Parliament has announced that, henceforth, March 25 will be recognised as Genocide Day. As a person with a job, I couldn’t be more excited. Two back-to-back government holidays? Who needs long weekends?
This is assuming, of course, that the commemoration of this day is such that it leads to some sort of break for the overworked masses of the country which, I romantically believe, includes me.
However, as an occasional observer of the nation’s politics, I am slightly more on the fence.
For me, as a post-Independence child, brought up within the confines of walls in which I was privileged enough to not have witnessed a bloody war, my relationship with our shared history is one of great conflict.
There is a part of me, naive as that may sound, that wishes to have experienced the war first-hand, and even before that, the linguistic battles, so that I could have a better understanding of what had passed.
This is especially true for someone who has been spoon-fed history as if it were truth, as if the mere recollection of the past doesn’t change what had happened, as if memory is objective, set in stone, as if a re-telling doesn’t alter the facts simply through the way it is told.
This is not to reiterate some sort of Trump-like “alternative facts” narrative. But merely to understand our history as it was, unblemished, untainted, un-utilised for political agenda.
Are we, with all these Days with capital Ds, also headed towards a narrative which, decades later, will become to be known as a commemoration which ended up supporting the wrong side in history?
Not that my own personal recollection would change what had happened. Not that my own personal agendas and emotions and biases would bleed into the narrative that I would spew when I, too, find myself with a voice, and find at the end of its utterance an attentive ear.
But that is besides the point, perhaps. Perhaps, with the advent of a new day to be recognised, are we not running out of days -- to make space for the multitude of events and happenstances, tragedies and battles -- with which to commemorate?
When so much of our history is closed for closer inspection, what do we do? America suffers this with Christopher Columbus Day, a national holiday named after a slave king, though they are afforded the freedom to criticise Columbus as they wish.
Are we, with all these Days with capital Ds, also headed towards a similar narrative which, decades later, will come to be known as a commemoration which ended up supporting the wrong side in history? Interesting to be on either side, really, when it comes to historical events. History, to paraphrase/quote the much-touted adage, is written by the winners. And, as such, no matter how evident it seems, it is difficult to spew as fact.
This is, I suppose, what they (who are they? Academics and know-it-alls) mean by this era of post-truth. Despite discovering and inventing so much which allows us to track our past, to have undeniable proof of what had happened, we find ourselves constantly doubting ourselves (or, at least, we should) because we are bombarded by newer information, adding more and more context.
That’s why, each time the ruling party changes, so do the holidays, so do the days to be commemorated by the government and the nation. That’s why with each turning of the tides, we find ourselves drowning under the tsunami of a new narrative.
Well, in (formerly) two-party states such as ours, that is common. Bangladesh is no exception. But sometimes, our propensity for focusing on the wrong thing, is worth a mention.
Work towards constant economic growth? Good. Develop the IT sector? Good. Try to remove the Lady of Justice statue from the Supreme Court grounds? Not good. Focus on solar-powered energy? Good. Mobile banking? Good. Ban pornography because it’s ruining our nation’s morality? Not good.
Think about new ways we can hold on to our past when there are enough days and enough narratives and enough boomboxes reiterating speeches? Well, still on the fence about that one.
But, maybe, in the end, I’ll just don my overworked Dhaka service-holder’s cap. I’ll get up at 7 in the morning, cursing my alarm. I’ll fight with the conductor over the bus fares from Mouchak to Bashundhara. I’ll wait impatiently for the day to end. I’ll get home and lie down on my bed and sleep a sweet sleep.
And every year, when March comes around, I’ll be excited for the two-day government holiday that awaits me, a little over three weeks away.
SN Rasul is an Editorial Assistant at the Dhaka Tribune.