DUI BIGHA JOMI POEM PDF

Rabindranath Tagore is one of the greatest poet and writers of modern Indian literature. He is the first Indian to win Nobel Prize for Literature in He was born into a prominent Calcutta family known for its socio-religious and cultural innovations during the 19th Bengal Renaissance. He was born on 7th May

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Of my land only a little remained, the rest having been mortgaged away. For seven generations we've tilled this plot and it's everything to me, And selling it will be like selling my mother because of poverty! In six weeks I was forced out of my ancestral land and into the road By a court decree. Falsely, it said I had defaulted on a loan and owed The zamindar the whole lot! Alas, in this world those who have most want all And even a king won't stop until he has grabbed everything--big or small!

I consoled myself: God has decided not to confine me to my plot of land; Perhaps I am fated to roam far and wide and end up in some distant strand. And so I became a mendicant's assistant and followed him everywhere Visiting shrines that were memorable and seeing sights that were fair.

But no matter whether I climbed high peaks or reached a remote river bend The thing I could never forget night or day was my little plot of land! And so I traversed country fairs, fields, and roads for fifteen years or so Until homesickness made me feel to my country once more I must go. I thought as I went: lovely motherland Bengal--I bow to you lovingly! Your exquisite riverbanks and gentle winds will surely revive me. I'll thrill at skies kissing dust swirling up from wide open fields; I'll seek in the sylvan shade of a tiny village an abode of perfect bliss.

I'll revel in its mango trees and cowboys playing on lush green meadows Bengal's calm and shaded ponds will be cool and comforting to see And surely I'll delight at sweet village belles carrying water home daily. Such thoughts of my motherland made me sad and tears welled up in me. Two days later--at noon-- I entered my village-- oh so eagerly! Past the potter's shop and left of the field where festivals are held I sped Leaving the fairground--site of all delight-- and the temple ground I hurried to my homestead--thirsty, eager and completely exhausted!

Shame, shame, oh shame on you, my shameless little plot of land! How is it that you yielded so easily to the seducer's blandishment? Do you remember how you once nurtured me with what little you had?

How you provided me with fruits, flowers and produce from your bed? Who are you trying to seduce now in fancy and dazzling dresses? Why deck yourself in alluring colors and flower-studded tresses? It was for you I came back worn out by years of wondering But you, wanton, are only bent on being coy and enchanting!

Riches enticed you and the landlord's wealth made all the difference And nothing remains of what you once were--a maiden in essence! So bountiful and giving once, so caring, sweet and pleasant, Seduce him all you can-- once a goddess, now you're a mere servant!

With a grieving heart I looked around and what then did I see? Still erect where it always stood was my favorite mango tree! I sat down and wept till tears doused the pain that was in me One by one, images of childhood resurfaced in my memory.

I recollected how after summer storms I wouldn't sleep at all, Knowing I had to gather by dawn the mangoes sure to fall I thought of still fun-filled afternoons when we played hooky And I felt: what a pity that such days I will never again see! Suddenly a gusting wind shook the branches of the mango tree And two ripe mangoes fell on the spot where I happened to be. Surely, I thought, my mother has finally seen her long lost son, And so I gathered the mangoes she gave me on this occasion!

Suddenly, as if an angel of death, an Oriya gardener was in the scene Hair in knot, this man swore and threatened in a way that was obscene. Dragging me to his landlord, he complained to him about what I said. But his abuse was nothing compared to what his cronies had to say. I thought: he acts the saint now but I have to play the role of the thief! Skip to main content. Rabindranath Tagore translated by Fakrul Alam. Click here to download it for your device. The Daily Star Breaking news alert on your phone.

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Of my land only a little remained, the rest having been mortgaged away. For seven generations we've tilled this plot and it's everything to me, And selling it will be like selling my mother because of poverty! In six weeks I was forced out of my ancestral land and into the road By a court decree. Falsely, it said I had defaulted on a loan and owed The zamindar the whole lot! Alas, in this world those who have most want all And even a king won't stop until he has grabbed everything--big or small!

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Dui Bigha Jomi

Those who are leaders, those who took the responsibility of administering the country, their principles and reign will be remembered in history. However, on the eve of the elections, the United Front was formed under the leadership of Haque-Bhashani-Suhrawardy on the basis of point programme. Mohammad Ali Miah :With the very emergence of Pakistan in , the sole and foremost expectations of the Bengalis were to preserve their cultural heritage. But Pakistan's Founding leader's dominant.

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Rabindranath Tagore on the agrarian question

Two bighas of land is a Bengali language poem written by Rabindranath Tagore. The poem is written in the first-person narrative , from the perspective of a peasant called "Upen". The rich landlord zamindar of his village conspired against Upen, filed a false lawsuit against him and evicted him from his land. Being unable to prevail against the powerful zamindar, Upen left his village, became a disciple of a holyman sannyasi , and began traveling to different places as a homeless person. Several years passed and Upen ultimately returned to his homeland. On entering the village, he experienced strong emotions.

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Dui Bigha Jomi

Shopto-purush jethay manush she mati shonar bara, Doinner daye bechibo she ma-ye emni lokkhi chhara! Pore mash-dere bhite mati chhere bahir hoinu pothe- Korilo dikri shokoli bikri mittha denar khote. E jogote hay shei beshi chay ache jar bhuri bhuri, Rajar hosto kore shomosto kangaler dhon churi. Mone bhabilam, more bhogoban rakhibe na moho-gorte, Tai likhi dilo bishsho-nikhil du-bighar poriborte. Shonnashi beshe firi deshe deshe hoia shadhur shishsho — Koto herilam monohor dham, koto monorom drishsho. Bhudhore shagore bijone nogore jokhon jekhane bhromi Tobu nishidine bhulite pari ne shei dui bigha jomi.

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