Sindhu Hindol (Waves of the Sea) is a book of poems by Kazi Nazrul Islam. It begins with a poem in three parts addressed to the sea. The poet calls the three parts as "Hindol" meaning waves. The eternal quest of the "Beauty" through pain and sorrow is projected along the road of revolt against the evil that stalks the world.

1st Part of Sindhu Hindol
In the first part of Sindhu Hindol, Waves indeed they are in delineation of the rolling sorrow which meets the poet"s eye in the surging waters. The agony, the unending quest, the ceaseless search for the unknown are in the poet"s imagination, directed to the beautiful - the Grand Harmony of the Universe. When the moonlight illuminates it, the sea dreams of the beauty and dances in waves of joy. But it wakes up again and the agonies return. The poet feels his own pains and those of the sea are the same:

"Suffering from the same torment, the same pain You weep, I weep, my beloved weeps too".

2nd Part of Sindhu Hindol
In the second part of Sindhu Hindol, the waves are the soldiers of the quest. Storms bow to the quest, clouds fleet along in tune with it, the fishes and animals of the sea fall in line. The ships look like tamed pigeons as they go over the sea; the flying birds carry its dreams to the regions. The weary boatman sings in the tune known as "Bhatial". Suddenly the realisation comes that love does not make one weak, that its role is to make one sublime and great. It looks as if all its pains are welling up on the beach. The poet finds himself similarly situated. It is time for him now to meet the sea face to face:

I have so much to talk to you, so many songs to sing to you, Oh sea, my friend, I have so much pain to convey to you.

So the poet invites the sea to grow calm and, in great silence, sit face to face with him. But, at that moment, all words will cease.

3rd Part of Sindhu Hindol
But in the third part of Sindhu Hindol, the pains of the sea reveal themselves in a great act of self-denial. The sea engulfs three-fourth of the earth but has thrown up one-fourth on to the land which is its daughter. The unrequited love of the sea protects the earth and fills her with abundance. The Gods and the demons churned out the nectar from the sea which spends itself in enriching the earth. But its own agonies are never any less. There is emptiness above, below and all around. In the midst of it all the waters of the sea weep. But even in its tears the sea is beautiful. The poet salutes the beauty:

"You are great! You are ever pining for your beloved! You the sea who are my friend, the rebel of my heart, my Beautiful! I salute you! Accept my salutation... You weep, I weep, my beloved ever weeps; I am destitute, you are destitute, it is empty space all around; amidst it all the sea-waters weep; endless is the wail of its desolation."

The confrontation occurs in the last poem of the same book, "Dware Baje Jhanjhar Jinjir" (Storm rattles its chains at the door).

Arise, O hero, open the door!
The summer sun hears the vigorous call of a sharp voice,
Victory to the new march of Youth!
For the Beautiful comes bathing in the rose-red lake of pain.
Who is the woman that on the white marble floor of the temple-altar,
lies prostrate at the feet of the soulless god with her hair dishevelled, her clothes disarrayed-almost like the land-lily the leaves of which have been torn away?
I know it is her agonised prayer,
O man of arms, that shines like a sword in your hand.
The woman weeping all over the world does make obeisance to you,
O hero, in the festival of death, in battle and in the chamber of tears.
For, O Beautiful, we make your way far easy and simple.
We build up your future; we sing day and night in our lively young voices of your advent; our thunder-like voice utters the proud cry of victory!
We kindle the fire of discontent in people`s hearts.
So
The god of revolution stands over you again; he has come again and again, has brought the message of the end of an era.
But we did not wake. Let us not fail this time.
The ugly enemy soldier has come along the secret path at dead of night.
He has struck sudden blows from behind.
He has sprayed darkness over your well-lit path; he has hurled stones of abuse and built mountains of them.
He has dug trenches of untruth on the way; he has hypocritical moral advice writ over his eyes and face.
He and his tribe have screamed out of naked lust; they have tried to blow off your light, O Sun.
Now the time is come:
How long shall we take to cross the waters of the seven seas of the enchanting liar and reach the shores of real happiness?
O you the general of revolution, you god of blood, speak, speak out!
You who are good and beautiful, come down among the jackals of the burning ground and give us the ultimate support that you can.
Give us strength, give us hope, give the supreme assurance you can give.
Open up that lac-house of the envious with its doors shut.
Let all these doubts go; let the goddess of horizons sing the victory of youth in all directions.
Let the ugly liar be defeated.
Come, come the joyous and the beautiful; you who are full of light, wake!

Thus in "Sindhu Hindol", Kazi Nazrul Islam has run the entire gamut of emotions and all their reactions in the recesses of the human mind.