Hamid Rayhan

                                                 ওয়েস্ট ল্যান্ড ও আমরা                                                 উৎসর্গ : কবি আলমগীর রেজা চৌধুরী ওয়েস্ট ল্যান্ড টি এস এলিঅটের  একটি কবিতা, যা সারা বিশ্বের কাব্যপ্রেমিদের কাছে একটি অতি পরিচিত ও পাঠ্য কবিতা, যেখানে তারা বিশ দশকি সময়ের একটি  বেদনার্ত  চিত্রবলি উপলব্ধি করেন। এখনও সেই পাঠ ও উপলব্ধি বহতা নদির মতো বহমান। আমরা যে সময়ের মধ্যে বাস করছি, যারা লেখালেখি করছি, কিংবা আমাদের যাপনের চারপাশে যাদের উপস্থিতি আমরা উপলব্ধি করছি এর সঙ্গে যদি ওয়েস্ট ল্যান্ড এর পরিপপ্রেক্ষিতকে বসিয়ে দেওয়া যায়, তাহলে আমাদের ভেতরে হিম শীতল রক্তের প্রবহমানতা বয়ে যাবে, তা আমাদের মধ্যে...

Does No One Listens!   If you fix your ear around or somewhere or near or far, a low, icy or alternative echo flickers you :    You’re busy.    I’m busy.    We’re busy.    All humans’re busy We all are RUN . There remains no way to see front or back. Near burns. Far burns. Inward or outward burns. Our neighbour(s) burns Unneighbour(s) burns. BURN HUMANITY      MORALITY      TRUTH Cries behold the skies Cries behold the yards Cries behold the hills Cries behold the rivers Cries behold the corn fields Cries behold the houses Cries behold   women in cities   Cries behold men in cities Cries behold lamb in cities TIME FLIES,ALL FLIES NONSTOP NO ONE ST ANDS FOR A WHILE Cries die up on the edge of hills, Enjoying the scorching sun Will you, dear readers stop for a while and hear echoes of the existing surroundings? ...

ONLY POETS CAN DISPLAY  CHRIST'S ROLE Poets dominate the future, and the dream they lit in eyes of the people- present and future making breeze between them, out spoken beyond awesome. Since Tagore was awarded with the NOVEL  more than a dozen of person in either poetry or in prose are in pipe line, but it's truly fact that of them whether or not at least one person poet or writer will be honoured with the NOBEL. When I think regarding the matter, a icy, cold emotion rolls upon my neck thinking of the reason as few years                                             I DARE TO SAY, I DESERVE THE DIGNITY.  ORHAN PAMUK, my master,TELL, can't I deserve it? MOHAMMAD NURUL HUDA , poet and versatile genius dominating the present with new poetry...

 একটু ভেবে দেখবেন পরিবেশ যেভাবে দিন দিন অসহনীয় হয়ে তাতে কোথায় গিয়ে মানুষের পিঠ ঠেকেছে তা আঙুল দিয়ে কারো বলা প্রয়োজন আছে বলে মনে হয়। যেভাবে পারছে নিজের মতো তার চারপাশের পরিবেশ ও পরিস্থিতিকে ব্যাখ্যা করার চেষ্টা করছে, নিয়ম ও কানুন কিবা নিজের সঙ্গে নিজের যতই বিরোধ থাকুক  না কেন, চোখের পলকে নিজেকে জলাজ্ঞলি দিচ্ছে, তাতে সাময়িকভাবে নিজের কতটা লাভ হল সেটাই মূল বিষয় হয়ে দাঁড়াচ্ছে। তাতে পরিবারের, সমাজের, রাষ্ট্রের কিংবা অনাগত কিবা এই প্রজন্মের কতটা লাত হল সেক্ষেত্রে নিজে অন্ধ। ফকরুল চৌধুরী, এ সময়ের একজন পরিশ্রমি ও মেধাবি লেখক, তাঁর লেখার মধ্য দিয়ে তিনি সমাজের ভেতরকার ক্ষতগুলো তুলে আনার চেষ্টা করেছেন। তাঁর কাজগুলো্ বেশ আলোচনার দাবি রাখে। যেমন তিনি সমাজের নিম্নবরগিয় মানুষদের ভিন্ন আলোকে উপস্থাপন করেছেন, সঙ্গে আমাদের অবলোকনের পরযায়গুলোকে একটি ইতিহাস প্রেক্ষিতে হাজির করেছেন সমাজতত্ত্বের পরম্পরায়, যা সত্যি প্রশংসার দাবি রাখে। মুজাহিদ আহমেদ, কবি ও কোরাস সম্পাদক, সাহিত্যের প্রতি নিবিদিত প্রাণ, আষ্টে পৃষ্টে রয়েছে তাঁর জীবন এর সাতপাঁকে। আবু মকসুদ, লন্ডন প্রবাসি, দেশ থেকে বহূ দূরে থ...

                               WILL READERS THINK? Every person what s/he tells regarding her/his sad life is a small portion, but large portion always remains hidden. Farid Ahmed, an English teacher, lives in Badda, Dhaka was informed earlier before my arrival in Dhaka, that I'm coming to him. I was always welcome to come with bag and baggage to Dhaka. When I let him know regarding my personal problems, he remains quiet, and leaves a low, hot breath. But he doesn't know what I tell him a single portion of my story, of which most of the part of the story is hidden. While telling the story he stares at me with a gloomy look, but utters no words. His eyes talk and unfold unsaid talks I grasp it in my every realization. With the dissatisfaction he left the job and devoted him to higher study to become a better English teacher. He...

    An assistant of lawyer comes to Moulvibazar court every day, sees people of different colours some are black, some dark completion, few white they're men, women, young, children, infants of which, some are short, some, medium tall, a few, abnormal tall This doesn't crave him HE only pins down them everyone every day and every single second Of them who tells truth, who lies. The assistant never helps them point out why they're telling lies or truths, never try to pitch beyond it He only sees them The people  sit with LIES truth smiles staying next to a layer The lawyer tells nothing but acts to smile SEEN the court coughs up the people who's beneath the tree on the other side of the court road, and gets wet with rain City people peeping through the window, no rain anywhere in Moulvibazar LIES sit on the city with a heavy load In midnight does the city cough harshly No one sees Hamid Rayhan Poet, Fiction Writer 30 July...

Dreams! Rains fall every where Men get wet, so do women, children, houses, roads, trees, And, our dreams hanging under the feet howling, but everyone can't hear but humans Dhaka 28 July, 2015    

                                                         Where Lies Peace! Almost each and every country is on fire! Silently do you confess it, nor do you turn off your face, that's FACT, isn't it? Poet, write a heartfelt poem, that's enough, so do you think? What's the most needful step to be done for the world? Hello, viewers, be quiet a second as if the next generation might think YOU WERE once in this world, DO YOU WANT? THINK & DO THE RIGHT JOB TOGETHER, THINKING WHAT YOU ARE.

Blow the Flute Again, Man! 2015-07-23, Thursday Who’s the man, I feel least interest to say his name as we almost all grow up heard the name since we’re sent to school. Who the man may be, we can easily infer of the man who might be. A man because of the betrayal of the mayor or the upper society took his flute with no complain, and blew it. The music of the flute spread ins and outs of the city, and from every corner of the city came out and followed in queue the man in strange dress, and left the city, and at last disappeared on the side of the hill. Who the man, I think, is now is as crystal as clear needs to be named his name. The man who did the out of excellence job, and presented a heartfelt example to societies of the countries, and of the era hung with its flash twinkling in our mind consciously, and unconsciously. Out mother, ours first teacher, teachers of all levels, senior and junior brothers, parents, kith and kin, and neighbours whenever we see one anot...

There’s no rain seen showering upon the male, female, baby or the world. Now, every one dreams to have showered in their own style, and it only happens in the realm of unconsciousness Freud, one of the great master of thinking affecting most of the thinkers of the twenty century, even today’s young thinkers or artists who’s a little lust for knowledge. Every where water dies away and murmurings groan arises from each and every heart. Who’ll come to soften their heart and mind? Man dies. Woman dies, Baby dies. Future dies.   Fire sowed in them goggles the way, but there’s nothing they find but hope. Shahid Kadri , poet of 50s in Bangladesh , pictures the images of the distorted people through passion and love. Shamsur Rahman , another power poet of 50s drew the appearances of time in a way the inpseudo reality remained around him in which dreams for people were presented very artisticly. Muzibul Hoque Kabir , poet of 70s, drives his readers to crying phenomena where hopes an...

Every one dreams & expects to see it shaped in a real life. Dream always remains in a state of unconsciousness, and few only get the chance to reach the peak in which it has a write-up and try accordingly. Tusar Guien, poet of nineties in twenty century, once was fed up with me, and also got angry he left the poetry ceremony organized by UTTARPURUSH, a poetry meg, without reciting his poems. Few days later he wrote a letter to me where he requested me not to list name in any other ceremony to be held. He was ensured not to invite to any other poetry festival organized by UTTARPURUSH, and I felt gratitude towards him to dare positive attitude of his he did. Bad or good I didn’t consider. He told the poets (17 poets were invited) you invited in the festival; most of them are to be frankly speaking not poets. They all are on the beginning stage, but they’re offered to the poetry festival. In reply he’s answered the poets invited are best or worst this matter consciously ...

     A Fascinating Synchronized Ecoe d  in Mahfuzam Mango ।। মজিদ মাহমুদের মাহফুজামঙ্গল     To utter one I mean you     To utter two means you     Whatever be it three or thirty three Crore nothing is existing but you      So your solicitors call me polygamous      Hearing these calumnies do you think me polygamous       And keep me standing outside the door. [Polygamous, p. 73] An untouched surrounding realm the poet Mozid Mahmud (born in 16 April 1966, Pabna, Bangladesh) unfolds to his readers, weirdlessly stands with a view to spreading its synchronous events. Among his contemporaries he is a poet of genius, eco of the time, and his greatness has been almost well-known in the contemporary Bangla literature, especially Bangla poetry, as for his Mahfuzam Mangol, which remains unaffected by his contemporaries. Also...

Plato had a great aversion about the writers, especially poets, and wished not to let them any entrance in his kingdom. We all might have heard about it, and read many times, the persons we’ve nicely a little bit tie-up with the school and went to its corridor, and paid our look into the books, a little bit understanding about Plalo, the great master in the realm of knowledge was brought to the conscience of ours, and got acquainted with him and few sentences come across around the world. And, those who had little chance to go to any kind of institution, we can also say, oh, yes, this is our man, as Poet Tagore, who’s the living sensation and lives in the heart of ours, said in one of his poems, I’m the man of yours (Ami tumeder luk), but this is a very tradition and crazy talk, disappointed. Plato in this regard is incomparably different and thought of every corner of knowledge. Here, the question arisen is that the conscience of ours about his surprisingly is beyond our acumen, and...