Rabindranath Tagore wrote in Sonar Tori: ঠাঁই নাই, ঠাঁই নাই— ছোটো সে তরী,আমারি সোনার ধানে গিয়েছে ভরি।
Sonar Tori: Rabindranath Tagore
The boat leaves full, the shore stands silent. Some journeys move before you can catch them. That ache lives in me. A friend once said that when purpose is real, time feels short. Only idle hearts feel endless hours.
My hours feel small. My purpose feels large.
“Rakhia sonar tori, tire eka bose achi\”.
Someone waits beside a golden possibility. I feel that stillness, yet I cannot sit quietly. My notebooks fill, my ears reach for sounds not yet born, my pulse races ahead of my calendar.A voice rises inside me each morning, calling toward a sound Bangladesh has not yet heard. I see a jazz chamber orchestra breathing through Bangla phrasing, where folk melodies stretch into new harmony and Jaat Galo lifts itself into a fresh horizon.
I am shaping a violin method grounded in Bangla emotion and sharpened by global mastery, where a single bow stroke carries both Lalon’s earth and Paganini’s precision.
I am building a bridge for music: an app where sorolipi becomes staff notation and staff returns to Bangla, so our language can travel widely and return proudly.
Dreams are boats. Work is oar. Time is tide.The water is rising. I am readying the shore.My hands are busy. My journey has already begun.