& çâÌæÚUæð´ ·¤è ¥ôÚU Îð¹Ùæ ÁæÚUè ÚU¹ð´ ¥ÍæüÌ ¥ÂÙð ÜÿØ ÂÚU ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´Ð ãæÚU Ù ×æÙð´, €UØô´ç·¤ ·¤æ× ·¤ÚUÙð âð ¥æÂ·¤ô ©gðàØ ·¤è Âýæç# ãôÌè ãñ ¥õÚU ÁèßÙ ·¤æ ¹æÜèÂÙ ÎêÚU ãôÌæ ãñÐ ÖÜð ãè ÁèßÙ ×ð´ ç·¤ÌÙè Öè ·¤çÆÙæ§ü €UØô´ Ù ¥æ°, çÁ™ææâæ ¥õÚU ©ˆâæã ÕÙæ° ÚU¹ð´Ð ŠØæÙ ÚU¹ð´, ÜÿØ ã×ðàææ ¥æÂ·Ô¤ Âæâ ãôÌð ãñ´ çÁ‹ãð´ ÂæÙð ·Ô¤ çÜ° ÂýØæâ ¥æÂ ·¤Öè Öè àæéM¤ ·¤ÚU â·¤Ìð ãñ´Ð

Reviews From Syed Badrul Ahsan

Belly swelling with jackfruit. . .
THE charm in Mahboob Alam's peregrinations across history comes through in his search for the hidden treasures that remain buried in the vaults of the ages. As a former diplomat, with an unusually keen sense of history, Alam goes for an exploration of those nooks and crannies of time you do not generally come by in historical research. In a very large sense, Alam as a history buff can justifiably be regarded as an archaeologist whose readiness to delve deep into buried history has always thrown up remarkable finds.
It is apt that Mahboob Alam calls his work Guptodhoner Shondhane or In Search of Hidden Treasure, for he brings into the work all the elements that ought to make history a little more engrossing for the reader than it has generally been. A collection of articles on varied elements of history, the appeal of the work comes through its attraction for both researchers as well as laymen whose interest in history is but a testament to the heritage they have consistently upheld in this part of the world. Take the story of the Mughal Shahjahan — and that period precedes the time before he took charge of the throne — and his arrival and stay in Dhaka in the first quarter of the seventeenth century. Shahjahan, worried that the influence of his stepmother Nurjahan could lead Emperor Jahangir into stripping him of the chance to be the next emperor, rebels against his father. For Jahangir, his son's rebellion is a terrible blow given that Shahjahan had always had a seat of honour beside the emperor at the shahi durbar. In his memoirs thereafter, Jahangir referred to Shahjahan as the unfortunate one or refrained from mentioning him at all. Even when eventually the emperor pardoned the prince when the latter's rebellion petered out, it was obvious that the father did not regard the son with the same degree of affection he once demonstrated in public.
Shahjahan's foray into Bengal was dictated by circumstances as well as the wealth that characterized the land. But before he could lay claim to the province, he needed to beat the formidable Ibrahim Khan, which he did soon enough. After that, it was plain sailing. Shahjahan made a grand entry into Jahangirnagar, or Dhaka, where the welcome accorded to him by the local nobility must have convinced him of his invincibility as one destined for victory. Shrewd as he was, the Mughal prince, conscious of the possibility of future rebellion against him in Bengal, partitioned the province into four regions. The partition was not to last, though. Shahjahan's eventual defeat led to a restoration of Jahangir's authority in Bengal, with its attendant results.
Alam’s account of secret or buried treasure — and that is how the book gets its name — reveals the varied means by which goods and valuables were secreted away by those who came by it. The article is, most refreshingly, a study of economics as well. The writer analyses the economic factors which governed wealth accumulation and preservation in early times as well asGuptodhoner Shondhane Itihasher Bichitro Shorosh Kahini Mahboob Alam Prothoma
those which were based on modern factors, such as the development of paper currency. That said, Alam makes it clear that a significant reason for treasure to be concealed in secret, hard-to-find spots was an act designed to ensure a secure economic future for the family. Those who came by such wealth and had them hidden away were by and large members of the ruling classes. So why did they go to all that length to conceal their wealth? The answer is simple: in the old days, feudalism had its writ run across the land, which meant that ownership of the land and everything in it belonged to the man at the top. Generally, that man was the emperor. If an individual in the service of the monarch passed away at some point, all his property would redound to the monarchy, with the result that his heirs would or could be compelled into lives of penury after his death.
If that was a rational explanation behind such an unconventional accumulation of wealth, there remains a pretty comical underside to the story: in more instances than one, the treasure remained hidden and not until ages or centuries later would they be discovered, only to be deposited with the government of the
day. Thus have museums been enriched. Thus has history come to pass.
Surely one of the most gripping articles in this certainly rich collection is Bangalir Babu-English. You will find it rather easy to relate to, given that you happen to be inhabiting a period in history where Bengali elitism is somewhat drawn unabashed to English in ways that can only be regarded as comical. Watch all those programmes on the many private television channels. You will be surprised or nauseated or both by disturbing intrusions of English words and phrases into conversations that can certainly be conducted in good old Bengali. Where an interviewee can with facility, because he or she is a Bengali, refer to shongeet, he or she does the unexpected — by calling forth the term 'music'. And that is how it goes. Think of the many ways and many times when certain urbanized people around you resort to 'wow' to express their glee at someone or something.
Given your perception of half-baked English as you see it bandied around you, you will appreciate Mahboob Alam's take on the subject. The sheer laughter which comes with Babu English, as we know it, is what you will relish. And who instilled into us all this fascination for English? Alam reminds you. It was the Englishmen Macaulay and Bentinck. After 1835, as we know and as the writer tells us again, the English language captured hearts and minds in leaps and bounds in the subcontinent in general and in Bengal in particular. And Babu English? Simple. It has always been a heady mix of English and the indigenous language, in this instance Bengali, of course. Observe an example, which comes from a lawyer defending a widow in court:
Your Honour will be pleased enough to observe that my client is a widow, a poor chap with one postmortem son. A widow of this country, Your Honour will be pleased to observe, is not like a widow of Your Honour's country.
Had your laugh? Prepare, now, for some more ticklish moments. A railway passenger, having consumed a little too much of jackfruit than his stomach could take, must relieve himself outside the train, seeing that toilet facilities are not to be had on the train. But, woe betide him! The train departs before he can finish his job. Infuriated, this is how he complains to the railway authorities:
I am arrive by passenger train at Ahmedpur station and my belly is too much swelling with jackfruit. I am therefore went to privy. Just as I doing the nuisance the guard making the whistle blow for train to go-off and I am running with lotah in one hand and dhoti in the next when I am fell over and expose all my shockings to man and female women in the platform. This too much but if passenger go to make dung, the dam guard not wait for five minutes for him.
Roll over with laughter. Once you are done, read the preceding chapter, Bangalir Ingreji Shekha: Adi Porbo. Indeed, this is one work that you cannot but read from beginning to end.
Enjoy.