কাঞ্জিক সেরাসংস্কৃতি

জীবন মৃত্যুর অতীত তিনি –

প্রণাম:

 

THE CITY OF CALCUTTA that welcomed more than eighty years ago an unnamed child on a may day gleaning with the golden glory of the sun, bade adieu to world figure in a cloud-laden August evening.

The land which he celebrated in his songs, the land that thrilled to his evangel of love and desire, of joy and suffering, the land that saw in him a seer out of the storied past built up in the heroic mould of an earlier creation—this land mourns her most resplendent son of modern times.

The world which saw in this poet, this artist, this philosopher, another Prophet from the East with the message of Peace on Earth and Goodwill to Men, the world which found in him and renewed through him faith in the eternar verities,–this world has come forward to share in India’s sorrow, to share India’s loss.

In this sorrow shared by millions, in this sympathy felt by friends to whom he made us known, may it be given unto us to find consolation!

But men are we, and to-day we are not ashamed of the tears that flow unbidden from our eyes. Many of us are what we are because he lived. We have drunk deep out of the fount of his poesy and songs. We that had loved him, followed him, honoured him, lived in his mild and magnificent eye, learnt his great language, caught his clear accents and made him the pattern of our lives,–we found expressed in him and through him our deepest feelings, our soaring dreams, our highest aspirations.

From our life a light and a sweetness has departed. Our empty hearts, our sorrow of separation will from now on gaze in silence all night from star to star; our pangs of sorrow will be carried in our dreams, in our wakeful hours.

But we may not sorrow for long. Our Master had sang of flowers, of flowing waters, of the light that never was on sea or land but he brought also into the placid tranquility of India’s life a sword that smote at wrong and injustice. This sword flashing as a flame has dispelled from our eyes the film of weakness of resolve, driven from our hearts fear and feebleness.

In our sorrow we may not forget the duty the Master has laid on us—to redden India and to cleanse the war-worn world with the peace that has been India’s quest through ages. Our tear-seained souls seek strength and guidance from his undying spirit—to which as to the abiding memory of his effulgent presence here on earth we rendered our revenant ‘pranam’

 

EDITORIAL FROM THE “CALCUTTA MUNICIPAL GAZETTE” AUGUST 9, 1941 (Press Statement)

(Collected from: Saturday, Sept. 13, 1941, TAGORE MEMORIAL SPECIAL SUPPLEMENT

THE CALCUTTA MUNICIPAL GAZETTE) 

 

 

 

শেষ কবিতা

তোমার সৃষ্টির পথ রেখেছ আকীর্ণ করি’

বিচিত্র ছলনাজালে,

হে ছলনাময়ী।

মিথ্যা বিশ্বাসের ফাঁদ পেতছ নিপুণ হাতে

সরল জীবনে।

এই প্রবঞ্চনা দিয়ে মহত্বেরে করেছ চিহ্নিত;

  তার তরে রাখোনি গোপন রাত্রি।

 

তোমার জ্যোতিষ্ক তা’রে

যে-পথ দেখায়

সে যে তার অন্তরের পথ,

সে যে চিরস্বচ্ছ,

  সহজ বিশ্বাসে সে যে

করে তারে চিরসমুজ্জ্বল।

 

বাহিরে কুটিল হোক অন্তর সে ঋজু,

এই নিয়ে তাহার গৌরব।

লোকে তারে বলে বিড়ম্বিত

     সত্যেরে সে পায়

আপন আলোকে ধৌত অন্তরে অন্তরে।

 

কিছুতে পারে না তারে প্রবঞ্চিতে।

শেষ পুরস্কার নিয়ে যায় সে যে

        আপন ভাণ্ডারে।

 

অনায়াসে যে পেরেছে ছলনা সহিতে

 সে পায় তোমার হাতে

শান্তির অক্ষয় অধিকার।।

 

জোড়াসাঁকো, কলিকাতা

৩০শে জুলাই, ১৯৪১ –  সকাল ৯।। ঘটিকা

(সংগৃহীত – উপরিউক্ত ক্যালকাটা মিউনিসিপ্যাল গেজেট-এর ২৩ নং পৃষ্ঠা থেকে)

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