‘We can’t forget him’: Co-actors remember Shams Suman
The loss of Shams Suman has left a quiet rupture across Bangladesh’s acting community.
A familiar face since the 1990s, Suman moved with ease between BTV dramas, stage, and film, earning both audience affection and critical recognition, including a National Film Award. But beyond the work, those who knew him remember something less tangible—an instinctive warmth that went beyond his identity as an actor or colleague, a presence that lingered long after the camera stopped rolling.
In conversations with The Daily Star, colleagues returned to those fleeting, personal moments they shared with him—memories now difficult to let go of, as they mourn a deeply loved artist and an even more remarkable human being.
“I just can’t forget him,” said Azizul Hakim. “His sudden death has caused immense pain. We all have to go one day, but this feels different—too sudden. I feel deeply saddened. I keep thinking of him again and again. He was such a cheerful person. Whenever he was present at an adda or a shoot, the atmosphere would change—it would become lively and joyful. He had so many qualities. We share countless memories from acting together—how do I forget those? I pray to the Almighty that he finds peace. There is nothing more I can do but pray. I met him just two months ago at the Actors Equity office—who knew that would be our last meeting? May he be well in the hereafter, my colleague and dear one.”
Salahuddin Lavlu struggled to contain the weight of shared years. “Shams Suman and I have countless memories. One by one, they keep coming back. What can I even say? I am mentally shaken by his passing. We walked the same path in art—we were companions in that journey. We acted together in BTV dramas, and spent endless hours in adda. The most important thing is, Suman was loved by everyone—young and old alike. That’s rare. I have never seen him speak ill of anyone. If Suman was present, there would be laughter—no one stayed unhappy around him. He knew acting, he loved acting, and he had a deep passion for recitation. There wasn’t a week we didn’t meet at Channel i. To lose someone like this so suddenly—it hurts deeply. I rushed to the hospital after hearing the news. I still cannot forget his face. May Allah grant him eternal peace.”
For Chanchal Chowdhury, the loss remains unreal. “It is truly hard to believe that our dear Suman bhai is no more. Since hearing the news, this thought keeps returning—how short life is, how quickly it ends. None of us knows when our time will come. Suman bhai, I will miss our conversations, your beautiful performances, and your smiling face. I pray for the peace of your soul. Please stay well in the hereafter.”
Shahed Ali recalled a bond that began before his own acting career. “Suman bhai was our senior. I knew him even before I became an actor, from my days as an assistant director. I still remember the first time I saw him on set—he made me feel so welcome from the very first day. That warmth remained throughout. I met him at Channel i not long before his passing. At that time, I was feeling low for some reason. But when he saw me, he looked me in the eye, spoke for a while—and my sadness disappeared. That was Suman bhai—he had a kind of magic.
“Suman bhai received affection from seniors and respect from us. Not everyone can be loved by all, but he could. On the day of my wedding to Deepa Khandakar, he did something I will never forget. He was hosting a live radio show, and suddenly he called me and said, ‘Shahed, let me speak to Deepa—on this special day, which song does she love?’ Then he mentioned how much she loved James ‘Baba’. That was Suman bhai—he remembered something so personal. We often don’t know what pain someone carries inside, but even if he had any, he never showed it—he chose to share joy instead. As a co-actor, he was extraordinary. Having someone like him meant so much. I will miss him deeply.”
In the end, their words return to the same place. Beyond the roles and recognition, Shams Suman was someone who made people feel at ease—someone whose presence quietly lifted a room.
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