Ruher Sobuj Pranto

From the green of the rice fields to the blue of the sky Every scene is sometimes a silent hint of the afterlife. I have not come to tell any story in the pages of this book; I have only wanted to touch the dust of those paths, through which for centuries the soul of man has walked towards its lost home; Because for me, rice fields are never just rice fields, rivers are never just streams, And the sky is not just blue emptiness; I see within them the reflection of the inner world of man The patience of a seed, the surrender of a river, The waiting for a path, the eternal call of a sky; This soil of Bengal, this muddy path, the call of this hawk, this smoky light of twilight Everything reminds me again and again that human life is also a work of agriculture; Here, every belief is a seed, every struggle is a cultivation, every tear is a drop of rain, and every prayer is a waiting for an invisible sprout.