It seems the city authority, in trying to do a good thing, has landed in serious trouble. In the middle of it all, there was an unwelcome tug-of-war over the portrait of the late Sanjib Chowdhury. This dramatic chain of events around the wall doesn’t only raise questions about the city authority’s judgement. It also points to a social, political, and psychological problem in Bangladesh.
Among Bangladesh’s many problems is the fact that it has two “ages.” As an independent state, Bangladesh is only 55 years old. But on the basis of the Bengali language and culture, the Bengali nation is very old. Reconciling the two should not be a problem. But religious division, and its influence on society and politics, has made this simple task difficult.
Take the wall of the Shilpakala Academy in Segunbagicha. The Dhaka city authority decided to clear hawkers from the footpath beside the road and decorate the wall beautifully. Good. They decided that, instead of using bright colours alone, they would also paint portraits of some of the country’s eminent figures. Better still.
Trouble broke out over whose portraits. The question arose: What do we mean by “country,” and even if these figures are eminent, are they really “ours?” And what exactly do we mean by “ours?”
The country is only 55 years old, so finding “eminent” figures is also hard. It may sound a little harsh, but it isn’t untrue. In any society, it takes time for a poet, writer, musician, politician, or intellectual to be counted as eminent.
Today there are many people, living or dead, who are enormously popular. But it will take them a long time, a very long time, to reach the eminent or classic level.
From Shakespeare to Nazrul
In the Western world, this matter doesn’t create much controversy. Britain’s The Beatles and America’s Elvis Presley are undoubtedly the most popular modern musicians in the West.
But when portraits are placed on currency or in nationally important places, the West goes back to its classical era, whether in music, literature, or painting. Many people dislike Britain’s former prime minister Winston Churchill. But his huge statue in Parliament Square, for leading Britain in the Second World War, and his picture on the £5 note don’t cause much controversy. (Though far-left youths occasionally smear red paint on the statue, because in their eyes Churchill was a symbol of racist imperialism.)
The vast difference between the two categories, eminent and popular, is not understood by many, or they understand it but pretend not to.
This difference does not disrespect popular figures. Rather, it tells their followers that their time will come too. But before that, we must see whether the work of those who are popular today will still be relevant 100 years from now. Will it still be read in schools and colleges, as the literature of William Shakespeare, Rabindranath Tagore, or Kazi Nazrul Islam is taught today? To cross the boundary of popularity and reach the classical level, a person’s work must survive even a hundred years after their death.
By that measure, Sanjib Chowdhury’s portrait does not belong beside Rabindranath’s or Nazrul’s. But that wall is a fitting place for Begum Rokeya or Jibanananda Das, because they are truly eminent. Yet an injustice has also been done to Sanjib Chowdhury. If there was a case for keeping him on the wall, why was he removed? By putting him up once and then taking him down under criticism, the authority has insulted the memory of the late artist, which perhaps did not occur to them.
The deeper problem of the wall
If the city authority had wished, it could have decorated one or two entire walls with portraits of popular writers, musicians, and actors. Beside Sanjib Chowdhury, portraits of popular but late figures such as Ayub Bachchu, Azam Khan, Humayun Faridi, Al Mahmud, Shamsur Rahman, Farida Yasmin, and Zahir Raihan could have found a place.
But even then, problems would have arisen. There are many popular figures, and a fresh controversy would begin over why those left out were not included.
But this wall has exposed an even deeper problem. 55 years after independence, the debate over the country’s and the nation’s self-identity has still not stopped, as we have once again been made to see plainly.
Art, literature, music, and cinema are all part of a nation’s cultural life. Language and cultural heritage play the main role here, although at different stages of history, religion has had a big influence in building that heritage.
When people in Bangladesh search for the roots of their culture, when they want to remember the names and work of their own eminent figures, national borders will not be able to hold them back.
Bangladesh’s culture did not begin after the birth of the independent state. In search of the country’s luminaries, many names will come up who are Bengali in heart and soul but whose work was completed before independent Bangladesh was born.
To find the eminent figures of Bangladesh’s cultural world, one has to look beyond not only 1971 but the twentieth century. There, which side of the new border someone’s birthplace fell on after the 1947 partition of India should have no place in the debate.
The greatest Bengali BBC list
That 1971 left a huge mark on the hearts of the people of Bangladesh can be seen from a 2004 experience at BBC Bangla.
BBC Bangla’s plan was to make a series of programs on eminent figures through a listener poll. Listeners were asked: In your opinion, who is the greatest Bengali of all time? And not just one name. It was decided to make a list of 20 and produce a radio feature on the life of each eminent person.
The list shows that, at least, BBC Bangla radio listeners did not take the present national borders into account in choosing the “greatest Bengali.” Rising above religious and political divisions, they looked for their own people.
While fixing the broadcast date, an unexpected surprise came up. Counting the days, it turned out that March 26 to April 14 was exactly 20 days. That meant the series on “the greatest Bengali of all time” could begin on Bangladesh’s Independence Day and end on Bengali New Year’s Day, Pohela Boishakh. What could be a more fitting time for this series?
In the list drawn up from the listeners’ votes, first place went to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and second to Rabindranath Tagore. Then came Kazi Nazrul Islam, A K Fazlul Huq, Subhas Chandra Bose, and Begum Rokeya Sakhawat. After them came Jagadish Chandra Bose, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar, Abdul Hamid Khan Bhashani, Raja Ram Mohan Roy, Titumir, Lalon Fakir, Satyajit Ray, Amartya Sen, the martyrs of 21 February, Dr Muhammad Shahidullah, Swami Vivekananda, Atisha Dipankar, Ziaur Rahman, and Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy.
This poll was not without controversy. Some Islamist newspapers found a “Brahminical conspiracy” behind it. A far-left editor saw in the publication of the list an attempt to boost the Awami League’s movement against the then BNP government. But one of my colleagues at the BBC was only surprised.
Achala Sharma, then head of the BBC’s Hindi service, who had learned Bengali only to read Sarat Chandra’s books, expressed her surprise to me. “Why didn’t Rabindranath come first?” she asked. I gave her my analysis. “If this poll had been held 40 years ago, Rabindranath would undoubtedly have been chosen as the greatest Bengali. But in these 40 years, Bangladesh was born, and as the architect of the Bengalis’ first independent state, Mujib’s place in the listeners’ minds has moved above Rabindranath’s.”
