A crude translation in English follows after the original.

 

My Faith and Religion!

. . . What about my faith and religion? Do faith and religion really matter to him who has no right to express himself right in his own home, whose sleep during night is regularly interrupted by nightmares, who has no power to defiantly stare straight at the injustice? What is faith and religion to him, who can be slaughtered like an animal right in his own home, or who can't utter a mournful sound even if his brother-sister or father-mother are killed? Those who live just to enjoy two meals, or just to spend the time in relaxation and undisturbed peace, what is faith and religion to such people?

You are slaves of people, what can be your faith and religion? What right do you have to speak about religion?

O my dear young ones! O my band of unruly ones! Come, rush - away from all those hypocrisy. Let everyone know that we have to live first. What education? Who will educate us? Can a slave teach another slave? We won't learn anything, we won't listen to anything - we will live first, we will live!

. . . O those subservients! O the hypocrites! What is faith and religion to you? Those who taught you religion, did they use to bury themselves in studying the Vedas when under attack by enemies? Were they used to be busy in studying the Qur'an when attacked by adversaries? . . .

[These are excerpts from a prose of Nazrul "Amar Dharmo" (My faith/religion). Nazrul Rochonaboli, 1996 ed., Bangla Academy, Vol. 4, pp. 8-9]