None of his poetry volumes were there but several anthologies had three or four of his poems. I sat down with one and started reading “Bristi, bristi” (Rain, rain). No, he couldn’t enter until Sumon Chattopadhyay turned his “Tomake Obhibadon, Priyotoma” (Greetings to you, my beloved) into a song. Love does surface but except in two or three poems, it is love vanquished or unfulfilled and it is inevitably so. Every time there is a heavy shower now in this city, preceded by bolts of lightning, I’m invariably reminded of his “Rain, rain”.

Source: Dhaka Tribune September 03, 2016 12:56 UTC