Came you sir, to this mysterious world,
To create this country of tigers’ growl.
Suffered you lots of mental, physical,
Pangs, pains, sufferings, tortures, diabolical.
Here in Dhaka’s Central Jail,
There in Pakistan’s Layallpore’s hell (jail).
Yahya Khan wanted to shoot you to death,
But didn’t dare, because of world-people’s wrath.
Oh Father, oh Leader, oh great man,
Owes you a great debt, this Bangladeshi nation.
Yahya, Bhutto and the Generals’ gang,
Wanted to murder you, shouting, “ Hang him hang!”
But an undaunted you sir, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman,
Scornfully rejected their bullying, coercion.
Your clarion call of 07th March, 1971,
Hasn’t gone unheeded, uncared, unsung, unconcerned.
Seventy five million Bangladeshis of those dark-bad times,
Have made the Pakistainis face the music and rhymes.
A bloody War of Liberation throughout 1971,
Has enabled us wrest independence, from the so-called
“Islamic Republic” of Pakistan.
And the Architect of our independence, “you are sir, you”,
Hardly anyone else, but a handful other few.
Millions of Bangladeshi men and women,
Youth, old, inept, adolescent, toddlers, children.
Fishermen, engineers, laymen, cultivators,
Businessmen, carpenters, tailors, doctors.
Students, shopkeepers, officials, politicians,
Hindus, Muslims, Atheists, Buddhists, Christians.
Police, para-military, armed forces’ soldiers,
Teachers, professors, advocates, boatmen, lawyers.
All of them took part, in our War of Liberation,
Under the leadership of you Bangabandhu Shekh Mujibur Rahman.
In the ever first free and fair, General Election,
Pakistan saw its inevitable disintegration.
Contrary to their expectations great,
Sir, your Awami League bagged 167 seats.
This gave you an absolute majority,
To form the next government of the country.
But alas! the Pakistani quarters of vested interest,
Wanted to put your power, to a test.
In an unilateral decision, President Yahya Khan,
Decided to implement Bhutto’s-Generals’ conspiratorial plan.Instead of handing over power to you-Leader of the Majority Party,
Bhutto-Yahya junta decided to play politics of dirty.
Pom-pom pompus, Bhutto, Yahya Khan,
Laughed and growled “ pooh-pooh” at Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.
You cared not their fun and pun,
They retorted, “ now is coming The Terrible Ivan”.
Saying so, they rained hundreds of thousands of artillery guns,
Upon the unarmed people of former East Pakistan.
At 01o’clock of night of the 25th March, 1971,
Started their “Operation Search-Light” raining thousands of bullets of mortar, machinegun.
Hundreds of thousands of flying bullets,
Pierced through the sleeping, innocent Bangladeshis’ chests.
Screams, cries, shouting, terrors and heart-breaking groans,
Rented Dhaka’s night skies’-localities’ heavily gloomy environs.
Oh God, oh Allah, oh Jesus, Bhagawan,
Oh Lord, oh Jehovah, oh Srikrishna-Ram.
Give me water, a little water, a little water, please,
Or, shoot me down oh soldier, and give me an eternal peace.
“I will recommend you paradise to Allah, in the life hereafter,
Just as did Imam Hossain pledge to Yazid’s General, Shimar.”
“Swine bastard!” shouted the Pakistani-soldier,
“Go to hellfire then, you Bangali-traitor.”
Telling so, quickly the soldier, pressed the trigger,
Silenced all the tossings about and groans of his “Bangali-bastards”.
Thus lootings, shootings, burnings and settings on fire,
Continued unabated by the Pakistani –hayenas.
Raping of women, young girls and damsels,
Arsons of home and hearths, smashing crockeries, utensils.
Raping of wife, daughter in front of their husbands,
Never had occurred ever before, in this Royal Bengal Tigers’ land.
Taking hold of the ladies and lasses, these beastly soldiers,
Raped them on the spot, in presence of their parents, in-laws.
So often carried them to their concentration camps,
Raped their victims by turns and en masse.
Even a mild protest ever, would have been met,
By shooting down the protester, just like a cat.
Pakistani soldiers were no less than beasts,
In their caprice, like a stray dog and bitch.
Two hundred thousand of our young women-folk,
Have been molested and violated, by these Bhutto-Yahya-hordes.
Some of them still alive, writhing in repentance,
From what a horrible state, they suffered in 1971.
Even now in their 70s and 8os,
Still they keep sobbing from a sense of guilt of sin.
One of the greatest massacres in the History of the World,
Took place in the Bangladesh Liberation War.
Thirty million people have been butchered and maimed,
In this Pakistani cruel war-game.
Last, but not the least, oh esteemed Father of the Nation,
May Allah place your soul, in His Heavenly Mansion.