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Rabindranath once reminded us — we pass through this world with eyes that do not truly see. The universe lies just two steps from our door. How much of it do we actually look at? How much do we feel?
A drongo. A small tree by the canal. A green field lying quietly at the water’s edge. That is all. And yet, within this smallness, nature — the landscape, the living world — is offering everything it has. And we, ungrateful as ever, keep taking. Keep destroying.
Photographing this moment, a song by Kabir Suman came to mind —
The bird rests on the tree, the tree stands on the soil —
that soil still holds on, arms stretched wide, refusing to let go.
The dragonfly knows its grass, the grass grows from the earth —
that earth still does not wish to loosen its fist.
The wind dips into the water, the water gathers in the ground —
that earth still watches, tracking where the water runs low.
The human who made the earth weep, who plundered the earth’s life —
that earth sent back its greetings, through the green of the grass, with all its might.
The earth is still holding on. Still calling. The only question is — can we still hear it?
Pubail, Gazipur | 4 April, 2026
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