A Letter To My Younger Brother

Kamruzzaman Molla

30 May, 2019 12:00 AM printer

Stanza I

My younger! Listen to me! Only the Almighty dominates the death,

Death is inevitable, universal what none can escape from its wrath.

Death pinches its bitter appearance since our forefather, it is not my question to others.

Every human being can die peacefully, it is my holy prayers.

Being a child of only ten years,

You enjoyed your time staying with parents but nobody cares.

You were the youngest member in our family,

You kept yourself in shouting and noising happily

You were the abode of unlimited pleasure,

‘Russell’s smile is very holy’, says my father.


Stanza II

My younger! Oh! My younger!  Listen to me, sometimes death passes out the history and it be ever eternalized,

Younger, don’t be worried! You have been immortalized.

My brother! My soul! You slept here in peace ever,

Nobody would interfere you anymore here.

My younger! You knew that father had to fight for the betterment of kingdom,

As the Father of the Nation was given jail for freedom.

None like thou sacrificed one’s life for independence,

I weep, cry and stuck amazed in condolence.

All went in sleep but you were weeping for father,

The traitors did not listen to you but fire.

How immeasurable pains you had when the militant entered,

The bullets pierced into your head I heard.


Stanza III

My Younger! The Father of the Nation wished to have you everywhere,

Oh Pathos! Oh Almighty! Your life were taken away in brushfire.

It was ever unpatriotic and ever unprecedented in the history of mankind.

How the extremists tortured and charged you was really ever unkind.

The pains, the sufferings you had was immeasurable,

The number of bullets they shot against you was uncountable.


Stanza IV 

 My Younger! I heard of you were trembling and crying to meet my father,

A few minutes later their dead bodies were gathered

It was calm and quiet,

The sky looks gloomy and pale

The heavenly habituates turned into hell.

My soul! The national flag was still flying in the sky,

For which you were not to sacrifice your life forlorn.

You were buried at Banani cemetery,

 All the people witnessed that brutality.


Stanza V

My younger! You screamed and agonized in pain,

The traitors had a pitiful deed where you were put in chain.

You leaped down and started to pay attention,

As a younger it was difficult to realize what was done

The sky is redden in the eastern horizontal,

Blood! Blood! Oh! The deepest bloods rolled down!

It started to roll from late night till dawn!


Stanza VI

My Younger! Oh! My younger! I cannot forget your smiling face for a single second,

The most unprecedented event agonizes me for what happened!

You might be the youngest patriot ever in the history of nobility,

Your sacrifice is measured beyond generosity.

The seeds of magnanimity you sowed for the sake of sacrifice,

It has germinated across the world more than thrice.

Today the nation remembers you in every condolence ceremony,

I cry remembering you in the country.


Stanza VII

It was fifteen August at dead night,

It fell dark covering everything with its soft sight.

I heard that you were taken away last,

The traitors shot all leaving the place fast.

 My Soul! I burst out for a countless number of drops,

It will continue but it never stops.

What a pitiful, heinous act and sadness!

It must have surpassed all the regicide events in rudeness.

The bloods made a large canopy,

The incident with my parents led to a great catastrophe.


Stanza VIII

Today I have been over seventy,

The time hails and revenges everything,

The intrigue they had something

I never forget that cruelty.

Why did not the betrayers be a bit rational?

 Pondering over

The pathos I often get speechless and emotional.

You have been a part of world historic assassination,

The independence for which you had to pay was a hectic contribution.


Stanza IX

Alas! The state! The mass! The leaders got terrified to take part in your funeral occasion,

The coffin covered with white color cloths was taken without procession.

Oh! Alas! No honour as a son of the President was shown,

Younger! My heart! I could not control my passion

No relatives! No well-wishers! No high officials stood at yard.

No salute! No bugle trills, No honor was shown.

The rains dropped heavily continuously,

No people but the stormy nature joined the funeral.

The helpless nation dropped its eyes the day long,

The unruly nature set you adieu singing a song.


Stanza X

Your way of addressing me (Hasu Apa) still greatly touches my heart.

The outlaws tried to snatch the independence having the heinous crime,

If I were a poet, I would spread your tragedy in a rhyme.

I request to Shelly or Keats to compose a long ode,

Oh! Great Milton! I pray to you to note an epic mode.

Your tales must be penned in the pages among the nations,

The mankind will remember you from era to era in all generations.

Grieves, pains and sufferings lead a man to be gloried.


Stanza XI

A pathetic history is born here,

I lamented staying in erstwhile West Germany,

The unauthorized government stooped me not to participate in your ceremony. 

I am to observe the ever cruelest 15 August,

The state compels me to memorize that past.

The flag you desired to fly on,

The honour I now carry on everywhere all alone.

Humans are born to die, not to live forever,

The heroes are to fight for other.


(The writer is a faculty member of English Department of Birshrestha Munshi Abdur Rouf Public College located at Peelkhana, BGB Head Quarters, Dhaka.)