In the years after the partition, in 1950, the house played host to the National Science and Industrial fair once again, and the chief guest of the event was the governor general of combined Pakistan, Khawja Nazimuddin, who was accompanied by many important cabinet members.
This would surely be an event that house would detail about, as it would about the 1951 All Pakistan Literary conference arranged by all three sons of Moyezuddin jointly, which brought together literary elites from all provinces of Pakistan, and was chaired by the illustrious Dr Muhammad Shahidullah.
The house could further tell of how the meetings deciding the nominations for the 1954 Jukto Front Elections were also held over the 42 person sitting capacity dining table of the home, as the 2nd son of Chowdhury Yusuf Ali Mohon Mia was heading the nomination committee, followed by narration of all the winners of that sweeping election of Jukto Front being invited for a celebratory feast with guests that had included Bongobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and Suhrawardy as well. The house would also surely mention being used as the venue for the 1962 All Pakistan Social Welfare Conference.
The house, if it could speak, could tell of all the times that people such as Maulana Tomizuddin Khan (central cabinet minister of Pakistan and Speaker of Central Parliament), Humayun Kabir (a central cabinet minister of India from the days of Nehru), Bongobondhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, Sher-e-Bangla Fazlul Hoque and Suhrawardy (both provincial chief ministers and or governors of Bengal/East Pakistan at various times, and Prime Minister Mohammad Ali and eminent leader Maulana Bhashani would come as frequent guests to the house and discuss so many political strategies. Some of them also stayed at the house on a number of occasions. Surely the house wouldn’t forget to mention the visit of President Ayub Khan who came soon after taking control of Pakistan as its chief martial law administrator.
The house could also talk about Poet Jasimuddin reading out his early manuscripts here before going for publication; of Abbasuddin (famous folk singer) performing live for a large audience; about Sufi Motahar (first Bangla sonnet writer) who composed several of his best sonnets seated in the dining hall of this very home. And surely the house would talk about the excitement when as recent as in the 1980s, the greatest writer of contemporary Bangla literature, Humayun Ahmed came with one of the grandchildren of Moyezuddin and stayed for a weekend.
The house could also depict how Moyezuddin had wedded Halima Begum, weighing her on a pan balance against 55kg of gold as her den mohor; about the wedding of Moyezuddin’s sons and daughters, where up to 10,000 guests were made to dine under canopies illuminated by giant gas lamps; of many other weddings that took place with members of other aristocratic families of the time, bringing in guests from Nawab families of Dhaka, Comilla, Boalmari, and from the families of the Zamindars of Dagonbhuiya, Talma, Gerda, and from the family of Haji Sharituallah of Bahadurpur, and many more.
The stories would not be complete without talking about the fireworks, musical performances, even circuses, taking place within the home-grounds. The house could talk about the entourages that would accompany the Maharajas of Ullapara, Muktagacha, Bhawal, Dighapatia and Bordhoman, when they would come for meetings with Chowdhury Moyezuddin or to pay in their tributes to him for the estates that they held jointly with him. Annals about the long lines of people entering through the high arched gateway to deposit the in kind items of the annual tributes coming in from far flung corners of Bengal across which Moyezuddin’s estates were scattered, would also gain the interest of listeners.
Gold, as strange as it may sound, was indeed so abundant, that once a discarded rusted iron safe had been found lying near the pond, inside one drawer of which several gold bars were discovered. The story of 7 pitchers of gold coins being buried underground in one of the family’s estate offices near the river being washed away in flood is a story that may sound incredible, and yet is true, and would surely not have been omitted. Yes, this was a strange home where fantasies merged with reality.
The house could also tell of when Moyezuddin would gather his army of 20,000, and people of the town in the grounds lying across the road from the house, which used to be open land back then, and infuse them with fiery motivational speeches for which he was renowned; and of the times when he would ride into battles and skirmishes with his troops.
The mosque standing in the grounds would tell how Moyezuddin would arrange to protect, on the way back, all those who came to pray and how he would give incentives to for having the courage to come and pray in a town where Muslims at the time were a marginalised, and often oppressed, minority. The mosque would tell of how it was the first mosque of the town and the place where the first Jumma was offered and the first azaan was recited.
Stories of how the Saints of Jaunpur and Enayetpur would come and preach the Sufi version of Islam from these very colonnaded verandas would be nice to hear as well. The house could narrate about the qul khawani Chowdhury Moyezuddin on December 26, 1923, when 200 oxen were sacrificed to feed the quarter of a million guests who had gathered to offer dua for the salvation of his soul. And how that led the way to starting of the practice of Eid-al-Azha in Faridpur town.
The house wouldn’t forget to state how the home was equally welcoming to all Hindus and people of other religions too, who formed the majority of Moyezuddin’s work force and management team as well, making the home, and all it stood for, an outstanding example of secularism.
The house could testify that it was not one of those typical zamindar palaces – all somber and grim as portrayed in the stereotypical stories and novels. It was a house which was full of life and where every day was like a festival. There would be numerous anecdotes to share about 27 of Moyezuddin’s grandchildren living and growing up here, with over a dozen more grandchildren through his daughter staying here half the time, making the house like a constant playground.
The house would sadly remember that it used to be called the house that never slept, for even at the oddest hours of the night, at least a few dozen of the family members or staff would be awake, swimming or boating in the pond, or enjoying an all night barbecue, not to mention the ever vigilant contingent of sentries, patrolling about, many of whom were former soldiers of the famous Gurkha regiment and some guards from faraway Abyssinia, feared by all for their formidable size and physique.
The house would recount the ceremonies held to mark the starting of schooling of the children, which included the feeding of honey with gold dust, a combination called mokordhoch and the ceremonial coronation of sorts every 3 years, when the title of Motwali or chief administrator of the estate would be handed from one son of Moyezuddin to the other. The house would surely include in its narratives about the dozens of friends and the private tutors of all the grandchildren o Moyezuddin, thronging the premises all afternoon every day.
The house would talk of the enormous kitchen that rivaled the size of that of a hotel’s, where a team of cooks and assistants would make 4 or 5 meals a day, for over 200 people, and an additional feast for visitors, guests, way farers, and peasants. The house would speak of how life in it was noisy. How in addition to all the activities, there would always be people listening to the gramophones and radios, and family members trying their skills on the piano in the drawing room.
It would tell how the kids would often organise elaborate fancy dress parties and dramas where they would garb themselves as legendary characters of history. And about how dexterous in sports most of the members of the family were, and of the tons of cups and trophies won by the sons and grandchildren of Moyezuddin for tennis, golf, hockey, badminton, cycling, cricket and athletics. Some family members, even played on the national team in the 1960s, managing to hold their position among the dominant line up of then West Pakistani players and many a times the national cricket or hockey teams came and stayed in Moyez Manzil accepting the hospitality of the family.
This house would talk about how it was the first house to have electricity in Faridpur in 1933, and how it was the venue for so many entertaining poet’s duels where they would argue and quarrel in rhymes, and of times when different groups of family members were going for picnics and hunts or river cruises in the family’s exclusive steamships and houseboats almost every other weekend. The house would share, that family members and guests would frequently challenge each other in shooting competitions using various kinds of rifles or even ancient muskets of which many shelves and cabinets were adorned. The house would talk about the many times when British officers of the government of high importance had visited, and how they had become awestruck at the grandeur and splendor of the life style.
But the house would also share memories of tragedies, like of the times when Moyezuddin died, and his sons, and their wives, one by one over the years, each time plunging the house into woe and mourning by the hundreds of thousands of people gathering over a few days, to attend their funerals and burials.
It would talk of times of anguish, such as of all the times that Lal Mia the eldest son of Moyezuddin, was taken away as a prisoner many a times, from the grounds of the house, by the British government for his anti colonial political activities. It would also tell you about the horrors of the time when the Pakistani government in one of its repressive endeavors attempted to seal the house and confiscate all its belongings, stripping the house bare. The house would tell you how the great leader Suhrawardy himself defended the family in court and after the victory, apparently everything was returned, but many things were damaged beyond repair, and many were returned only on paper.
The house would also share with you, the memories of anxious uncertainty during the war of independence of 1971, when everyone had to abandon the home, and trudge through knee deep mud to faraway places seeking refuge from the carnage. The house would share with us all the pain it suffered as it helplessly watched while so many of the beautiful antiques were so daftly taken away or damaged. The house would also tell with pride, how as narrated by Foyez, the sub sector commander of Faridpur, of how the front lawn of the house was used as a venue by the liberation forces to call the enemy to surrender in the eve of 16th December, 1971.
Nevertheless, if indeed the house could share its emotions and speak, it would surely weep today seeing its present plight and contrasting it with its own glorious experiences of the past. It would recount with shame how some members of the family had so many of the carved designs on the walls chiseled off, how so many of the descendants of the great lord made extensions or renovations at some place or the other using garish modern designs that contrast with the traditional architecture. The house would lament how the descendants of Moyezuddin sold, or gave away so many of the furniture and artifacts or carried them off to their new homes in Dhaka, leaving the Moyez Manzil all denuded and bare.
It would not be able to contain within its brick and stone heart, the woe of seeing that almost no one lives at this home, except for some family members visiting weekly and some occasionally. The house would call out for help to stop the descendants of the great lord who made it, from selling away fragments of the open lands around the house, on which new purchasers have begun to construct horrifying multi storied monstrosities. Indeed the house would weep and wish for help.
But sorrow, joys, pride and shame, all combined, if indeed the house could speak, it would tell the story of this land, and it would be a story that generations of those who love the history of the country and of Bengal, would love to hear recounted to them again and again.