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Uttam Kumar, the Mahanayak of Bengal
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In the heart of Bengal, a legend was born,
Uttam Kumar’s name, like a bright shining morn.
Tomorrow, we celebrate, with joy and cheer,
The birthday of a star we all hold dear.
From “Saptapadi” to “Nayak,” he graced the screen,
In twenty timeless films, he made us dream.
His charisma and talent, an unparalleled blend,
In the world of cinema, a true godsend.
“Chirodini Tumi Je Amar,” a love that’s pure,
“Harano Sur,” melodies that endure.
“Antony Firingee,” he danced with grace,
Each role he played, left a lasting trace.
“Uttar Falguni” and “Deya Neya” so fine,
In “Nishipadma,” his acting would shine.
“Chiriyakhana” and “Sankha Bela,” so grand,
In the hearts of fans, he’ll forever stand.
“Jiban Trishna,” a tale of love untold,
“Chhadmabeshi,” a comedy of pure gold.
“Sharey Chuattor,” laughter that’s infectious,
Uttam Kumar’s magic, truly wondrous and precious.
“Stree,” “Dui Bhai,” “Indrani,” and more,
Each film a masterpiece, forever to adore.
“Uttam Kumar,” a name that will never fade,
In the annals of cinema, an eternal accolade.
On this special day, let’s remember and revere,
Uttam Kumar, the star we all hold dear.
His legacy lives on, in every frame and song,
A legend of Bengali cinema, forever strong.
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Mahanayak Uttam Kumar of the Silver Screen
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In Kolkata’s heart, Ahiritola’s birth,
A legend emerged, touching heaven and earth,
Uttam Kumar, his name etched in gold,
A tale of brilliance, on cinema’s fold.
From actor to producer, director to more,
A multi-faceted gem, his talents did soar,
With pen and with song, he weaved tales anew,
Brought characters to life, emotions he drew.
Mahanayak they hailed, a title so grand,
Bengali cinema’s heart, he did command,
On history’s stage, he left an indelible mark,
Uttam Kumar’s legacy, a radiant spark.
With Suchitra Sen, his chemistry did blaze,
Supriya Devi’s grace, in his movies, we gaze,
Sabitri Chatterjee, a muse by his side,
In celluloid symphonies, their talents collide.
Five National Awards, his triumph did shine,
1968’s honor, a moment divine,
Anthony Firingee, Chiriyakhana’s grace,
In the hall of fame, his name found its place.
Nayak, a masterpiece by Ray’s guiding hand,
Chowringhee’s allure, in Pinaki’s command,
Saptapadi’s vows, a love story pure,
Uttam Kumar’s presence, forever endure.
Autobiography penned, his journey unveiled,
Aamar Aami’s essence, his life detailed,
Grihadaha’s mysteries, Antony’s poetic fire,
Agnishwar’s passion, a blazing desire.
Nishi Padma’s bloom, in Arabinda’s embrace,
Stree’s enigma, Salil Dutta did trace,
Sanyasi Raja’s throne, Piyush Bose led,
In each silver frame, Uttam Kumar spread.
Though years have passed, and time has flown,
Uttam Kumar’s brilliance forever shown,
Bengali cinema’s heart, Mahanayak’s reign,
In every heart’s theater, he’ll forever remain.
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Uttam Kumar A Lifes Unveiled Chapters
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Uttam Kumar’s many tales,
Known by only a few in trails.
Some words he shared with a co-actor,
Whose name remains unknown thereafter.
Acting’s first challenge, common for all,
A hand on the cheek, I recall.
Lost in thought, my hand spun ’round,
Thinking of this, my mind unwound.
A new actress spoke of it one day,
Uttam Kumar lifted her in a play.
Sometimes hair, sometimes the saree’s flow,
He managed all with an expert’s know.
Then came the last scene’s event,
Uttam Kumar, lips curved, descent.
Once the shot was captured, alas,
He repeated it several times, no less.
In some things, he wasn’t keen,
His mind found acting not so pristine.
Director’s words at the finale,
Hands clapped after, a joyful rally.
Thus ended his acting spree,
Life’s last scene, the final decree.
People’s hearts filled that day,
Perfectionist’s work, in disarray.
A kiss scene in a movie once lay,
With a co-actress, he’d portray,
In her distress, he’d lay a hand cold,
Saying, “We’ll manage,” bold and bold.
Then from behind, he’d turn his head,
The kiss scene, in camera’s stead.
Later edited with great care,
A perfect shot, beyond compare.
A fear of ghosts, it’s been said,
An incident around this thread.
Taking his family along, they say,
Uttam Kumar fled one day.
Planning to meet them there,
A house stood, their joys to share.
Later, he shared the sad truth,
A suicide had robbed them of youth.
Haunted by a spectral dread,
Leaving the house, he sped.
From behind, he saw with dread,
A snake-charmer’s image, a shiver’s thread.
Uttam Kumar, football and cricket in play,
Loved games, in leisure’s sway.
Apart from that, wrestling, fencing so dear,
He’d practice, his goals were clear.
He found time to learn,
Hindi and Urdu, within his turn.
Even in leisure, it’s true,
Music and singing he’d pursue.
