Attack on Humayun Azad: Contemplations

A rather thin, bespectacled, unobtrusive man with a shock of graying hair, puffing away at his cigarette unconcernedly in a corner of the Arts Faculty Teachers' Lounge -- this is the Dr. Humayun Azad that most of us know. Acclaimed novelist, poet and linguist and undoubtedly an exceptional teacher the man has diverse sides to his talents as well as to his nature. Outrageously outspoken, firm in his own beliefs, a champion against anything that he feels is unfair. A person who doesn't belong to any party white, blue or pink; he had demonstrated in the streets during Ershad's regime, the Awami League tenure as well as the BNP rule. His personality, brilliance and intellect inspire and awe; his wit, humor and eccentricity amuses one and all.

The news flash on the 27th of February changed the picture, it was hard to recognise the dazed, lost looking, profusely bleeding image on the TV screen as Dr. Humayun Azad. This incident has changed the equation for all of us on campus.

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The news stories everyday are bad enough to depress and demoralise anyone. Many of our friends have stopped reading the newspapers because things aren't getting any better. The numbers of crimes are increasing, the stories are becoming more horrific and blood-curdling. It seems that the society all around us has disintegrated and degenerated completely. People have lost all social bindings, moral values and human qualities and have become worse than wild animals stopping at nothing to fulfil their own selfish ends. There appears to be no such thing as law and order or justice. The law enforcers are hostages to political affiliations or up for sale to whoever can afford their services.

But we still felt safe, cocooned by a false sense of security that these atrocities wouldn't affect us, after all what could we possibly do to annoy or upset anyone. At the country's highest seat of learning we thought these things wouldn't encroach upon our mundane existence. We felt confident that we still had our freedom of expression, freedom of thought and beliefs. The 27th of February shattered all our illusions.

How could terror and repression so boldly strike one of our own in the very heart of our campus? What were the law enforcement agents doing? What about the plainclothes police and police informers and intelligence personnel who are supposedly roaming around us constantly? Why are we paying for and maintaining such agencies if they fail to perform the very duty that justifies their existence? Is their sole purpose to protect the ruling elite and spy upon prominent members of the opposition? Don't they owe us, the common people and taxpayers anything?

The month of February is important to us; we mourn the brave 'Bangalees' who died to retain our mother tongue. 21st February marks the stirring of our freedom movement. We always commemorate this solemn occasion by holding a month long 'Boi-mela'. But what happened this time? Someone went and cold-bloodedly attempted to murder one of our most prominent writers with butcher's, knives. Is this what we have become? We can pre-plan, pre-meditate and execute a plan so brilliantly. We can befriend a person, take advantage of his trust and simplicity, chat with him for hours and then brutally stab him in the back and then we can flee like the cowards and traitors that we actually are into the darkness of the night?

The rumours are endless the mud slinging predictable. The Ruling Party condemns the Opposition and vice versa, most people blame Muslim militants. When will the mutual accusation stop? Will we ever be secure, anywhere again? Will the attackers ever be identified and punished? Or will they escape unscathed and free to repeat their crimes? Or will this incident be buried and blurred by other irrelevant issues as countless past ones have been?

Nowadays people are afraid to go to the 'Boishakhi mela', afraid to go to Dhanmandi lake, afraid to send children to schools or parks, afraid of going to the bank, they are afraid inside their homes, afraid to go shopping, afraid to go anywhere, afraid of speaking, afraid of everything, they are even afraid of living. This fear has become part and parcel of our existence. After all we are ordinary people not VIP's, CIP's, MP's or politicians. They can feel safe in their air-conditioned, bulletproof protective shells. We can't we don't have money, power, influence or political clout. We can't buy or barter our safety. So our lives are of no value, we are worthless. What happens to us doesn't bother anyone. It seems as if this nation doesn't belong to us, it doesn't need us, since no one cares for us or bothers about us.

Humayun Azad was correct in questioning in one of his novels, "Is this the Bangladesh we wanted?" After all the common man doesn't belong to this country. Humayun Azad is fighting for his life today because he dared to protest, he dared to question, he dared to criticise, he dared to exercise his right of freedom of expression, he dared to speak out. His fame, popularity, intellect and goodwill couldn't guarantee his safety. What about the rest of us? Will we be attacked and silence too? Is this a warning for all intellectuals and freethinking, open-minded, progressive people?

Who is going to give us back our sense of security and well being? Is this insecurity going to gnaw away at our souls and waste our lives? Will any political party ever be able to give us genuine security and safety? Does any of our politicians really care about us? Or will they continue bickering amongst themselves and using us as mere pawns in their power plays? Dear politicians, can any of you assure us about our safety? Can any of you guarantee that we won't be stabbed or shot or roasted or hacked to pieces tomorrow? Because we are really disappointed and frustrated by all of you, it doesn't make a difference which party is in power or who is the PM; the equation of our lives remains unchanged: insecurity, frustration and fear loom all around us. When will things really change for us?

The writers are young teachers of Dhaka University