Kabir Chowdhury
My teacher, the nation's teacher
National Professor Kabir Chowdhury died a Keatsian death in his sleep on the morning of December 14, 2011. He was eighty eight. He wrote even on the last day of his life. Like Tennyson's Ulysses, he drank life to the lees. 'I was ever a fighter', he wrote in a magazine edited by yours truly in 2005. He dreamt of one fight more, the best and the last. He was eighty two then. And what an elegant, gentlemanly and refined fighter he was! He was the nation's finest and ever reliable friend, philosopher and guide. I am proud that Kabir Chowdhury was my teacher. I am even prouder that he liked me as a student. He considered his students his own children. His own children, his three daughters? He simply doted on them. In a society which has always looked down upon its women, Kabir Chowdhury was a great exception. His love for his wife and his three daughters was boundless. He was such a proud husband and father! If I met him in the department corridor, he would show me a Penguin book of Greek tragedies and smile proudly, 'See, my daughter has gifted me this book'. I had to pretend that it was the most beautiful Penguin book I had ever seen. If I met him in a New Market shop of sweets, he would beamingly inform me, 'Going to meet my daughter, you know'. I had to smilingly and most affectionately approve his great paternal love. I admired the loving father in the handsome, well-dressed professor. I often wondered: did his daughters know that they had the best father in the world? The always happy, always active teacher taught us in the mid-seventies and the early eighties. We loved to listen to him, to be taught by him. I fondly remember his brilliant lectures on the Greek tragedies. I was in my Third Year Honours when I got him as my tutor. He was then the chairman of the department. We did our tutorial classes in his chairman's room. He could easily identify good students and, more importantly, clearly assess all the good traits of a meritorious student. We were so happy that we received the highest marks from our best teachers, Kabir Chowdhury and Serajul Islam Choudhury. The best teachers were not only the best judges but the most affectionate persons too. After a few tutorial classes with him, I was one day on the stairs of the porch when an affectionate hand touched my shoulder. I looked back to find a beaming Prof. Chowdhury. He didn't say a word but patted me on my back several times. He then hurriedly uttered, 'How are you, Junaid?' and left. I later tried to guess what he had wanted to say. 'I enjoy reading your tutorial essays' or was it 'Do you know that I like you a lot?' Thirty three years later I still feel his affectionate hand on my shoulder. The handsome man was so charming that he always touched me while talking to me. In one of my stories the sad hero laments that other than the affection of elders, the love of children and women, he doesn't remember getting anything else from life. Who are these elders? Certainly men like Kabir Chowdhury and Serajul Islam Choudhury. I put them ahead of women. Women made you happy but wise elders gave you knowledge and peace of mind. They guided you so effortlessly and so beautifully through life's tortuous ways. Recently I used to meet him in our annual departmental get-togethers. He always looked so smart and fit even in his eighties. Only a couple of years back I found him walking a little slowly. Alarm bells rang within me. Thank God he was not bed-ridden even for a single day. He could think clearly and write even on his last day. How will the nation remember Prof. Kabir Chowdhury? As our courageous conscience, best teacher and guardian, and our wisest guide. Always happy, always active and always affectionate. Fatigue and laziness were words he detested. We never saw him getting angry or upset. He was the best student of the department of English after the legendary Buddhadev Bose. He was such a successful teacher! Authored more than two hundred books of essays, translations and diaries. He gladly translated the poems of his favourite Shamsur Rahman as well as the youngest poet. He translated the classics of world literature for our readers and at the same time translated the gems of our literature into English. He was so liberal and so untiring in this job. He always fought war crimes, fundamentalism and communalism. He fought against all sorts of injustice like the wise Greek hero Ulysses. As a young man he played cricket. As a senior professor he helped the Cricket Control Board with his wisdom. He loved good food. The nation will never forget the elegant and brave fighter in him. I have always loved worshipping my heroes. They paid me back sometimes with affection. Kabir Chowdhury was the senior-most among my heroes. He was also the handsomest and the most liberal of my heroes. How can I forget him? How can I not carry the sweet burden of my debt to him, my great teacher, all my life? And most happily, with great satisfaction?
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