No matter what you say about the Enlightenment in general -- whether as an important period in European history with its broad-ranging global impact or its critical evaluations -- I would defend an enlightened society in which many of us grew up in Bangladesh, especially in the late sixties.
I am not covering all of Bangladesh in the pre-independence days, but rather a small town (then) during that period. This is the story of Bagerhat as I saw it when I was in high school and in pre-university college. Routinely, there would be various cultural events celebrating different national days (of Pakistan), dramas at the Town Club of Bagerhat or at puja mandaps, and musical functions.
There were some local artists who would regularly perform in these musical events. They were not imported bands from metropolitan cities but artists who grew up locally. One such artist was Chhaya Datta, who was a very good singer. Another singer was Tandra Banerjee, who lived in our neighbourhood. Of the two artists, Chhaya Datta was more prominent as she would perform at the functions held in the Town Club, the heart of cultural activities in Bagerhat. These artists came from middle-class families and would participate in these functions voluntarily.
Next to the town club, there was a tennis court where the young civil servants and the elites of Bagerhat would play, including Mohiuddin Mansur Khokon Bhai, a local elite. Khokon Bhai was also a stage actor of great reputation. So was Kamal Bhai, whose father, Asha Doctor, was also part of the local elite. Kamal Bhai was an excellent stage actor and a brilliant off-spinner in cricket. I rarely see such a combination of talents these days.
The local gentry, both from the Hindu community and the Muslim elite, would perform on the local stage. Gora Mia, who was well-built and a talented actor, would perform alongside Dr Arun Nag, a well-known doctor. My school friend Pritthish’s father, Bagu Banerjee, was a prominent actor, and sometimes we would hear rumours that he would go to Kolkata to act professionally, which he never did.
They were also amateur artists. They acted for recreation and to add to the cultural life of Bagerhat. In our college days, we had Professor Abubakar Siddique, who taught us Bengali literature. A superb teacher and poet, he also directed plays. I remember he recorded a play, Meghe Dhaka Tara, on a tape-recorder, where he played a leading role along with some male and female students. I was not given a part, but I was made the music director with a single musical instrument -- a mouth organ! My elder brother, Mahbub, played a part.
Once during a play, an actor stormed off the stage to express his anger at a young man on the side who had done something wrong. When we thought that disruption was the end of the play, Zahur Bhai, as the director and prompter, changed the storyline, sent the angry actor back to the stage, and made the female actor who was still on the stage ask him why he left like that. To this, the lead actor replied -- thanks to the new lines added instantaneously -- that the boys in our neighbourhood had become so naughty that they needed to be taught a lesson from time to time. Except for us who were involved in the play, the audience did not even notice that something had gone wrong.
I enjoyed the rehearsals at Siddique Sir’s house, where during breaks we would have tea and hear stories about his literary friends, including Hasan Azizul Huq, who according to Siddique Sir was the best short story writer in the country. Siddique Sir also showed us his exchange of letters with Shunil Ganguli. That’s when I heard those names for the first time.
There was a gentleman among the cultural elites in Bagerhat whose role was to deliver speeches highlighting the importance of various celebrations or personalities. He was a brilliant orator. I admired his oratory skills but did not understand much of the content of his talks as I was in class six or seven with little knowledge of the big issues he discussed. This well-dressed and good-looking gentleman had no specific profession. His main job was to give speeches. Despite such a gift of gab, he was not even in politics. He was truly a free-floating intellectual.
While in Bagerhat High School, this gentleman was invited to give a talk at a big event when the school had a distinguished visitor from Dhaka, a high official from the Education Department, a lady whose name was Khadija Begum (as far as I can recall). In those days, not many women held such high positions in the government.
The speaker compared her with Sarojini Naidu, the Indian politician. This made our guest very happy. The speaker made a good impression on her. I am sure she left for Dhaka with a high opinion of the intellectual culture of Bagerhat.
These cultural activities in Bagerhat created a society of tolerance, mutual respect, and inter-communal harmony, which are the essential ingredients of an enlightened society.
Habibul Haque Khondker is a sociology professor at Zayed University, Abu Dhabi who previously taught at the National University of Singapore.
