Bangladesh is a wonderful green land of nature. The game of color change is always going on in nature here. Conspiracy In this Bangladesh, every season has a different look, juice, color, smell and variety. The color of nature changes from moment to moment. Rows of trees on either side of the road. Uncultivated crop fields on either side of it. In any season the field is full of green crops. When the crop ripens, it turns yellow. Fascinated by the beauty of rural Bengal, the poet Jibanananda Das wrote: ‘I have seen the face of Bengal, so I do not go in search of the form of the world’.
In this riverine country, in the rainy season, boatmen used to sing folk songs, Bhatiali and Baul songs on their way from one village to another. When the rain water receded, fishing was a daily occurrence. Putti, koi, boal, shoal, khalse, vhetki etc. would be filled with fish in flocks! On a rainy day, playing mango trumpet, ludu, playing cards, magic, honey singing, five hundred and many more games are sitting on the floor of the house. Again some people fall asleep listening to the sound of tin rice with kantha mudri. On the other hand, old people gather with old grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This drizzle once took the form of rain. Kadam evokes fascination with the soft scent of flowers. In the south wind, the fragrance of thousands of Kadam flowers blooming behind the green young leaves of Kadam tree adds to the soul. Little children play with teardrops. Open the pollen of this flower and draw the name of the loved one. But now everything is like a dream.
Now the wife does not go to the father-in-law's house in a palanquin. Because the people of the village are touched by our mechanical life. There are no rows of trees on the side of the road. Rows and rows of houses have been built. Arable lands are also being covered with new houses. Everyone is busy with city planning! But no one cares about the way the cultivable land is rapidly declining.
Even 10 years ago, babui bird nests were widely seen in the village. The sound of chirping and their artistic home enchanted people. The immense marvels of nature in the wonderful art style are no longer commonly seen on the banks of rivers, ponds and beels, including the palm trees of their hanging houses. Unlike before, the chirping of babui birds is not heard in rural Bengal.
The houses built of earthen nests of green shady peace, the eternal heritage of rural Bengal, are now lost. Which was once known to the people of the village as the poor AC house. But in the whirl of time, these traditional mud houses are getting lost today. Winter mornings in rural Bengal are very sweet in nature. And that morning is even sweeter with fresh date juice. Fresh date juice is tempting to everyone on a winter morning. As soon as dawn came, the palm juice made you feel warm in your body. Nowadays both date juice and the beautiful feeling of winter morning are gradually disappearing.
The poet says, ‘If you want to survive, grab the plow and come back to the village.’ In the morning, the farmer eats panta and goes to the crop field with the plow on his shoulder. That scene took the minds of many poets and writers. Everyone's mind is swaying with joy in the scene when the crop sways in the wind. Farmers work hard to reap the harvest. And that crop saves our lives. The farmer is the greatest devotee. The most authentic big leader. In the age of modern urban civilization, villages are lost from the map of Bangladesh today. Its place is occupied by large buildings of brick, wood and stone.
Sometimes I want to go back to the village of Bengal like in the picture. But that beauty of the villages is almost extinct. The expectation of the nation is that the diversity of the beautiful and affluent forms of nature should remain intact. The nation wants to enjoy the diversity of the abhaman village-Bangla in the same way. The extinction of the evergreen beauty is never desirable to the nation. Let us be vocal in protecting our country and village and build the beautiful Bengal of Jibanananda Das.
Bangladesh is a wonderful green land of nature. The game of color change is always going on in nature here. Conspiracy In this Bangladesh, every season has a different look, juice, color, smell and variety. The color of nature changes from moment to moment. Rows of trees on either side of the road. Uncultivated crop fields on either side of it. In any season the field is full of green crops. When the crop ripens, it turns yellow. Fascinated by the beauty of rural Bengal, the poet Jibanananda Das wrote: ‘I have seen the face of Bengal, so I do not go in search of the form of the world’.
In this riverine country, in the rainy season, boatmen used to sing folk songs, Bhatiali and Baul songs on their way from one village to another. When the rain water receded, fishing was a daily occurrence. Putti, koi, boal, shoal, khalse, vhetki etc. would be filled with fish in flocks! On a rainy day, playing mango trumpet, ludu, playing cards, magic, honey singing, five hundred and many more games are sitting on the floor of the house. Again some people fall asleep listening to the sound of tin rice with kantha mudri. On the other hand, old people gather with old grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This drizzle once took the form of rain. Kadam evokes fascination with the soft scent of flowers. In the south wind, the fragrance of thousands of Kadam flowers blooming behind the green young leaves of Kadam tree adds to the soul. Little children play with teardrops. Open the pollen of this flower and draw the name of the loved one. But now everything is like a dream.
Now the wife does not go to the father-in-law's house in a palanquin. Because the people of the village are touched by our mechanical life. There are no rows of trees on the side of the road. Rows and rows of houses have been built. Arable lands are also being covered with new houses. Everyone is busy with city planning! But no one cares about the way the cultivable land is rapidly declining.
Even 10 years ago, babui bird nests were widely seen in the village. The sound of chirping and their artistic home enchanted people. The immense marvels of nature in the wonderful art style are no longer commonly seen on the banks of rivers, ponds and beels, including the palm trees of their hanging houses. Unlike before, the chirping of babui birds is not heard in rural Bengal.
The houses built of earthen nests of green shady peace, the eternal heritage of rural Bengal, are now lost. Which was once known to the people of the village as the poor AC house. But in the whirl of time, these traditional mud houses are getting lost today. Winter mornings in rural Bengal are very sweet in nature. And that morning is even sweeter with fresh date juice. Fresh date juice is tempting to everyone on a winter morning. As soon as dawn came, the palm juice made you feel warm in your body. Nowadays both date juice and the beautiful feeling of winter morning are gradually disappearing.
The poet says, ‘If you want to survive, grab the plow and come back to the village.’ In the morning, the farmer eats panta and goes to the crop field with the plow on his shoulder. That scene took the minds of many poets and writers. Everyone's mind is swaying with joy in the scene when the crop sways in the wind. Farmers work hard to reap the harvest. And that crop saves our lives. The farmer is the greatest devotee. The most authentic big leader. In the age of modern urban civilization, villages are lost from the map of Bangladesh today. Its place is occupied by large buildings of brick, wood and stone.
Sometimes I want to go back to the village of Bengal like in the picture. But that beauty of the villages is almost extinct. The expectation of the nation is that the diversity of the beautiful and affluent forms of nature should remain intact. The nation wants to enjoy the diversity of the abhaman village-Bangla in the same way. The extinction of the evergreen beauty is never desirable to the nation. Let us be vocal in protecting our country and village and build the beautiful Bengal of Jibanananda Das.