My Identity

Habibur Rahaman

Original poem: Syed Shamsul Haq

Translated by Habibur Rahaman

 

I was born in Bengal

I speak in Bangla.

For thousands of years, I’ve walked along the ridges of Bengal. 

I’ve left my footprints on the delicate alluvial plain.

“Where do you hail from?” asked me thirteen hundred rivers. 

 

I hail from the inscriptions of Charyapada. 

I’ve alighted from a convoy of merchant ships. 

I come from the village of the rebellious Kaibartas 

I’ve emerged from the paintings of the Pala Empire. 

 

It’s Bengal’s Buddha Vihara I’ve descended from

It’s the altar of a temple in Bengal Presidency I’ve descended from. 

It’s Bengal’s Sona Mosque in Varendra I’ve descended from 

It’s Bengali saints and bards and their earthen sanctum I’ve descended from.  

 

I’ve descended from the Bara Bhuiyans 

I’ve come forth from Kamala’s lake and the narrative opera based on Mahua.

I’ve descended from Titumir and Haji Shariat,

I’ve come down from Agnibeena and Gitanjali.

 

It’s Bengali Khudiram and Surya Sen I’ve descended from

It’s Bengali Zainul and Aban Tagore I’ve issued from. 

It’s the blood-stained highways thanks to the demand of Bangla as the state language I’ve sprung from

It’s Bengali Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur I’ve descended from.

 

I’ve come from the thunderous voice of Joy Bangla

I was borne by the liberation war of 1971.

I’ve left behind a thousand footmarks.

Ask me: “What brings you here?”

 

You may not have heard the history of the Bengali nation—

“Man is the measure of all things.”

United we stand, united we live, we’ll stay en masse

We’ll erase the trace of division and draw the picture of equality.  

 

I’m Bengali by identity, I bear a glorious history—

Never do I fear the threat of a wielding sword. 

I battled against the enemy as I cherished my dreams;

As I whetted my weapons, so did I cultivate the land;

As I played the flute with a smile, so did I dare the same when the noose around my neck tightened;

Never have I made compromises—this is my history.

 

Will I forget my history today? Am I such a disloyal offspring?

Can I ever do that when my father’s name is Sheikh Mujibur Rahman?

I still traverse this land, led by his inspirations— 

The blue sky is in my eyes, faith etched on my heart, and fertile alluvial soils beneath my feet.