November 2, 2015
Celebrating birthdays is foolishness. Each new birthday simply means another year closer to death. Birthdays are just expensive affairs. All this buying and giving of birthday cards—what else is a birthday but that! Pure commercial scheming and nothing more! The country’s gone to hell with Western culture! Another year has slipped away from life, and instead of mourning that loss, what’s all this cake-cutting nonsense! You’re getting old, for heaven’s sake—haven’t you outgrown this show-off business yet!
These are the sorts of things you hear!
But think for a moment—what does a birthday really mean? It means you’ve lived another whole year among us all. Being alive is itself a bonus, friend! I think about it almost constantly—what would happen if I died? This thought keeps me always prepared for death. I could die even before finishing this piece, or perhaps this will be my last writing. That person whose feelings I hurt just a while ago—I might never get another chance to receive their good wishes! Who am I that I must be kept alive? The fact that I’m still breathing—all of it is God’s grace. But why did God show such grace? I’m not particularly outwardly religious. I don’t call on Him that much either. Then why? Do people live in this world solely for their own sake? It doesn’t seem so. People live through others’ prayers, through love. Not just for their own needs, but for others’ needs too. The debt of birth isn’t paid off merely through death. A meaningless death settles no debt at all. That itself becomes a debt! The people whose good wishes keep me alive—shouldn’t I celebrate a little at the end of another year of that survival? A birthday is a day for giving thanks. A day to express gratitude and appreciation to those whose love keeps me alive. Money is being spent? If I had died before midnight struck, would that money have remained mine? What use would it have been anyway? I’m alive—if I get a little happy about that and some money gets ‘wasted,’ so be it! I’m in favor of spending all my money before I die. We live purely by the grace of fortune. Through some inscrutable signal from God, we thumb our noses at death and get birthday after birthday. If we hadn’t gotten them, no harm would have been done. None of us is indispensable to this world. So the fact that we’re alive—that’s the most wondrous and joyful event of all. There’s no success greater than staying alive. For this wonder, I bow my head and give thanks. I tell my mother, “Ma, you brought me into this world, so thank you.” I tell God, “You have mercifully kept me alive, so thank you.” I tell my father, “Baba, you let me grow up, so thank you.” Those who love us, who believe this and ensure our desire to live doesn’t fade away—shouldn’t we feed them at least a piece of birthday cake? Shouldn’t we offer them a heartfelt thanks? The first salutation of my birthday I give to my mother, the next to God. As long as I’m alive, I’ll keep running in search of love. To receive love, one must act lovingly. That too is a challenge. Living with this challenge—that’s what life is.
These days I answer my phone selectively. But yesterday I had already decided that from noon onward, I would pick up every single call that came. And I did. Even the ones I missed, I called back. Abandoning all my pride, today I gathered love like a beggar. I went to sleep with the resolve to live many more days on people’s good wishes and pure affection. I even answered some calls when I woke up in the middle of the night. Forgetting my naturally irritable disposition, I spoke cheerfully with everyone. This morning I woke to a mother’s phone call. She believes that listening to my words and reading my writing has pulled her son back from the brink of suicide. She told me she had kept a fast today for my well-being. I’ll write about what my friends and well-wishers did in another post.
I went to the office. On the way I brought sweets and sandesh for everyone at work. My driver ran off and brought me some flowers, saying, “Sir, Happy Birthday!” Poor man. Even a hundred-taka bouquet is expensive for him! I can’t remember ever giving him anything but kind treatment. I was never very strict as a boss. I came into government service with this vow: my pen would never harm anyone’s livelihood. I love to forgive people. Because I myself am a man full of mistakes. I too seek forgiveness from God for my wrongdoings. I can say with certainty that even if not everyone at the office loves me, no one hates me. No one can say that I’ve taken any advantage without sharing it with others, or that I’ve failed to share any hardship while letting my subordinates bear it alone. I always try to be not a good officer, but a good human being. Being a good officer wins applause, but being a good human being wins love. To each their need! I am starved for love. The greatest failure in this world is the inability to earn people’s affection.
I hadn’t told anyone beforehand. Everyone at the office surprised me with a bouquet and a pen to wish me well. We all shared sweets together. I had wanted to offer prayers at the temple in the morning. I can’t remember ever having this desire on any previous birthday. I don’t know why it occurred to me today. Since I couldn’t leave the office at that time, I kept the wish in my heart. One of my assistant revenue officers wrote something in his diary for today. His handwriting is breathtakingly beautiful. I wrote something underneath as well. There was something amusing about this birthday. Usually when someone gifts me a book, it duplicates something in my collection. This time I received seven biographies, not one of which I already owned. (My collection of biographies and autobiographies numbers nearly 350.) Two junior assistant revenue officers are taking the BCS exam. I spent a long time counseling them in various ways. I spoke for ten minutes on the phone with the younger brother of one of my third-class employees, who studies at Dhaka University, trying to give him some good advice.
On this birthday of mine, no one was beside me except colleagues. The habit of celebrating life alone, however, is quite old for me. So what if there’s no lover? I set out alone on a rickshaw ride, stop by the roadside to buy and eat fuchka, share stories of joy and sorrow with the peanut vendor. I mingle with working people and observe their lives. They don’t know Sushanta Pal, after all. This is a great advantage for rediscovering oneself. Anyway, in the afternoon after leaving the office, I went to a Catholic church in Satkhira. I found prayer songs in progress there for the peace of departed souls. Everyone was placing flowers in the adjacent graveyard. In the serene atmosphere, hands folded in prayer, invoking peace. That scene completely calmed the mind. Right next to it was an orphanage where destitute and orphaned children lived. I talked with them. I noticed something curious—though they were all converted Christians, they wouldn’t say so openly. I stood for a while before the statue of Mother Mary. Looking into her eyes, after some time a kind of benevolent feeling descends upon the mind. Religion’s primary task is to give the human mind shelter in peace, nothing more. In this world of unrest, the message of peace is desperately needed today. Sitting on the grass in the adjacent garden, I listened to the orphaned children tell stories of their lives. I tried to see life through their eyes. Humanity’s first desire is to live beautifully. If that living contains love, one can do anything for it—from risking life itself to whatever else it takes. Then I went to the premises of Satkhira’s largest and oldest temple complex. This complex is called Mayer Bari—Mother’s House. There’s a Kali temple there, and right beside it are Mahadev, Kalabhairav, Parvati, and Radha-Govinda. Evening prayers begin at dusk. Everyone comes there seeking peace. To wash away the fatigue of the day’s work, people take refuge in religion and offer themselves as transformed beings. I lit lamps and incense in Mother’s temple, where prayer songs were continuing, and Manna Dey’s song “Give me a little space to sit in Mother’s temple…” kept playing in my head. I felt I was sinking into meditation. In all the temples within the complex, the mark of antiquity is clearly visible. The fresco work on the walls easily captures one’s attention. I wandered around the entire area observing these ancient brick and plaster artworks, while evening silence was pierced by the harmonious sounds of cymbals, bells, and drums in the peaceful worship at Mother’s temple. This atmosphere is deeply enchanting. In absorption with the temple deities, one evening felt like thousands of ancient, tradition-bound evenings spanning millennia. In the sweet melody of music, initiated into time’s maturity, I was spending the wonderfully solitary evening of my birthday. The taste I found in the temple offerings—you won’t find it in the world’s most expensive cakes. There weren’t 31 candles, but 31 thousand light-lanterns of the mind soaring about. Right beside the temple was a very old champak flower tree. I sat beneath it for a while. Suddenly, from somewhere, loneliness struck with its aching presence. I began to feel as if something was missing, something was missing! A thousand flutes began playing their melancholy pastoral tunes in my head. How long I remained that way, I don’t know. “Sir, the library closes at 8. We should go now.” The driver’s words broke my reverie. I saw the clock hands were nearly touching 7. From there I went to Satkhira Public Library. A very old library. I saw quite a few old and rare books. Some books really appealed to me. I had a conversation with the librarian—a quite talkative, interesting person. Hearing about my book collection, he spoke with considerable respect.
In the course of conversation, I learned that there was a photocopying facility available there. I hadn’t seen many books written about Atisha Dipankara. In the library, I found a book written by a monk from some Buddhist monastery in Comilla, printed many, many years ago. I leafed through it—both the writing and the presentation of information were of quite good quality. Right beside it was Shahidullah Kaiser’s diary, published by Muktadhara. I asked them to photocopy both books. On my birthday, how could I not give myself books as gifts? Especially these two books, which are so hard to find. At this moment, I would give the most precious gift in the world to the most precious person in the world. When I requested him to make photocopies, he said, “Take these two books with you, read them slowly and return them.” Despite my repeated requests, he wouldn’t make photocopies. Later I said, “All right, I’ll get photocopies made and send them to you by tomorrow.” He smiled and said, “Very well, fine. Send them when you have time.” Right next to the library was a vast pond. The entire complex was called Shaheed Razzak Park. In ’71, a freedom fighter named Abdur Razzak, a rickshaw puller, was killed here. I went and stood before his grave, head bowed, for a few moments.
Then, walking along the edge of the pond, I began murmuring softly, “For a thousand years I have walked the paths of this earth, from the Ceylon seas to further darkness in the Malay waters…” Perhaps this madness meant nothing at all. But to a solitary man on this birthday evening, its appeal was limitless as the sky. The cool breeze from the water came and washed away the day’s fatigue, as if laying a sweet balm over the ache of loneliness! The melodious call to prayer drifted from the mosque. Groups of worshippers were heading to the park mosque for prayers. And here I was, spending my birthday evening in the most beautiful corner of the world, wrapped in a blanket of silence amid the shimmering lights of a thousand lamps. I went and stood before the mosque. Everyone was standing in rows, praying. It was such a serene scene. At that moment, I felt I was witnessing the most beautiful sight in the world. Outside the mosque, a lame dog was limping along. It seemed to me that it was looking at me with such helpless eyes. Right at that moment, I prayed, “God, please watch over him.”
I had already planned to dine out today. So what if no one’s with me—I have myself for company! And there’s the driver, who gave me the day’s first flower-blessing. Suddenly I felt like making someone happy at this very moment on this special day. I called a well-wisher. She lives right here in Satkhira. She did her honors and master’s in Bengali from Dhaka University. She stays in Dhaka, but has come home to care for her slightly unwell mother. She’s among those few readers who follow all my writing with deep, unbroken attention. I invited her, saying, “Come, have dinner with me today. Meet me at Indian Masala.” She came, bringing some gifts. Among them was one that truly amazed me. That someone who studied Bengali so intensively at Dhaka University reads my childlike Bengali writing—this feeling filled me with such joy. I’ll write about that gift another time. With conversation and stories over a grand dinner, I brought the informal formalities of this quiet birthday celebration to a close.
I had kept my wall turned off. Even so, those who love me, who think of me, showed their love—writing in my inbox, tagging me in posts about me, putting my photo or photos with me as their profile pictures. Some did even more than this. Seeing all this left me speechless with wonder, my eyes welling up again and again. In boundless enchantment, I want to believe that one can live simply for a birthday like this!
November 3, 2015
Addendum: Checking all the birthday wishes in my inbox has become nearly impossible!! Still, scrolling through, I’m sharing a few wishes that touched me, along with some thoughts of my own.
One. A belated happy birthday, Sushanta Paul dada. May your words keep inspiring others for decades.
Two. I read your writing. The part after afternoon and the evening’s portrayal, such beautiful presentation of insights…!!!! After a long time I found writing like this. I loved it very, very, very much.
Three. I’m probably the only fool who didn’t wish you on your birthday.
~~You’re a bad little rascal.
Four. I didn’t wish you either, dada! But I did say a prayer!
Five. Extraordinary! Brother, I think I’ve become a devotee of your writing. You’ve made ordinary things so extraordinary! This writing truly inspires one to live.
Reading your writing always means learning something new.
Seeing everyone’s wishes left me speechless, so I wished you very simply, very late.
Love is what keeps people alive. May you too live for a thousand years!
Just to read writing like this, one could turn on Facebook.
Six. Within each word
there seemed to spread an enchantment, an aura filled with radiant wonder. For a fleeting moment, I had submerged myself completely in the ancient watch of silence. Consciousness returned only as the curtain fell on the writing… yet,
the language of a dog’s eyes has left me deeply
contemplative!
Seven. Happy birthday,
dear brother. Though not being on Facebook meant I couldn’t wish you at the right time, let at least one of your final birthday wishes come from me. I want to say so many things, but rather than speaking, I find myself enjoying reading your wall. Stay well, keep well,
and may the pure
love you continue to give us flow on
for eternity.
Eight. I had thought
to give you something. The desire
was very real. I remember once giving you some books. That time you told me, Shraboni, give the books to someone who can’t afford to buy them but has the desire to read. They will benefit from receiving them.
So today I did just that. I had very much wanted to go to Satkhira today to wish you in person. But
I couldn’t make it—what happens when you work
for a living! Couldn’t get leave. So I thought, let me find some other way. I bought some necessary books for one of my younger brothers. The boy is studying for his honors, tutoring to get by, supporting his family. The smile he gave when he took those books in his hands—
you didn’t see it,
you missed it, but his prayers remain for you. In your own words,
such smiles are worth
living to see. May you too live on as that steadfast star in the sky, showing the way to thousands who have lost their path. Know my love and
respect.
Nine. Someone once
said, change your perspective and life will change. Let me add something of my own. Actually, changing life doesn’t require all that much. You won’t even realize when or how your life transforms like a traffic jam. A good piece of music,
a good book, a good movie, or even an article by Sushanta Paul bhai can change your life. And yes, if you yourself
don’t want to change, then nothing
in the world can make you change.
Ten. (The following
text is taken verbatim from an inbox message. It was written in English font. A little while ago I was typing it in Bengali and crying like a child.)
I have never seen
this person. With complete honesty, hand on my heart, I can say that as a human being I have never been able to wish another human so much well-being. I don’t have the capacity to love another person so
selflessly.
On my birthday today
I pray from my heart: O God! Take 5 birthdays from me and give them to this person. How desperately the world needs people who fill it with love!
Dear Angel,
Tanni!! Stay well!!)
Happy Birthday,
Dear Angel!
Tomorrow I’m invited
to your place! Hahaha…that’s not in my fate.
First, let me say sorry. On your birthday, I really wanted to gift you some books. But since you mentioned in a status that you don’t like accepting gifts from anyone, I thought, what can I do! I want to give you books, but I can’t — so why not use that money for a different kind of plan.
No sooner thought than done. Today will remain memorable in my life forever. You’ve received many gifts in this world, and you’ll receive many more. So I tried something a little different.
Today I celebrated your birthday with about 30 children from the slums. Look, these children are very poor — no one gives them cake, no one invites them to birthday parties, they can’t even eat fast food. So I celebrated your birthday with them. Seeing how happy they were today brought tears of joy to my eyes!
I know you don’t need to announce when you do something for someone, but dear Sushanta Pal, I wanted to bring you a little joy. I hope you’ll find happiness in the joy of these poor children.
Sorry, please don’t mind! All I wanted was for the prayers these children offer after eating to be written in your book of blessings. Believe me, if you had been there, you would have seen their joy!
There were other people there too. Everyone ate cake and prayed for you.
Let me tell you something — the money for this party came from my own hard work. I didn’t use a penny of my father’s money. I wanted to throw a bigger party, but I couldn’t afford it.
I apologize if my actions have caused you any pain.
…
Eleven. Happy Birthday, Sushanta dada! One of my very favorite people!
Break free from the bad habit of considering essential in your life someone who doesn’t consider you essential in theirs.
When someone breathes perfectly well without you, there’s no point in suffocating yourself for them. The more you pine for them, the more they’ll enjoy a kind of sick triumph.
Learning to forget the wrong person is a great art. How long you were with them doesn’t matter; what matters is how much you can delete them from your life going forward.
your passion pays! books, music, movies & of course facebook! no matter whatever it is!! basically, you are what you love!
I wrote some of your words! Now let me say some more of your words in my own way.
This life of mine—watching movies, listening to songs, reading books, enjoying poetry recitations, writing Facebook statuses and reading others’—I’m doing quite well, aren’t I! What would really happen if I weren’t doing quite so well? Who am I, anyway? Why did Allah even need to keep me alive? I’m alive—that’s good enough! Even if I don’t become one of those brilliant people, being alive as just another ordinary soul still counts for something. Simply being alive counts for something. Let no one else know it, but I know—I’ve gotten things I never should have had! I wasn’t supposed to pass my SSC, but I did. I had no desire to go to college, but I went anyway. I never even thought about honors—and now look how nicely I’m doing my honors degree! What more could I want? I know I have to go further, and I will. I just need to stay alive; the rest will happen on its own! Once I used to think, what’s the point of all this living? Oh my! How wrong I was! Such childish thinking! This is what I think now.
I put great emphasis on my preferences—if I don’t like something, I can’t find satisfaction in doing it. Like attracts like…I’m a firm believer in this.
I follow some other principles of yours as well:
Why should you marry someone you don’t like? Great career? Will you be happy? Are you sure? You’re marrying a person, not their career. I never think that way, and I never will.
What’s the point of a job? Life itself is what matters. Everything else is just fairy tales.
I don’t like careerist people. I’m not even slightly that way myself, you see. Those who are—let them be happy in their own way. I turned someone away, or maybe she turned me away, or maybe fate itself turned us away from each other, because she believed: career first, then life. I think the opposite. Life first, then career if there’s time. How many days will we live anyway? What good will all this do when we’re dead? I want to love life deeply. I want to laugh. I want to play with birds and flowers. I want to make mistakes. I want to live my own way. I want to live without regrets. I want to live without being anyone’s rival. I’ll live, laugh, make mistakes, wander around a little, and then one day I’ll simply vanish while laughing. That’s it!
What I think, what I believe—that’s what I say and will say. Whether I’ll be alive tomorrow isn’t even certain. What’s the point of making hundred-year plans? I’m a simple fool living in each moment’s world. As long as I’m alive, I’ll live. Let’s say if I cease to exist after today, I’ll have no regrets. My life will be like a sparrow’s—fluttering and quick, a small life. I don’t want to live too long. I have just one wish: however long I live, let me live without regrets. Let me live without hurting anyone, without harming anyone.
Let me share some of my own thoughts in your style:
I’m not particularly religious, but I deeply believe in the core message of the Quran. I carry it in my life, and this is how I live! Let them win! I won’t be able to—you watch, I’ll win by losing. Really… I never wanted to win, which is why I never lost! Besides, every day I live is a victory, save for regret!
Twelve. The man who seems extraordinary in my eyes—seeing him appear extraordinary in so many other people’s eyes truly feels wonderful.
When friends around me follow Dada not just with celebrity fascination, but with much deeper respect, when they tell stories about Dada, especially when the girls download his photos and say, “This man is so handsome!”… seeing all this feels wonderful, and surprising too. I feel proud… In four years of life, I’ve had the chance to learn so much in this man’s presence.
Strict discipline, love, inspiration… I’ve received everything up close, and there’s still no shortage of these things.
May your life always be filled with success and everyone’s love. Happy birthday, Dada.
Thirteen. Some people are born into this world with infinite capacity to love others. Just as they love people without any self-interest, they receive love without any self-interest too.
If you speak even a little with such people, you’ll be enchanted by their humble behavior and find yourself compelled to bow your head in deep respect without even realizing it.
Many great souls have come to this world across many ages, and departed again. I never saw any of them, but I have seen, I have been blessed to see that great soul called human being—Sushanta-da—to speak with him.
Fourteen. If someone asked me right now to list my favorite personalities, when I close my eyes I somehow see Sushanta-da—believe me, I’m not telling even a speck of a lie!
Last year when he came to Habiganj in Sylhet, I couldn’t sleep the whole night before. My long-cherished dream was about to come true—I would see him. In such a crowd of students, would I even get a chance? Besides, Sushanta-da wouldn’t recognize me among all his many fans!!!
I messaged Bhaiya: “Bhaiya, I want to take a photo with you!!!”
Do you know what Bhaiya’s reply was???
Bhaiya, not just one, we’ll take several photos. And yes, we did take several photos.
He addressed me as Bhaiya too—I was over the moon with joy!!!
Today is the birthday of that person I love!!!
I don’t know how to wish him, Happy birthday, Dada!! Many many happy returns!!
I have only one prayer to the Almighty: may Sushanta-da remain very, very healthy.
One more prayer to the Creator for such a selfless person: may my Sushanta-da find a very, very wonderful girl as his life partner very soon!!!
Fifteen. Dada… I called you to wish you a happy birthday. But when you didn’t answer the phone, I thought perhaps you were busy. Then suddenly another thought crossed my mind—maybe Dada has deleted my number, that’s why he’s not answering unknown calls… But moments later when the call came from your number, and from the other end of the line you said… Salmi, brother, tell me what’s up… my heart filled with joy. What more can I say, Dada… you’re extraordinary… only you can embrace a younger brother’s friend with such affection and care, like your own brother… Happy birthday, Dada…
Sixteen. Happy birthday to you the biggest inspirational & motivational leader of this country…
Seventeen. January or February, 2011. The MBA program office at IBA. I was looking at notices for admission procedures. I hadn’t met anyone yet. Just then I encountered someone. We were introduced. We talked a lot. A very humble person. MBA classes began too. Working together in the same group, studying and having fun together in his hostel room—like this, within a year he got selected for BCS.
Three more years have passed since then. But that person remains just the same. His humility hasn’t diminished one bit even today. Today is the birthday of that first friend from my IBA days.
Happy birthday, Sushanta bhai. Many good wishes to you.
Eighteen.
# Develop success from failures. Discouragement and failure are two of the surest stepping stones to success. ~Dale Carnegie.
# A strong, positive self-image is the best possible preparation for success. ~Joyce Brothers.
# It took me almost 2 decades to decide what I really want. When I’d decided finally, it took me only 1 year to get what I really want . . . . In short, this is the story of my life till date. ~Sushanta Paul
He seeks no reward. But from a place of gratitude, can’t we honor him with a title? Though he wants none of this. Still, from our love, respect, devotion, and loyalty…
Let Sushanta-da be honored with the title ‘A man with the lamp’.
Do you agree? If you do agree, then at the next Career Adda let him be formally honored with this title—what do you say?
…How can someone small and insignificant like me truly assess what title would appropriately honor a person like Dada? Are we really able to give Dada the respect he deserves? Like everyone else, I too agree with honoring him.
Nineteen. After my poor results in Class Nine, I first heard your name from Saumya and Russell. The day I went to coaching for the first time, I wondered what you would be like. Some elderly sir, perhaps, or someone like the director brothers of those big coaching centers. That day you came and opened the door. You were wearing a red punjabi. What a gentle way of speaking you had! I liked you so much. That very day I decided I would follow you for life. And truly, that’s what I’ve done. I still follow you. I find inspiration reading your writing. I see so many people amazed by you, learning life lessons from you. Now seeing your thousands and thousands of followers, I truly feel lucky thinking that we studied under you for four whole years. How much we learned. You taught us with your own hands, even disciplining us when needed. Thank you, sir. And happy birthday.
Had I not come to study under you, this Shubho’s life would not have become truly blessed. Many are posting pictures with you, while others are downloading photos from your wall and uploading them again with their own captions. I’m dedicating this photograph I took to you. Taken on this Probarona Purnima. The theme of this picture is…not everyone’s life moves in the same way in this world. Some lives are dynamic like fireworks. Others’ lives are still like floating lanterns. And sometimes someone’s life-lamp suddenly extinguishes. Life is all about ups and downs…I’ve tried to capture this entire concept in a single frame.
Caption: Parallel flow of lanterns and human life.
I hope you’ll like it.
Twenty. Everything there is to say about Sushanta dada, everyone has already said it all. I’m fortunate to have had the opportunity to speak directly with dada. Today is dada’s birthday. From this insignificant person, many many many good wishes and congratulations to dada.
Twenty-one. One morning I logged into Facebook and saw that Sushanta Paul had sent me a friend request! Am I seeing this wrong? Or is it a fake ID? No! It’s real indeed. I couldn’t believe my own eyes! How did my ID catch his attention from among nearly a hundred thousand followers? The thought that such a person would give me a place on his friend list had never crossed my mind.
I had been following this gentleman for just a few days. Not someone who came second in engineering entrance exams or first in the combined merit list of BCS. I was following a writer. Reading some of his pieces, tears would roll down from the corners of my eyes, while reading others, I’d laugh until my stomach hurt. More importantly, people find hope reading his writing. Each piece is like a precious gem.
I’m certain that if someone about to commit suicide reads just two lines by Sushanta Paul before taking a sip from their cup of poison, they would throw away that cup and set out in search of a new life.
Today is the birthday of that beloved Sushanta Paul dada. From the bottom of my heart I pray: may you live long, stay healthy.
Happy birthday. . . . . . . .
Twenty-two. We’ve been sent into this world carrying such great fortune with us!! Our only task is to stay alive, to learn to understand life, to remain grateful to our Creator, and to fight a relentless battle with ourselves every moment, working tremendously hard to touch our dreams. We must have faith—beautiful days will surely come!! This is life!!
The person I’ve written about—today is his birthday. May he stay well.
Twenty-three. Happy birthday, Sushanta Paul dada! This is that day when a point of light was born, and today that light is spreading far and wide. Countless people in darkness are being illuminated. May this light keep burning for many, many more days…!
Twenty-four. Enjoy life. Keep living like this bohemian. Last year on this day at Batigar, you said these very words to me. Today I’m giving your own words back to you. Show people more dreams, dream yourself, stay well.
Twenty-five. The world is giving you with both hands what is your rightful due. Those of us who do Facebooking—you might see our love, but you’ll probably never know about the prayers of our virtuous parents for you, or the well-wishes for your welfare in our daily prayers. But you’ll surely receive the fruits of these. These things flow hidden like blood in veins, unnoticed like the earth’s loving essence within flowers. That’s why I say, listen:
This is just the beginning of receiving respect and love!
You’ve seen a hall full of people’s love—a stadium full of love awaits you…Happy birthday, Sushanta Paul
Twenty-six. I thought I’d wish you at exactly one minute past twelve…yes…exactly one minute past twelve!! I’m feeling nervous! Such a great person—would that even be appropriate?! Among thousands of wishes, mine would just get flattened! So I’m deliberately saying it late: Happy birthday!
Twenty-seven. Dada, just as you are helpful in virtual life, you’re exactly the same in practical life too. How one can draw a person so close—it’s impossible to understand without being in your presence! Today is your birthday. I can’t manage to feed you cake, so only blessings remain.
Happy birthday, dada!
Twenty-eight. Despite many attempts, I couldn’t post wishes on your profile wall. So I thought, my own profile wall will do. Happy birthday, Sushanta!
May you stay very, very well, in happiness and joy—this is my prayer. (You won’t be feeding me cake anyway, so I’m not hoping for that either!)
…I pray you become like Auntie. I just love her! Learn, understand? Learn something.
…Even in a scholar’s house, the wicked are born, brother. No matter how hard I try, I can never become like Ammu. Ammu is just Ammu.
…Am I your brother?
…Just saying. You’re a friend, after all!
…And another good thing… never mind, I won’t say anything…
…Yes, let some words remain secret!
…Oh, Ammu told me to say Happy Birthday to you!
…Go and touch Auntie’s feet in greeting from my side! Your belly will shrink.
…Eat puffed rice.
Twenty-nine. Happy birthday, brother. The parents who undoubtedly deserve all the love you’ve received today—may they remain very, very well, and of course, you too.
Many people come to you only to learn about civil service exams and career advice, but I think—forget all that—if only one could become a human being like Sushanta…
A wonderfully ordinary, humble person despite having everything to be proud of…
I believe if all the people who follow you chose ‘being humble like you’ as their first preference over ‘achieving success like you,’ the world around us would change dramatically.
May the Bappi-Pappu family remain very, very well!
Thirty. How to win friends? How to win friends?
(Dedicated as a birthday wish for Sushanta Pal)
From my very early school days, I began reading Dale Carnegie’s books. He was essentially my first guru in developing a somewhat different perspective on life.
The first book I read by Dale Carnegie was How to Win Friends and Influence People. I would read it and try to follow every single idea.
When I met Sushanta Pal, I saw that every idea Dale Carnegie had written about was present in him. The amusing thing is, he had never read Dale Carnegie’s books. Actually, Dale Carnegie is the oldest guru in this field. Many later writers have written in light of his work, which Sushanta had read and followed.
Since I’ve read extensively on these matters, I pay close attention when I see these qualities in someone. Sushanta Pal possesses these qualities in full measure.
In terms of how much people love someone, Sushanta holds the first place among all the people I’ve encountered. Someone whom so many people love cannot help but be a very good person. That’s why I can’t help but love him too. Happy birthday, Sushanta. We all love you very much.
Thirty-one. Break free from the bad habit of considering someone essential to your life when they don’t consider you essential to theirs. There’s no point in suffocating yourself for someone who’s breathing perfectly fine without you. The more you pine for them, the more they’ll enjoy a kind of sick triumph. Forgetting the wrong person is a great art. It doesn’t matter how long you were with them—what matters is how well you can delete them from your life in the time ahead.
Today is the birthday of the person who wrote these words. Endless good wishes for them.
Therefore, forget the wrong people and stay well.
May all creatures in the world be happy. Peace! Peace!!
Thirty-two. Happy birthday, brother… on your birthday, my heartfelt love and
warm wishes to you. May you journey far ahead, may your path stretch even longer…
Thirty-three. Sushanta Paul, brother, I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone this much outside my family. When our minds are troubled by something, you always write about exactly that. How you understand what’s in our hearts—I’ve never wanted to solve this equation, nor will I ever want to. Without realizing it, I’ve come to love you so deeply, I don’t know when it happened, and I don’t want to know either. What good would knowing do!
Brother. Happy birthday. Please accept my heartfelt wishes. May you live among us, for all of us, for a hundred years.
Photo: The most reverence, respect, and love-filled photograph I have ever seen
Thirty-four. Cricket’s god Sachin or Bradman, football’s blessed sons Messi or Ronaldo, but in BCS there’s only one greatest of all time… The Great ‘Sushanta Paul’!
Ranking first in BCS and IBA wasn’t the end for him. A new journey began. The program called ‘Career Adda’ is his creation. Without thinking of himself, he continues to inspire thousands of young people free of charge. People usually dream while sleeping, but Sushanta Paul has taught people how to dream while awake! Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, he enchants everyone, gradually smoothing the path to success.
He has successfully completed over sixty ‘Career Adda’ programs across Bangladesh, including Dhaka, Chittagong, Rajshahi, Sylhet, and Rangpur. Standing for hours and speaking so beautifully and fluently—only Sushanta Paul can do this.
Let me share an incident. It was 2010. An ICT Festival was organized at CUET. All ex-students were taking turns saying where they were working. Brother had nothing worth mentioning then, so he felt terribly embarrassed to go on stage. In such a situation, he was forcibly sent to the stage. Brother replied in a low voice, “I’m trying to do something that could be called doing something worthwhile.” Brother felt very ashamed that day and cried quietly in private. Living as a nobody in this world is truly painful.
The boy with a 2.74 CGPA from CUET, whom no one dreamed about, is now making thousands of young people dream. How strange that is, isn’t it? Life doesn’t always stay confined within one boundary. It took him twenty years to make a decision, but only one year to reach his goal.
BCS cadre Sushanta and the person Sushanta transcend each other. Despite being extraordinary, he prefers living a very ordinary life. He can easily blend in with anyone. I’ve watched him closely since childhood… people with such honest, humble, modest, and gentle character are truly rare in this world.
Writer, teacher, literary figure, speaker, motivator, BCS cadre—no single description suffices for Dada. Many achieve success in their careers, but becoming a Sushanta Pal is never possible for anyone else. Sushanta Pal is singular. His identity is himself alone.
Last time we celebrated Dada’s birthday with family at Batikhata. This time Dada is in Satkhira—I would have been happy if he were in Chittagong. Wherever you are…stay well always, stay healthy.
Today is Dada’s birthday. Happy birthday…Big Brother. May you live on in people’s love!
Thirty-five. For some people, it’s better not to do anything at all—whatever you do falls short. I wanted to share this video I made on your timeline, but I failed. Happy Birthday To You…
Thirty-six. When two moons rise in the sky on a full moon night, what an exquisite, joyous feeling it creates—today I’m having exactly that feeling…today is the birthday of two people I love dearly…of course there will be joy…
1) Labanya Barua Mugdha…my niece, my mother, my Tukttuki… Dear one, may you live forever with all the vitality your heart desires…Nupur-da, please keep an eye on my little one…may she always keep everyone entertained with that same perpetual smile…Happy birthday, darling…
2) There are two kinds of people you can’t talk to…first, those who are envious, spiteful, slanderous, who find satisfaction in seeking out others’ flaws—I most dislike speaking with them…and then there are some people, in whose presence their depth of character, behavior, words, their generous spirit leaves you so enchanted, so respectful and reverent that your head bows automatically, you lose the power of speech…today is the birthday of one such personality whom I’ve encountered in life and lost my voice to intense admiration and respect…my deeply revered Sushanta Paul Dada…Happy birthday, Dada…if I could see Auntie today, I would bow to her once more… She has gifted us a living, breathing ideal—can a little respect ever repay that debt? It cannot…whatever happens, stay well, Dada…the one who has shown light to thousands whose backs are against the wall, who has given them courage—if he doesn’t stay well, how can thousands of dreamers stay well? Not at all…a heap of reverence on this day, Dada…stay well always…
Thirty-seven. There are some people who merge with the soul. I’m speaking of the person Sushanta. The first day I took a photo with him, I thought I might have photographed with a great man. At our next meeting, in our first conversation, I felt I was just like him. The identity of the person Sushanta rises far higher than that of an Additional Commissioner of Customs. One who teaches you to think—I am just like him.
Happy birthday, Dada. May the moments of your life be peaceful.
Thirty-eight. From what I know, Sylhet is one of your favorite places. So I’m wishing you with Sylhet’s beautiful rain, sunshine, trees, hills, waterfalls—everything. Happy birthday!
Thirty-nine. At age 27…reading this piece, I fell in love with Dada’s writing. To infuse writing with so much inspiration, enthusiasm, hope-awakening emotion is Dada’s extraordinary ability…stay well always, Dada. You keep everyone well, will always keep everyone well…I express this wish that you’ll share a profile picture with Boudi on your next birthday, and with that wish I say Happy Birthday.
Forty. Happy birthday, brother. I pray that you may live a hundred years among us. And I wish that all your incompleteness may find fulfillment on this November 2nd.
Yours truly
Your humble admirer
Forty-one. My acquaintance with Sushanta Paul-da began on Facebook. If by acquaintance we mean knowing each other personally, then not quite that. First I was an admirer of his writing, then a follower, and after that, one among the 5000 friends who stand alongside his 86,600 followers. Occasionally perhaps a few words exchanged on Messenger, that’s all. But it is a rare honor for me that he has given me a place in his friend list.
Be that as it may, Sushanta-da’s gentle and serene personality, his character’s sweetness, his writing style, his remarkable skill in arranging word after word to pull up people like us who are drowning in despair and teach us to live life as it should be lived—all this captivates me beyond measure. To tell the truth, for someone like me—a soldier repeatedly defeated in life’s battles—he has given birth to an intense longing to walk again on the path of victory in life’s struggle. Whatever I do today, whether it’s studying or anything else, I do it inspired by Sushanta-da. I have printed out his various counseling pieces and kept them with me, so that if I ever reach the brink of collapse, these writings can infuse me with life-force. And truly, these writings are saving me from falling apart today and showing me dreams of living anew. But whether I will achieve success in my life or not, I no longer think about that. I only know this much: that life is very beautiful, and there’s no point in spending this beautiful life in despair. Only the lazy and the cowardly fear life.
Sushanta-da. Even amidst thousands of busy commitments, he has voluntarily shouldered the noble responsibility of becoming a light himself, or taking up a torch to selflessly show the way to some unknown brother or sister or friend. If he hadn’t done this work, no one would have had anything to say, nor is he obligated to advise others to become BCS cadres just because he is one himself. Yet he has willingly stepped forward to guide others from his own sense of joy. He continues to inspire others to be victorious in life’s battles by giving one piece of advice after another. He teaches us to live as we should live. All of this is a great gift for us.
Truly I am proud that I was born in the same era as such a great human being, that I get to be in his presence. That I receive his inspiration in every task.
Thank you, brother. I wish that you continue teaching everyone to live this way for a thousand years.
Forty-two. Brother, today is your birthday. I don’t have the means to give you any gift on your birthday. But if Florence Nightingale is called the ‘Lady with the lamp’, then you too are our ‘Man with the lamp’. On your birthday, this title is our gift to you.
Happy birthday! Stay very well, brother.
Forty-three. A man. Humble, gentle, patient, sweet-spoken, eloquent, well-versed. The ability to make strangers feel at home with ease, the inclination to encourage people — how it’s possible to possess so many virtues, I could never have understood without seeing Sushanta Dada so closely. He seems like a magician of sorts. I am unworthy to describe him.
There’s another quality I haven’t mentioned. Dada is quite the food lover. He loves to eat immensely, it seems to me. Not only that, he loves to feed others too. He fed me so much food — Italian pasta, salted mushrooms, coffee, chicken, soft drinks, and so on. Honestly, after eating so much, I couldn’t eat anything else at night. But I got secret intelligence that Dada apparently had biryani for dinner.
I always say, many good wishes for you, and today too I’m saying many good wishes — may your journey be radiant like the sun.
Finally, it’s time to say, “Happy Birthday To You, Sushanta Paul-da.
Forty-four. Happy Birthday, Sushanta Dada! Apart from my older brother, I only address you as ‘Dada’! Your birthday date was written in my reminder diary.
Don’t forget to give a treat!
Forty-five. Dada, Sir, Sushanta Pal — whatever I call you, you wouldn’t believe how happy I’m feeling, bhaiya. On your birthday, you gave this humble soul such a great gift, Dada. Stay very well. Now and then, that line of yours keeps ringing in my ears — you said at a seminar some time ago: Just stay alive in life, you’ll get to see many things.
Please keep an eye on this humble soul.
Forty-six. May this visionary of the youth live for a thousand more years. This man keeps telling people how to overcome obstacles and achieve success in life, going from university to university, often without proper meals. After midnight tonight marks this man’s arrival in this world. Happy Birthday, Dada! The Creator has truly handcrafted some people and sent them to earth for the service of humanity.
Forty-seven. Happy Birthday. Advance greetings, Sir.
May this day lead you to reach the pinnacle of success & fame.
Just I’ll sum up saying…
THE REPUTED WILL NEVER SINK INTO OBLIVION!
Forty-eight. Dada, I don’t know the language to enchant you. Those who can’t speak beautifully can still love, can’t they? Perhaps I don’t have the ability to express the love in my heart through words, but I truly love you, respect you. Unspoken love is purer than spoken love. May God keep you alive for many days — not for yourself, but for others. Happy Birthday, Dada.
(A post of mine from that day)
Time itself changes time.
I found two screenshots from six years ago in my inbox. Some people even look at comments on my very old posts… one such person sent me these in my inbox. I’m sharing them because even thinking about it gives me little jolts. Those jolts carry regret. That regret dims my present position, even if just a little.
On November 3, 2009, a 26-year-old boy, having received 468 birthday wishes by the day before, posted on Facebook in utter amazement!
Notice something else. On such a post, the number of likes was only 28!!
There was a time when I too would get only 28 likes in total, even on a post like that! Don’t let today’s number of likes determine tomorrow’s number of likes!! Hahahaha… keep trying, you can do it; you really can!!
The very next day, meaning November 4th, that boy was replying to everyone’s comments in the comment thread and personally asking after each person’s well-being.
That time has passed. I no longer have the time to simply say “thank you” in response to everyone’s love the way I used to.
I’m reminded of a poem by Ralph Hodgson that I read in childhood:
TIME, you old gypsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
All things I’ll give you
Will you be my guest,
Bells for your jennet
Of silver the best,
Goldsmiths shall beat you
A great golden ring,
Peacocks shall bow to you,
Little boys sing,
Oh, and sweet girls will
Festoon you with may.
Time, you old gypsy,
Why hasten away?
Last week in Babylon,
Last night in Rome,
Morning, and in the crush
Under Paul’s dome;
Under Paul’s dial
You tighten your rein—
Only a moment,
And off once again;
Off to some city
Now blind in the womb,
Off to another
Ere that’s in the tomb.
Time, you old gypsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?
(A wall post I wrote for myself
on my birthday)
Brother, you keep getting calls from a TNT number
on your phone. Please, even if you have to cut another call,
receive that one! A surprise is waiting for you!! … I received this kind of text in my Facebook inbox
while taking birthday wishes over the phone! I freed up my mobile for a while.
Yesterday around
12:15 AM, RJ Salman with his extraordinary voice called from Radio Today
and informed me that many of their
listeners were requesting that I say something
to everyone on the occasion of my birthday. I was truly amazed! I’ve heard that this happens
on celebrities’ birthdays and such.
But why me!! Don’t they have
Shah Rukh Khan’s number?? In that moment
of wonder, I just said whatever came to mind.
I’m thinking, ah! We’ve been sent
to this world carrying so much good fortune with us!! Our job is simply to survive, learn to understand life, remain grateful to the Creator, and through tremendous effort,
fight with ourselves every moment to touch our dreams. We must believe that beautiful days will definitely
come!! This is life!!
Many thanks to
RJ Salman. My heartfelt love and
gratitude to those who requested to hear me speak. Much love and good wishes
to those who called and wished me through mobile/ Facebook/
WhatsApp/ Viber/ Imo.
Like Rojoni Kant,
bowing at God’s feet, I say:
Though I am unworthy and lowly,
You have not given me
less;
Thinking myself undeserving
of what You’ve given,
You haven’t taken
anything away either.
Pappu, please show this post to Mom and Dad! Everything today
is because of them!!
(Another status from that day
and some relevant comments)
From some of my
experiences, I know that some people
do this work.
If someone could gather it,
I mean, copy-paste it for me, it would benefit many people.
What work?
The work is very laborious,
time-consuming. Without love or
genuine interest, it’s impossible to do this work.
From the time I
joined Facebook until now, gathering together everything
I’ve posted, along with comments. At one point I used to reply to everyone’s comments. Many comments would come,
which were truly
beautiful! Those could also make great notes. However, to keep them in note form, many things would need
to be changed, edited.
I could do that. Worth mentioning, 95% of my previous posts
and comment writings are in English.
You could do this work year by year (for instance, gathering everything I wrote and the comments I received in 2008, all together) bit by bit. I think if someone reads through the posts and the comments from me and my friends, it wouldn’t feel too unpleasant.
Some might say you can do this using Facebook’s “Download a copy of your Facebook data” feature. You can, but that doesn’t include the comments. I want the comments too. This way I can offer some writings on various topics as gifts.
I’m not expecting comments like “do your own work yourself.” I know that. I’m asking for this help precisely because I’m unable to do it, so I’m surrendering.
I don’t know what year I joined Facebook. I want everything from the time I joined onwards.
And yes, if the work could be divided up, it would be easier.
The comments:
I’ll take 2009, because in 2008 there were only photo posts, no written pieces.
Brother, do you need the photo captions as well?
You can do the work yourself by going to the activity log and checking.
Alright, I’ll do it for you.
Brother, I’ll try starting from today.
From 2008? Alright, I’m taking this year’s work. Shanto saheb, there are no posts in 2008, just photos. I’m taking 2009, let others take the rest.
Nonsense. Don’t you have any work, brother!
…give me some work. Sister, don’t ever say such things again. You might have said it with a simple heart, but many people wait to hear something like that. I really dislike hearing such things. Really!
Then get married!
Brother never does anything meaningless; whatever he does, he does thoughtfully.
I can try to give it a shot…
It would be difficult for one person to do the whole thing; rather, if each year from ’08-’15 were divided up and assigned separately, it would be less troublesome; and you’d get feedback more quickly.
Alright boss, I’ll take 2012.
I’ll do 2010……
Brother, I have all your updates from the very beginning, meaning from 2008 to 2013. It’s in Word format, but without comments. I think much of this work is already advanced; now we just need to collect the comments from those years and compile them. I have a suggestion about this—please check your inbox…
No normal person could tell you to “do your own work yourself,” brother. Even if you don’t keep track of all you’ve done for us, we do.
Those who are interested in this matter, please take the trouble to contact me (inbox). I have all his posts from 2008 to 2013, so the work will become much easier. Thank you.
Brother, I want to share your notes on my timeline/personal group. Do you have any objection?
Even if elder brother has no objection, I do. Read, and having read well, go serve the country in worthy places.
Brother, we are all waiting to hear your words of wisdom. Advance greetings to you from Rajshahi University.
Brother, days don’t pass for lack of work. From those responsibilities that no one has taken on yet, give me 2-3 years’ worth.
Brother, I copied the data from 2012 onwards, but I didn’t copy the comments!
Happy birthday, dear brother, I don’t know if this will catch your eye. Still, what would you tell those who are enthusiastic about this work—to go look at this link? It might be of use to them.
Sir, I became your follower some time ago, and in the meantime I have saved whatever you have posted. I know your posts are important and will be useful for my work. If what I have can be of use to you, I would be happy.
I am harboring the intention of doing the ones from 2009. But you’ll have to give me some time. I’m also a bit of the lazy type, you see. I remain awaiting your reply.