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An open letter to the Prime Minister, leader of the main opposition, and my countrymen By Humayun Azad
Honorable
PM, leader of the main opposition, my countrymen, I am penning this open
letter to you after being utterly helpless, physically attacked, and in a
state of hopelessness. All these
have made my life and my family members’ life unbearable.
As I was returning from this year’s ‘Book Fair’ in the evening of
February 27, some killer goons attacked me physically; I was not supposed to
have lived after the brutal attack. Nonetheless,
I returned to this mortal world after being “dead” (in coma) for four
days. For this, I remain ever so
grateful to everyone. I am
thankful to the honorable PM because she took care of my treatment in the
aftermath of the attack; I am also indebted to the main opposition party
leader for she came hurriedly to see me after I was physically assaulted and
she feared for my life; I am also greatly indebted to my countrymen those who
grieved seeing my hapless condition, they were moved and they prayed for my
well-being. I am also thankful to
my fellow academicians and students at the universities, artists, and
politicians those who worked tirelessly to keep me alive.
I was not supposed to come back to life, but I did.
For which a dedicated bunch of physicians should receive my plaudits.
I remain ever so grateful to them. After I was mortally wounded
on February 27, I became a darling to my countrymen; those who never knew me
before they also inquired about my well-being. However,
I am now attacked again and my family is living in a state of despondency; we
are now living in a state of fright. On
July 24, 2004, the evil bunch who attacked me earlier tried to abduct my only
son, Anannya; on July 25, 2004, they put us again in a state of panic after
threatening us through a telephone call this time they said that they will
blast a bomb in my house. At this
time, mine is the most panic stricken family in Bangladesh
whose members may be hurt in any moment. That
is the reason I am now appealing to you hoping that you may come forward to
help me out. You are the only ones who lend your helping hand at this
time of despair. You have done your duty when I was struggling with my
death; aren’t you going to stand by me at this perilous time too? I look
physically alright now, but I am far from being mentally strong. One of
my eyes is half blind. I am carrying a disfigured face with the scars of
vicious attack on it, the sutures on my face are still painful for me, my lips
are partially numb, I wear dentures, infirmity has taken hold of me. After my
return from medical treatment in abroad, I am virtually interned in my home
because my life is not safe outside. I maybe attacked physically if I venture
to go outside. For my safety the government has posted some police force
in front of my residence for which I am thankful. Still then, I am
receiving repeated death threats; my family members are exposed to serious
danger. All these are making our lives utterly miserable. I cannot
look at the panic-stricken faces of my beloved ones because their countenance
bears the mark of mental anguish. It seems as if they are living in a state of
fear surrounded by sharp knives or living near a live volcano. Sometimes
I feel that the marauding gang of assassins surrounds them and there is no one
to protect them. Under this dire circumstance, living a normal life is
all too difficult and meaningless; I don’t know whether you could imagine
the state of hopelessness that I am now in. We as a
family feel that this fear for untimely death is dictating our daily life now.
We could have committed a mass suicide if we knew beforehand we would attain
the Nirvana from our wretched life. We would have showered our assassins
with the moon and flowers as we prepare to exit from this mortal world. But we
are infirm, our love for this mortal world is too strong, and that is why we
remain in a state of alert. I fear for the safe return of my family
members whoever and whenever go out. When I am out, I fear for their safety
who are at home. Even in 1971, my life was not that difficult!
These days I feel pity for myself, for my life, and for my hapless motherland.
What has become of this land where a professor and a writer cannot lead a
simple and placid life, cannot browse a book or pen a stanza of poem.
This is because the roving assassins are making his life a miserable one even
in his sleep. Did we want I am a
professor and a writer. I have been teaching for the last 36 years and writing
for even longer period. I never did neglect to teach my students
properly; I taught them as per their acumen and interest; thousands of
students considered me as one of their dearest and best teacher. Their
love and respect for me had gratified me. I always tried to teach my
students new things; tried my best to get them out of the old moldings because
I believe in my heart that it is the very nature of knowledge to create new
things. The world of ours has progressed thus far because humankind has
been able to generate new information. I have been writing ceaselessly,
not keeping myself confined in a particular area, but expanding my interest in
variegated disciplines from linguistics to poems. Poetry, novel, essay,
criticism, linguistics, political analysis, literature for kids, etc., are the
myriad fields in which I have contributed thus far. I have published
about 70 books. Many a readers agree that I have enriched Bengali
literature through my writings, and even after my departure from this world my
contributions will be remembered. Despite all these positive
contributions, my life is a wretched one at this time because the assassins
are regularly issuing death threats against my family members and me.
Living in the shadow of a constant threat I am becoming oblivious to knowledge
and literature. Is it then fair that one of the leading professors of I am both a
scribe and a sensitive human being to whom it is more disgraceful to live in
the confine of my house than to be dead. I oft-remember once I used to
take a stroll by myself, visit a village to see the moon, birds, and rivers.
Today, I am denied of this privilege; today, I cannot walk alone or look at
the moon, river, or birds. To the contrary, those marauding assassins,
who never looked at the moon, have their rights preserved who want to see me a
dead man. To a person who wants to enrich himself with knowledge and who
wants to write, nothing could be worse than being interned into a house; this
would blunt his creativity. I am not alone in this predicament; quite a
few other professors of We want to see our motherland, We could
refute an opinion or ideology only through knowledge and reasons, but nowhere
it says that a person with differing opinion should be threatened to be killed
or eventually be killed. Unfortunately, in But no one
gives a damn about it. The fundamentalists are bent on killing people
who hold a similar philosophy of life like mine; they think annihilating folks
like me would solve all the problems that ail
Translated by the members of advisory board of Mukto-mona. ( www.mukto-mona.com )
Read his original letter in Bangla:
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