Biography of Farrukh Ahmad
Farrukh Ahmad (Bengali-ফররুখ আহমেদ) was a poet and writer of Bangladesh. He was one of the most popular Muslim poets of Modern era.
He was born in the village of Sreepur Upazilla of Magura District. He was the second son of Syed Hatem Ali and Begum Rawshan.
He graduated from Khulna Zila School in 1937 and did his I.A. from Ripon College, Kolkata in 1939. Then enrolled at the prestigious Scottish Church College to study BA (Hons) in Philosophy and English Literature, but was unable to his complete studies.
As a student, Farrukh Ahmed had been attracted to the radical humanism of Manabendra Nath Roy and had participated in leftist politics. From the forties, however, he supported the Pakistan movement. Despite his Pakistani and Islamic ideals, he supported the Language Movement in 1952 and, later, the liberation war of Bangladesh.
His poems reflect the Arabic and Persian legacy in Bengal and are replete with Arabic and Persian words. He also wrote satirical poems and sonnets.
Bangla Academy Award (1960)
President's Award for Pride of Performance (1961)
Adamjee Prize (1966)
UNESCO Prize (1966)
Ekushey Padak (posthumously, 1977)
Swadhinata Puraskar (posthumously, 1980)
Farrukh Ahmad's Works:
Sirazam Munira (1952)
Naufel O Hatem (1961)
Muhurter Kavita (1963)
Habida Marur Kahini (1981)
Books For Children
Pakhir Basa (1965)
Harafer Chhada (1970)
Chhadar Asar (1970)
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Farrukh Ahmad Poems
Many a time my well-wishers opined that I have a very bright future before me− That is, through sinful earning,
The Sailor Of The Seven Seas
I don't know how many black curtains had to be raised to bring this morning. The green leaves shiver in the orange grove. The seven seas' tide has brought foam on your door-steps. O Sailor of the seven seas, see, your ship calls at your door,
A Moment's Poem
Time - eternal, still. Only the fleeting moments Swift restless like the wag-tail visit the sea-shore In the strong tide just like the seasonal birds And fill the earth with a spectrum-white yellow and blue.
The Whistle of The Magpie Robin
From the impervious dark night's portal Comes the magpie robin's whistle, The day's last sun-rays burn wonderfully On the evening sand,
An Atheist's Prayer : His Confession
When I heard that even the sun has death, And numerous celestial spheres' fate lies in death, That very moment I realized this sky is full of mystery; That very moment I thought this life a moment's song.
Punjeri (The Navigator)
When will the night end, punjeri? Still your sky overcast with cloud? Your star and crescent moon not yet up? You on mast and, row blindfold;
My heart is stupefied : mute with pain Like the lotus-bud mum in the chilly night, Like the lonely bird no more returning to its nest alone; Likewise my mind no more seeks freedom in speech.
I Called Her In That Name
I called her by that name which nobody uttered, I know her that mind which nobody could know: That mind blossomed like a flower in autumn night And ignored the gloomy evening with dreamy fragrance.
From Outside Of The Cradle
You swing the cradle from outside without rest, It swings up and down with two refrains; One brings deep sleep, other breaks the slumber.
The 8-30 AM train left ejecting its nightly contents: Sleepless people with hot head Walk on both sides of the road like cold reptiles; Also walk human forms as symptoms of cruel citizen's bestiality.
My mind is like a whale in the approaching evening That dives into the night's sea; Yet I hear that far-off sound
Night At Kanchra Para
Night at Kanchra Para. The broken rail-engines are in the depot now. The cracked boilers puff out long sighs in their rest− Their movement obstructed. The mechanics then come And bring molten steel and hammer again and again.
Dahuk's cooing all through the night... This hamlet is sleeping like a deep silent pond. I am awake alone in this long night. Keep aside the game of deception,
I Shall Wake You Up
Every time I come to your door to wake you up I go back disheartened (O my Princess, you lie Unconscious in deep intoxicating slumber; No sign of life; no flare of consciousness).
To The Poet
You have raised the trampled dust
To the sky, the abode of the thunder,
You decorated it with the lustre of luminous stars,
You have embodied faith in the indomitable soul.
Your inspiring message returned time and again
In crisis strife struggle, in nightly terror,
Like the morning sun returning in deep darkness,
Like the holy Gabriel coming down alone,