Right after the Language Movement, those of us who lived in Kolkata, took a renewed interest in the poets and authors of the East- Bengal. There was no regular exchange of books between the two Bengals. Naturally, if we got hold of any book or journal from the East-Pakistan, we took special interest in it and discussed among ourselves. One morning, when we were all chatting in the drawing room of Abu Sayeed Ayyub about the writers from the East-Pakistan, Ayyub took a book from his reading table and drew my attention to a short piece of poetry and said, "read this—it's a poem composed by a young poet of East-Pakistan." I think it was a collection of the poets of East-Pakistan. I discerned from Ayyub's tone that he had already given that young poet a special place in his heart. I, too, therefore, took the book in my hand and read the poem. I liked it so much that I remember it to this day. The poem was titled, "Purbaraag" (incipient affection):

I know who I want and who opens my eyes

Joy of a pure autumn ….

I do not tremble in fear, nor hesitate

I will light the path with thousand lamps

If she comes walking this way.

If she comes walking, the milky-way of soul

Blooms like flowers, blooms like stars

Will burn through the night,

I know who I want and who opens my eyes

I hear her footsteps, even in my dreams

My heart utters her name, just a name.

             The poet who composed this amazing lines is called Shamsur Rahman. It was a name unknown to me, as I am sure, was unknown to Ayuub too. But the charming poem and its creator, both took up a place in my heart. I also wanted to be introduced to the young poet. My curiosity was satisfied in a few days. The poet himself arrived before Ayyub. As I lived in the same building where Ayyub lived, he called for me from the downstairs flat. Ayyub had not forgotten that I liked Shamsur Rahman's poem.

             The time I am referring to is either March or Aril of 1953. I went to Ayyub's room and found a fair and handsome young man in pale blue shirt seated in a chair in front of him. He wore glasses with black frame and had abundant dark hair on his head. Ayyub introduced us as soon as I entered the room. Without wasting a moment, I told him that I really liked his poem "Purbaraag." He was embarrassed by my praise and just smiled. I started reading his poetry with more interest after this date. When his first collection, Prothom Gaan Ditiyo Mrityur Agay (First Song after the Second Death) was published, I was a permanent resident in Dhaka. That was the time when I had the opportunity to read a number of his poems all at once. And my admiration for him also increased.

              I believe it was the beginning of 1961, when Rashid Karim brought him to our house. I used to live in Arambaag Lane behind Notredame College with my second sister-in-law Hasna and her husband Lutfor Rahman. Even though I knew him first through his writing, it felt even better to know that person in everyday life. He still spoke little and his friend Rashid Karim was enthusiastic about his writing. I must mention here that Rashid Karim was always generous in his praise of talent and talented people. Because of Rashid Karim I had the good fortune to learn more about Shamsur Rahman as a poet and person. However, after some time, I left that house after joining the Residential Model School. Naturally, my connection with the duo somewhat lessened.

               I was tremendously busy with building up my new school and hence did not have much free time. In spite of that, whenever I went to the New Market to buy necessary things, I would peep into the book shops. One of these days, I came across Shamsur Rahman's Roudro Korotitay (In the Skull of the Sun). I bought it at once and made friends with the poem "Dukkho" (Sorrow). When I left the country first in 1964 and then in 1971 to stay abroad for extensive periods, along with Shanchaita I also took Shamsur Rahman's first three collections of poetry: Prothom Gaan Ditiyo Mrityur Agay, Roudro Korotitay, and Biddhosto Nileema (Devastated Firmament). The last one was presented by the poet himself.

                Almost twenty-one years later, I came across Shamsur Rahman at the house of Rashid Karim again. He was still very much the same man—polite and cordial. In spite of being one of the greatest personalities of Bengali literature, he was always modest. He never turned anybody away, as if he had infinite time.

                And yet, he did not hesitate to rebel against injustice. Many of his amazing and rebellious poems would stand witness to that aspect of his character. He had been respected highly for his sincerity, but he also had had to pay a high price.

                I never ceased to be surprised at Shamsur Rahman's self- negligence. But perhaps, what I call negligence is his indifference. He knew very well who and what he was, and a deep faith guarded his mind. He always saw himself in the mirror of his own mind, a mirror in the shape of an inextinguishable light.

                To be honest, Shamsur Rahman was very private in his personal life, as he was open and clear in his poetic expressions. His true self—the straight, unyielding character that stands beneath his ever smiling and humble self was the real Shamsur Rahman. He was a man who stood upright for his beliefs in justice, and he was at the same time, a private person.

(On the 16th death anniversary of the poet Shamsur Rahman, Star Literature presents an excerpt from Susmita Islam's memoir Phirey Phirey Chai. The Bengali version was published by Shahitya Prakash. Sohana Manzoor is Associate Professor of English, ULAB. She is also the Literary Editor of The Daily Star.