Mother of Bengal: an epic monologue (First Episode)

Anisur Rahman has written the book ‘Mother of Bengal’ (Our Bangamata), an epic monologue of the exceptionally great woman of human history, with the help of his study-plan, imagination and history

Preface

French translator Roland Ngwee Ngijol after completing translation of my epic monologue `Ami Sheikh Mujib’ [I am Sheikh Mujib] portraying the personality of the architect of our nation state Bangladesh, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, advised me to write another monologue depicting the personality of Renu, the wife of Sheikh Mujib. I promised Roland that I would do that. After that day I thought about it for about a year. I discussed it with lots of people; but nobody could add anything to say about this noble woman of history.

There are huge write-ups and memoirs on the great hero of the history of the birth of Bangladesh Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman; on the other hand, there are no original write-ups containing information about his wife Bangamata Sheikh Fazilatunnesa Mujib. Bangamata herself felt comfortable doing the right thing at the right time being behind the veil, not being in focus. She was so unwilling to come into the public, breaking the veil.

It’s obvious that she is an inevitable noble at the centre of the epic, along with Bangabandhu in the grandiose history of the birth of Bangladesh. A sophisticated picture of the personality and psychology of Bangamata could be imagined from write-ups and memoirs of her husband Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, nuclear scientist M A Wazed Miah, Nilima Ibrahim, Sufia Kamal, A B M Musa, Abdul Gaffar Chowdhury, Aminul Haque Badsha, Sheikh Hasina, Sheikh Rehana, National Professor Rafiqul Islam, Baby Moudud and Syed Anwar Hossen as there is prevailing a bareness of fruitful scholarly research on our history and politics. I got notable help from the book `Bangamata Sheikh Fazilatunnesa Mujib’ edited by Khaleque Bin Joyenuddin and Malek Mahmud.

I have written the book ‘Mother of Bengal’ (Our Bangamata), an epic monologue of the exceptionally great woman of human history, with the help of my study-plan, imagination and history. This epic monologue is written for the young readers; at the same time it is a complete drama of single character producible in radio and theatre. -- Anisur Rahman

First Episode

1930-1944

[House 26 of road 18 of Dhanmondi, 1971. She was talking to herself, alone, sitting on a blanket, or at times going up to the window; though her children and house helps were with her in the surrounding – such was the perspective.]

I am Sheikh Fazilatunnesa Mijib. Nickname Renu. My husband Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is the undisputed leader of this country.

He is the other name of this land.

Coming from Tungipara we have been scattered here and there.

We are all confronting this frantic jeopardy uttering a spell.

Our patriotism is that spell;

the living spirit in all of us.

My father left this world when I was only three.

Except me, my elder sister of five years, mother and grandfather were in the family.

After two years mother also left the warmth of earth.

Left here to live were us two sisters and grandfather.

This I heard from others; I can’t remember what happened since I was only three.

As my grandfather wished, at that age my marriage with Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was solemnised, he was 13 and his nickname was Khoka.

My grandfather was the uncle of my father-in-law Sheikh Lutfor Rahman.

He called his nephew and told him, I will solemnise the marriage of my youngest granddaughter with your eldest son Khoka.

Marriage was registered.

Then, when I was seven, grandfather also left us.

Thereafter I went to my mother-in-law, leaving my parents' house.

From that time she was both my mother and my father.

I also called her father at a tender age.

Out of old habit, I still call her that sometimes

People have fun bringing it up

And my mother-in-law has taught me everything and has raised me as her own daughter.

Why do all these memories come back to me today like this?

The reminiscing appears in front of me like a flood

I am drowning in the ocean of jeopardy.

The first day when I sat on the lap of my mother-in-law, she introduced me – this is your Didi [elder sister], this is your grandfather, and the rest is one.

He was her eldest son Khoka.

I pointed at him with my finger to ask – who is he to me?

He is your Dulha [bridegroom].

That Dulha is my husband, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.

The two of us met in a bridal room in 1942.

Our first son was born in 1944.

He died.

It was terribly upsetting.

I broke down physically and mentally.

My husband will go to Kolkata. What is there to say?!

A great pain in heart, his aching; but he’s thirsting to do something for the country and for the people of the county – I don’t want to keep him from doing that!

But yet, I express my concerns, `You don’t want to come back from Kolkata once you’ve been there – for now, please come back home when the holidays begin.’

In those days, the man was very busy with politics and studies in Kolkata.

He had neither time nor space to come home.

Once he would go to help the people of an area in India, torn by riots. with the leader of Bengal Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy.

Mr. Suhrawardy said, 'Mujib, take some time off from your wife.’

My husband Sheikh Mujib wrote to me asking for advice.

In his letter he wanted to know whether he should come back to Tungipara or go out to help the riot-torn people together with Suhrawardy.

I believed I would come to terms with living with the family here.

He should go out helping the people of the country.

If he doesn’t go out to serve the country, who will?

So, that was the opinion of my letter.

Hearing about my letter Mr. Suhraweardy told him, `Mujib, she is a very precious gift to you from God. Don’t neglect her, please.’

How could he neglect me?!

His heart is full of love for me!

It doesn't matter where he stays – Kolkata, Tungipara or Delhi; we are tied to each other with love.

Live or die, our lives are intertwined with each other

I came to Kolkata so that he could appear at the BA examination, read well and study with the utmost concentration .

The gang of Hyenas could do no harm to him, thanks to the immense love and blessings he receives from the people.

Whereabouts of Kamal?!

There is neither time nor place to find out the whereabouts of other family members.

It’s as if we’re all in severe danger.

This child Russel, who is seven now, I came to my in-law’s house at this age.

Day has gone, night is passing, and there’s still nothing I could feed this child with.

Well, prisoners have rights as well, among these three meals of food.

Can’t we at least have that?

Did my husband fight to see this today for beloved Pakistan with the leaders of the country denying all of his hope and aspiration of life?

I wish I’d asked Mr. Jinnah this when visiting his grave.

To be continued …

[Translation: Debashish Deb; edited by Frank Bergsten]