I wasn’t even 5 then, yet as I close my eyes, I can hear the song reverberate, bringing my blood to a boil:
“Shono ekti Mujiborer theke, lokkho Mujiborer kontho-shorer dhoni,
protidhhoni,Akashe, batashe othe roni :
Bangladesh, amar Bangladesh!”
(Roughly translated, hear how one Mujibor’s clarion call is being echoed by a million as we fight for our Motherland Bangladesh).
Yes, oppressed Bengalis were fighting for a separate adobe, my Mother told me and the least we could do was echo the song of their struggle, spread the word. Then had come the curfews: cars with their head lights painted black, and the palpable tension evident even to us kids. I remember, how I would routinely run out to the street and stand in rapt attention, pulling my childish frame in a taut military salute as the convoys of India army’s “Shaktimaan” trucks ambled towards the border.
Then the inevitable war broke out and the Indian blitzkrieg, aided by the valiant Bengali freedom fighters (Mukti-Joddhas) led to the meek surrender of General Niyazi’s band of bandicoots. Bangladesh was born. Yes, we were Indians and we won the war, my mother had explained. And yes, we were also Bengali’s – same as the Bengali’s across the border – and were therefore proud that our people had freed their (our) Motherland – Bangladesh.
Today, four decades on, when that “Motherland” (theirs and ours) is on siege by fundamentalist forces, why aren’t we singing in unison “amar bhayer rokte rangano ekushe February, ami ki bhulite pari?” (how can I forget the 21st of February which was written with my brother’s blood?). Millions of right thinking, enlightened and progressive Bengalis, even as I write this piece, are huddled in Shahbag and other parts of Bangladesh, fighting a last ditch battle against the forces of medieval fundamentalism. They fight with righteousness against a violent, vicious and rabid enemy – the same that we fight in India – funded by forces with sinister designs. And yet we are choosing to remain silent.
The Shahbag protests began on February 5th, and today it is already March. Yet, the mainline Indian media is largely silent about the protests – the aspirations of a people – “our” people. People fighting the same forces that wage proxy wars against us – kill and maim our children in perverse delight- as they cannot afford to run the risk of being obliterated by engaging the might of India in a full frontal battle. Pygmies, who hide behind religion to wage wars by proxy.
If we do not stand up and be counted immediately, we will run the risk, not only of exposing the right thinking human beings (whatever be their religion) to brute force and terror but also help the demons to silence the voices of sanity. If we do not stand up and be counted immediately, we will be aiding the schemers that send in the executioners that plant bombs in public places and spread terror on our land. If we do not stand up and be counted we will be morally supporting the ones who desecrate the sanctity of our parliament. It is not about anything else – it is about us and them. And our brothers and sisters in Bangladesh are fighting “them”.
Friends, Romans, Netizens – lend me your facebook status. Let’s tweet these fundamentalists to where they belong. Join the revolution! Let us show them that our hand held devices are more effective than all their guns and bombs. Our free minds, better than their doctrines. Our dreams stronger than the nightmares to which they want to lead us to. That our today is better than both their yesterday and tomorrows!