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Remembering Jalal

Look homeward, angel

A.K.H. Morshed
I first saw Jalal on a cold November afternoon in Cambridge as he stepped out of his maroon Saab outside South Station. He was wearing a check tartan shirt and summer slacks. Just looking at him gave me the shivers. I felt that I should reprove him for braving the cold with such nonchalance. But his boyish smile which was to become so endearingly familiar disarmed me. We then went to a fish restaurant for lunch. Though the ice was broken, I did not begin even to suspect the scale and depth of the man or his brilliant record of achievements.
In the intervening years when Fazeela took leave from her job as research scientist to nurse her mother Jalal stood by her providing moral and material support. Likewise, she stood by him in his time of need. Their close understanding and mutual devotion touched our hearts. They shared the happy times together, they made each other laugh and were so good together and for each other. Theirs was a marriage truly made in heaven.
It was much much later, indeed six years down the road, that for a few precious weeks Fazeela and he stayed with us and we saw him as it were in the round. Everything about him exercised a fascination difficult to explain -- his conversation, his work habits, his comings and goings, even his food preferences, seemed to be invested with charm even glamour. His working day seemed to possess an
infinite elasticity; he was seemingly able to fit in any number of appointments, errands, filial and family obligations with uncompromising stints of writing and study.
Early in the morning he would field a transcontinental conference call. At breakfast when we pressed the traditional Bangla morning meal he would remind us that his American breakfast consisted of a chocolate coated energy bar and a cup of coffee. Then he was off on his hybrid bike to University come rain or shine. He found time to clear his father's office of old papers gathering dust, redecorate the flat he and Fazeela planned to stay in, rush a sick relative to hospital, break in his research assistants and then put in "three clear hours" of writing. Not to mention fitting in an impromptu friendly soccer match in Gulshan and carefully monitoring the daily sometimes hourly progress of the Bengal Tigers, the cricket team to which he was fanatically devoted. Not too mention the appearances in talkshows and key note speakers in international seminars.
But we did not really get a measure of the man until after he no longer was with us. The wealth of his
academic associations, the list of his scholarly papers, the articles on policy and international relations, impressive as these are were, set in relief and brought to vivid life by the unprecedented outpourings of grief and expressions of loss from his students, faculty and associates and a wide spectrum of civil society both in Bangladesh and in the US. His true measure is the indelible mark his life and alas his death had left on counfless numbers. He changed and lit up lives.
Children gravitated mysteriously to him. If he entered a room where our grandchildren were present they would seize his hand and lead him to their play. If he was seated they would perch on his knee or clamber onto to his back He shared their secret prattie. It was as if they were saying loud and clear you are one of us.
His monograph India's Open-Economy Policy stands as a remarkable memorial to Jalal's scholarly vision, his political insight and grasp of the dynamics of South Asia. The book is memorable on several counts. First, it is firmly set in the rigorous canon of academic scholarship. It is thus free from the stereotypes and hang-ups of conventional Bangladesh discourse on India. For those of us involved in the early formative days of Indo-Bangladesh relations the book makes an important contribution to a better understanding of the vastness and complexity of India. The book's focus is also unusual in that it is political economy in a strategic perspective. It covers a period of rapid transformation and expansion of the Indian econ-
omy with gigantic changes still in progress. Jalal's outiook is fresh and catholic representative of a new generation. The book well serves the needs of policy establishments but serves equally well as text for graduate studies in International Relations. It provides a well researched context for framing policy. It is a model for Bangladesh scholars.
What will we remember Jalal for? His versatile intellect, his wide ranging scholarship, his integrity, his unfailing courage as he and Fazeela batded adversity, his wit untainted by malice, his width of sympathy and understanding, his gift of empathy, the power of clear expression, the statuesque profile like a sketch of the Florentine David, all of these and more. But above all it was a certain vulnerable innocence that marked all his actions, gestures, and thoughts. So ultimately the Citadel of Innocence claimed him as one of its own, and where he stands shining and invincible. Look homeward angel.
Dr. Jalal Alamgir Associate Professor University of Massachusetts, Boston died on December 3, 2011. His Memorial Service will be held at the University on March 7, 2012. He was married to Fazeela Morshed, the daughter of the writer, A. K. H. Morshed.