I completed my secondary education from Govt Laboratory High School, Dhaka, in 1967 and crossed the adjacent road to enrol myself in Dhaka College at a stone-throwing distance. I had known the campus for several years as I often passed through it to go to New Market or to catch a bus in front of the main gate of the college for returning home after school hours.
From school to college was a big leap. I got a bizarre feeling as if I had stepped into adulthood. There is none to stare at me whether I attend a class or not. It was a world of absolute freedom that I never contemplated in my schooldays.
I spent the first few weeks socializing with other students. In our class in the Arts group, there were two sections. I was in Section A. I also got a seat in the North Hostel. There were teenagers from all over the country, urban and rural. Among them, one boy drew more attention than others. He was a bit older, taller and slenderer, and had a carefully nurtured thick moustache. Those who knew a certain person would hardly have any difficulty identifying the boy as his son. A unique resemblance indeed.
The boy was Sheikh Kamal Uddin, son of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who was at that time a political prisoner under the Defence of Pakistan Rules. Most of us had heard about Sheikh Mujib, if not seen him, as he was a front-ranking politician of the country.
Kamal came from Shaheen School. Many of us had sympathy for him and could comprehend his agony and concern for his beloved father. The college environment was not at all infested by politics or political divide, nor did many of us understand what politics was all about. We were friends and Kamal was the friendliest amongst us. He was witty, smiling, tender and easy-going.
That was the period when we were carried away with fashions like tight or bellbottom trousers. Kamal avoided such things. White or off-white trousers with shirt of similar colour were his normal outfit that gave him a very placid look. He maintained a dress code so that no one could raise one's eyebrows: oh, there goes the son of Mujibur Rahman.
A few of our classmates were directly involved in student politics. Among them were Rezaul Hoque Mushtaque and Nizamuddin Azad. Azad embraced martyrdom in 1971. They were General Secretary of the East Pakistan Student League (EPSL) and East Pakistan Student Union (EPSU-Motia group) respectively. I had known Azad for several years. One day he took me to their party office upstairs at the Hawkers' Market located on the opposite side of Dhaka College. They were having a council meeting of the Dhaka city unit.
Azad was elected General Secretary of the city unit. Soon I was aligned with this party. EPSU had another group named Menon Group. I had heard of Menon and Motia, but it took about three months for me to understand what these groups meant. In our school, we had never heard of such politics. Kamal was obviously supporting EPSL. However, open political activities were not allowed in the college. Our Principal, Jalal Uddin Ahmed, controlled everything literally with iron hands. He was a pro-government person but had infinite love and care for the college and its students.
The college students' union election was imminent. In the college, there was a system of indirect election. Students of each class had to elect a representative and all class representatives had to elect office bearers, such as Vice-President, General Secretary, etc, from amongst them. Kamal was the undisputed leader of the class. He nominated my schoolmate Shibli as a candidate of EPSL. He was known to all as he had stood first in the SSC exam from Dhaka Board. There was another candidate from EPSU. Shibli won with a comfortable margin. From Section B, Nazrul was elected. Later Nazrul was made the General Secretary of the college students' union. He was killed by the Pakistan army in 1971.
Kamal was very critical of EPSU. He often said, "Look, they talk about oikya (unity), but they are divided; what a paradox!" I heard of one incident which took place at the Central Shaheed Minar premises. Some EPSU activists were mercilessly beaten by EPSL workers. I asked Kamal why they had done this. Kamal's answer was very straight and simple, "They say, 'Down with American Imperialism'. Why? Why not 'Down with Punjabi imperialism'? Why do they say 'Vietnam lalsalam' and why not 'Purbo Bangla lalsalam'? We did the right thing. If they raise slogans for Vietnam, they should go to Vietnam."
Kamal was by far the most courageous boy in our class. One day the Principal called us to assemble at the auditorium. A colonel of Pakistan army had come. He would give a briefing about the army and would arouse interest among us to join the army. He was a Bengali but was speaking in English. Kamal stood up and asked, "I have a point, Sir. Why do the officers in the army speak in English?" The officer was not prepared to confront such a question. The Principal became very angry and shouted at Kamal, "Get out." Kamal obliged and left the auditorium. The briefing session lost its rhythm and ended abruptly.
When we were in the second year in 1968, 'Decade of Development' was being celebrated across the country with much grandeur and fanfare. Our college had an elaborate program in the form of a 'cultural week'. There were indoor game tournaments as well as music competitions. I learned playing chess in the first year. My roommate in the hostel was a good chess player. I learned some tricks from him. In the first year, I participated in the chess tournament and was knocked out in the first round.
This time I was winning one after another game and finally won the championship without losing a single game. Kamal played the sitar in the musical instrument group. To my utter astonishment he played superbly and won a trophy. He brought a person to play the table as a musical accompaniment. I could not believe that such an easy-going boy who always used to crack jokes and make fun could play such high-quality sitar. He played a classical tune and impressed the audience. One of our classmates, Neaz Muhammad Chowdhury, won a trophy in Nazrul Sangeet. Neaz later became a popular singer.
The students' union election was knocking at the door. I was grabbed by a few students who taught me a slogan: tomar bari amar bari, Naxalbari Naxalbari. I was shuttling between the two groups of EPSU. Both the groups wanted me to be their candidate in the election of class representative. I agreed and both the groups supported me. Kamal declared his candidature, obviously from EPSL. He wanted to be elected 'unopposed'. So one fine morning he came to my hostel along with Tanna, another friend of us.
Kamal asked me to withdraw my candidature. I was not willing. I had started enjoying the fervour of being an elected leader, though I knew I would lose to Kamal. In terms of popularity, I was no match for him. He was nervous. He literally begged me, "Please don't stand in my way. If I lose, people will say that Mujibur Rahman's son has been defeated. This cannot be allowed". Even as he was insisting, I became adamant. He left with a heavy heart.
The election was held in November 1968 in a very peaceful manner. During the counting of ballot papers, Kamal and I were present. Counting was done by a teacher. Kamal was sweating, while I had no tension as I had nothing to lose. Soon I realised I was going to be beaten. Kamal won by a margin of 22 votes. I still remember the numbers. I congratulated him and we embraced each other. Later I learned that Motia group boys had earlier decided to support Kamal.
Soon after a nationwide movement under the banner of the All Party Student Action Committee with an 11-point charter of demands started and continued for a few months. General Yahya proclaimed Martial Law on 25 March 1969. Classes resumed and we started preparing for the HSC exams. College life was very short-lived.
Kamal and I met again when both of us enrolled in the University of Dhaka. I was in the Department of Economics and Kamal opted for Sociology. By that time I had started understanding some politics and decided to join EPSL. I was a resident student of Mohsin Hall. At the DUCSU election of 1970, I was elected AGS of the hall students' union. Kamal was happy to know this. The entire panel of EPSL was elected except the GS Mahfuz Anam was elected GS from EPSU (Motia). Menon group boycotted the election. They thought they were in a revolution and participation in elections was a 'revisionist' act.
Time was passing by fast. All-out war broke out in March 1971. On the ruins and dead bodies, independent Bangladesh emerged. We returned to our classes. The situation became normal soon. Kamal was a sports lover. In 1970, Iqbal Sporting Club became champion in the Second Division Football League of Dhaka city. This club was managed by the non-Bengali community of Mohammadpur. After the war, the club was virtually an 'abandoned' entity. Kamal took the opportunity to take over the club and renamed it as Abahoni Krira Chakra. This was the only sports club in Dhaka at that time with a Bangla name. This was how Abahoni could play First Division Football League from its inception. Abahoni was the pioneer in introducing entertaining football in the country.
We had a small group mostly composed of ex-Dhaka College students. On the eve of the Bangla New Year in April 1972, printed pamphlets were pasted on the walls of the corridor of the university. Several of us were 'awarded' titles. Kamal got the name 'crown prince'. He was the son of the Prime Minister and so he had earned this label. Everybody took it in good humor.
Bangladesh Student League was split. Kamal and I were aligned with opposite factions. Politics was so polluted that many friends became foes overnight. The political fabric in the country was changing fast and so was Kamal. He was becoming xenophobic.
Due to the war, our classes were interrupted, followed by 'session jam'. In 1974, our MA classes resumed and soon we were about to finish the course. In June 1975, we planned a 'Rag Day' to bid farewell to the campus where we roamed for over five years. In each hall, there was a committee for celebrations. One central committee was constituted with Kamal as the convener. Cultural activities were organized by each hall at the Bat Tala. Kamal was awarded the title 'Rag Marshal'.
Meanwhile Kamal got married. Khuku was his woman of choice. Her official first name was Sultana. They were in the same class in the Sociology department. Khuku was a Student Leaguer. She was a member of the Dhaka city unit of EPSL in 1968-69. She was awarded Dhaka University Blue in 1970, the first woman athlete to receive this prestigious sports award in the history of Dhaka University. She was East Pakistan Champion in 100 metre sprint and long jump and best sportswoman in the university and in erstwhile East Pakistan.
Men's athletics champion was Meraj Uddin, my cabinet colleague in Mohsin Hall in the capacity of Assistant Athletics Secretary. He was killed by the Pakistan army in 1971. Khuku continued to be the woman athletics champion in Bangladesh. There was gossip that Kamal had married Khuku by force and some people with filthy minds still believe it. This is baseless propaganda hatched by crooks.
Our final MA exam started in the first week of August. I had already appeared for two papers and was preparing for the third one. Then came the day of disaster. On 15 August, all in the house at Dhanmondi Road Number 32 were killed. Kamal was the first victim. Captain Bazlul Huda reportedly shot him at close range. Incidentally, Huda was a student of Dhaka College, two years senior to us.
We live in a society where everything is politicised, including death. Killing is often legitimised in the name of 'revolution' and killers are glorified and worshipped as icons by different political parties. As I look back, I feel sorry for Kamal. He is still fresh and alive in my memory and, I believe, among many of us, who were friends in their teens. The writer is a researcher. He is the author of 'Jashod-er Uthyan Poton: Osthir Shomoyer Rajniti', published by Prothoma. Email:
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