Two reviews from Syed Badrul Ahsan
Rainbows out of the past. . .
Mahboob Alam, after all the years he spent in promoting Bangladesh's diplomacy abroad, could have lapsed into quiet superannuation. Or he could have followed in the footsteps of some of his colleagues in government who, after retirement, opted for a second life as columnists or television talk show guests. Alam chose to do neither. And one is happy that he made a different sort of choice, that of exploring the many unknown facets of history. You could well argue that in Alam there is a historian whose preoccupation happens to be a study of the history behind the curtain, history that has often gone into the making of history as we know it. That approach is what you spot in large measure in Shaista Khan-er Shesh Ichchha O Onyanyo. The human aspects of history, as they shaped men and events, are the theme which is at work in this extremely appreciable collection. Seeing that the writing of history is by and large a series of exercises in pomposity --- Winston Churchill once famously said he would be the one to write history --- this work is an instance of how scholars of history can keep themselves away from succumbing to self-importance and truly focus on the task at hand. Alam has done the job well, through bringing into his intellectual orbit a diversity of subjects one did not think merited any significance. Take the leading story here, that relating to Shaista Khan's last wish. There are plenty of individuals who may be acquainted with the Mughal governor's place in history. But where details pertaining to his stay in Bengal are concerned, not everyone might have the information he needs at his fingertips. So, how about some basic information about Shaista Khan? Mahboob Alam gives it to us straight. Shaista Khan served as subedar in Bengal for altogether twenty five years, a time that spread out over two phases. The first phase covered the period 1663-1677. He returned as subedar in 1679 and continued to hold the position till 1688. A major reason why Shaista Khan's period as governor of Bengal has become an indelible part of history has to do with the manner and modalities of his governance of the province. Of course, when he was first sent out to these parts, the understanding might have been that he was on his way to a hardship post, not a very good prospect for one whose abilities ought to have been utilized in the thick of the action. And that spot was not Bengal. And yet Shaista Khan turned his ordeal into a stupendous achievement. He kept the Moghs and Portuguese at bay. It was in his time that Dhaka took on a new dimension. In his twenty five years of rule, Dhaka remained the capital of the province. The city expanded in enormity, one might add. The city extended fourteen miles from north to south and ten miles from east to west. As many as fifty two markets and fifty three roads constituted the core of Dhaka city. Alam notes that at the age of eight, Shaista Khan took voluntary retirement and chose to prepare a will he thought his family could do with after his passing. A glance at the will, says Alam, shows that Shaista Khan's property extended all the way from Multan (in today's Pakistan) to Murshidabad (now in India's West Bengal). A more enlightening, not to say intriguing section in the book comes in Babu-Ingreji Aar Shahebi-Bangla. The 19th century, Alam reminds us, might have been an era of revival or even renaissance in India. On the lighter, more amusing side, it was also a time when Bengalis as well as colonial Britons engaged in often asinine behaviour when it came to learning and applying each other's language in everyday life. There are the tales that could leave you laughing quietly, if not exactly rolling on the floor. Alam cites an instance from the Sangbad Probhakar newspaper. Bengalis, keen to show off their 'increasing' mastery of English, saw little of the embarrassing in bringing in English terms and phrases even as they pretended to speak in Bengali. Terms such as last night, morning, danger, recover and life's hope were liberally used. Snobbery was at work. Mahboob Alam pushes a caveat toward you. As he tells the story, the Bengali's tendency to mangle language, as in a bad combination of English and Bengali terms in speaking was not new in that era of British rule. Which could perhaps explain why today Bengali is under such a bad threat from local users of English. For these people, pretension is all. They push Bengali into mutilation when they consciously bring English into its use. But Bengali is not the only prey to be shot down. Observe the contents, besides everything else, of a letter a 'native boy' wrote to the Englishman newspaper on the issue of a reduction of his salary: …I am a poor native boy rite butiful English and rite good sirkulars for Mateland Sahib …very cheap, and gives one rupees eight annas per diem, but now a man say he makes better English, and put it all rong and gives me one rupes … Mahboob Alam takes care to inform readers that this young man was in possession of other gifts as well. Observe again: I make poetry and country Korruspondanse. Obviously, Alam's research is what comes across as impressive. And nowhere is this more visible than in the article, Teen Shahityik-er Chakri-Kahini. The niche occupied by Bankimchandra Chatterjee, Nabinchandra Sen and Dwijendralal Roy in Bengali literature and aesthetics has regularly been remarked upon as a significant point of reference for enthusiasts and scholars of Bengali heritage. But how much of their inner anguish, of the demoralisation they were often pushed into in their careers as loyal servants of the British Empire are we aware of? That great men often have sad stories behind them, or in their souls, is a truth Mahboob Alam reinforces once again through recounting the various ways in which these three historical figures in Bengali history tried to earn a decent living, in the process trying to stay away from the humiliation their colonial masters were quite capable of inflicting on them. All three of them were deputy magistrates, which in so many words means none could climb the ladder to being a full-fledged magistrate. The poet Nabinchandra Sen served as a deputy magistrate in such places as Bengal, Bihar and Orissa between 1868 and 1904. His exhilaration, on the day he retired, was intense. He felt hugely cheerful and indeed pranced back home. On the way, he glanced at the sky, to tell God of his gratitude to Him over the fact that He had made it possible for him to retire. "Let me be in peace for the rest of my life", he appeals to the Creator. D.L. Roy, unlike Bankim and Nabinchandra, was a trifle more emotional and found it hard to come to terms with the repeated transfer orders being served on him. His run-ins with the lieutenant governor of Bengal, Sir Charles Elliot, only worsened matters for him. Roy served the government for twenty seven years and then went into voluntary retirement. Three months later he was dead. It is a large repertory of tales and characters Mahboob Alam covers in the work. Suniti Devi's marriage to the raja of Cooch Bihar and her journey to London is more than a recapitulation of 19th century Indian royalty. It is a journey back into a culture of aristocratic grandeur and opulence. Mirza Shaikh Ihteshamuddin once again steps into our understanding of history. And when you come to the well-researched sketches of Digambari Devi. Deenomoyee, Durga Moni and Sharada Sundari, you know you are in for sheer pleasure which comes on the back of the pathos as also deep attachment to life these women went through. It is here a splendid assemblage of men and women who once formed the pattern of life's rainbow in this land. Mahboob Alam rekindles that past, to remind us in subtle ways of how much the present owes to that lost phase in time.
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