**She spoke of the common man. the injustices of society, the emancipation of women and she spoke of freedom She spoke of her beloved son whose martyrdom she carried like a badge. She once said to me Whenever 1 see Rumi's face in my imagination I see the map of Bangladesh

ON June 25 Mrs Jaha nara Imam. Chachl to many, and mother to many more, lost her battle with cancer and died peace fully In a far off land It was a cruel blow to a generation of men and women We who knew her well are over whelmed by the news. Her death gives us all a sense of being orphaned, a feeling of being torn away from a world gone forever, a memory a way of life that held a generation together In a unique bond.

My memory of her goes back many many years I watched her. from the veran dah of my grandfather's flat In Azlmpur Colony. I remember her as a woman of unusual grace and beauty and having a striking resemblance with the most famous Bangla film heroine of the day 1 was too young to understand the implication of that resemblance but everyone In the house rushed to the verandah to get a glimpse of her when her rick shaw would come by. Even my grandfather would suddenly ask for his spectacles to get better look.

But that was really a very long time ago. My next encounter with her was when her son Rumi, became a friend of mine at Dhaka University. Their's was a mother-son rela tionshlp based on total admiration. Rumi adulated his mother for her Intellect, her wit. her charm and beauty. His face would Just light up talking about her and he Just loved to introduce his friends to her On the other hand, he was the apple of her eyes, her dearest precious possession. It was a treat- to visit Rumi because Chachl would shower affection on everyone close to him. She had a way of making us feel comfortable and her natural acceptance of his friends, both

males and females made her a favorite among our friends

And then . ame the War Our liberation war the war that tore families and friends apart, that separated lorever mothers and sons, husbands and wives, friends and families Rumi and Jahanara Chachl were a part of that process Rumi, our brave and noble friend gave his hie for his motherland and Chachl lost forever her adored son But in return she became the mother to an entire generation, of freedom fighters and all those who value liberty and freedom

Rumi was captured on the night of 29th of August 1971 It was during that time that 1 really came to know her Later we heard of the dignity and pride with which she dealt with Rumi's captors. Though her heart broke, with valour she let him go. Yes, she tried to secure his release, but with the same dignity and courage that marked her indomitable personality. For me It was a human drama unfolding before my very eyes as I watched this beautiful dignified women completely shattered and slowly withering away in the knowledge of her sons captivity. The knowledge of what Rumi was enduring at the hands of his captors was something we, his friends were finding hard to endure. For his

mother it was a living night months, she did not break or mare. Yet. during all those bend She passionately be- lieved in her sons mission and made it her own

Her hope, her vigil ended on 17 December when all the others who were captured returned without Rumi Hysteri cally we rushed to her house, with uncontrolled tears In our eyes I do not remember very well who else went but Shaha dat Chowdhury. Editor Weekly Bichltra. and my friend Shlreen Huq were with me We went to find a composed and quiet Chachi' sitting in the llv Ing room Yes she cried, the crying of someone finally admitting what she always knew in her heart. Yet. In that hour of grief she said something that wifi remain etched forever In my mind "Don t cry. Rumi'• friends don't cry for me Cry for those people, they have captured and killed through deceit and falsehood Go and see what they have done, the Al Badrs Al Shams and Raza kara In their hour of defeat, see and make a vow never to forgive them".

In stunned silence we looked at her. Is this the mother who only a few weeks ago wanted to get her son back no matter what? Looking at her quiet determination, the fire in her eyes, the resolve in her voice. I knew that she would never forget and would never forgive It was her advise that made me go and see for myself the gruesome picture at Raverbazar Chachl was right It is a sight that I will never forget as long as I live The sight of the mutilated, tortured bodies of the most revered personalities of our society built up an anger and anguish within me and I too have never forgotten and have never for given

From then onward, her story is known to all The beau tiful teacher, housewife and mother turned her grief into one of the finest example of courage, fortitude and resilience She single mindedly carried on the torch of free dom. the torch that her son and thousands like him had lit to seek Justice Her book Ekatturer Dlnguli" moved and touched the entire nation. She sincerely believed that those responsible for the killing, rape and mutilation of our people should be punished and brought to Justice

She exuded the same warmth and affection everytime we would meet In social gatherings, sometime Joking, sometime remen I set ng One thing she would always say. "Shaheen, we are all bound by a common bond, let this bond never tear". Cancer had disfig-ured her beautiful face beyond recognition, yet she had the same resolve In her voice when she spoke She spoke of the common man. the injustices of society, the emancipation of women and she spoke of freedom. She spoke of her beloved eon whose martyrdom she carried like a badge. She once said to me "Whenever I see Rumi's face In my imagination I see the map of Bangladesh". We will always remember you. You carried the grief, the Joy and the freedom of an e_'„< generation, our generation, your son. Rumi's generation.