He walks through the path of life,
Noticing the darkness around him,
He pulls them up those have fallen behind,
Shining with goodness inside him
He trudges along alone in a struggle
Opposing those evil, those dark,
Raises an arm for those,
Who have no arm to rise for themselves
He who wields his pen,
The pen that personifies his intelligence,
His understanding of people,
His understanding of the nation
He opposed those from foreign lands,
In favour of those sovereign.
He lent his hand in support,
Unmindful of his suffering
He spoke against those unlawful,
Unkind and unjust,
Fought with the mind and words
Rather than blood and steel
His thoughts provoked action,
His writing provoked a challenge
His words burned the parasites
That fed on the blood and sweat of an Indian
They reaped our souls, ate our hearts,
Destroyed our homes, burned our carts.
The beads of sweat that flows down the plough
Was minted into gold and silver
Though with darkness around him,
He shined with goodness, radiating his light
His heart though taken a beating
Still emanates love that is completing.
His sorrows were drowned in an endless river,
Never gave it a second thought.
The pains made him stronger
Ne’er giving up and getting caught.
Though the wrath of the Union Jack,
Fed through the lives of millions,
He stood strong and straight,
His feet ne’er failing
This Bengali spirit left us,
Though ne’er did we feel,
We treasure him in our minds
He is a gem our nation would love to keep.
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