Autobiography of a river
I am a river flowing in the magical region of green Bengal. I came down to the beautiful flat land of Bangabhumi, melting the huge ice layer of the Himalayan glaciers. Constant flow is my feature. I made the two arrows alive and fertile with water and silt. How many people travel on me in freight boats, launches, ships, sailing boats. How many hats-bazaars, ganj-villages, industrial and commercial centers have been built near my shore. White buck, mashranga, gangchill flew over me. Fishermen make a living by fishing. When I take the form of Rudra, I consume villages, towns, houses, crop lands. Someone sees my form in the rain and calls me a demon. Again in the summer someone sees knee water on my chest - or sighs. In this way, sometimes I become a helper, sometimes I become a demon. I don't have any leisure. How many stories, novels, poems, songs have been written about me. Some see me as destructive, some as a source of lively, beautiful juices. I am shy - humble village bride in the opinion of the rhythm and draw. I am one of the green of riverine Bangladesh - Kajal river. Mountains - Mountains, towns, villages I flow over. Seeing my form, the boatman becomes a poet. The boatman pulls the oars while singing. One side of me is happiness, the other side is sorrow, in the middle I go to the sea with a book of thirst.
What a real story of a river source of water that runs through the earth, feeds it, is necessary for all living beings on earth.