I was reading this short novel of 1993 by respected Afsan Chowdhury with a feeling of sadness.
A seemingly short but vivid account of those who left their homes post-independence with dreams of social change. After that, murder, blood, loot, treachery were lost in the stealthy path. The fresh souls who came out in the dream of liberation, after the dream came to see the falling age and the gray world. Here the Samads are killed while taking revenge for the betrayal and the Shafiqs are alive, they get an apartment in Banani, do business, NGO is established, prestige in the society, the opportunity to become an MP minister also comes. At this time I would have said – Shafiqs may also do religious banks.
During the college life several friends of leftist politics joined. I have seen closely – some fools took their lives by sacrificing their future to change the society. Always telling stories of despair, when I saw one of those who cursed the bourgeois society and bought bangles for Eid decorations – I thought the revolution meant clever people. The hawkers who show dreams to their friends later get jobs in NGOs or start NGOs themselves. Some go to Bhoomi Kheko as the boss of a real estate company or some as a private television host. But they were class enemies. A friend was conspired by his comrade friend and jailed in a check case. Yet he dreamed – one day it would change.
I couldn’t resist the urge to give some lines —
“All men are not revolutionary all their lives.—- People leave organizations, maybe even beliefs, but why betray?” ***
Torab Ali himself has been displaced several times, so he knows what it feels like to return home.
Fortunately there was a madrasa pass. You can eat something. Nowadays, people are doing Allah-Allah too much. Those who have more money in their hands are more religious now. Milad, waz is still there.
This small book published in 1993 is a story of broken dreams and betrayal of people of that time.
Author: Afsan Chowdhury
Publisher: University Press Limited
First published: 1993