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Show us that you care

ASIF MUNIER
14 December, 2003. Another year, another day of remembrance, another occasion to relive the past and looking ahead at the future. It's been thirty-six years I was born, thirty-two years Bangladesh was born and thirty-two years my father Munier Chowdhury disappeared.
The nation says he is a martyred intellectual, but we the family never learnt about his remains, only know how he was picked up by some Bengali speaking youth on this very day in 1971, just two days before the country was victorious against the occupation forces of Pakistan (then West Pakistan). Only a lot later we heard that those who picked my father and many other intellectuals were the local allies of the occupation forces, the Al-Badr, Al-Shams and the sort. In the initial months, even years of his disappearance, my mother half believed her husband will come back, or at least some news of him. I was told I was a very quiet child then, and never asked anyone why suddenly there was one person missing in the family, I just became quieter and probably drew my own conclusions and reactions. As I grew older I saw the difference of other children with both their parents, which I didn't have and that was a painful experience in my childhood. It just felt not fair why I don't have a father. But it never is a fair world is it? I know now at this stage in my life.
Years passed and it was only few years back during the research for David Bergman's film 'War Crimes File' for Channel 4 in the UK that we got to know about the fate of my father and many more intellectuals, a first hand account of a survivor who heard certain prominent names while being interrogated at the Teacher's Training Institute, himself being confined there as well. So no matter what the nation said, for me, it was only when I met this man and heard him.
I am not sure why I am writing this today. My mother has become a very private person and also very bitter about reminiscing about the war over the years. 'What's the point?' she says, like many mothers and family members of the martyrs. My two brothers and I never talked about it, not about even my eldest brother who was in the war with the famous crack platoon doing operations in Dhaka. His daughter living abroad came and stayed with us for a year and only with her that I talked a little bit about it, telling her a bit about her father, also playing her Moushumi Bhowmik's song 'Jessore Road' (love that song first time I heard I cried) and Joan Baez's 'Bangladesh' on CD.
Its only when I look at the kids of today, in the city, in the villages, Bangladeshis abroad for generations, that I feel we have to talk about it, we have to tell the young ones about the true history, the experiences and the
feelings. The country, the people much of whom want to respect and remember, are drowned by the distorted history and the indifference of the state mechanism to preserve and respect history. I read loads of emails through networks on the internet, and feel encouraged of so many non resident Bangladeshis being more of a Bangali than many of us in the country. That is why we need to speak up, demand, protest.
Over the years, I have been part of the activism around liberation war through Projonmo '71, an organization of children of martyrs. Some of us formed it in 1991, initially not sure how we will go ahead but sure of what to do to rekindle the spirit of the cause of the war, for which our parents laid down their lives. Soon we were in the spotlight, with lot of expectations from the country, including the thousands of families who lost someone in the war. We became active in the campaign for trying war criminals, as well as developing welfare projects for the children of martyrs who are merely struggling to survive. The work is not easy.
It takes a lot of time, energy and money to build what we wanted to build. Quite a few of us were students then with dreams of the young blood and time in
our hands but very little money and no long term planning. As we grew older, got jobs, got married and had kids, it became more and more difficult to run an organization. Plus internal differences and factionalism created nasty mud slinging and deadlocks. The nation who looked up at us where very disappointed. I say, the nation and we ourselves expected too much out of Projonmo 71. We can't do it alone to preserve the spirit of the war. We can not expect to be over and above all sorts of propaganda in the country that confuses us and divides us. We are humans too.
I'll end with a personal metamorphosis. A few years back I visited Pakistan for the first time in my life as part of my work. It was eerie, seeing the typical kurta payjama clad men with their long moushtache in the streets. That is how we depict 'razakars' in drama in Bangladesh, though one might say 'what is in a dress' and lot of men in Bangladesh do wear the same clothes. But as I met the Pakistanis, the fear gradually disappeared. I met people who came up to me and personally apologised for what happened in 1971.
I know that the general people hardly know what happened at the time, only
that they lost a 'Muslim brother in a Pakistan-India war'. Sure its no excuse that they don't know the real story, but when the State stifles free speech completely for decades and permanently distorts history, young generations of people actually believe strongly the State propaganda. So now I don't hold the hatred against all the Pakistanis, neither does my family. Pakistanis are humans too. I have plenty of colleagues and friends now in Karachi, Lahore, Islamabad. s
Now I leave the reader with a question -- those of us who lost a member of the family in the war, or have been maimed or shamed by the Pakistani army and their local allies, live with the agony and ecstasy of a free nation everyday of our lives but how do you pay your respect to those who fought and lost something in that war -- throughout the year and not just in March or December? What is your contribution in making the Bangladesh that they died for? What are you doing when the traitors in Bangladesh are living a life of luxury and power? We don't want your sympathy. We want you to show us that you care.
The writer is the youngest son of martyred intellectual Shaheed Professor Munier Chowdhury.