Revisiting the lost alleys
Nazma Yeasmeen Haque is charmed by one man's memories
Hasnat Abdul Hye needs no introduction to the literary world of Bangladesh. His is a household name that has kept readers spellbound for nearly four decades. His versatility in every genre of literature is remarkable, perhaps with the only exception of poetry that very interestingly and speaking figuratively has been compensated for by the way he used to be addressed by the then finance minister Saifur Rahman as 'Kobi', meaning a poet. This bit of information comes from a TV interview of the author. All Those Yesterdays is an autobiographical account of the writer's youth that straddles eleven years of the prime of his life. Unusually long narratives, crowds of people, a plethora of events and places all characterise the subject matter of the book to make it a full-fledged real-life story of the author. Minute details that are dealt with meticulously give evidence to the authenticity of facts along with the author's acute power of observation --- the eye of a seasoned anthropologist where nothing goes amiss. Since Hye has produced the stories mostly from his memory rather than taking help from the usual entries in a regularly kept diary -- a practice that he did only for a short duration while in America --- they tell readers about his amazing ability to record things in his memory to be produced vividly much later. Since his memory did not fail him, his language that is breezy and expressions that are refreshing bring back the past in a vibrant way. While reading, particularly the part on Dacca, one feels as if one is reliving those days once again in the twenty-first century. So lively are his portrayals! From among the three loci that act as the background of his time in youth, one feels a much stronger affinity to the part that dwells on Dacca compared to the two others. Of course, there may not be the same sort of reaction from a reader either from America or Europe. However, the lifeline and buoyancy that one perceives from grasping the series of episodes admittedly are universal in their appeal. The factor that is overriding in sustaining the interest of a reader is the writer's sparkling humour and hilarity that encompasses the book from beginning to end. The pages are replete with brilliantly crafted humour that is unique to his writing. It ultimately becomes his own special brand. A reader often is surprised at having encountered such instances in places where he would least expect it. If one has to judge the qualities of this autobiography that make it a fascinating read, the answer will precisely be that it is steeped in wit; and, secondly, it is the warmth and care with which the author has portrayed all the characters, be they his classmates, batch mates, contemporaries, teachers and his family, people here and abroad, high and ordinary, little known or familiar. Characters like Naju, Karim Chacha and Moizuddin Mia who were part of his life at Salimullah Muslim Hall come alive through his penmanship in much the same way as his description of any other person. This attitude exemplifies his genuine involvement with every phase of his life in its full ambience. All Those Yesterdays contains a big spectrum of data covering general information. For example, the author clarifies the commonly held notion as to why the University of Dacca is called 'Oxford of the East' by narrating the origin of it; the evolution of student politics in the university; the celebrated amtala; details on teachers; Modhu's Canteen and its prestigious status as 'an institution by itself'; female students and their demeanour as time passes; the first observance of Rag Day at the university -- a tumultuous occasion that made it to the front page of the Statesman of Calcutta and innumerable others. There is no dearth of food for reminiscing on the past -- national events of great historical significance; Prof. A.G. Stock who was head of the Department of English immediately before Prof. Turner wrote her 'Memoirs of the Dacca University Days' that the author highly appreciates as an absorbing read "whether for the fine English she used or the keen observation she made". The Danish town planner De Leuran's water fountain at the Tejgaon crossroads; a Greek mausoleum adjacent to Burdwan House that was "built in honour of a prominent Greek who died in Dacca" with inscriptions in Greek on it; Buddhadev Basu's memoirs Amar Chhelebela, which portrays his early life spent at Purana Paltan; the growth of the USIS library vis-à-vis the well-run British Council library and their 'quiet competition' in attracting more members --- all of these take the reader down memory lane through evoking profound nostalgia. This book is really rich in not only the personal but also in a documentation of social, historical, national and international political events. The beauty lies in its storytelling way which brings all such descriptions very close to one's heart. One cannot but marvel at the writer's boundless spirit and energy in preserving an archive in his memory. Strangely enough, the same characteristics that make this book appealing, more often than not weigh down heavily on a reader's mind, straining it because of its massive content and an all-pervasiveness in detailing everything that the writer comes across. At times it becomes overwhelming and then one feels as if one cannot see the woods because of the trees. Exhaustion sets in only for energy to be renewed gradually by the whirlwind of humour and wit that comprise the lifeline of the book. The tip of the author's iceberg of witty comments is palpable right from the beginning when he describes the speed of the train that brought him to Dacca at elephant-like speed. A much jovial word in Bengali, 'gajendragamon', is used; next his comment that Bengali is taught in his college in English gives rise to uproarious laughter. And then it goes on and on. To cite one example from his days in America that is most comical is his comment on his teacher at the University of Washington, Prof McKarfi's explanation of his 'X' factor in his macroeconomic class, with reference to Lana Turner and Marilyn Monroe, is thoroughly enjoyable when the author says, "... as if they were well-known economists." Thus the book as a whole becomes animated with a variety of humour where each one stands out on its own merit and in its own right. A reader sets out on a journey into the world of endless wit. Meanwhile, the reader's interest and energy are renewed, making her/him move on. And this exactly is the writer's very own 'X' factor! The panoramic beauty of the narratives is, however, often marred perhaps due to oversight --- such as the surnames of the celebrated singers of the 60s, Satinath Mukhopaddhaya and Shyamol Mitra. For both of them it is 'Bandopaddhaya'! The name of the first film in East Pakistan appears as Mukh O Manush at one place! Buddhadev Basu's name is written in two different ways. A glaring mistake appears in one of the first few pages of the book where Bhashani's name is printed as Maulana Abdul Huq Khan Bhashani. More attention and care were needed in proof reading. However, the author's tendency of using less common words is commendable that shows his preference for synonyms. Students who were contemporaries of the author at the University of Dacca will certainly appreciate the episodes and ruminate over them. To students of present-day Dhaka University, it will all appear as fairy tales.
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