Nashid Kamal

I borrow the word 'fervour' from Nazrul Islam himself, as he wrote in the song 'Srijono chonde anonde nacho Nataraj' which, when translated...

There came a big cardboard box and we gathered around the box as the electrician took out a black- coloured box and fitted it in our...

My personal favourite is Shubha Mudgal. In her bright pink sari, when she appeared on stage at around 3.30 am, the entire area lit up with her glow.

The CNG dropped us in Sat Bangla junction in Mumbai, India. Marina looked at me and gasped, “Nashid apa! Oh my God!”

So how does it feel? When I switch on the TV and listen to Abbasuddin Ahmed's songs on Zee Bangla, Sa Re Ga Ma Pa.

On 29 August 1976, the national poet of Bangladesh Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam breathed his last in the Post Graduate hospital of Dhaka, Bangladesh.

We all look at the rainbow and wonder how it has seven colours blended into the same being. Poet Nazrul Islam aspired to filter out one colour and offer red colour to decorate the feet of his beloved. (Rang dhanu hote lal rong chani… Alta porabo pay).

Back in 1978, in Dhaka University, I came across one of my juniors in the department of statistics. Her name was Rumana Omar.

My Guru sister Padmasree Tripti Mukherjee wrote in her Facebook status last week 'During his visit in NYC for Hoover Medal awarded by Columbia University in 2009, I and Archana Gollamudi (her friend) went to meet President Abdul Kalam, with my Guruji (Sangeet Martand Pandit Jasraj).

Durbadal Chatterjee, a child prodigy starting his first performance at the age of seven, learning violin from his father, a famous violin player Moni Chatterjee.

Many mornings blossom with the cherished face of Anindita Kazi hosting musical sessions in Tara Muzik, India. For me, I am reminded of her father, the illustrious son of Poet Kazi Nazrul Islam, guitarist Kazi Aniruddha, who really loved her dearly. He had named her Anindita, wanting her to stand out amongst all.

Rachel McDermott works as a Professor in Columbia University, USA. She studied Bangla in Santiniketan and started translating some of the songs and poems written on the Goddess, Kali.

This was the summer of 1990. I had taken a taxi cab to reach the Hawaii East West Centre in Hawaii, USA. I was selected by the centre to take part in a training titled 'Micro-computers in Demography.'

There were three of us. We were all in our PhD programme under London University but when we met over lunch, we laughed and giggled like teenagers. One friend was from Zimbabwe, the other from Belgium and as well as myself.

As part of Indian PM Narendra Modi's visit a leading TV channel included the names and short interviews of luminaries who came to Bangladesh from West Bengal and vice versa.

Every time I hear the name Hemayetpur, it reminds me of a village where people send patients for mental health treatment.

I worked hard to obtain her phone number. I was adamant. I tried all possible contacts and then finally dropped her a line through a post card as I had her address.

With the arrival of almost 30 channels in Bangladesh, we get to listen to the interviews of many men and women who are lauded for their achievements.

When I met him in Kolkata, the first question that I shot at him was “Why your autobiography is called Half my life?”

“Pori zafrani ghagori Chole Serajer Pori”