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The absurdity of the absurd poly-tricks

Shamsad Mortuza
***Words. Words. Words. But none of them make sense. They say what they do not mean. They mean what they do not say. They act contrary to their words. So how are we to make sense of the political spectacle that unfolded before our eyes?***
The assault on Zainal Abdin Farroque has left a bitter taste in the mouth. While (in its defence) the Treasury was quick to remind us that the police had carried out similar attacks on Mohammad Nasim, Motia Chowdhury and Saber Hossain Chowdhury during previous BNP regimes, the opposition as well as the civil society were equally quick to add: but you promised "Change." How can you change if you keep on repeating the same mistakes?
For me, the parliamentarian, who is an orator and rhetorician by default, was simply using the "main" weapon that he had in his arsenal -- words, albeit fair and foul. The police, on the other hand, were simply using their simplest weapons that they had in their arsenal — sticks, albeit sleek and straight. Now, whether they overstepped their limits and intruded on each other's space while exercising their weapons is anybody's guess! I am more interested in the absurdity of the whole drama.
Unfortunately, none of the TV channels showed an uncut version of the attack. The longest video footage that I have come across starts from the shot in which a senior police officer accosted the chief whip, saying (free translation): "You cannot break law and ransack vehicles." The chief whip smirked, saying: "***you and your law can go to***." He tried to use his mobile phone to capture the image of the perpetrator. The officer then said, "You son of a **** I will slap you so hard that your teeth will come off." Farooque confronted the officer and dared him to. There was a minor scuffle in which the officer lost his balance and fell down. He was quick to jump onto his feet and he and his colleagues went after Farooque.
The next shot showed Farooque on the ground surrounded by a group of police, party workers and media people. His T-shirt had been taken off. The next one showed Farooque with an injury with blood trickling down left side of his head. He was flanked by his party people. One was crying, "Blood. Blood!" and tried to show it to the camera. Then the next shot showed Farooque running towards NAM quarter, and police chasing him.
The police snatched him from his sup-
porters and lifted him by the hands and the feet; his back was bruised by the concrete roads. Then they put him on the back of a police van; by that time some supporters of Farooque requested for his release and tried to pull him down from the van. The van sped off even before Farooque was properly placed. It could also be due to the supporters who pulled him from the van. Farooque had a nasty fall. He was later rushed to United Hospital for treatment.
After the uneven match between word and sticks in Act 1 of the political drama, we
move to Act II. The police officer was saying: "None is above the law. He cannot hit someone in uniform. We reacted in self-defence. He should know that embargo under Section 144 was imposed in the Parliament compound." He probably parroted the pep-talk that he had learned in Police Academy. The opposition dug dirt and identified the said police officer as an ex-Chhatra League man and interpreted the attack as a pre-planned one to silence and humiliate the most vocal and defiant opposition member. "This is the end of democracy and it testifies the fact that we are living in a police state."
The government mouthpieces who appeared on TV were very moralistic: "Dignity has to be earned; disrespect breeds disrespect. Farooque has brought it to himself because of misdemeanour." The opposition mouthpieces were prophetic: "God forbid! Similar beatings await those who are defending such heinous attack."
I am actually taking a break from preparing slides for my class on Beckett's Waiting for Godot. The absurdity of the situation and the meaninglessness of words have led me to
write this piece on an area alien to me. I don't claim myself an expert on politics, but as a student of literature and culture, I am moved by the words that have gone into circulation. Like in the Beckettian universe, we are experiencing entropy in which the world and the people in it are slowly but inexorably running down in a quicksand of time; the end is not in sight, but we are witnessing the endgame nonetheless. The hope is hopeless. The characters in this drama of life therefore take refuge in repetition; they repeat their own actions and words and often those of others — in order to pass the time. The TV talk-shows are cases in point.
Words. Words. Words. But none of them make sense. They say what they do not mean. They mean what they do not say. They act contrary to their words. So how are we to make sense of the political spectacle that unfolded before our eyes?
The virtual world of television has added a further twist to reality: editing, selection, canned interpretation and exaggera-tion/underestimation are removing us further from reality. Politics is fast becoming a media circus and we are fast becoming victims of media spin. Our politicians are acting it out for the media. In their allotted virtual space, some of the politicians are trying to get maximum coverage with minimum efforts. No wonder, some of them call hartals so that they could watch the consequences on TV.
This morning I saw a press conference with one opposition leader and twenty media personnel. I have a radical proposal to make: Let media ban this political circus for two weeks. Let the electronic media tell the politicians that it will not cover any of their ideas unless they go to the parliament and sort it out like parliamentarians. Let words fight against words in the concrete arena designed by Louis I. Kahn, and not inside any virtual arena. Let the nation decide whose words have got honey and whose words have got venom. We, as voters, shall decide who is right and who is wrong; who deserves the carrot and who deserves the stick. For God's sake: don't tell us what is right and what is wrong! And please don't use sticks to teach us the difference between right and wrong. Because, we the public, know it all!
The writer teaches English at Dhaka University.