Phiriya jodi se ase

Amaro khoje jhora golabe

Ania samadhi pashe

Amar biday bani shonabe…

(If he returns ever,

in search of me,

bring him here, beside my epitaph,

and sing him my song of farewell…)

This song is very close to my heart. I listened to this song first time when we went on a trip to Puri, Odisha. I was eleven years old then, studying in the sixth standard. At that time, I had started learning Nazrulgeeti only a few months ago.

It was a calm and peaceful morning in Puri. The early morning noise from the road afar, the blissful sounds of the sea waves, and birds chirping made the morning an ethereal experience.

I was lying on the bed in a half-sleepy state. Suddenly, I could hear the song; the sound was coming from one of the ground-floor rooms. I will never forget the feeling that I had at that moment.

Though I couldn’t understand the words properly, I could hear the tune, and it seemed so sweet, just like a cuckoo singing a sound of longing for her beloved.

Little did I know that, years later, the song would become a precious part of my heart.

I learned Nazrulgeeti from my music teacher for three years. Then, I left learning as study pressure increased. Slowly, I forgot that one day I knew how to sing Nazrulgeeti or classical songs.

Many years later, I resumed my practice of music, although I sat for singing very rarely. But I was slowly dragging myself towards the world of music once again.

Nazrulgeeti became an integral part of my quest through music. Gradually, I became inclined towards learning more of these songs, and listening to them was pure bliss for me.

I often cried while listening to Nazrulgeeti. Mourning over the past or regretting past mistakes seemed different than the pain I felt remembering my past when listening to Nazrulgeeti songs. It was different, different from every kind of pain that I had felt so far.

At first, I couldn’t understand what was making me cry that much. Then one day, it was Nazrul Islam’s birth anniversary, and my sister was sketching a portrait of him. She asked me to share some lines from a Nazrulgeeti song that she would use as the caption of the sketch.

I was confused about which song I should choose or which lines I should share as our tribute to the Rebel Poet. I started searching for the songs that I know to sing and love to sing and love their lyrics.

Then I came across the song Amar Aponar Cheye Apon Je Jon. I started humming the song and, surprisingly, the words resonated with my thoughts.

Gradually, I fell in love with the song more than any other Nazrulgeeti. I started knowing Nazrul in new lights, in a new way. The more I knew him, the more I fell in love with him.

It is said that you can’t sing Thumri if you don’t become Radha and love Krishna. For me, it was Nazrul. I realized that in childhood, I only sang the words of the songs of Nazrulgeeti, but now, I live them, I feel them, I sing them, for I try to touch Nazrul through my song offerings.

For me, every song is like the beloved who is waiting in the epitaph.

For me, every Nazrulgeeti is like those roses for her.

(This post is a part of Blogchatter Half Marathon)