A True Picture/ The Real Picture
A few years ago when Muktir Gaan, a docu-fiction by Tariq and Catherine Masud, was released, many, especially the youngsters, were drawn into the beauty of the film, the music and the characters shown in the film. Lubna Marium, dancer, researcher, cultural activist, and also one of the participants in this 5-day musical tour of the then war-stricken country shares some of her experiences and views. "Memory, unfortunately, is not static and often changes," says Lubna Marium, thinking back to the Muktir Gaan days. "Through the years it becomes more our unconscious 'reading of memory', based on constructed collective representation, rather than the memory of what actually happened.
With 'MuktirGaan', it gets a little more complicated. It is projected as a documentation of 1971, but somewhere, in fine-lines, Tareq and Catherine were honest enough to acknowledge that the work is a 'docu-fiction', meaning that the raw-footages were played around with to represent a 'time-line' which was constructed to give a slightly different perspective of the events, rather than as they actually happened."
According to Marium, the war she had witnessed in 71, along with so many others, was terrifying, something she would never want for her children to experience. "For the new generation, it may sound blasphemous, but my memory of being with the 'Mukti Shongrami Shilpi Shongstha' is peripheral to other heart-wrenching memories of 1971," she says. "The total breakdown of a 17 year old's life-- giving way first to exile from her motherland, then becoming part of the large exodus of refugees in West Bengal, going on to becoming part of armed guerilla warfare, and then finally the horror and desolation of getting acquainted with the death of dear ones. War was ugly and remains so. I vehemently object to its glorification."
There is a part in the film, where everyone is seen ecstatic on finding sweets (mishti) to eat all the way from Bangladesh. "That's the 'fictionalised' part!" she exclaims. "Of more joy, and etched deeply in my memory, is our visit to the Muktibahini camp. The fact that we could actually step back into our beloved Bangladesh, after that boat trip, was a gift for all of us. That was the 'Shonar Bangla' that we were all dreaming of, all fighting for. At that point there was no certainty that it would actually transpire."
Lubna Marium says that she would do this all over again if she were given a chance to. "At a twinkling," she says. "If I felt it would bring about the liberation of our people from corruption, from dishonesty and give equal rights to all. I feel that our generation was given the gift to be able to fight for our country. But, yes, I would also warn them that all their hopes and aspirations can be appropriated by a handful of people for their own selfish benefits."
The armed young, the unsung heroes and the common people who fought for the country have been forgotten, says Mairum. "The squad that sang was never, ever in any danger of becoming martyrs. Unfortunately, through the years, the armed freedom fighters, the unknown and forgotten young men who took up arms for their country have been turned into a squalid rabble. No one has made any attempt to remember, let alone commemorate, their contribution. I am embarrassed by this adulation of the 'kawtha' and 'shawbdo' soiniks. Of course, the work that was done by them in creating awareness in India was tremendous, but in comparison to putting your life on the line, it is paltry."
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