Poet, Professor, Translator, Editor
21 June 2013, 18:00 PM
UPDATED
21 June 2013, 22:49 PM
Dr. Khondakar Ashraf Hossain (1950-2013) was an accomplished poet. Anyone who has read his books of poetry such as Partha Tomar Tibra Teer, Teen Ramanir Qasida and Jibaner Saman Chumuk would agree with me. Since 1985, he also edited a little magazine called Ekabingsha or the Twenty-First. Through Ekabingsha, he worked as a patron to many young and aspiring writers who were desperately looking for a platform to launch their careers into the world. Under Ashraf Hossain's astute stewardship, Ekabingsha soon became a little magazine to reckon with, winning prestigious prizes both from Bangladesh and the other side of Bengal. And he accomplished all these in addition to his teaching responsibilities in the Department of English at Dhaka University. In this regard, Ashraf Hossain could be compared to the great Bengali poet, professor, and editor of the famous Kavita magazine, Buddhadev Bose (1908-74). Although Ashraf Hossain was not as brilliant a poet as Buddhadev was, their busy worlds of action bear close resemblances. They were also alike in the way they courted their untimely death. It looked like both of them were on the same train, but before they could reach the final destination, some irresponsible passengers pulled the chain and brought the train to a sudden halt. Buddhadev died at the age of 66 and Ashraf at 63.
However, my encounter with Ashraf Hossain was not on the pages of Ekabingsha, but in the classrooms of Dhaka University. He had already made his name as a poet by that time, and soon that fame was matched by his performance as a teacher of poetry. I remember Professor Ashraf teaching us the English Romantic poet S.T. Coleridge (1718 – 81). That agonized, tormented, opium addict poet, who nonetheless managed to write such masterpieces as 'Kubla Khan', 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' and 'Dejection: An Ode', came alive through Professor Ashraf's lectures. I don't know whether I'd call it a coincidence that at present I'm also teaching Coleridge to my bright-eyed undergraduate students of English at Jahangirnagar University. I can hope to impart to them, with considerable success, what I learnt from Professor Ashraf and what I myself learnt through reading recent Coleridge scholarship. Through my lectures on Coleridge, I can also hope that a good teacher like Professor Ashraf and the knowledge he handed over to his students would live on.
That Professor Ashraf was a poet became evident as he taught us poetry. There were many other teachers who taught us poetry as well, but they were not poets themselves. Professor Ashraf had a unique teaching style of his own. His analysis was illuminating and entertaining and he had the capacity to plunge deep into the body of a poem, as if it were an ocean, and come back surfacing with some hidden gems to reveal to his students. Being a poet, Professor Ashraf would also at times fly, true to a poet's nature perhaps, but his roots like that of a banyan tree were deeply embedded in the soil. He would come to his class on time and was generous with office hours. That he took only three years to write his PhD thesis (2006-2008) at Dhaka University on Western influences on Bangladeshi poetry might surprise many, but I know that he had been writing his thesis in his head all his life. His dedication to the craft of poetry and his editorship of a grand old poetry magazine prepared him well to complete his thesis in such a short span of time. His thesis was, after all, an accumulation of his thinking that developed over decades.
Professor Ashraf loved to talk about religion, but he was not much of a believer himself. Like the great Victorian poet Matthew Arnold (1822-'88), he also heard the Sea of Faith retreating and retreating fast, leaving naked shingles on the shore. I note with dismay that people like Professor Ashraf are fast becoming a rarity in the faith and belief stricken present-day Bangladesh. For those who believe in religion, the state and the opposition roll out the red carpet; and those who choose NOT to believe −− arrest, remand, hate campaign and fatwa await them just around the corner.
Professor Ashraf translated the great Greek tragedy Oedipus by Sophocles for the Bishwa Sahitya Kendra (i.e. World Literature Centre) in Dhaka. It was a translation that would have a long shelf life. I remember giving him my copy of the Irish Nobel Laureate WB Yates' (1885-1939) translation of Oedipus that I bought from London.
For the sake of objective assessment, I must mention that when I became his colleague, I did not get from Professor Ashraf the kind of support that I legitimately expected. Maybe there were obstacles that he did not want to overcome. Despite this, I remember him today, with much respect, as a good poet and teacher whose classes were often a delight to his pupils. He had many years to give, both to poetry and to his profession, had his life not been cut short by death.
My last meeting with Professor Ashraf was at the Bangla Academy book fair. I was surprised to find that he was yet to be awarded the Bangla Academy Literary Prize for his contribution to literature. There are examples of writers of less calibre being awarded this prestigious prize, and that such a renowned poet like Ashraf was still waiting his turn seemed to me unacceptable. In reply, he wryly observed that he might even die before the Academy opened its doors. Did thoughts of death hover over his head? "Call no man happy", Sophocles would say, "unless he carries his happiness into his grave". I end this piece hoping that the Bangla Academy will finally wake up to atone for their mistake and bestow on Professor Ashraf the honour of a posthumous literary prize. If needed, the Academy must amend its Act that at present prevents such honour from being conferred, posthumously, on a truly deserving poet like Professor Ashraf.
Manmay Zafar teaches English literature
at Jahangirnagar University.
E-mail: manmay.zafar@gmail.com
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