Omor Ekushey February. Rokte raanga shei din tir kotha ajo jege ache o jege robe chirokaal amarder moner koney. Icche korey aj moner duar khule shagoto janai shei mohan bektider, jader jonno amra aj bolte pari kotha, 21st FEB na bole boli Ekushey February.
Somewhere out in this darkness is a pinch of light,
Someday I will find it and hold it tight,
So what God has taken away my arms and legs?
Whatever left in me is my strength to fight.
-Naimul Haider
We give flowers at the Shahid Minar to show our respect and our love to the martyrs.
We express our feelings and respect to the martyrs on Ekushey February by painting the Shahid Minar on our faces and our hearts.
A flag seller holding a stick full of flags. Millions of Bangladeshis buy flags on Ekushey February to wraps it around them.
This is a sugarcane vending machine used to make sugarcane juice. Sorry for this overexposed image because i had to use a long shutter speed in this bright light in order to catch the wheels in motion.
He couldn’t walk like us. He never caught a ball and laughed with joy. All that remains in him is silent reproach of hunger and and a pair of blanked eyes. But none of the world even notices.
A women trying to convince her child from crying. I think such love and care only lies in my country.
This is what makes us proud. A foreigner is opening up her sandals to enter the Shahid Minar. This picture fills my heart with a pound of joy.
This is the Karukaaj on the street in front of Charukola. An endless road to the mystery of art on which we walk.
My friend Newaz with some of the kids we met at TSC. They were so enjoying being photographed and I had to take several pictures of them to make them happy.
Thousands of street food sellers marched around TSC in Ekushey February. Though the prices are double if you buy from them on this very day, the fun of eating them is of a different scenario.
They still stand tall with their heads up and we won’t let them down. The writing on the black fabric on their body says: “The flow of blood and the museum of dead corpses still hasn’t stopped. Let this country and this soil be independent and free of assassins.”
This is one of the few days in a year that these people get to earn and for us this is just a fun. Well if you want a horse ride among a messy crowd, getting the view of sculptures all around you, then Bangladesh is a nice place to visit.
He was waiting for someone to come over to him and buy something from him. This guy usually earns 2 tk per sale. Yet a way of life.
This is a new platform that is built opposite to Charukola. No one was allowed to enter it. I used a high focal length to take it in tight frame. My question: ‘Why did you built it if you don’t let us to see?’ The workings on the wall can barely be seen from this distance.
Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind:
"Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
Gird up your loins like a man,
I will question you, and you shall declare to me." {Job 38:1-3 RSV}
This is my Bangladesh, where some of our children paints on the canvas and some paint on our shoes. A long pause of silence lies in my throat.
You have the independency to choose what they are telling you. Keep looking at them!
This picture is not a reproduction. This is a painting at Charukola Institute in Dhaka and I have taken this photograph over the painting. I would request not to reproduce this image.
Our freedom fighters are still standing at Charukola looking down at us, watching each of our steps, asking us “ We have done everything for you and what have you done?”
From Ekushey February. We are proud to to Bangladeshis and this is the written agreement.
Don't be afraid of the cuts on her arms
And don't look at them as self-harm
The scars are just remainders of her dreadful past
She thinks how long the pain will last.
The scars show her how not to believe in love
Or how she wishes to be an angel from above
Her emotions she hides under her sleeves in shame
Thinking how she will end this game
She cuts not to die but to be relieved
I know this may leave you in disbelief
That a girl like that can cause so much pain
And just look away as her life is drained
She asks people not to hurt her anymore
She tells herself she's done just walk out the door
You think it's bad as she rolls up her sleeves
Exposing secrets too hard to believe!
You think she's perfect and everything is fine
But what's on her mind is a bomb
-Waiting for the perfect time
What's in her hand, nothing but a knife
You see the tears in her eyes
-and you're afraid she may end her life
She has scars from long-ago, you can see staying alive is her regret.....!!!
Her eyes stare upon the scars on her wrists
The scars are her memories of miserable nights
She is so ashamed of herself and her life
There is pain that lives within her heart
An emptiness you can hear in her voice
But none of this world even notices
Worthless, Alone, Unloved
The sadness all around her
She can no longer hold on
There is nothing, nothing for her
Her shaky hand holding the razor
She presses the blade deep through her skin
And slices through the veins
She dedicates each drop of blood to all she loves
And forever - always will.
She lays her head down and looks up at the starry sky
Remembers those long nights she spent crying
Watching the sky with tears on her eyes
And falling asleep in the arms of the wind
Those horrible memories of loneliness
So sad she has to remember such times....
-Naimul Haider Rafif
Those serene oceans glitter as she glares at me
I couldn’t ever wet my hands on that milky sparkle.
Hunger in those eyes runs its fingers through my hair
Her eyes burned my heart into a mighty flare.
Her thin lips await me to a whispering thought
I’m frozen for years for the touch that I fought.
Glory me to earn her a dust, my sudden lust
Due that steamy sweat on my brow when I saw her first.
Curve of that nose in touch with that eminent air
Favored been thy air, I don’t think it is fair.
So honored she’s to me and I’m meritoriously blind
That recondite illusion she takes me into, me so lost, whom I couldn’t find.
I endowed her wings, an angel she is, flying away to her mist
Snared am I an animal, her destitute slave, with uttermost hunger, lingered for her feast.
Hair impelled behind her ears, such an art, where would you find?
She’s my angel in the morning, my visual night, but she never leaves me behind.
Her hair veils her eye, her craving skin calls me alone
Sometimes it mesmerizes my soul, sometimes it makes me moan.
That dot beneath her lips, can consume a million stars
Her wings covering me up, makes me walk through her iced lane
Once she called me by my name, those stasis lips took me insane.
Her hands she runs up the walls to hide her sweetest shame
That misty finger touches those sugar lips to tell me her game.
But when my angels wraths on me, I forget my pain, I play her game
Her splendor makes me deaf, turns me blind, takes my speech
I quietly listen to her rage, with given everything to her, I act a sage
Love that I do, I can explain, only for her, because it is build for her
But my draconian fate, she never asked me, do you love me?
My answer to that- Sweet Lord you are, first one who asked me so
I wonder would you explain it to me though.
But she’ll just stare at me, looking for an answer- Yet there is no answer
Due her love so great and the greatest love should be unspoken.
And I know she is ashamed to open up her heart
Worthless my love is to her, know I not when it did start.
Stalking her a delusive me, she lights up my dozy day
Here am I alone, to dream again, anticipated I lay
She urges me to write, spurs me to dream, explain such unexplainable line
Someday if I walk away from her, I know, my angel will be fine.
-Naimul Haider
Exposure 1/500 sec at f/4.5 with ISO-100. See that the right side has more room than the left. The picture is left uncropped intentionally.
Exposure 1/1000 sec at f/5.6 with ISO-100. Please forgive any composition mistakes in this photograph because it’s hard to find birds sitting like this under the sun.
A warm glow in the evening sky, People give Bangladesh a try. I love my city full of joy, Heart my dear, is not such a toy. F-Stop at f/5.6, Shutter speed of 1/800 sec at ISO-100.
Roses are red, some violets are blue, with this photo I just don’t know what to do. F-Stop at f/3.5, Shutter speed of 1/1000 sec and ISO-100. Just for the info!
This picture reminds of the song Tears Don’t Fall by Bullet For My Valentine. It’s true. Water do crawl at f/3.5 with shutter speed of 1/40 at ISO-100.
f/5.6 at 1/2000 seconds with ISO-100. I snapped it from my friend Newaz’s roof. We all really love his roof and the sun that day made me love it even more.
%5B4%5D.jpg "DSC00152 Stitch (2)")
This is a five stitch panaromic picture. My mom grows this in our balcony and its worth watching them grow. They grab themselves through the ropes and sits tall. F-Stop at f/3.5 with shutter speed
of 1/400 sec at ISO 400 made it much more scenic and beautiful.
Aperture Value - f/3.2, Shutter Speed - 1/40 and ISO-1600.
It is quite hard to photograph kids and at low light like this, you need to stabilize the camera which is not really possbile beacuse kids tends to move. Some noise can be seen in this photo which is due to the use of high ISO.
At 1/400 sec and f/4.5 with ISO 100, I snapped my camera. Even I don’t know what you can conclude from this photograph or does it really mean anything? Maybe this is what art is all about.
%5B3%5D.jpg "DSC00197 (2)")
