Remembrance

Didn’t go to work the other day. It was a good day, - cloudy and all; saw no point in wasting it. Went for a long rickshaws ride all the way from Dhanmondi to press club (switched rickshaws near Eskatan). Just like the old times! Only now I didn’t have to worry about how much money is left in the pocket. Thought about popping inside the painting gallery for a second then thought better of it. My brother came along and didn’t want him to regret it too much. The Muktijodhdha Jadughar (Martyrs Museum) was near by and its been a while since I’ve been there last. So figured we might as well pay it a visit.

I liked it before and I liked it now. Its one of those old two story houses that makes you feel good. There is a café in the courtyard in the back where people can sit and drink tea and reflect for a while.

As I made my way from room to room, looking at pictures, historical documents, fire arms and personal belongings of the dead, I tried to picture those chaotic times when the hopes and dreams of all became one. The time that called upon common men to make a stand and fight to the death. I stopped before the pictures of the heroes of the war, - the leaders who stood strong against all odds and came up victorious. Then I thought about how in the next ten years after the war many of them met violent deaths in the hands of their brothers in arms. What went wrong?

Looked into the eyes of the people in the pictures and wondered what kind of people they were. I tried to feel these men who were driven to become rebels and forced to fight an unjust war. I stood before the picture of Rumi. I never read the book by his mother Jahanara Imam that tells his story. I just saw a picture of a handsome young man who fought and died for his country long before my time. The picture is incredibly alive – tells a lot about the man in it. How can it all be for nothing?

Saw the bones of the dead, piled up inside glass boxes. Femurs on the bottom shelf, ribs, backbones and skulls on top. I looked into the hollow cavities of the skulls and thought about the events they witnessed. Did they take everything for granted like I do? Can they see us now?

Six million Jews, three million Bengalis, God knows how many Iraqis – shit happens. When its happens to us we run for it. When it happens somewhere else, we talk about it at tea parties. (May be one’d go, “Yea I know Hitler killed too many people and all but u gotta hand it to him…He knew what he was doing…If they’d perfected v2 on time, or didn’t have to go to Africa to help those stupid Italians or if the Japs dint step on US tail…you dunno what coulda happened. Hmm.”. At this stage his eye have gotten dreamy and all and he is feeling pretty good about himself.) China, the peoples republic and the US, the land of the free, stood by the military rulers of Pakistan and found the 71 genocide acceptable. Don’t get me wrong; am not accusing people. At the end of the day it is not the people, but the politics that justifies the means.