Chumkee Majumder (Përgatiti Angela Kosta)
Moderator 
Chumkee Majumder: A Life Woven with Poetry, Education, and Humanity
In the vast expanse of human stories, some lives shine not only for their accomplishments but for the aura they create around them, an aura where intellect, compassion, and artistry converge into something timeless. Such is the life of Chumkee Majumder, whose name, though simple in sound, carries within it the cadence of poetry, the strength of education, and the dignity of service. She is not merely an individual whose biography can be measured in dates, institutions, and designations; she is a presence, a movement, a voice that resonates across classrooms, communities, and the global literary stage. To know her story is to enter into the gentle yet firm rhythm of a woman who has lived her truth with unwavering grace.
Chumkee Majumder was born with the spirit of curiosity and the heart of a dreamer. From the beginning, she was drawn to learning not as a duty but as a calling, for education seemed to her not only a way to shape her future but also a way to touch the larger fabric of human existence. That calling led her to the Institute of Education and Research at the University of Dhaka, a place that sharpened her intellect and nurtured her vision. Her academic journey did not end there, for alongside her immersion in the discipline of education, she pursued the rigorous path of law, a field that demanded clarity, justice, and courage. This union of education and law within her was not accidental; it was symbolic of the dual flame she carried—the flame to teach and to illuminate, and the flame to protect and to uphold truth. These early steps prepared her not only for a profession but for a lifelong mission: to dedicate herself to the service of people through knowledge and justice.
Her professional journey began with the most profound and humbling of roles—that of a teacher. In the classroom, she discovered her truest self. Surrounded by young minds, she realized that teaching is not the act of transferring information but the sacred art of awakening, of helping a child discover the light within. For Chumkee, every student was not merely a name on a register but a story waiting to unfold, a dream waiting to be nurtured. She gave herself fully to this work, day after day, lesson after lesson, knowing that the seeds she planted would one day grow into forests of possibility. Those who encountered her in those formative years remember her not only as a teacher of subjects but as a teacher of life, a mentor who listened, guided, and inspired.
Her natural leadership soon lifted her into the role of principal, a position where her influence extended beyond the classroom to the institution as a whole. The transition was not merely administrative; it was transformative. As principal, she became the steward of an educational environment, ensuring that the school was not only a place of examinations but a sanctuary of growth. She balanced discipline with kindness, tradition with innovation, and efficiency with humanity. Under her leadership, the institution did not merely function—it flourished. Students thrived, teachers felt supported, and the larger community recognized that the school was becoming a space where education was linked with human dignity.
Today, in her role as a Teaching Administrator, Chumkee continues her journey with renewed vision. Administration, for many, may seem like the mechanical side of education, but for her it is yet another form of artistry. To design curricula, to shape policies, to ensure quality—these are, in her hands, creative acts that ripple outward into society. She sees every program not as a file or a project but as a thread in the greater tapestry of education. Her days are filled with responsibilities, but at their heart is the same unchanging conviction: that education must be meaningful, must uplift, and must empower.
Yet to describe Chumkee Majumder only in terms of education and administration would be to tell only half of her story. For beneath her professional identity lies her humanitarian soul, one that beats with an unrelenting love for humanity. She has always believed that true success is not measured by titles or designations but by the lives one touches. Throughout her life, she has extended herself beyond her professional duties to engage with people, to listen, to help, and to bring comfort. Her presence in any gathering is felt not because she demands attention but because she radiates sincerity. She believes that her work—whether in the classroom, the office, or the community—is a form of service, a way of giving back to the world that shaped her. This belief has made her a powerful voice for positive change, a woman who reminds society that progress must always be tied to compassion.
But perhaps the most remarkable and enduring aspect of her life lies in her identity as a poet. Words are the most delicate yet most powerful tools, and in Chumkee’s hands they become music, philosophy, and prayer. She is recognized today as one of the most influential poets of contemporary world literature, and rightly so. Her poetry is not mere ornamentation of language; it is a vessel of truth. She writes of love, of justice, of humanity, of the quiet courage that sustains people in times of darkness. She writes of nature, seeing in the flight of birds or the falling of rain a metaphor for human resilience. Her verses carry the warmth of intimacy and the force of conviction, making them both personal and universal.
What distinguishes Chumkee’s poetry is its rootedness in her lived experience. As a teacher, she has witnessed the innocence and fragility of young minds; as a principal, she has carried the burden of responsibility; as a humanitarian, she has seen pain and hope intertwined; as a woman, she has known the struggles of identity and resilience. All of these find their way into her poetry, giving it a depth and authenticity that resonates across cultures and languages. Critics note how her work transcends geographical boundaries: a poem born in Dhaka finds echoes in Delhi, in London, in New York, because it speaks to the shared human condition. Readers return to her poems not just for beauty but for strength, for in her lines they find courage to endure, to believe, and to dream.
Her position in contemporary literature is not merely as a poet but as a voice of conscience. In a world fractured by divisions and uncertainties, her poetry serves as a reminder of what binds us together. She is that rare poet who lives her verses; her humanitarian work, her educational leadership, and her personal philosophy all flow back into her art, making her life and her poetry indistinguishable. To read her is to know her, and to know her is to encounter the poetry of life itself.
The story of Chumkee Majumder, then, is not confined to a résumé of degrees, positions, or publications. It is the story of a woman who chose to dedicate herself to others, who carried within her the dual flame of intellect and compassion, who made every act—whether teaching, leading, or writing—a form of poetry. Her life is a reminder that biography is not merely a record of events but a portrait of a spirit. And in her spirit, one sees clarity of purpose, resilience in adversity, tenderness in strength, and above all, an unwavering belief in humanity.
As she continues her journey, Chumkee remains both an educator shaping futures and a poet shaping souls. She stands among us as a figure of inspiration, her life itself a poem still being written. In years to come, her influence will not be measured only in the students she taught, the institutions she led, or the poems she published, but in the quiet transformations she inspired in countless hearts. For ultimately, Chumkee Majumder is more than a name—she is a living testament to the truth that education, compassion, and poetry, when united in one life, can indeed illuminate the world.
Poems
1.
The Unfettered Self
They'll whisper, they'll shout, they'll cast their gray doubt,
Their words like sharp stones, a venomous spout.
But their noise is a phantom, a whisper in wind,
A story they've written, a chapter unpenned.
I am not their mirror, reflecting their dread,
I am the book I'm writing, with a life to be led.
So their barbs do not pierce, their judgments don't sting,
I’m a bird in the sky, with a song I must sing.
This self, this my core, is a treasure so rare,
Not for sale, not for trade, not for anyone's stare.
I'm a painting unique, with strokes all my own,
A seed in the wild, from a garden unknown.
And those who can see it, the truth in my soul,
Who embrace what I am, making me feel whole,
They are my true north, my harbor, my home,
The few, not the many, with whom I can roam.
So let the world clamor, let their voices ascend,
A million strong chorus, with no end.
Their volume can't reach me, their meaning is lost,
A silent-film movie, at nobody's cost.
My life is my stage, and I am the lead,
My voice is the script, a beautiful creed.
My wishes, my truths, at a thunderous roar,
While the chatter of others is mute at the door.
For one's journey is theirs, and theirs alone,
A path to be walked, a legacy sown.
Don't let a stray comment, a casual disdain,
Bring your spirit to halt, in sorrow and pain.
This life is a gift, a singular flight,
So don't dim your sparkle to fit someone's light.
Keep moving, keep striving, with a faith so profound,
For the final, sweet laughter will be yours, I have found.
Just stay on your course, let your purpose be true,
Let the world spin on by, it has nothing on you.
For the greatest of secrets, to live and be free,
Is letting their words be just what they will be.
Unheard and unheeded, like dust in the air,
For your peace is a fortress, beyond their repair
2
The Unspoken Wound
You cast a stone into the calmest lake,
Then bid the ripples vanish for your sake.
You watch the pain bloom on my face,
And demand a smile to take its place.
You tear a page from my story's book,
Then ask, "Why do you give that look?"
You feed me words of venomous spite,
And wonder why my world lacks light.
You build a wall with whispered lies,
Then mock the tears within my eyes.
You lock the door and throw away the key,
Then shout, "Why don't you feel so free?"
You wound my spirit with your cruel hand,
Then say, "It was all part of the plan."
You drain my strength until I'm weak and small,
Then act surprised when I can't stand up tall.
You seek to mend the broken, but with tape,
A fragile cover for a great escape.
You think a bandage on a gaping wound
Can heal the soul you have consumed.
The heart you broke cannot be made anew,
By wishing I'd forget what you put me through.
So don't ask for grace, or for a gentle word,
When the sound of my silence is all that is heard.
You cast a stone into the calmest lake,
Then bid the ripples vanish for your sake.
3
The silent battles
A battlefield, they whisper, a constant fray,
Two warriors, clashing day by day.
But they see the surface, the weary face,
And not the love that holds this sacred place.
My dearest foe, my truest friend,
We stand as one until the end.
The silent battles, the silent cost,
For a family that must not be lost.
They think this war is fought within,
But we know where the true fronts begin.
The world, a storm with a judging eye,
Questions us as we walk on by.
They see the cracks, the tired hand,
But not the foundation on which we stand.
This bond of two, a public stage,
Where every soul can turn a page.
To criticize our every move,
And pass their judgment to disapprove.
We give our all, a selfless plea,
For the health of our family.
We sacrifice our wants, our dreams,
For a love that’s stronger than it seems.
We give our time, our very breath,
And face the world’s critical death.
We are a shield, a fortress strong,
Against the world where we belong.
Not fighting you, my partner true,
But fighting for what we hold so new.
The smiles of children, a peaceful night,
These are the goals for which we fight.
So let them talk, let them all stare,
We have a bond beyond compare.
For in this fight, we stand as one,
Until the setting of the sun.
And when the day is finally done,
Our victory is a love well-won.
A tapestry of joys and pain,
Woven together in the sun and rain.
The world may see a broken place,
But we see love, and we see grace.
The greatest battle, fierce and long,
Is to keep our family well and strong.
And in this fight, my hand in yours,
We stand together, behind these doors.
Our love, a banner, held up high,
Beneath the ever-watching sky.
So let them think what they will say,
We fight together, come what may.
4
The silent truth unfold
From a void of knowing, hung in air,
Words fall as dust, a hollow sound.
Love's stitched field, a treacherous snare,
Quicksand dreams on hallowed ground.
They mock the light of honest sight,
A cruel mirage, a whispered lie.
And curse the dragonfly’s swift flight,
While secretly they wish to fly.
So let’s abandon what we speak,
And let the silent truth unfold.
The words we use are thin and weak,
And leave our deepest tales untold.
A labyrinth of broken vows,
A chasm where our meanings hide.
The silent truth that disavows
The noise we build to stay inside.
For every word that seeks to mend,
A dozen more will tear and fray.
A secret we can never lend,
A truth that language casts away.
So let our mouths be closed, and sealed,
A fragile quiet, a new start.
Let what is real be now revealed,
Within the garden of the heart.
Let's sow a moon, a silver plea,
Upon a patch of fertile soul.
A private light for you and me,
To make our broken spirits whole.
Let's till a piece of open sky,
A canvas pure, serene, and vast.
A place where silent moments lie,
Where present joy can ever last.
And plant some fireflies, aglow,
A constellation, small and bright.
The hidden feelings we can show,
Bathed in a gentle, living light.
Let's bid farewell to hollow phrase,
And all the noise we try to own.
In this new world of silent ways,
The deepest love is truly known.
No longer from our lips we'll speak,
The noisy clamor of the day.
Let's meet and talk upon the peak
Where only eyes have words to say.
For in the silence, we will find,
The kindest truth, a gentle sign.
A perfect union of the mind,
Where yours and mine are intertwined.
5. The truest part of me
I love the sea, the endless blue,
A world of wonder, deep and new.
The crashing waves, a constant song,
Where secrets of the past belong.
The salty air upon my face,
The ocean's wild and untamed grace.
I love the sand beneath my feet,
The rhythm of the ebb and fleet.
I love the mountains, grand and high,
That pierce the silent, watching sky.
Their jagged peaks of stone and snow,
Where silent rivers start to flow.
The winding trails, the ancient pines,
The silent world that truth defines.
I climb to touch the clouds above,
And feel the weight of a quiet love.
I love the forests, dark and deep,
Where nature's oldest stories sleep.
The sun, a whisper through the leaves,
The mossy ground where magic weaves.
The earthy scent, the hidden stream,
A waking, wild, and peaceful dream.
I walk among the silent trees,
And find a deep and sacred ease.
For in these places, wild and free,
I find the truest part of me.
A soul connected, calm and whole,
Reflected in each place's soul.
6. Simple peace
If I were a bird with wings so wide,
I'd leave the world of hurt behind.
The air, my canvas, blue and grand,
I'd fly above this troubled land.
No borders, lines, or walls to find,
Just freedom for the heart and mind.
I'd ride the currents, swift and high,
A tiny speck against the sky.
I'd see the mountains, capped with snow,
The winding rivers, far below.
The sun, a fiery, golden eye,
Would paint the clouds as I flew by.
The wind, a whisper in my ear,
Would steal away all doubt and fear.
I'd feel the world beneath my feet,
A perfect, rhythmic, silent beat.
I'd soar above the bustling street,
The human struggle, bittersweet.
I'd sing a song that has no words,
Just pure, unburdened, happy chirps.
From this high perch, I'd understand,
The simple peace of earth and land.
I'd see how small our troubles are,
Beneath the glimmer of a star.
And know that peace is always there,
If we just rise above the air.
Përgatiti për botim Angela Kosta
