I enjoy my morning walk winter, summer or during
monsoons.
The other day I got caught in the rain in the middle
of my routine walk. As I pondered what to do next,
suddenly
I heard a cuckoo warbling. Where was the cuckoo? At a time
like this
in the vexatious ,slothful rain and sultry heat
on which
tree's branch was it seated and singing in a tone of

rare pleasure?
It's not the time for its arrival. Had it then lost its way
or been dislodged from its moorings and come back to this
song-starved land, where no music can be heard?

Tell me, bird, for whom you sing all alone?
Are you really so lonely that you sing, a bit unattentively,
and hidden from sight, to ease your mind of its care
or is singing just your joy? You're that genuine artist
who goes on doing his work in silence, in solitude,
alone, never feeling the need of seeking someone's help.

Abu Rushd is ex-teacher of English, Jahangirnagar University.