Not much imagination, not much inspiration
Shahid Alam spots flaws in a series of interviews
Shakhkhatkar
Suzan Haque
Academic Press and Publishers Library
TAKING stock of a book at the end of going through interviews of thirty eight persons could range from being an uplifting emotional experience to a real downer. Others may wholeheartedly disagree with me, and they have every right, maybe even reason, to do so, but for me, the experience hovered near the depressing end of the spectrum, even if, mercifully, I had to go through only 106 pages of Shakhkhatkar.
The problem with the book's insipid character lies, first and foremost, in the nature of the questionnaire provided to each of the thirty eight to respond to. The author asked each one a prepared set of a dozen questions, which, to be honest, were not designed to elicit any profound response relating to pressing political, economic, or social issues, either national or global (particularly since, in this age of globalization, global matters often have direct or indirect impact on local affairs). And nothing much profound has come from the respondents to the queries posed either. Several of those interviewed are well known throughout the country for their contributions and/or achievements in their respective fields: Prof. Kabir Chowdhury, Asad Chowdhury, Dr. Kamal Hossain, Prof. Anisuzzaman, Mizanur Rahman Shelley, Sultana Kamal, Sunil Gangopadhdhay, Selina Hussain, Valerie Taylor, Hasnat Abdul Hai, Imdadul Haq Milon, Mahadev Saha, Bibi Russell, Hashem Khan, Rashed Khan Menon…the list goes on and on. A few others are only slightly less so, but all answered the questions in varying lengths.
The questions posed wanted to know from each about their cherished book, film, song, play, the people and events that have had the biggest influence on their life and in the shaping of their belief system, the most memorable year in their life, favourite aphorism, the source of their decision-making, their life philosophy, what law would they first promulgate would they have been a lawmaker, which factor is the foremost impediment to individual freedom and freedom of expression, and which tasks they feel should be carried out on a priority basis for the country's welfare. The answers expectedly varied from person to person, even though there were, again not surprisingly, some similarities in responses to certain queries. We will go into that aspect shortly, but, and this might be the result of my own shortcoming, I have been unable to discern much more than the mundane in the responses. And I remain firm in my conviction that an incisive set of questions would have yielded better results in the sense of getting a good idea of their work, what drives them, and their strengths and foibles. If anyone manages to find these in the contents presented in Shakhkhatkar, then all power to him/her. I have only stated my point of view.
To go back to the issue of the responses. Some were given very perfunctorily, mostly in one-liners; others were more substantive, elaborating on the initial short answers. Predictably, given the context of their Bengali heritage, a big chunk of the respondents had common personalities as their most highly regarded writer and filmmaker (specifically, favourite movie). Rabindranath Tagore, emphatically, and Satyajit Ray, comfortably, respectively head the two categories. Favourite songs vary from person to person, but, again, in consonance with Bangali middle class values, one or the other Rabindra Sangeet dominates the choices. Again, no surprises here, almost all the respondents mentioned their parents, sometimes singly, but mostly in tandem, as having been the most influential in their formative years. Most mentioned 1971 as their most memorable year for very cogent reasons.
As could be expected, there are recollections and viewpoints unique to each individual. And, under the limiting circumstances of the questionnaire, there are some interesting perspectives, just as there are puzzling and unnecessarily sermonizing ones. Aminul Islam's statement that he only depends on his own judgment in deciding on vital matters exudes admirable self-confidence in his own ability, a commodity not exactly prevalent in the general citizenry of Bangladesh. It is not necessarily an arrogant attitude. Abdus Shakur, in a different response, but very pertinent in the context of Islam's thinking, identifies lack of self awareness as a major factor inhibiting the attainment of individual freedom, and this is another point to ponder upon and make a part of ones persona. Another respondent has this profound observation: that we need to improve our transport and communication system because we lose precious time due to traffic snarls.
Abu Bakar Siddique's recollection about not including in his memoirs such momentous events in his life like Satyajit Ray taking him to observe the shooting of the movie "Mohanagar", and former West Bengal Chief Minister Jyoti Basu and Bangla film icon Uttam Kumar gifting him punjabis is amusing as well as an uncomplimentary commentary on the Bengali character. He did not do so because he thought he would be ridiculed as a prevaricator! Kamal Hossain mentions people who are interested in keeping the nation divided for pursuing their own agenda, while Akbar Ali Khan avows that doing away with such divisiveness is the paramount duty of every Bangladeshi. Fine. The only thing that remains to be done is to identify the disruptive cat(s) and bell it (them)!
There are a number of holier-than-thou pontifications and grand pronouncements that would be wonderful to follow in an ideal society (however one defines "ideal"), but come across as hollow remarks in the context of Bangladeshi society. Always speaking the truth is noble, but hardly realistic in expectation. And that trite panacea for curing all the ills of our society by changing this worn-out society! No comment! A couple of glaring error in facts stands out in two responses. Waiting for Godot (1952) was written by Irish Nobel laureate playwright Samuel Beckett, and not by German playwright and poet Bertolt Brecht as Hasnat Abdul Hai states. And Abdul Matin, one of the stalwarts of the Language Movement, is mistaken in identifying the German-born novelist Erich Maria Remarque as a Nobel Prize winner for the novel he wrote about war. The book he refers to is All Quiet on the Western Front (1929). Remarque never won the Prize; and the Nobel Prize in Literature is awarded for a body of works by a writer. However, All Quiet on the Western Front was made into a motion picture, and it won an Academy Award (Oscar) for Best Picture in 1930.
Dr. Shahid Alam is a critic and Head, Media and Communications Department, Independent University Bangladesh (IUB)
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