- Dhaka Tribune

EDITOR'S NOTE
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2016
Because Zero Stopped By
L
ooking at the amount of English
language writing that came out
in the past three or four years in
the form of fiction, non-fiction,
poetry and translation, it is hard to say
that not much is happening in English.
Bangladeshi authors, both from local
and diasporic communities, are getting
increasingly published by international
and regional publishing companies. The
local publishing scene in English is thriving too.
A review essay on Prof Rehman Sobhan’s memoir Untranquil Recollections,
published by an acclaimed Indian publishing house, and a report on a new
translation of Kazi Nazrul Islam’s prose
fiction and a coffee table book on the
history of Buddhism partly testify to that
new tide of Bangladeshi English writing.
There are also a literary reflection that
addresses a current debate on “cultural appropriation” and a short piece that
covers the ongoing celebrations of Shakespeare’s 400th anniversary of death. l
INSIDE
15
DT
Arts & Letters
16
Shamsad Mortuza
Zero is zeroing in on us.
Zero, Brother Zero.
When he got it
We laughed at his zero
See, nothing comes out of nothing
You believed nothing
You became nothing
Look what has happened
To your blogs now!
Who’ll write them?
Who’ll right them?
Meanwhile, I listened to The Doors:
‘There’s a killer on the road...’
And explained how Jim Morrison
Got his band’s name from Blake’s
‘The doors of perception.’
And I updated my status,
And I joined a human chain,
And I brewed storms over teacups,
A tale of two
economies
17
And I sighed,
And I sighted:
Conspiracy, distractions, politics,
Ideology, tactics, insanity.
And I sang: ‘there’s a killer on the road...’
And then Fizz came along-And I marveled at his cutter (secretly)
And I raised myself on a moral high ground
(publicly)
And looked at those virtual minions
‘How could you forget Tanu, Rana Plaza, Cyber
Heist, Biometrics...
Oh the Indian Plate, the fault line
And the tremor looming large?’
That didn’t stop me from going to restaurants
Uploading fancy pics and copying and pasting
cool links God didn’t stir; why should we?
Mere mortals ...
Stay still. Stay nil.
Can you
really ‘own’ a
culture?
18
Shakespeare
celebration &
book corner
Then Zero bled-It was a clean slit;
Cleaner than Fizz’s dot balls
The blood came out like the
Onrush of AB de-Villier’s runs;
The man who played sitar
The man who taught poetry
Lay near the bus stop
That would have taken him to ...
Well Brother Zero stopped by
Because he needed to
Bag another zero!
Another zero?
Don’t count your numbers yet !
One day there will be One
Who will stand before all the zeroes
And make all these zeroes count!
Send your submissions to:
anl@dhakatribune.com
DT
16
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2016
Arts & Letters
A tale of two economies
REVIEW ESSAY
nDeb Mukharji
R
ehman Sobhan needs
no introduction to civil societies in the Indian
sub-continent. In Bangladesh his is a deeply respected
name. An economist and teacher
by profession, he has been intimately involved with social,
economic and political issues,
maintaining his objectivity and
remaining above the fractured politics of his country. Acknowledged
worldwide as a development economist, Prof Sobhan has written
many books which both educate
and illuminate. The three volume
collection of his essays (Centre for
Policy Dialogue:2007) covered not
only his own intellectual odyssey
but also the history of the last years
of erstwhile East Pakistan and the
first decades of Bangladesh.
Untranquil Recollections ends
with the emergence of Bangladesh
in 1971 and is a book of quite a different genre. It is part autobiography, shared with candour and humour, and part a biography of East
Pakistan, the two often intermixing. The author had lived through
“interesting times”.
His own family connections
(leaving aside descent from the
first Caliph, Hazrat Abu Bakr Siddiq) were with the non-Bengali
ruling elite of East Pakistan who
were ever at odds with the Bengali nationalists. He went to St
Paul’s School in Darjeeling and the
Aitchison College in Lahore; he obtained his bachelor’s degree from
Cambridge University. He had all
the qualifications to become the
staunchest supporter of Pakistan’s
upper crust. Yet, for reasons he is
not quite able to explain, he chose
Dhaka instead of Peshawar for a
teaching post.
“At that stage of my life, my
adopted homeland was for me, an
idea – not a place ... chose Dhaka
not out of compulsion or circumstance, birth or ancestral inheritance, but an ideological decision
to proclaim myself a Bangali”.
While it was true he made
friends among the Punjabi elite at
Aitchison, the overweening attitude
of their superiority displayed towards East Pakistan (“ East Bengal
was viewed as a remote colony in
the same way as students of Eton
must have viewed the Indian empire”) might have rankled with him.
As the young lecturer took up
his assignment in Dhaka, he had no
distinct political ideology or affiliation, though he held progressive
ideals since Cambridge where he
acquired the “capacity to challenge
received wisdom, pomposity or
authority established by virtue of
age”.
The author had
met Bangabandhu
Sheikh Mujib only
hours before the
crackdown and
recalls him saying,
‘Yahya thinks he can
crush the movement
by killing me. But
he is mistaken.
An independent
Bangladesh will be
built on my grave’
Untranquil Recollections -The Years of Fulfilment
By Rehman Sobhan
SAGE India
January 2016
Pages 486
Price: Rs. 450 (PB)
Rs. 1,250 (HB)
(available on amazon and flipkart)
But the political environment in
Dhaka was such that issues had to
be squarely faced. While East Pakistan was suffering from blatant
economic discrimination, Rehman
Sobhan stated that there were in
fact two economies in Pakistan.
His statement was carried in the
media beside Field Marshal Ayub
Khan’s statement to the contrary.
It was the dark period of Governor Monaem Khan’s tenure in East
Pakistan when laws were openly
flouted and goons were let loose on
teachers at Dhaka University. This
was also the period when Sobhan
wrote trenchantly and passionately about the discrimination against
Pakistan’s eastern wing, as his collected works testify.
The early 1960s were also the
time when Dhaka was seething
with anger towards the establishment’s efforts to curb cultural activities. Tagore songs had been
banned and Monaem Khan was
said to have instructed that the
government should find people to
compose “Tagore” songs appropriate to the ethos of Pakistan. Sobhan, however, does not dwell on
these developments at any length.
His attention was on the economy
and the cultural-linguistic upheaval did not have a direct impact on
him. There is no pretence in him
of writing a history of events that
he had witnessed but with which
he was not actively involved. He
writes about the areas he understood and was involved with.
Even though Sobhan was not in-
volved in politics, it was inevitable
that as East Pakistan demanded its
economic rights, his contribution
to the cause would be required.
He denies his personal authorship
of the Six Points demand of the
Awami League, voiced by Sheikh
Mujibur Rehman in 1966, but there
is little doubt that he left a stamp
on the economic aspects of the demand, which led to its final formulation.
The Six Points was to continue
to resonate both in East and West
Pakistan. The 1970 election was
fought by the Awami League with
the Six Points as its charter. The
East saw it as the gateway to autonomy and emancipation from
the dictatorship of the West while
the West saw it as the first step to
secession. Prof Sobhan’s comment
that Sheikh Mujib may not have
appreciated the full implications of
the Six Points is noteworthy.
The author provides an invaluable insider account of the discussions within the AL, following
its sweeping victory in the 1970
elections, and of how its demands
could be accommodated within
the constitution to be framed. Sobhan was among those assigned to
discuss possible areas of convergence with the Pakistan Peoples
Party (PPP) and was dismayed to
find that PPP stalwarts, many of
them well known to him, despite
their liberal pretensions, retained
their primary loyalty to the welfare
of Punjab. He must have been reminded of the Punjabi arrogance
towards East Pakistan that he had
witnessed in his Aitchison College
days. Years later, he was to receive
confirmation of the Faustian deal
that Bhutto in his thirst for power had struck with Yahya Khan at
a Larkana weekend when he had
advised the president that Bengali
pretensions could be disposed of
by a whiff of grapeshot. As Yahya
remained reticent in convening
a new parliament, the control of
the administration passed into the
hands of the AL from early March
1971. In Islamabad at the time, I
had listened in wonderment as
Radio Pakistan Dhaka, transmuted
to Dhaka Betar Kendra, broadcast
rousing “nationalist” songs.
These were deeply turbulent
times. As Yahya and Bhutto kept
up the charade of negotiations with
the AL, Pakistani troops with modern weapons and ammunitions
flowed into East Pakistan. And the
charade went on till the army was
let loose on the people to contain
resistance.
The author had met Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib only hours before
the crackdown and recalls him saying, “Yahya thinks he can crush the
movement by killing me. But he is
mistaken. An independent Bangladesh will be built on my grave.”
There are questions that may
still remain with regard to the
hours, weeks and years that
preceded the fateful night of March
25, 1971. Mujib had committed himself to the Six Points, limiting the
space for manoeuvre. How did he
or his advisers expect this to play
out in the realm of politics? Mujib
had been an ardent believer in Pakistan, though issues of discrimination had frayed his loyalty at the
edges, as his Unfinished Memoirs
indicate. It was as prime minister
of Pakistan that he had wished to
deliver justice to the East. When
did he decide that a parting of ways
was inevitable? As Sobhan points
out, his speech at the Race Course
on March 7 was a masterpiece, calling on the people to be prepared
for a final battle, and yet leaving
open the possibility of a negotiated settlement. Some recent memoirs confirm that Sheikh Mujib had
been cautioned about the Pakistani
troop building up and the certainty of a crackdown. Yet he had not
agreed to a preemptive move by
the Bengalis in the armed forces,
preferring the constitutional route
and, hence, legitimacy. Besides, his
message read out over the radio in
Chittagong, had no instructions on
how the struggle was to continue.
His comments to Sobhan on the
evening of March 25 display confidence about the final outcome, but
do have a tinge of fatalism. The author does not claim to have all the
answers and, as he rightly says, “it
is always possible to be wise after
the event – and amateur historians
can sit at a safe distance and pass
judgement”.
The author’s comment that “few
17
DT
Arts & Letters
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2016
REFLECTION
Can you really ‘own’ a culture?
Arts & Letters encourages literary reflection on issues of
contemporary culture. It can be analytical observation
or an outpouring of emotions and thoughts about new
trends in fashion, music, architecture, film, literature
etc. Here’s a piece that engages us in the ongoing
debate on ‘cultural appropriation’
nShuprova Tasneem
While East Pakistan
was suffering from
blatant economic
discrimination,
Rehman Sobhan
stated that there
were in fact two
economies in
Pakistan
Bangalis at the time retained any
sentimental attachment to the Pakistani concept” could be open to
debate, given the important role
Bengali Muslims played in the creation of Pakistan as well as post-liberation developments in the polity
of Bangladesh itself. It is arguable
that while 1971 was the final stage
in the East’s quest to be free from
the West, it did not negate the ‘Pakistani concept’ (or the two nation
theory). Abul Mansur Ahmed was
to say it was the “‘end of a betrayal
and the restoration of the Lahore
Resolution.”
Sobhan was a prime target of the
Pakistani forces. He fled to Agartala after many adventures, where
his non-proficiency in Bangla, and
wearing his lungi with a belt, could
have had dire consequences as he
ran the gauntlet of freedom fighters on the way. In Delhi, his past
connections with the fraternity of
economists gave him access to the
highest echelons of power where
he recounted the trauma to which
his people were being subjected.
Later, in the United States, he was
to play an important role in creating public opinion against Pakistani actions and ensuring the curtailment of World Bank assistance
to Pakistan, despite the best efforts
of Nixon and Kissinger.
Untranquil Recollections could
well stand on its own as a candid
autobiography .The author has had
the courage to admit to his brief
training as a cobbler. Prowess in
sports and continuing fondness for
pulsating forms of western dance
reveal a personality going much beyond the public image of the professor. But its lasting merit would
lie in the extensive insider’s view
of the internal processes that led
to the emergence of Bangladesh.
In conclusion, the author speaks of
“moments of infinite possibilities
earned through enormous sacrifices” and wonders how far they
have been realised. That question
remains. l
The writer, a former diplomat,
was Indian high commissioner to
Bangladesh.
The phrase “cultural appropriation” has
popped up frequently in mainstream
media, and the latest fad that caused
an uproar was certain European pop
artists wearing bindi (or teep, as we
call it here), turning it into fashion
statements at concerts.
Twitter exploded thereafter with
Reclaim the Bindi movement and
women of South Asian descent began
sharing pictures of themselves in
traditional attire as a protest against
the appropriation of bindi by those of
non-South Asian, particularly, European descent.
According to the anonymous founder of the movement, “The campaign is
a way for South Asians to show pride
in their culture … it is a huge part of
the cultural identity of South Asians, a
reminder of where I come from and the
community I belong to. It’s a part of my
religious identity, a marker of my third
eye, a reminder that I am a Hindu.”
It was amazing, indeed, to see young
women in our part of the world take
pride in their culture. At the same time,
it did make one wonder – can we really
adhere to set definitions of culture, and
appoint gatekeepers to guard the sanctity of a specific mark of a culture?
Firstly, how does this movement
pertain to Bangladeshi women like
me who love the teep and consider
it a symbol of their Bengali identity,
but not a sacred symbol of religious
identity? More importantly, how can I,
as someone who wears jeans on winter
days instead of kameezes/saris and
goes to Bangladeshi weddings only to
eat biryani and sustains multiple nearheart attacks during cricket matches,
complain when someone else adopts
something from my own culture?
We cannot say with certainty that
the world is divided into separate and
specific cultures, especially not in our
parts of the world. From the mid-seventh century on, the spice trade in this
region was dominated by Arab traders
and for centuries, the Silk Road and the
Indian Ocean had connected China to
the Indian subcontinent, Arabia, East
Africa and the Mediterranean. Alongside all of these cosmopolitan influences stood our vast rivers with innumerable villages on their banks, giving
birth to Bhatiyali, Bhawaiya, Gombhira,
Lalon geeti and of course, the cultures
of our indigenous populations, and a
myriad of other folk traditions.
For generations, a strong oral
tradition has been kept alive in our rural
areas simply through daily cultural practices and collective memory. The culture we now have is like a river of Bangladesh - a roaring force with a steady
stream of folk tradition converging on
tides of different cultures brought to us
through expansion of commerce and
trade and many traits of colonial culture
adopted while under Turkish, Afghan,
Mughal and British rule.
Bangladeshi culture (and South
Asian culture as a whole) has always
been synonymous with pluralism.
This is the essence of who we are, and
when we latch on to one specific item
or attire as our cultural prerogative and
exclusively so, we do not speak out
against social injustice or racism, but
put up barriers that strangle multiculturalism in its path. In a world that is
already divided by identity politics and
creating a Huntington-esque “clash of
civilisations”, we end up perpetuating
stereotypes and making ourselves the
exotic “other” by insisting on creating
gated cultures, inaccessible to the rest
of the world.
Even more worryingly, we end up
giving ammunition to certain factions
who would rather do away with these
cultures anyway. Certain extremist
organisations like Hefazat-e-Islam have
already claimed teep is a part of Hindu
culture and have tried to bin it along
with saris, folk music and even Pohela
Boishakh celebrations! Only a week
ago, Rajshahi University Professor AFM
Rezaul Karim Siddiquee was brutally murdered, and his only crime, it
seemed, was that he opened a school
and was involved in cultural activities. Now is not the time to nitpick at
cultural appropriation or appreciation,
but to focus on preserving the plurality
and liberal ideals that make up our
culture and to make sure they are not
misrepresented and exterminated.
It is time to recognise that culture
is fluid and ever-changing, and that’s
what makes it so beautiful. We should
definitely find meaningful ways to protest against racism, and by all means,
encourage others to adopt other
cultures with respect, not appropriate
them. However, we cannot outright
ban others from wearing our traditional attire because culture does not
come with intellectual and property
rights, and it cannot be attached to notions of ownership. When we do this,
we are not policing fashion, but we are
policing the exchange of ideas, which
is a dangerous way forward. In these
critical times, we need to broaden the
platform for cultural exchange, which
only can lead us to a kinder and more
tolerant society. l
Shuprova Tasneem is a journalist. She
writes on various cultural issues.
DT
Arts & Letters
18
SATURDAY, APRIL 30, 2016
SHAKESPEARE CELEBRATION
A poet for all time
nArts & Letters Desk
T
he English department
of Dhaka University celebrated on Tuesday the
400th death anniversary
of William Shakespeare through a
day-long programme of recitations,
presentations, poster competition
and exhibition and a number of
skits based on Shakespeare’s plays.
The second session, which was
held at the RC Majumdar Auditorium,
saw both teachers and students of the
department perform in skits and recitations. It was also the session in which
scholars such as Professor Emeritus
Serajul Islam Chowdhury, Prof Syed
Manzoorul Islam, Prof Fakrul Alam
and Prof Tahmina Ahmed read excerpts from their articles on different
aspects of Shakespeare’s plays and poems. Prof Rubina Khan, chairperson
of the department, started the session
with a welcome address.
A festive mood was in the air
with students donning dresses or
costumes that reminded one of
characters from an Elizabethan
play. All the luminaries of the Eng-
lish faculty were seen mingling
with the students.
Rabindranath Tagore’s poem in
tribute to Shakespeare and late Prof
Khondokar Ashraf Hossain’s “Horatio’r Proti Hamlet” (Hamlet to
Horatio) were recited by students.
In another interesting segment,
Prof Niaz Zaman and Prof Rubina
Khan, among others, recited some
of Shakespeare’s sonnets while
Prof Selim Sarwar of North South
University, read out his own Bangla
translation of those sonnets.
The readings of Prof Chowdhury, Prof Islam, Prof Alam and
Prof Mortuza emphasised Shakespeare’s relevance to the current
social, political and literary issues.
The cultural programme began
with winners reading out their entries in the competition “Emails to
Shakespeare and/or his Characters”.
This was followed by the “Dress as
your favourite character” contest.
Then, skits performed both by students and teachers were staged.
The day-long programme ended
in the evening with the prize giving
ceremony. l
Posters designed and painted by students for the occasion
BOOK CORNER
Strides towards translation and historiography
nArts & Letters Desk
N
ymphea Publication has
brought out a fresh new
translation of Kazi Nazrul Islam’s fiction Mrityukshudha (December 2015) and a
fat coffee table book, Buddhist Heritage of Bangladesh (August 2015),
on the history of Buddhism in this
country.
Mrityukshudha has been translated by Professor Niaz Zaman,
distinguished writer, editor and
translator. This is the first English
translation of the novel which adds
significantly to the body of Bangla
classics in translation.
In her preface to the translation,
Prof Zaman notes, “However, unlike Rabindranath Tagore – whose
novels have been translated and
discussed – Kazi Nazrul Islam’s
novels have generally been brushed
aside by scholars. While it is true
that his [Nazrul’s] novels are pale
in comparison to his poems and
songs, they not only complement
his poetic writings but also provide
a siginificant perspective on some
of his perennial themes ...”
She goes on to say, “ ... the novel
is perhaps his most detailed account
of poverty in his prose writings as
well as of a political activist. The
novel also focuses on a number of
other significant themes: the plight
of a rebel who is a loner, the relationship between different religions, the
situation of women in a conserva-
tive society, the importance of education and the question of identity.”
Edited by Bulbul Ahmed, Buddhist Heritage of Bangladesh is
quite a voluminous collection of
essays on the genesis and spread
of Buddhism in Bangladesh and
of numerous rare photographs
of Buddhist archaeological sites,
temples, plaques, paintings, coins
and sculptures. In his foreword,
Enamul haque, chairman of The
Internation Centre for Study of
Bengal Art, writes, “This anthology
of seventeen essays presents various aspects of Buddhist heritage
of Bangladesh. The authors contributed their chapters on topics
assigned by the Editor as part of a
project on presenting Bangladesh’s
rich Buddhist past to the world.”
In his editorial, Bulbul Ahmed
says, “Arcaeological evidences and
pilgrim accounts suggest that Buddhism created a rich culture and
civilization in ancient Bangladesh
from the 5th to 12th centuries AD.”
It covers not only all the religious,
cultural and literary legacies of Buddhism but also the recent archaeological discoveries including those
at Wari-Bateshwar in Narshingdi
that have uncovered new materials
of Buddhist heritage and enriched
our understanding of our own past.
Both the books stand out for
their impeccable, glazy cover design and sturdy binding. l
The novel is perhaps
his most detailed
account of poverty in
his prose writings as
well as of a political
activist. The novel
also focuses on a
number of other
significant themes:
the plight of a rebel
who is a loner, the
relationship between
different religions,
the situation
of women in a
conservative society,
the importance of
education and the
question of identity