For my own satisfaction
I want to utter
The word, 'freedom'
In full throated enunciation,
From every nook and corner
Of the city
In every street
Lane and by lane
On coloured hoardings
On each and every house
I want to write in giant letters
The single word " Freedom"

I never knew I loved
This word so much
But with pointed guns
They have separated me
From such words as
" Freedom" and " Bangladesh".
But little do they know
That in the leaves of the trees
On the footpaths
In the bird's feathers
In the eyes of women
In the dust of the roads
In the clenched fist
Of the unruly child
Of our ghettos
I always see
Burning
A word called
"Freedom"


Martyrdom of Noor Hossain

Last night Dhaka was a ghost city
Everyone had hurried home before time
All around silence lay in wait
There was shadow within shadow
Terror shrouded the entire city
Head to foot in a black coffin cloth
At times, the dog's howl
Intensified the pervading silence
Hour by hour
He steps on to the highway
Bare bodied , on his chest and back
Are inscribed unique slogans
Etched in sun lit letters
He strides with a hero's gait
At the head of marching protesters
When all of a sudden
The countless guns on city patrol
Pour a hail of leaden bullets
To riddle , not Noor Mohammad's bare chest
But the very heart of Bangladesh;
Bangladesh shrieks in agony
Like the deer scorched in a raging bushfire
And from her stricken heart
Drips her life blood
As if it would never stop.