The Poem That Shook the World: ‘September on Jessore Road’ by Allen Ginsberg

In the fall of 1971, amid the harrowing chaos of the Bangladesh Liberation War, a poem emerged from the heart of a distant land and cut across borders, politics, and prejudice. That poem was Allen Ginsberg’s September on Jessore Road a soul-wrenching, visionary outcry against inhumanity, suffering, and political betrayal. Composed during one of the darkest chapters in South Asian history, the poem stood not just as a literary milestone, but as a powerful act of witness and solidarity—a poetic scream that reached the conscience of the world.

Allen Ginsberg, one of the foremost voices of the Beat Generation, was born on June 3, 1926, in Newark, New Jersey. Ginsberg, a spiritual, political, and artistic rebel, made his name with the controversial and electrifying poem Howl (1956), which condemned the soul-crushing effects of American capitalism, militarism, and cultural conformity. He was no stranger to protest. Whether it was the Vietnam War, sexual repression, or imperialistic meddling, Ginsberg stood firm on the frontlines of dissent. In 1971, he turned his gaze to the genocide and refugee crisis unfolding in the-then East Pakistan, soon to become Bangladesh.

The Pakistani military, under Operation Searchlight launched on March 25, 1971, unleashed a brutal crackdown on the Bengali population. Villages were razed, intellectuals slaughtered, and millions of men, women, and children fled across the border into India. The magnitude of the humanitarian crisis was staggering. By conservative estimates, over 10 million refugees poured into India, creating makeshift camps along the border, particularly along the Jessore Road in West Bengal.

Ginsberg, moved by newspaper reports and the testimonies of fellow activists, decided to see the devastation firsthand. He traveled to Calcutta in September 1971, and what he witnessed left an indelible mark on his soul. Amidst monsoon rains and punishing heat, he walked through overcrowded refugee camps, observing the sea of humanity clinging to life without shelter, food, or hope. He saw infants with swollen bellies from malnutrition, mothers weeping silently, fathers dying of starvation, and children crawling through mud.

In response, Ginsberg poured his grief and fury into verse, penning September on Jessore Road—a 152-line poem that remains one of the most powerful anti-war, anti-imperialist works in modern poetry. The piece begins with raw, unflinching imagery:

“Millions of babies watching the skies / Bellies swollen, with big round eyes / On Jessore Road–long bamboo huts / No place to shit but sand channel ruts.”

These opening lines evoke a landscape of despair. It is not just a place, but a purgatory where time has stopped and pain multiplies. The repetition of “millions” in the poem serves as both a lament and a drumbeat—a reminder of the unimaginable scale of human suffering. Ginsberg doesn’t hide behind abstraction or metaphor; he confronts the horror with searing honesty.

“Millions of fathers in rain / Millions of mothers in pain / Millions of brothers in woe / Millions of sisters nowhere to go.”
This litany becomes a prayer of grief, a chant of protest, and a reckoning with moral complicity. Ginsberg weeps not only for the refugees, but for the silence of the powerful, particularly his own government.

Indeed, at the time, the U.S. administration, led by President Richard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, remained a staunch ally of Pakistan and its military regime. In one of the most cynical chapters of Cold War realpolitik, the United States turned a blind eye to the atrocities in the-then East Pakistan, backing a regime engaged in what many scholars and observers, including Senator Edward Kennedy, labeled as genocide. Nixon even deployed the Seventh Fleet to the Bay of Bengal, aiming to intimidate India and halt the momentum of the liberation struggle.

Ginsberg was incensed. His outrage was not only poetic—it was political. As he cried in verse for the people of Bangladesh, he condemned the silence of American power:

“Where are the helicopters of American air / to bring humanitarian food?”
“Where is America's Air Force of Light? / Bombing North Laos all day and all night.”

In these lines, Ginsberg juxtaposes American military might with its moral bankruptcy. While the U.S. government boasted of defending freedom worldwide, it was bombing Southeast Asia and ignoring the cries of Bengalis dying in muddy camps. Ginsberg’s poem was, therefore, not merely an artistic creation but an indictment—of hypocrisy, of imperialism, and of the failure of conscience.

His poem reverberated through poetry readings in New York churches, cafés, and universities. Ginsberg recited it at the Church of St. George in Manhattan, where it caught the attention of his friend and musical legend Bob Dylan. Moved by the poem’s raw emotion and urgency, Dylan composed a musical adaptation of the work. Though the song was never officially released, its impact, along with George Harrison and Ravi Shankar’s Concert for Bangladesh—the first major benefit concert of its kind—helped awaken international awareness of the crisis.

Indian singer Moushumi Bhowmik would later perform a poignant Bengali rendition, capturing the depth of Ginsberg’s solidarity with the Bengali people. Through these cross-cultural expressions, September on Jessore Road transcended language and geography. It became a symbol of ethical resistance—proof that a poet’s voice can challenge empires.

The poem’s resonance lies not only in its content but in the courage of its creation. Ginsberg dared to hold a mirror to his own nation. As George Orwell once wrote, “In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.” Ginsberg did just that, at a time when many in the West were indifferent or complicit.

For his invaluable support during the Liberation War, the Government of Bangladesh posthumously awarded Allen Ginsberg the ‘Friendship Award’, honoring him as a true friend of freedom.

And what of the legacy of September on Jessore Road today, in 2025? The images Ginsberg painted still haunt those who dare to remember. His lines, soaked in rain, mud, and tears, are not mere relics—they are living history, warning us of what happens when power forgets humanity. They remind us that poetry, in the hands of the fearless, is a weapon more powerful than silence.

I can say with all my heart that this poem moved me to tears. It captured the suffering of a people not with statistics or political jargon, but with the trembling voice of compassion. Allen Ginsberg, a poet of another land, stood with us when many turned away. For that, all Bangladesh’s people owe him a debt of gratitude that words can scarcely repay.

In the words of Percy Bysshe Shelley, “Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.” Ginsberg legislated with sorrow, with fire, and with truth.

Long may September on Jessore Road echo—not only as a chronicle of suffering, but as a call to never forget, never abandon, and never stand silent in the face of injustice.


Anwar A. Khan is a freedom
fighter and a columnist on
politics and international affairs.