, Laila Brahmbhatt, George Freek, Lana Hechtman Ayers, Pramod Rastogi, John Grey, Snigdha Agrawal, Edward Reilly, Ron Pickett, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Snehaprava Das, SR Inciardi, Ryan Quinn Flanagan, Rhys Hughes

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Rhysop’s Fables, Rhys Hughes shares short absurdist narratives. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

Imprints from the Past

Farouk Gulsara muses on imprints left in time. Click here to read.

When Meassurement Fails

Tamara-Lee Brereton-Karabetsos muses on numbers. Click here to read.

How I Learned to Write from Films

Gower Bhat writes about the impact of the screen on his writerly journey. Click here to read.

Launching into the New Year

Meredith Stephens writes of a fire on the night of the New Year, a hot summer day in the Southern Hemisphere. Click here to read.

Visiting an Outpost of Lucknow: Moosa Bagh

Prithvijeet Sinha takes us to visit an eighteenth century garden and monument. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Missing the Tail, Devraj Singh Kalsi dreams with a dollop of humour on the benefits of humans having the extension. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In My Cambodian Taxi Driver, Suzanne Kamata writes of her experiences in Phnom Penh. Click here to read.

Essays

March Musings: Rethinking Histories

Meenakshi Malhotra writes of the diverse ways histories can be viewed, reflecting on the perspective from the point of view of water, climate, migrations or women. Click here to read.

Some Changes are Bigger than Others

Keith Lyons assess our times. Click here to read.

Somdatta Mandal on ‘Mother Mary Comes to Me’

Somdatta Mandal steps beyond the review to look into the marketing of Arundhati Roy’s memoir. Click here to read.

Mark Tully: A Citizen of the World

Mohul Bhowmick pays a tribute to a journalist who transcended borders. Click here to write.  

Bhaskar’s Corner

In Odisha after 1947, Bhaskar Parichha brings us up to date with developments in this region. Click here to read.

Stories

The Wedding

Sohana Manzoor explores the razzmatazz of a Bangladeshi wedding to find what really matters. Click here to read.

Two Black Dresses

Jonathon B Ferrini gives a narrative that has a beam of light in a universe filled with losses. Click here to read.

Flying Away

Terry Sanville writes of death, growing up and healing from loss. Click here to read.

Whispers of Frost

Gower Bhat tells us a story set in Kashmir. Click here to read.

Ameya’s Victory

Naramsetti Umamaheswararao tells us a story that could happen in any school. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Aruna Chakravarti’s Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Kailash Satyarthi’s Karuna: The Power of Compassion. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Mohammad Asim Siddiqui has reviewed Anisur Rahman’s The Essential Ghalib. Click here to read.

Rituparna Khan has reviewed Malashri Lal’s Signing in the Air. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha has reviewed Deepta Roy Chakraverti’s Daktarin Jamini Sen: The Life of British India’s First Woman Doctor. Click here to read.

.

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Tagore Translations

Jatra: The King’s Journey by Rabindranath

Written in 1932 by Rabindranath Tagore, Jatra (Journey) is a part of Rabindra Rachnabali (Writings of Ranbindranath) and Sanchayita (Compilation — in this case of poems).

The poem, Jatra (Journey) in Sanchayita
                JOURNEY

The emperor journeys to battle. The earth trembles 
With the clash of drums and cymbals. The minister 
Conspires, spreads web of deceit through realms. 
Trading streams encircle the world with ebb and flow. 
Cargo ships travel to distant shores. Monuments of
Heroism grow out of piles of human skeletons raising
Their heads heavenward to laugh with disregard. 
The learned repeatedly attack impenetrable fortresses 
Of knowledge, walled by books. The king’s fame spreads far and wide. 

Here, in the village, the river flows sluggishly 
In the distance. The ferry picks up the new bride
Sailing to a far colony. The sun sets. The shores 
Are lined with silent fields. The girl’s heart shivers. 
In the darkness, slowly, the evening star rises on the horizon.

Art by Sohana Manzoor

.

This poem has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty with editorial input by Sohana Manzoor 

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Excerpt

The House of Flowers by Aruna Chakravarti

Title: Creeping Shadows: 13 Ghost Stories

Author: Aruna Chakravarti

Publisher: Penguin India

The House of Flowers

Zihan stirred in his sleep. A chill breath passing over his limbs had awakened him. He strained his eyes, still heavy with wine fumes, and looked around. Where was he? This was not his room and this wasn’t his bed. He was lying in what seemed to be a small, confined space under an ornate gilded ceiling in a bed so soft, his limbs were sinking into its depths. The sky was paling with first light and long beams from a dying moon streamed in through the open window. The fragrance of an unknown flower, wild and sweet, filled the room. 

He turned his head towards the window. Something, like an opalescent haze, was obscuring his vision. At first, he thought it was a sheet of mist. Then, before his amazed eyes, it started to take a shape and form. It became a woman. He could see her slender limbs, smooth as white satin, shimmering through the garment that swayed and billowed around her form. Diaphanous as a film of gossamer. So light, it seemed woven out of moonbeams. Her face was swathed in mist.

The figure moved from the window and came gliding towards him. He could see her face clearly now. A perfect oval with apricot shaped eyes, brows like strung bows and hair that fell down her back like a sheet of black silk. He stared at the vision of loveliness so long and hard …his eyes began to hurt. He had never seen such beauty in a woman before.

She stood by his bed for a while gazing into his eyes, then lay down, her body light as a feather against his. Taking his face in her hands, she caressed it with a tenderness that reminded him of his mother’s touch. She drew the silky strands of her floating hair all over his naked body. Across his chest and abdomen, over his genitals, thighs and legs, down to the insteps of his feet. The wildflower scent from her limbs filled his nostrils. Her kisses fluttered on his lips, soft and cold as drifting snow…

The wine, still running in his blood, quivered in his veins. His limbs, untouched by a woman before, heaved luxuriously and his eyes closed in ecstasy. He drifted away…

How long he lay in this state of bliss, he couldn’t tell. It could be minutes. It could be hours. Gradually, an uneasy feeling came over him. Something heavy was pressing against his body. It was squashing his chest and squeezing the breath out of his lungs. He moved aside but the pressure grew in intensity, driving him further and further towards the edge of the bed. And now his heart beat rapidly with an unknown dread. What was happening? Was he still asleep and this a fearful dream? Suddenly his eyes sprang open and what he saw sent currents of ice water rippling down his spine. He felt the hot blood pulsing and pounding in his ears.  A muscle twitched and shuddered in his cheek…

The reed-slim body of the woman beside him had bloated to a colossal size. Her eyes, thin slits in the vast globe of her face, glittered with hate. Her mouth was a deep red gash through which yellow teeth, long and sharp as a panther’s fangs, hung to her chin.

The mountain of flesh was growing larger and larger every moment. It was filling the bed. He would fall over the edge any moment now. A scream gathered in his lungs but froze before it could reach his throat…

Suddenly she sprang on him; her nails sharp as claws ripping the skin off his chest and thighs. Digging her teeth into the soft flesh just below the right shoulder, she bit off a large hunk. Zihan’s eyes were glazed with pain and fear. He stared mesmerized as the monstrous creature rose from the bed and swayed and shuffled towards the opposite wall. She wore a garment of sheer white muslin that swelled and surged like waves about her form. Blood dripped from her slavering mouth and fell on the floor as her great body waddled, like a gorilla’s, from side to side. And now, for the first time, Zihan saw the coffin. It was open… 

Zihan screamed. Shriek after shriek burst from the throat that had been frozen all this while, hit the walls, and sent fearful echoes all through the house. Then, exhausted and half dead from shock and loss of blood, he lay motionless, whimpering like a child.

Kueilan was a light sleeper and the first to hear the cries. They seemed to be coming from the dead girl’s room. Her heart thudded with fear as she rushed to it and flung the door open. She stood where she was for a while, her eyes glued to the coffin. It stood in the same place but the seal was broken and its open lid rested against the wall. A lily-white hand with long tapering fingers was dangling from the edge. And now the lid began to move downwards. Slowly, soundlessly, it was falling in place. In a few moments it would reach the hand and crush it. A tremor ran through Kueilan’s frame. Her mouth opened in a scream but before she could utter a sound, the hand glided over the edge and slipped into the hollow where the rest of the dead girl lay. Then, before Kueilan’s amazed eyes, the coffin closed, the seal came together and all was as it had been.

‘Published with permission from Penguin Random House India from Creeping Shadows (2026)’.

About the Book:

The stories in Creeping Shadows are spread over a vast canvas, both in terms of time span and locale. A teahouse in ancient China. A brothel in nineteenth-century Calcutta. A forest lodge in Bankura. An old mansion in Bangladesh. A university campus in today’s Delhi. Beginning as human-interest narratives, they end with sudden, unexpected twists that raise hair ends and send trickles of ice water down the spine. Here are tales of shadows, tingles and chills…

About the Author:

Aruna Chakravarti has been principal of a prestigious women’s college of Delhi University for ten years. She is also a well-known academic, creative writer and translator with eighteen published books on record. They comprise five novels, two books of short stories, two academic works and nine volumes of translation.
Her first novel, The Inheritors (published by Penguin Random House), was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize and her second, Jorasanko, received critical acclaim and became a bestseller. Daughters of Jorasanko, a sequel to Jorasanko, has sold widely and received rave reviews. Her novel Suralakshmi Villa was adjudged ‘Novel of the year (India 2020)’ by Indian Bibliography published in The Journal of Commonwealth Literature U.K. Her other well-known works include The Mendicant Prince which has been shortlisted for the Rabindranath Tagore Literary Prize, and Through a Looking Glass: Stories. Her translated works include an anthology of songs from Rabindranath Tagore’s Gitabitaan, Saratchandra Chattopadhyay’s Srikanta and Sunil Gangopadhyay’s Those Days, First Light and Primal Woman: Stories. Her most recent work is titled Rising from the Dust.
Among the various awards she has received are Vaitalik Award, Sahitya Akademi Award and Sarat Puraskar. She is also a scriptwriter and producer of seven multi-media presentations based on her novels. Comprising dramatized readings, interspersed with songs and accompanied by a visual presentation by professional artists and singers, these programmes have been widely acclaimed and performed in many parts of India and abroad.

Click here to read her interview/review

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Categories
Nazrul Translations

A Garland for Your Chignon

Nazrul’s lyrics of Mor Priya Hobe Eso Rani (My Sweetheart, Be My Queen) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

From Public Domain 
MY SWEETHEART, BE MY QUEEN

My sweetheart, be my queen!
Let me make a garland of stars for your chignon.
Dear girl, your ears I’ll adorn
With the spring moon’s third visitation.
Your throat, dear girl, I’ll deck with a pair of dangling swans.
I’ll make a ribbon too to tie your cloud-coloured disheveled hair
Out of the lightening in the spring moon’s third visitation!
A paste blended from moonlight and sandalwood 
Will be your body’s balm. The red of the rainbow
Will be the lac-dye used to color your feet
The seven notes of my song will compose 
Your bridal chamber’s decor
While my muse’s bulbul bird will sing a song for you—
in full-throated ease!

Click here to listen to a rendition of the song in Bengali by contemporary artiste, Srikanto Acharya.  

Born in united Bengal, long before the Partition, Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976) was known as the  Bidrohi Kobi, or “rebel poet”. Nazrul is now regarded as the national poet of Bangladesh though he continues a revered name in the Indian subcontinent. In addition to his prose and poetry, Nazrul wrote about 4000 songs. 

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Tagore Translations

Shisur Jibon or The Child’s Life by Rabindranth

Shishur Jibon (The Child’s Life) is a part of Tagore’s 1922 collection of poems, Shishu Bholanath (Child Bholanath).

Art by Sohana Manzoor
THE CHILD’S LIFE 

Do we have the 
     courage to be a child? 
         That’s why we die old. 
We store every little thing, 
         Hoard over time in trunks, 
                   Stash in piles. 
Today is ruined with thoughts 
Of tomorrow. Tomorrow, we’ll stock                   
         For the burdens of the next day. 
We get objects of desire, 
And realise we have no need for them.
        We quest for things gone astray. 
Fearing for the unknown future,
We lose sight of the path, 
     And plan for the day after. 
The future will always 
          Be shrouded in mystery. 
Then, will we have no reprieve? 
As we ignite the lamp of intellect, 
The flame flickers in the breeze —
         We calculate each step. 
Numerous people advise
With subtle judgement
 Hair-splitting details before every quest. 
Let my heart again be filled 
      With the desire to be a trustful child. 
         Let me flow freely like the breeze, 
Swiftly unmask fears 
   Hovering about the future. 
      I will confront them as they are seen. 
By the pond or on the rooftop, 
     Mingling the known and unknown, 
        The common and uncommon, 
I will roll a ball of mud. 
 This will be my toy. 
      Happiness doesn’t need to be bought. 
Taking on the onus of adulthood, 
     I come to this huge market, 
            Where grownups push and jostle. 
Selling my world, when I 
        Head home, I take 
           With me only verbosity. 
I have wasted away my time 
    looking for bargains.
          The hours passed swiftly. 
As dusk turns to twilight, 
I suddenly feel, I do not like 
        The deals I made deftly. 
Our lives start 
     With childhood. 
          Let childhood prevail again. 
Let us find companionship 
     Like land and water, 
        Let us play again in the dusty glen. 
Breaking the boundaries of possibilities, 
Let us sail on waves of impossibilities, 
        Navigating on a ferry of dreams. 
Again, let’s abandon logic
And create our world of magic, 
        Forgetting the practical realms. 
The first day when I arrived 
           In this new world, 
              Sunlight bathed my life. 
 That period was filled with 
     Childish imaginings — 
       Where did it come from? 
Who secretly beads 
Dewdrops each night? 
        Crickets chirp in unison. 
 At dawn, I notice, 
The interplay 
        Of glittering lights. 
There was a time 
     When holidays blew in 
       With breezy blue skies. 
We looked for partners
     While playing games 
       As childhood flew by. 
Trees in play bloom flowers. 
Flowers in play fruit fruits. 
           Fruits sprout new buds. 
Lands play with the lapping water. 
Waters play with the swaying breeze. 
         The breeze plays in its own tune. 
With the youth, 
     You remain young
              Despite your baggage. 
You fly paper lanterns 
Of many colours, 
       Paint the skies with vibrant shades. 
That day I fantasied 
Being back by your side. 
        We played together holding hands. 
We floated many dreams, 
 Conversed on sad and happy themes, 
          And together, we relaxed. 
The flowers burdened 
       By the colours of seasons, 
         Flow away in the stream of time.  
Again, they come to shore
        As the breeze blows, 
                Drifting to the waterside. 
In the wicker basket of the world, 
Your flowers with my garland twirled, 
      Decorating the ferry of seasons. 
I have hope in my heart, 
The bokul ferry’ll return to the earth,
      Listening to the shiuli’s reasons. 
When I hummed a song 
That day on my own, 
         It drifted by unoccupied. 
That day, I saw a flicker
      In your eyes of laughter, 
            You recognised me by your side. 
Seeing your dusty play, your light, 
My heart was filled with delight, 
         Despite the sad notes on the flute. 
I understood that spring, 
You heard me sing.
          I too love to hear your tune. 
The day passed in fields and paths. 
            Dusk settled in. 
                If you bid me farewell, 
Then in your twilight
   Raise the sail of the boat, 
     I will cross the river aswell. 
Again, O friend of the child,
Let’s play on our own to abide 
         In a youthful Universe.
Gazing at your face, 
Your world I’ll embrace, 
      I’ll view it in a simple light.
Colourful paper lanterns in the sky
A child making a mud ball
From Public Domain
Bokul
Shiuli
From Public Domain

.

This poem has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty with editorial input by Sohana Manzoor 

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Nazrul Translations

When Flowers Bloom Spring…

Nazrul’s Ashlo Jokhon Phuler Phalgun (When Flowers Bloom Spring) has been translated from Bengali to English by Professor Fakrul Alam

From Public Domain 
When flowers bloom spring, Gulbagh’s roses would rather leave.
On such a day though, why would one want to leave a friend behind?
Even before daybreak, a forlorn bulbul bird cried out in the flower garden,
Before their buds could bloom, flowers shed in the chilly breeze.
This is how it always was in old flower gardens! Men want fresh flowers,
But the cruel gardener keeps plucking away from the garden that is life!
The soil is where all golden body parts lie hidden, covered by dust,
Emperors and newly married brides too—everyone in the prime of life.
The world’s colourful blossoms may shed well before dusk descends
So sorry a sight it is to see souls leaving still young bodies to survive!   
Tread thoughtfully dear wayfarer, for you’ll be treading on dead flowers
As the earth’s pathways are always strewn with dust blowing from graveyards.
It’s time for you, Hafiz, to give up all worldly desire and attractions,
Time to leave home for a spouse in a faraway world calling out to you!


Click here to listen to a rendition of the song in Bengali by the late Feroza Begum (1930-2014) 

Born in united Bengal, long before the Partition, Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976) was known as the  Bidrohi Kobi, or “rebel poet”. Nazrul is now regarded as the national poet of Bangladesh though he continues a revered name in the Indian subcontinent. In addition to his prose and poetry, Nazrul wrote about 4000 songs. 

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Tagore Translations

Kalponik or Imagined by Rabindranath

Kalponik (Imagined) was written by Tagore in 1897 and published in his collection called Kolpona (Imagination) in 1900.

Art by Sohana
IMAGINED

I yearn  only for dreams sown
         In the breeze’s sigh —
That is why in despair I gather
         Wishful thoughts nigh. 
The ferry of hope has lost its path 
In the shady corners of the Earth. 
   Fictitious images lose themselves
             Wafting high. 

Nothing  emerges from my scattered
           Desires' streams. 
No one  joins me to
     Pursue my distant dreams.
       I play with flames alone 
       I sit on my own. At the end 
       Of the day, I see my dreams 
                 Turn to ashes. 
I yearn  only for dreams sown 
          In the breeze’s sigh.


The poem was set to music by his niece Sarala Devi. Click here to hear it performed as a song by contemporary artiste, Srabani Sen.

.

This poem has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty with editorial input by Sohana Manzoor 

.

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Nazrul Translations

I Sprinkle in the Sky…

Akashe Aaj Choriye Delam Priyo (I sprinkle in the sky) by Nazrul has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam

From Public Domain 
Dearest, I sprinkle in the sky my lyrics this day.
I’ve woven on my own a garland of songs
From the flowers produced by my words.
Pick it up if you can, please.
Let my tune’s rainbow be a transient joy,
Orchestrating my sense of loveliness, 
And embodying sweetness through the passions of its colours.
What does it matter if you fail to note 
The tears moistening my eyelids?
My voice quavers because of my tears!
Spreading across the lotus that is my heart,
Lyrics make the round, buzzing like a bee in flight.
Do taste my mind’s loveliness from that bee if you can!

Listen to the song in Bengali performed by the late Feroza Begum by clicking here.

Born in united Bengal, long before the Partition, Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976) was known as the  Bidrohi Kobi, or “rebel poet”. Nazrul is now regarded as the national poet of Bangladesh though he continues a revered name in the Indian subcontinent. In addition to his prose and poetry, Nazrul wrote about 4000 songs. 

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
Nazrul Translations

With a Garland of Tunes and Lyrics…

Nazrul’s Shoore O Baneer Mala Diye (With a Garland of Tunes and Lyrics) has been translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam.

From Public Domain 
With a garland of tunes and lyrics, you caressed me.
To my body and mind, you gave buds of affection.
Why, then, didn’t you instill love in my heart?
Having played the flute, where was it that you hid?
The flower that you had helped bloom is drying
And losing something dear. My soul cries out, alas!
If you wanted something so, why didn’t you take it?
Having hugged me tight, why did you leave me?
Tell me, what upset you? Why doesn’t joy stir me now?
Where is the sweetness and delight I once felt in my soul?
I must have misunderstood you completely
For surely you had come to make my love bloom.
Dearest, why didn’t you speak out at that time?
Why, why didn’t you hurt and correct me then?

You can listen to the Bengali rendition of this song by contemporary eminent singer, Ajoy Chakraborty, by clicking on this link.

Born in united Bengal, long before the Partition, Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976) was known as the  Bidrohi Kobi, or “rebel poet”. Nazrul is now regarded as the national poet of Bangladesh though he continues a revered name in the Indian subcontinent. In addition to his prose and poetry, Nazrul wrote about 4000 songs. 

Fakrul Alam is an academic, translator and writer from Bangladesh. He has translated works of Jibonananda Das and Rabindranath Tagore into English and is the recipient of Bangla Academy Literary Award (2012) for translation and SAARC Literary Award (2012).

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Amazon International

Categories
celebrations

Festivals of Humanity

From Public Domain

Festivals are affirmations of joy and love that bind humanity with their sense of hope even in a world torn by violence and climate change. As the end of the year approaches, we invite you to savour flavours of festivals past and, a few, yet to come, before the cycle starts again in the new year. The colours of celebrations are vibrant and varied as shades of nature or the skies.

We have new years spread out over the year, starting with January, moving on to the Chinese New Year around February, the Bengali new year in April to festivals of environment, light, darkness as in Wiccan beliefs, Tagore’s birth, more conventional ones like Deepavali, Eid, Durga Puja and Christmas. People celebrate in different ways and for different reasons. What we have also gathered is not only the joie de vivre but also the sadness people feel when celebrations are muted whether due to the pandemic, wars or for social reasons. In some cases, we indulge in excesses with funny results! And there are of course festivals of humanity … as celebrated by the bauls — the singing mendicants of Bengal — who only recognise the religion of love, compassion and kindness. 

Enjoy our fare! 

Poetry

 Aaji Shubhodine Pitaar Bhabone or On This Auspicious Day, a Brahmo Hymn by Tagore. Click here to read the translation by Mitali Chakravarty.

Potpouri by Isa Kamari familiarises us with Malay-Singaporean traditions that are observed during festivals. Click here to read.

Eid Poems by Afsar Mohammad. Click here to read.

 Ramakanta Rath’s Sri Radha celebrating the love of Radha and Krishna have been translated from Odiya by the late poet himself, have been excerpted from his full length translation. Click here to read.

Bijoya Doushumi, a poem on the last day of Durga Puja, by the famous poet, Michael Madhusudan Dutt, has been translated from Bengali by Ratnottama Sengupta. Click here to read.

Groundhog Day by John Grey. Click here to read. 

Christmas Cheer by Malachi Edwin Vethamani. Click here to read.

Christmas Poems by Rhys Hughes. Click here to read.

Poem on Christ by  Rabindranath Tagore: Verses excerpted from  ‘The Child‘, a poem originally written in English by the poet. Click here to read.

 Purano Sei Diner Kotha or ‘Can old days ever be forgot?’ by Tagore, based on Robert Burn’s lyrics, Auld Lang Syne. Click here to read the translation by Mitali Chakravarty.

From Public Domain

Prose


 A Clean Start: Suzanne Kamata tells us how the Japanese usher in a new year. Click here to read.

Shanghai in Jakarta: Eshana Sarah Singh takes us to Chinese New Year celebrations in Djakarta. Click here to read.

Cherry Blossom Forecast: Suzanne Kamata brings the Japanese ritual of cherry blossom viewing to our pages with her camera and words. Click here to read.

Pohela Boisakh: A Cultural Fiesta: Sohana Manzoor shares the Bengali New Year celebrations in Bangladesh with interesting history and traditions that mingle beyond the borders. Click here to read.

The New Year’s Boon: Devraj Singh gives a glimpse into the projection of a new normal created by God. Click here to read.

A Musical Soiree: Snigdha Agrawal recalls how their family celebrated Tagore’s birth anniversary. Click here to read.

Not Everyone is Invited to a Child’s Haircut Ceremony: Odbayar Dorje muses on Mongolian traditions. Clickhere to read.

A Golden Memory of Green Day in Japan: Suzanne Kamata tells us of a festival where she planted a tree in the presence of the Japanese royalty. Click here to read.

An Alien on the Altar! Snigdha Agrawal writes of how a dog and lizard add zest to Janmashtami (Krishna’s birthday) festivities with a dollop of humour. Click here to read

Memories of Durga Puja : Fakrul Alam recalls the festivities of Durga Puja in Dhaka during his childhood. Click here to read.

From Bombay to Kolkata — the Dhaaks of Durga : Ratnottama Sengupta explores a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage Festival. Click here to read.

KL Twin Towers near Kolkata?: Devraj Singh Kalsi visits the colours of a marquee hosting the Durga Puja season with its spirit of inclusivity.  Click here to read.

The Oral Traditions of Bengal: Story and Song: Aruna Chakravarti describes the syncretic culture of Bengal through its folk music and oral traditions. Click here to read.

From Diana to ‘Dayaan’: Rajorshi Patronobis talks of Wiccan lore. Click here to read.

Dim Memories of the Festival of Lights: Farouk Gulsara takes a nostalgic trip to Deepavali celebrations in Malaysia. Click here to read. 

When Nectar Turns Poisonous!: Farouk Gulsara looks at social norms around festive eating. Click here to read.

 Hold the roast turkey please Santa: Celebrating the festive season off-season with Keith Lyons from New Zealand, where summer solstice and Christmas fall around the same time. Click here to read.

 Indian Christmas: Essays, Memoirs, Hymns, an anthology edited by Jerry Pinto and Madhulika Liddle, has been reviewed by Somdatta Mandal. Click here to read.

 I Went to Kerala: Rhys Hughes treads a humorous path bringing to us a mixed narrative of Christmas on bicycles . Click here to read.

The Bauls of Bengal: Aruna Chakravarti writes of wandering minstrels called bauls and the impact they had on Tagore. Click here to read.

From Public Domain