Published: 08:05 AM, 18 April 2026
Iqbal Alam’s Baro Baitaler Deshe: A Reflection of Contemporary Literature and Crisis
Baro Baitaler Deshe (In the Land of Twelve Phantoms) is the debut poetry collection of poet Iqbal Alam. His companionship with poetry began during his school days. In time, he established himself as a poet by contributing to the then-popular little magazine Sonar Horin of this region, as well as the daily newspapers Sangbad and Ganakantha. After completing his higher education at Jagannath University, Iqbal Alam took charge of his ancestral business, Firoz Library.
Despite his long engagement in the literary field, he remained reluctant to publish his creations in book form. I consider this a manifestation of his ‘poetic consciousness.’ He took time, sought time, and focused on maturity. Thus, after a long wait, his first poetry collection, Baro Baitaler Deshe (In the Land of Twelve Phantoms), saw the light of day in 2023. This, in itself, reflects the poet’s maturity and intellectual depth.
The book is dedicated to his parents, Mia Md. Ramzan Ali and Firoza Begum. It is published by his youngest son, Irfan Oni, and the cover is illustrated by Biplab Roy. This collection contains eighty-eight poems. Alongside the poet’s personal experiences of love and separation, it vividly portrays contemporary social, political, and cultural crises, while also singing songs of hope.
The opening poem, Jibon Ek Purano Dakbox (Life Is an Old Mailbox), is a powerful and universal poem. Such a deep anguish about life is often found among conscious individuals. The poem begins:
“While searching for water lilies, I drowned into the depths/ made my dwelling in the abyss. Trapped in the Bermuda Triangle/ perhaps there is no return. Yet in the breeze of spring/ in the land of milky clouds/ even migratory birds find their way back.” The final stanza is particularly enchanting: “Here, life is an old mailbox/ neglected, holding the elegy of time/ rusted lament in its chest/ gathering the dust of oblivion.”
The second poem, Ghorer Bhetor Gorbosoti (A Graveyard Within a Trance), reveals how politically conscious and unflinching Iqbal Alam is as a poet. He boldly critiques the ruling regime. As he penned:“Hunger burns all day in the kitchen of the mind/ the market is aflame/ slipping through the torn pocket/ dreams of small coins fall away./ Eyes of citizens in TCB lines/ watch the balloons of ‘development’/ rise in the dust of Land Cruisers.”
Another remarkable poem is Rabindranath Eshechilen TSC-te (Rabindranath Came to TSC), where he captures how ritualistic celebration often insults and undermines the Bengali language, alongside the issue of cultural aggression:
“The sorrowful alphabet is not well/ at times it flares in saline tears./ It once flamed in ’52/ in the blood-red fire of martyrs/ again in ’71/ for a map of its own/ in the roar of a true Bengali—/ ‘This time the struggle is for independence.’”
The poem Janani O Jolore Kabbo (The Epic of Mother and Water) powerfully addresses the aggression and dominance of the corrupt in contemporary literature. As the poet portrayed:
“At the bedside, the hood of a black serpent/ like the trembling eyes of a bird/ the shattered face of a mother/ no path of escape anywhere/ even the last refuge infested by phantoms./
The royal poet engrossed in hymns of praise/ the citizen’s gaze a saline elegy.”
Another outstanding poem is Bhangon (Fracture). It portrays the inevitable collapse when relationships are governed by selfish calculations. As the poet penned:
“Once a mountain stood with its chest out/ daring to resist storms and tides./ Now it is ruled by decay/ fractures lament to the call of water./ Promises shatter like glass bangles/ hearts break, beloveds break/ in silence breaks the flow of water/ in fracture-laden consciousness.”
In the poem Spartacus Amio Here Gechi (Spartacus, I Too Have Lost), the poet expresses the surrender and failure of the honest. As he wrote: “They tripped me and climbed to the summit/ I remain a directionless wanderer/ running endlessly since then—/ yet unable to move ahead./ I only recite the moral lessons/ engraved in my childhood by my father...”
The poem Asader Lash Hate (Holding Asad’s Corpse) stands as the poet’s declaration of commitment to literature against all forms of aggression and decay. As the poet portrayed: “It is better to remain a hundred hands away/ from the Chanakyan craft of political artists/ and Goebbelsian falsehood.”
Another beautiful poem, Poth Chine Nio (Find Your Way), explores the tensions and estrangements in relationships. As the poet illustrated: “A river descending from the mountains/ asks no one how far the sea lies./ One who has learned to walk never loses the path./ The traveler who once found solace under a tree/ today cannot place his feet upon that soil.”
The romantic poem Obhimane (In Sulk) is equally captivating. As the poet penned:
“I did not, in Brahma’s delirium, tell Saraswati/ ‘O beauty, cease your music!’/ Nor did I vow, in Gautama’s guise, not to touch Ahalya./ Yet the pillows of night/ in sulk, drift apart in opposition.”
Manushpathe Amar Okkhomota (My Inability to Read Humans) is another profound poem. This inability is not the poet’s alone; it belongs to us all, surrounded as we are by masked faces. As he demonstrated: “I am greatly incapable of reading humans./ Burned daily in the wrath of the wrong ones,/ I carry a Sisyphean penance./ Like Rohingya refugees,/ some have crossed the Naf on my shoulders./ Others, with canine tongues,/ have licked clean this flesh and bone./ At day’s end, they are the ones/ who proudly behead me.”
The poem Madhurena Samapayet exposes the hypocrisy of state machinery and the anguish of the middle class. As the poet penned: “In TCB lines lie eyes like thirsty birds/ the pendulum of dreams trembles/ shackles cling to the feet./ Not everyone can stand in line./ Let incense burn in the chest,/ I shall not go as offering./ Let lived sorrows remain pressed in ten fingers/ perhaps this life will not end sweetly.”
The patriotic poem Bangla Amar Swapno Amar (Bengal, My Dream, My Own) resonates with rhythm and emotion:
“How shall I live, mother, if something happens to you?”
“Bengal, my dream, my land of struggle,/ here I shall sleep when the story ends./ Salam, Zahir, Selina lie asleep here/ in Tungipara rests Bangabandhu Sheikh.”
The title poem, Baro Baitaler Deshe (In the Land of Twelve Phantoms), is a masterpiece portraying the spectral nature of our social order. As the poet penned:
“There the sky descended into the sea/ the sun played hide-and-seek in cloud-houses.../ In the sound of fractures, night’s silence breaks/ I drenched the arid land to the brim./ Yet the fear remains... the sound of collapse echoes.../ Even amid breaking,/ a peninsula awakens afar./ Here the purity of the kathgolap drowns in murky water—/ whom shall I love in this land of twelve phantoms?/ My erudite detachment endures.”
The poem Kew Kew Eka Hante (Some Walk Alone) critiques the anarchy and corruption in literature. As the poet illustrated: “Literature in the grip of mafias.../ gold-filled sacks on Sindbad’s ships/ certificates, crests, titles/ the label ‘poet’.../ and thus herds of poet-cattle/ enter the pen./ Not all possess a canine tongue/ to lick leftovers—/ some still walk alone,/ like Gautama who never touched Ahalya/ meditation being his all.”
Another powerful and timely poem in this collection is Shoto Mujiber Portrait (Portraits of a Hundred Mujibs). In this poem, Iqbal Alam’s political consciousness comes vividly to light. As the poet penned:
“From the wheels of Land Cruiser Prados/
The dust of ‘development’ rises for miles and miles.
Brokers of conscience trade in crafty bargains/ measuring Bangladesh inch by inch.
A mere glance into the bioscope reveals—
the spectacle of monkeys dividing bread,
casinos, Papia, lords of yaba, pillows piled high/ or the hollow hymns sung to the trees of Hiramati’s ‘ideals.’”
Dedicated to poet Obayed Mazumder, Daake Nijhum Kuhok (The Silent Enchantment Calls) is another evocative poem. As the poet wrote: “In glassy water, a sky floats/ I once flew kites of joy there/ like a restless boy./ That sky was your chest/ that pond was you—/ clear, tender, soothing affection.”
In honor of writer Diltaz Rahman, he wrote the prose poem Shedin (That Day). The poet portrayed: “Diltaz, a battle-worn woman/ like Sultana Razia, bears all struggles alone./ Within her words lay a treasure island./ Refreshed by the coolness of her speech/ I stepped into battle again—/ a war for life, like hers.”
Another powerful poem, Kew Kew Pore Thake Bratye (Some Remain Outcast), reflects on truth and marginalization. As the penned: “Whispers of slander spread ear to ear/ truths become casteless, untouchable, impure./ In the market of vile phantoms,/ love is meaningless./ Yet in the city of the blind/ some still sell mirrors/ some still wander with Diogenes’ lantern.”
I believe Baro Baitaler Deshe stands as the finest creation of Iqbal Alam’s literary life. It beautifully reflects his personal experiences, social consciousness, political awareness, humanity, and secular outlook. Through this work, Iqbal Alam emerges as a ‘powerful poet.’ Even if he never publishes another poetry book, this single collection will keep him relevant across time.
Emran Emon is an eminent journalist, columnist and Editor of Saturday Post.
He can be reached at [email protected]
