The Greatness and Multifaceted Legacy of Emran Emon

December 28 marks the birthday of Emran Emon—an individual of multifaceted talent, a writer, journalist and columnist. Through his birth, Bangladesh and the world have been gifted a brilliant and deeply humane soul. True to the saying “morning shows the day,” one can already sense, in Emran Emon, what he is destined to become and what he will offer to the world in the near future. First and foremost, I wish Emran Emon a very happy birthday!

You are a man with a kind heart and an enthusiastic soul, and your sincerity of conduct has left a deep and lasting impression on me. In a time when achievements are often worn like badges of ego, you carry yours with remarkable humility. To be a journalist,, a columnist, and at the same time a young editor of The Asian Age is no small responsibility. Yet what defines you most is not the number of titles you hold, but the ethical grace with which you inhabit them. As Rabindranath Tagore once observed, “The highest education is that which does not merely give us information but makes our life in harmony with all existence.” Your life and work reflect that harmony.

Your belief: "The world is my country, and I am the global citizen”, is not a borrowed phrase, but a lived philosophy. It echoes Thomas Paine’s universal humanism and resonates deeply with Tagore’s idea of Visva-Manava, the universal human being. In your writing, borders dissolve and humanity takes precedence. Your words do not shout; they persuade. They do not impose; they invite reflection. George Orwell wrote that “Good prose is like a windowpane.” Your prose allows readers to see clearly, without distortion, without ornamentation for its own sake, yet never without depth.

On 13th December, during Mohit Ul Alam Sir’s birthday, when he acknowledged you as a “true writer”, the recognition felt profoundly apt. A true writer, after all, is not defined by publication alone, but by moral responsibility. Albert Camus believed that a writer must stand “neither with the executioners nor with the victims, but with human dignity.” Your work consistently takes that stance, balanced, humane, and ethically alert. You write not to dominate a narrative, but to illuminate it.

What moves me most is your philosophy of life. You see life as a flower, one that offers beauty and fragrance without expectation, and quietly affirms that true happiness lies not in possession, but in sacrifice. This idea is deeply philosophical, yet profoundly simple. Khalil Gibran wrote, “Life gives unto life while you give of yourself.” You give, your time, your attention, your understanding, without calculation. In doing so, you transform ordinary interactions into acts of quiet generosity.

You do not measure life by what people do for you, but by what you can do for others. This recalls Aristotle’s belief that a meaningful life is one lived in virtue and service. Your gratitude toward people, the one who offers you a cup of tea, the person who insists on paying a fare, the rickshaw-puller who safely takes you home, the driver who walks you to your gate, the voice that offers honest counsel, the stranger who speaks with kindness, reveals a rare moral attentiveness. You see dignity in the everyday, and that sensitivity is the mark of a deeply humane mind.

As a person, you are a worshipper of peace and beauty. Your desire to be only a tree and a quiet river in one lifetime is not escapism; it is wisdom. It reflects Wordsworth’s belief that nature heals what noise disturbs. You avoid conflict not out of weakness, but out of clarity. Even toward those who have misunderstood you, harmed you, or stood against you, you carry no bitterness. As Rumi wrote, “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.” You choose self-cultivation over resentment.

You may forget many things, but you never forget people. Time may interrupt conversations, distance may create silence, yet remembrance remains. This quiet loyalty speaks volumes about your character. At this stage of life, you consciously choose solitude, not as isolation, but as reflection. Solitude, for you, has become a sanctuary. Nietzsche once noted that solitude is often misunderstood, yet it is there that the individual hears their truest thoughts. In that stillness, you find peace; in quiet, you find clarity.

Your gratitude toward humanity is inexhaustible. If someone offers you one cup of tea, you think of how to offer two in return. What you receive from one person, you try to return manifold to many. No one who has formed a bond with you has ever been diminished by it. This is ethical reciprocity at its finest. You acknowledge your own imperfections,you have pride, you have moments of hurt, you have human frailties,but you are never ungrateful. And as Shakespeare reminds us, “The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven.” Your mercy, like your gratitude, flows naturally.

I am deeply grateful to you,not only for your guidance and kindness, but for the example you set through your life. You teach without preaching. You guide without commanding. You influence without imposing. In a world growing louder by the day, your quiet integrity feels almost radical.

On your birthday, I do not merely wish you success. I wish you continuity, of spirit, of conscience, of compassion. May your words continue to illuminate rather than intimidate. May your thoughts remain rooted in humanity. May your solitude continue to nourish you, and may your connections remain sincere.

May all your dreams spread their wings beneath a colourful sky. May you climb the ladder of dreams and rise toward the infinite horizon. With heartfelt prayers, enduring respect, and warmest wishes, I wish you a very happy birthday, my brother! 


Morsalina Ratna is a writer and reviewer.