Seventy one years ago, a rag-tag assemblage defied prohibitory orders to protest imposition of a single-foreign language as the state vocabulary of the then Pakistan. They were led by a few that had a purpose of mind but chose the only way they saw open to them.
The resultant cold-blooded mayhem unleashed by the law-enforcers came as a shock; it also kindled a long-fuse of a new aspiration in a rapidly disenchanted populace.
The forced appeasement thereafter by the rulers were a little too little, too late. Innocent lives had been taken. Innocence itself had been drowned in experience. From a hastily erected memorial to the grand Central Shaheed Minar, a milestone was created to be revered.
Through the years, in many ways, the ideals behind the structure and the encompassing memories have been trampled.
The probhat ferry that those having lived that long had held close to their hearts has been converted to a midnight Gregorian mass of a kind. The Ekushey Boi Mela or Book Fair that was to have highlighted the essence of Bangla literature, history to an extent, and thoughtful deliberations has grossly deviated.
Ownership of the fair is a badly stitched fabric whereby no one really knows where to next. Global realities in terms of simple printing paper availability and its prices have led to some publishing houses declaring their inability to set up pavilions.
Others are struggling through the web of borrowers and lenders to maintain a presence in the hope of recuperating expenses. Established and aspiring writers look hopefully forward, praying that a populace weighed down by inflation and soaring prices can still find enough to buy.
Publishers have bemoaned the quality of writing and literature -- being sent their way grimacing as one recalled being faced with the question: “What's the new one by Humayun Ahmed?.” While that's a tribute to the greatness of the man, it leaves a funny taste in the mouth that his passing isn't known.
With anyone and everyone fancying their poetic or prosaic prowess they are often beset with a lack of interest in meaningful deliberations. Last year, it was widely propagated on social media that there were more writers than buyers -- almost peddling their books.
This was to have been expected. Reading habits aren't encouraged in educational institutions. Competitions for young writers are few and far between and little has been done to balance the divide between digital availability and traditional reading habits.
Bangla Academy has come under the microscope for the lack of empathy towards research and promotion and the inability to extend the Fair away from the capital to the regions and divisions, indeed districts even as governments try to make those very areas more self-sufficient and relevant.
All isn't lost. A new crop of intuitive writers and poets are forcing their way through. Their self-initiative can be supported by special discussion corners, not merely of the thought process of the Humayun Ahmeds but what inspired and spurred their imagination.
These aren't for the converted but for the fresh minds -- to be supportive not indicative. For that to happen, creativity platforms have to be established in nooks and corners. Reading habits must be nurtured from a young age, a painful process that won't see overnight results.
Nor can it be just the government's prerogative. Publishing houses and benevolent supporters must come forward without seeking gains beyond an enlightened society.
Some of the best literature has been spawned from the inconsistencies of society and indeed, governance. Satire, lampoons, and downright stating of the obvious always have appeal and resonance among readers. A tolerant society must accept the bouquets with the brick-bats.
That helps in building societal awareness -- leading to corrective measures. For now, we wait with fingers-crossed that someone, somewhere can come up with the best fiction, non-fiction, poetry, research, translation, children's books, and history books for the year.
These must then be publicized with the help of publishers and literary organisations that must, in turn, be free from influences of any kind. Solid deliberations that transcend established critics and discussants, that involve the writers that have competed, and crucially, readers that have bought the books.
Then, in turn, the government must then use these books as awards and prizes for schools, colleges, and universities and push for placement in relevant fairs outside the countries for the diaspora.
February 21 is a UN declared Mother Language Day that isn't observed in any great fanfare worldwide. We took the lead in having it set up. It's up to us to spread the word. Perhaps, in a small way, it will be a small petal of peace for those that rest having made the supreme sacrifice for Bangla.
Mahmudur Rahman is a writer, columnist, broadcaster, and communications specialist.