March Thoughts
A beggar and a neck
I was returning home from office. My eyes fell on a Toyota. A very healthy, bearded man was sitting on the back seat. Alone. Slowly I recognized him. That infamous Maulana, whose photograph was carried by Dainik Bangla in December 1971 with the caption 'Wanted!' I looked carefully at him. He was heavy and fat. He looked almost like a Gama Pahlewan. He didn't at all look like a man who had felt great tension during the preceding thirty nine years, suffering from remorse or guilt. He had opposed our independence and killed people who sought freedom. But there was no hindrance to his comfort, to his material success in our country. Strange! I remembered the matter quite a few times while returning home. Many a great freedom fighter, including the architect of our independence, couldn't live in the land they loved so much. The razakars who hated us and our land lived in peace here and climbed the golden heights of material gain. As I entered home I saw a scene which recently I am seeing often. Mother is feeding that old woman whom I am seeing frequently these days. Mother is very indulgent with her. The old woman even gossips with Mum while eating. She uses a stick and wears an old white saree. Mother is incorrigible! I jokingly ask myself, where was this old sister of ours all these years? She will be much older than Mum but calls her Amma with deep affection. Aren't we giving her undue importance? Is she really needy, is she honest? I changed and came to the dining table for snacks and tea. I asked my wife, 'Where is this sister-in-law of yours from? How did she get so close to Mum?' Khurshida took time to understand. Then she smiled. But her smile had a tinge of sorrow. 'Do you know that the old lady's three young sons died in 1971? They were freedom fighters.' I looked at her, utterly shocked. I smiled but my face looked black in sorrow. Head down, I ate quietly. I happen to be a writer. My eyes filled with water. Khurshida was going to our bedroom and luckily didn't see me. I felt proud of my mother. She not only prayed and fasted but knew whom to shower affection on. I had tears in my eyes but my mind was restless. A fat neck seen an hour or so before made me restless. I was a schoolboy in 1971, passionately involved with our war of independence. I never ever dreamt of a situation like this. The land which I had loved all these years so proudly repelled me suddenly. I felt very angry with all her fourteen crore people.
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel.
Comments