From the very beginning, when Bangladeshi Students’ Union, Bergen (BSU) decided to publish a magazine, I wanted to write something for the publication. I thought I had enough time in my hand. Of course I had it at the time of decision. But as being a Bangalee I had to do it at the last moment, which is our nature. And now when I am trying to write it I do not have much time in my hand. It is Easter holiday. I have few free days from my job. I am determined to write it now - because I know if I can not do it now, I can never do it for the magazine. Well, I am sitting in front of my PC, thinking what to write. Junaid asked me once to write about the history of Bangladeshi Students' Union, Bergen . Another time he saw me writing a memoir of my university life in Bangladesh, and asked me to translate it for the magazine. I don't know what to do and where to start.
Whatever I choose I have to write a history! The history of my life - the history of a group of young people. I don’t know how to write history. That is the subject I hated most in my school life. May be, it is because the way we used to learn it. It was very uninteresting. Without any analysis we had to memorise the name of the kings and emperors and the years of their rule. I didn't understand what I have to do with all these, except passing the exam of course. I remember once I got a severe punishment for that subject. It was 1964, I was in fourth class, my history teacher asked me about the ruling year of a Mogule emperor (I don't remember his name now). The answer had to be wrong with almost a 100 years difference. So I had to get punishment. It was standing beside him keeping the head under his table. Not that difficult. I did it and began doing funny things under the table with my eyes, mouth and tongue, understanding that my teacher could not notice. The fellow students at the classroom started laughing - the teacher understood what was happening. I must mention here that I was the second smallest boy in the class according to my height. The teacher held my hands and lifted me around one foot from the ground and started lashing with a stick he had for punishing the worst students.
Academically (that time) my reputation was not that bad - in fact, I was one of the best students of my class (as per examination results). But when discipline was concerned, I was like a jackal, doing the odd things without being noticed by the authority. No wonder why my classmates liked me as their class captain. Any way, the teacher in those days in Bangladesh had all his rights to punish the students as he wanted to. He was free to choose the means of punishment like lashing, hitting on different parts of your body, keeping the student standing on the chair holding his own ears, lin down outside the class room - in worst cases on the rocks. Well, I can name many other methods of punishment which we used to get, that could have been considered as torture and human right violation. Of course, the words "human rights" were totally unknown to me and punishment from a teacher could not be considered as torture. So the acts of the teacher was just disciplinary action to us.
Anyway, that was not the time I wanted to start my history writing. It is much after that - another time, another place - in 1975, and not at Rangpur my home town, but at Dhaka where I started my independent (not economically!) life. I think I will start there. Those were the days - the days of a free soul - singing and dancing thinking that these days will never ever end. But alas the time passes away. And today I am looking behind at those days trying to imprison them with my words. The days I will never forget - can never be forgotten.
I can still reconstruct the January 13, 1975, the day I started my university life at the Jahangirnagar University, located at Savar, around 30 km . from Dhaka the capital of Bangladesh. The University is a bit far from the centre of the city. Rumours say the then Pakistan government wanted to divert and weaken student politics at the heart of Dhaka , and so decided to establish the new University in 1967 far from the present one.
Whatever is the reason, for me it has been a good selection - in the countryside. You don't have to face the smoke, noise and rush of the city life everyday morning to make yourself stressed and annoyed. It is different there; even the soil is a bit different from general Bangladeshi soil. It is red, and it is not flat as pancake. The campus is around 700 acres - a large open area with only the people you know. Seems like a huge family - at least we felt it that way in 1975. Whole campus was full of trees - Jackfruits, Krishnachura flower, Pines, Eucaliptus and many others. In the morning the birds had their duties to wake us up. There is a big lake in the middle of the campus. I still remember we used to walk beside the lake after the late night study - sit somewhere, chat or sing Rabindrasangeet (song written by Rabindranath). I can still visualise it in my mind, smell the scent, and feel the softness in my body those full-moon nights beside the lake. I don't think one can find a better place than beside those lakes to calm down, get some inner peace, relax and forget the complexity of the outer world for a while. The campus was most beautiful in the autumn when the Krishnachuras started to blossom - whole campus was used to be covered with the red Krishnachuras. Red soil under your feet and red flowers over your head – wherever you looked you can notice this red colour. We would observe the seasonal changes by following the change of colours. It was green, it was combination of different colours, it was brown. It was as if an unsatisfied painter wanting to make the campus more beautiful by changing the colours, and in doing so he is not sure which one is the most beautiful. In fact, to me each of them was perfect. Oh! So romantic the campus was. Well, we were at that time, known to have had one Jackfruit tree to sit under for each romantic pair. In fact, I should acknowledge - it is not far from the truth. And this is my campus - how can I forget it.
Yes, it was January 13, 1975. The first day at the Jahangirnagar University. Rezaul and I were supposed to take the same bus to the University. I missed the University bus that we were supposed to take. So I had to take a public transport. I reached the University in good time. I had around 10 minutes at my disposal before the first lecture. I was standing in front of the classroom, waiting for Rezaul. I saw one fat boy coming towards me - looking quite senior. He stopped beside me and asked whether the first year microeconomics class would take place in that room. I answered yes - exchanged a few words starting with names. I was thinking of something else - this boy looks so old, can't be my classmate - anyway if he is going to the same class as me then he must be a dumb student - must have failed in final exams a few times - it is no point getting him as a friend. Rezaul came a few minutes later. I told him about Ehsan ("the fat boy"). He was also sure at that time that Ehsan must be a dumb student. We were damn wrong and wrong of the highest order - he was almost as old as me - and one of the best students of whole Bangladesh coming from Fauzdarhat Cadet College, much better than me. He is Ehsan - Country Operation Manager, ANZ Grindlays Bank. The Class started with 22 students - six students joined us after two months - two left before the final exam. The teacher was Rashidul Hasan Khan. And the lecture was on microeconomics - demand and supply. The base of the whole economic and socio-political structure, and even ones love and affection to each other. When demand and supply coincides each other equilibrium is achieved.
After the lecture we - I, Rezaul, Baban, Ehsan, Tariq, Zaman and Tipu sat together in the class, introducing ourselves. I don't remember who was the first that started telling nasty jokes, and it was the starting, one after another continued for around half an hour. We became free - got acquainted with each other. This acquaintanceship later became friendship. It didn't take much time to become friends. And we still are friends. Of course, after the university life we scattered from each other for the sake of job, higher education. But still we are friends. Kabir as being roommate of Tipu joined the group. Faizul, Alam and Monu came later. Five others, Shafiq, Hafiz, Farid (Captain Ali), Asghar, Shanjib - all of them one year senior to us, became part of the group later on. And that was the gang, renowned in the campus for being - drunk - smoking grass - red eyed - having long hair - well behaved - non political - crazy - good students (as per class test results) - hippies - careless - having female friends including the seniors (it was not that popular among the others who couldn't make it) - not thinking much about the future - not studying - not serious about anything - funny, and that describes the gang.
As a matter of fact we became known to the teachers, employees and other fellow students very quickly as a group. A few others were jealous of us (specially because of the female friends we managed to have), but in general we were quite popular. Particularly popular to the shop owners for not buying things on credit like many other so called political student leaders or mastans (gangster). I pity those so called political leaders and gangster who with their violent acts tried to destroy the peaceful life in the campus. In fact it was, and even at present it is a common picture around whole Bangladesh. They are the parasites of the society. I wonder, what a destiny. Thousands of students sacrificed their lives for the liberation of the motherland in 1971, and today they are using the same weapons to destroy the political structure, democracy, making violence, causing hindrance for economic development. For what - I don't understand - just to fulfil self interest at the public expenses, just to demonstrate their power. Not only the student leaders but it seems to me, it is the motto of almost all the politicians and bureaucrats to use public funds for private and political interest. Is this the democracy we wanted? Is this the independence for which we sacrificed 3 million lives. I think they use violence only to hide their incapability, their emptiness, lack of goal, uncertainty.
Anyway, I was writing about us. As being a group without having involvement with politics directly, we became very attractive to the different political parties who wanted us to support their novel (?) cause. I must admit we utilised these circumstances by exploiting different political student leaders at that time in the campus, having snacks/tea/ cigarettes etc from them in exchange of hearing different political theories and their novelty. And it was fun - enjoying from both sides. At the same time, going together in a group with such strong bondage and commitment gave us a very strong power over the whole system. We got the privilege of influencing different campus matters. These powers and privileges ware not due to muscle or gun which were very common in the campus in those days, but for our good behaviour, love, affection and respect for others. I don't think we had less power than anyone who used muscle or gun. Rather they didn't have actual power - only that people were afraid of them, and couldn't oppose them on their faces.
Twenty years have passed. Now in 1995, I am here in Bergen, Norway, Economic executive at one of the offices of Bergen Commune. Zaman is Auditor in Bergen Tax Office. Tariq, in Vadsø, Norway, is College teacher. Alam is in Canada. Rezaul is a Senior executive in Asian Development Bank, Dhaka. About Ehsan, I mentioned before. Baban, Hafiz and Faizul are University teachers in the USA/Canada - each having a Ph. D. Shafiq is the Marketing Director of a British Industry based at Dhaka. Kabir is at the University Grant's Commission, Dhaka, Bangladesh. Tipu is Lieutenant Colonel, Bangladesh Army. And that is the gang today in 1995.
Those days were full of life. We choose rooms in the same corridor in the same student hostel. This had a few advantages - having fun in the middle of the night, going to bath without clothes, not locking the door every time, passing a cigarette to one another etc. etc. After around two months we started thinking of doing something. We couldn't just move like hippies. We had to do something, something constructive. Baban suggested to buy some musical instruments and form a band. That would be mostly a hobby, but might help us earn some money at the same time. Proposal was not accepted because no one of us seemed to have good sense of music moreover we didn't have the capital to invest in musical instruments. I and Rezaul had a plan from 1973 (we were friend since then and he was my roommate in the University life) to travel around the World. We thought about it many times. Thought about travelling on foot, or rather say hitch-hike - buying and selling souvenir on the way for a bit of profit to support ourselves financially. We were not afraid of economic problems in Europe, because we had heard the Europeans donate in such causes. Problem was Asia, and thus the problem was initial capital which we didn't have. Neither was it possible to ask from the parents. They would have thought it a total madness. We - I, Rezaul, Nannoo and Mukta - dreamed about it a lot sitting on the bank of a sewerage canal at Banani, where we used to live in Dhaka. I still can smell the stink from the sewerage, but we selected that place just to avoid other people around us. In fact, a few moments without unwanted people around you is quite precious in Bangladesh.
So we proposed that idea to the group and it was accepted. Now the problem was how to get initial capital. We reduced our plan of travelling around the world to travelling around Asia. First we thought of collecting donations for this purpose. But who should give us money for travelling around and why? Travelling by collecting money was not even a familiar phenomena in Bangladesh. So, the conclusion - not possible. Baban mixed both the plans - to sing and earn money and travel. Quite possible. But still the initial capital was the problem.
I don't remember whose proposal it was to publish a magazine and collect advertisements, and thus earn some money. Eureka. We had the idea. Next step was to make plans. We had to work for the magazine and the tour simultaneously, we had to form an organisation, we had to have a name, we had to make detail plans, form sub-groups for different activities. We needed help. We had to exploit the student political parties.
As a result we started talking to the then President of the Student League (BAKSHAL) - student wing of the then ruling party, and the then President of the Student League (JSD) - student wing of the then largest opposition party. We had to be quite diplomatic, because opposition political parties in our country is not like in Western countries. They are not political opponents - but enemies. One should at least hate the other party members, if it is not possible to kill them. The President of the Student League (BAKSHAL), Shahid Bhai, agreed on helping us provided he could join us in the tour. No problem. While talking to the President of The Student League (JSD), Maruf Bhai, we found they have an organisation named "Cycling Society, Jahangirnagar University". Four of the members of that society travelled to Calcutta by bicycle two years back. He offered us to take over the charges of the organisation and promised their support subject to we include four of them in the tour. Not a bad idea. We can get a few advantages by using that name. We can show some activities for the credibility of the organisation and can save some other formal procedures and thus save some time. All three parties agreed on the composition of the group. We were fourteen, one couldn't make it at the last moment for the tour.
We started working on getting permission from the University to get the status "Study Tour", getting permission from the ministry, making passports, collecting advertisements, collecting articles, printing the magazine, distributing it, collecting advertisement money, etc. Oh, I remember those days - going from one office to another for advertisements, using different connections and lobbies. One of our friend managed to get an old jeep at our disposal. That was our transport. The problem with the jeep was if you break the engine used to stop. Then you have to push the jeep to get the engine started again. Not so uncommon in Bangladesh, specially outside the city area. Pushing the jeep was not that hard, but the problem was the hot sun above our head. In the middle of the day at a temperature of 30 to 35 degree centigrades no one of us wanted to volunteer to push the jeep. Of course we made an arrangement so that each and everyone had to push by turn. Now, being in Europe I can't even dream of such a vehicle on the road. But, as being student, it was a luxury for us at that time to have the jeep. In reality it is luxury for any one in Bangladesh considering those peoples who pull/push carts to transport goods from one place to another. They push/pull carts for the whole day. They do it when it rains, they do it when it is hot in the summer or cold in the winter. And they do it, may be, for 10 to 15 takas per hour (2 to 3 Krones). It is unthinkable for me how these people walk whole day on asphalt roads on a summer day without shoes. The temperature melts the asphalt - but they keep on walking. Alas! for them no season is soothing. In the summer it is too hot - they don't have warm clothes for the winter - and in the rainy season they don't have roof over their heads. They struggle for their existence each and every moment. They live in total uncertainty. They don't have the capability of sending their children to schools. As a result their children take the same occupation. A vicious circle. What did we do for them? What did independence do for them? What changes have democracy brought for them? The whole of Bangladesh is moving in a vicious circle - who can move her out of it? Or, can it be moved out at all? May be no one can answer these questions - not only me. We are opportunists, thinking only about only ourselves. Politicians and bureaucrats are corrupted, religious leaders are living in the sixth century, people are uneducated - who can help us? We are destroying ourselves - it is a self-destructing society, who can show us the right path, get us out of the self-destructive mechanism? Like others we didn't want to think much about those unpleasant thoughts. Yet we used to help financially two of our fellow students out of our monthly allocation from our parents.
We were working to achieve our goals. We were working together - working hard and sincerely. Everything went as planned. Finally the dream started becoming actual. Our magazine was published. We earned from the advertisements. It was sufficient for air ticket (Dhaka - Calcutta - Dhaka), and pocket money around 800,00 Indian rupees per head. We gathered information about different expenditures in India and found out we could only make Calcutta and Delhi. So we had to be satisfied with that. Made our plans based on Calcutta and Delhi instead of whole Asia. Finally the Day came. It was May 12, 1975. At 11:00 hours we started for Calcutta by Biman (Bangladesh Airlines). That was the first day in my life travelling outside Bangladesh. It was thrilling. I never get the same feelings by travelling to a new country now, as I had on that day. I was looking down through the window of the aircraft. Looking at my country from up above. The captain announced when we crossed the border. I looked down - it is the same. It was the same as Bangladesh, and I think it is. I was looking at West Bengal - a province of India. Once we were together - Bangladesh and West Bengal known as Bangla. The division is only political, because of religion. We are the same people, we talk in same language, we have quite a lot of cultural similarities. Now because of religion we are divided. It seemed to me I was travelling to my own country as a foreigner. Anyway I crossed for the first time in my life a political border. And it was thrilling. Our aircraft landed Damdam Airport at Calcutta at 11:15 hours local time. People from Bangladesh High Commission were waiting for us outside the airport with a micro-bus (long live political connections!). They drove us to a place called Beleghata. There we would be staying at "Bangladesh-Bharat Maitri Samity" house. Our journey through India started there. It is another history. So many memories, so many facts, so much funs. If I start writing about it, it will take months, and if BSU waits for it the magazine will never come out. So I think I should stop here for the time being. And may be I will tell the rest another time - may be in another place.
Please note that the present name of Calcutta is "Kolkata".
Whatever I choose I have to write a history! The history of my life - the history of a group of young people. I don’t know how to write history. That is the subject I hated most in my school life. May be, it is because the way we used to learn it. It was very uninteresting. Without any analysis we had to memorise the name of the kings and emperors and the years of their rule. I didn't understand what I have to do with all these, except passing the exam of course. I remember once I got a severe punishment for that subject. It was 1964, I was in fourth class, my history teacher asked me about the ruling year of a Mogule emperor (I don't remember his name now). The answer had to be wrong with almost a 100 years difference. So I had to get punishment. It was standing beside him keeping the head under his table. Not that difficult. I did it and began doing funny things under the table with my eyes, mouth and tongue, understanding that my teacher could not notice. The fellow students at the classroom started laughing - the teacher understood what was happening. I must mention here that I was the second smallest boy in the class according to my height. The teacher held my hands and lifted me around one foot from the ground and started lashing with a stick he had for punishing the worst students.
Academically (that time) my reputation was not that bad - in fact, I was one of the best students of my class (as per examination results). But when discipline was concerned, I was like a jackal, doing the odd things without being noticed by the authority. No wonder why my classmates liked me as their class captain. Any way, the teacher in those days in Bangladesh had all his rights to punish the students as he wanted to. He was free to choose the means of punishment like lashing, hitting on different parts of your body, keeping the student standing on the chair holding his own ears, lin down outside the class room - in worst cases on the rocks. Well, I can name many other methods of punishment which we used to get, that could have been considered as torture and human right violation. Of course, the words "human rights" were totally unknown to me and punishment from a teacher could not be considered as torture. So the acts of the teacher was just disciplinary action to us.
Anyway, that was not the time I wanted to start my history writing. It is much after that - another time, another place - in 1975, and not at Rangpur my home town, but at Dhaka where I started my independent (not economically!) life. I think I will start there. Those were the days - the days of a free soul - singing and dancing thinking that these days will never ever end. But alas the time passes away. And today I am looking behind at those days trying to imprison them with my words. The days I will never forget - can never be forgotten.
I can still reconstruct the January 13, 1975, the day I started my university life at the Jahangirnagar University, located at Savar, around 30 km . from Dhaka the capital of Bangladesh. The University is a bit far from the centre of the city. Rumours say the then Pakistan government wanted to divert and weaken student politics at the heart of Dhaka , and so decided to establish the new University in 1967 far from the present one.
Whatever is the reason, for me it has been a good selection - in the countryside. You don't have to face the smoke, noise and rush of the city life everyday morning to make yourself stressed and annoyed. It is different there; even the soil is a bit different from general Bangladeshi soil. It is red, and it is not flat as pancake. The campus is around 700 acres - a large open area with only the people you know. Seems like a huge family - at least we felt it that way in 1975. Whole campus was full of trees - Jackfruits, Krishnachura flower, Pines, Eucaliptus and many others. In the morning the birds had their duties to wake us up. There is a big lake in the middle of the campus. I still remember we used to walk beside the lake after the late night study - sit somewhere, chat or sing Rabindrasangeet (song written by Rabindranath). I can still visualise it in my mind, smell the scent, and feel the softness in my body those full-moon nights beside the lake. I don't think one can find a better place than beside those lakes to calm down, get some inner peace, relax and forget the complexity of the outer world for a while. The campus was most beautiful in the autumn when the Krishnachuras started to blossom - whole campus was used to be covered with the red Krishnachuras. Red soil under your feet and red flowers over your head – wherever you looked you can notice this red colour. We would observe the seasonal changes by following the change of colours. It was green, it was combination of different colours, it was brown. It was as if an unsatisfied painter wanting to make the campus more beautiful by changing the colours, and in doing so he is not sure which one is the most beautiful. In fact, to me each of them was perfect. Oh! So romantic the campus was. Well, we were at that time, known to have had one Jackfruit tree to sit under for each romantic pair. In fact, I should acknowledge - it is not far from the truth. And this is my campus - how can I forget it.
Yes, it was January 13, 1975. The first day at the Jahangirnagar University. Rezaul and I were supposed to take the same bus to the University. I missed the University bus that we were supposed to take. So I had to take a public transport. I reached the University in good time. I had around 10 minutes at my disposal before the first lecture. I was standing in front of the classroom, waiting for Rezaul. I saw one fat boy coming towards me - looking quite senior. He stopped beside me and asked whether the first year microeconomics class would take place in that room. I answered yes - exchanged a few words starting with names. I was thinking of something else - this boy looks so old, can't be my classmate - anyway if he is going to the same class as me then he must be a dumb student - must have failed in final exams a few times - it is no point getting him as a friend. Rezaul came a few minutes later. I told him about Ehsan ("the fat boy"). He was also sure at that time that Ehsan must be a dumb student. We were damn wrong and wrong of the highest order - he was almost as old as me - and one of the best students of whole Bangladesh coming from Fauzdarhat Cadet College, much better than me. He is Ehsan - Country Operation Manager, ANZ Grindlays Bank. The Class started with 22 students - six students joined us after two months - two left before the final exam. The teacher was Rashidul Hasan Khan. And the lecture was on microeconomics - demand and supply. The base of the whole economic and socio-political structure, and even ones love and affection to each other. When demand and supply coincides each other equilibrium is achieved.
After the lecture we - I, Rezaul, Baban, Ehsan, Tariq, Zaman and Tipu sat together in the class, introducing ourselves. I don't remember who was the first that started telling nasty jokes, and it was the starting, one after another continued for around half an hour. We became free - got acquainted with each other. This acquaintanceship later became friendship. It didn't take much time to become friends. And we still are friends. Of course, after the university life we scattered from each other for the sake of job, higher education. But still we are friends. Kabir as being roommate of Tipu joined the group. Faizul, Alam and Monu came later. Five others, Shafiq, Hafiz, Farid (Captain Ali), Asghar, Shanjib - all of them one year senior to us, became part of the group later on. And that was the gang, renowned in the campus for being - drunk - smoking grass - red eyed - having long hair - well behaved - non political - crazy - good students (as per class test results) - hippies - careless - having female friends including the seniors (it was not that popular among the others who couldn't make it) - not thinking much about the future - not studying - not serious about anything - funny, and that describes the gang.
As a matter of fact we became known to the teachers, employees and other fellow students very quickly as a group. A few others were jealous of us (specially because of the female friends we managed to have), but in general we were quite popular. Particularly popular to the shop owners for not buying things on credit like many other so called political student leaders or mastans (gangster). I pity those so called political leaders and gangster who with their violent acts tried to destroy the peaceful life in the campus. In fact it was, and even at present it is a common picture around whole Bangladesh. They are the parasites of the society. I wonder, what a destiny. Thousands of students sacrificed their lives for the liberation of the motherland in 1971, and today they are using the same weapons to destroy the political structure, democracy, making violence, causing hindrance for economic development. For what - I don't understand - just to fulfil self interest at the public expenses, just to demonstrate their power. Not only the student leaders but it seems to me, it is the motto of almost all the politicians and bureaucrats to use public funds for private and political interest. Is this the democracy we wanted? Is this the independence for which we sacrificed 3 million lives. I think they use violence only to hide their incapability, their emptiness, lack of goal, uncertainty.
Anyway, I was writing about us. As being a group without having involvement with politics directly, we became very attractive to the different political parties who wanted us to support their novel (?) cause. I must admit we utilised these circumstances by exploiting different political student leaders at that time in the campus, having snacks/tea/ cigarettes etc from them in exchange of hearing different political theories and their novelty. And it was fun - enjoying from both sides. At the same time, going together in a group with such strong bondage and commitment gave us a very strong power over the whole system. We got the privilege of influencing different campus matters. These powers and privileges ware not due to muscle or gun which were very common in the campus in those days, but for our good behaviour, love, affection and respect for others. I don't think we had less power than anyone who used muscle or gun. Rather they didn't have actual power - only that people were afraid of them, and couldn't oppose them on their faces.
Twenty years have passed. Now in 1995, I am here in Bergen, Norway, Economic executive at one of the offices of Bergen Commune. Zaman is Auditor in Bergen Tax Office. Tariq, in Vadsø, Norway, is College teacher. Alam is in Canada. Rezaul is a Senior executive in Asian Development Bank, Dhaka. About Ehsan, I mentioned before. Baban, Hafiz and Faizul are University teachers in the USA/Canada - each having a Ph. D. Shafiq is the Marketing Director of a British Industry based at Dhaka. Kabir is at the University Grant's Commission, Dhaka, Bangladesh. Tipu is Lieutenant Colonel, Bangladesh Army. And that is the gang today in 1995.
Those days were full of life. We choose rooms in the same corridor in the same student hostel. This had a few advantages - having fun in the middle of the night, going to bath without clothes, not locking the door every time, passing a cigarette to one another etc. etc. After around two months we started thinking of doing something. We couldn't just move like hippies. We had to do something, something constructive. Baban suggested to buy some musical instruments and form a band. That would be mostly a hobby, but might help us earn some money at the same time. Proposal was not accepted because no one of us seemed to have good sense of music moreover we didn't have the capital to invest in musical instruments. I and Rezaul had a plan from 1973 (we were friend since then and he was my roommate in the University life) to travel around the World. We thought about it many times. Thought about travelling on foot, or rather say hitch-hike - buying and selling souvenir on the way for a bit of profit to support ourselves financially. We were not afraid of economic problems in Europe, because we had heard the Europeans donate in such causes. Problem was Asia, and thus the problem was initial capital which we didn't have. Neither was it possible to ask from the parents. They would have thought it a total madness. We - I, Rezaul, Nannoo and Mukta - dreamed about it a lot sitting on the bank of a sewerage canal at Banani, where we used to live in Dhaka. I still can smell the stink from the sewerage, but we selected that place just to avoid other people around us. In fact, a few moments without unwanted people around you is quite precious in Bangladesh.
So we proposed that idea to the group and it was accepted. Now the problem was how to get initial capital. We reduced our plan of travelling around the world to travelling around Asia. First we thought of collecting donations for this purpose. But who should give us money for travelling around and why? Travelling by collecting money was not even a familiar phenomena in Bangladesh. So, the conclusion - not possible. Baban mixed both the plans - to sing and earn money and travel. Quite possible. But still the initial capital was the problem.
I don't remember whose proposal it was to publish a magazine and collect advertisements, and thus earn some money. Eureka. We had the idea. Next step was to make plans. We had to work for the magazine and the tour simultaneously, we had to form an organisation, we had to have a name, we had to make detail plans, form sub-groups for different activities. We needed help. We had to exploit the student political parties.
As a result we started talking to the then President of the Student League (BAKSHAL) - student wing of the then ruling party, and the then President of the Student League (JSD) - student wing of the then largest opposition party. We had to be quite diplomatic, because opposition political parties in our country is not like in Western countries. They are not political opponents - but enemies. One should at least hate the other party members, if it is not possible to kill them. The President of the Student League (BAKSHAL), Shahid Bhai, agreed on helping us provided he could join us in the tour. No problem. While talking to the President of The Student League (JSD), Maruf Bhai, we found they have an organisation named "Cycling Society, Jahangirnagar University". Four of the members of that society travelled to Calcutta by bicycle two years back. He offered us to take over the charges of the organisation and promised their support subject to we include four of them in the tour. Not a bad idea. We can get a few advantages by using that name. We can show some activities for the credibility of the organisation and can save some other formal procedures and thus save some time. All three parties agreed on the composition of the group. We were fourteen, one couldn't make it at the last moment for the tour.
We started working on getting permission from the University to get the status "Study Tour", getting permission from the ministry, making passports, collecting advertisements, collecting articles, printing the magazine, distributing it, collecting advertisement money, etc. Oh, I remember those days - going from one office to another for advertisements, using different connections and lobbies. One of our friend managed to get an old jeep at our disposal. That was our transport. The problem with the jeep was if you break the engine used to stop. Then you have to push the jeep to get the engine started again. Not so uncommon in Bangladesh, specially outside the city area. Pushing the jeep was not that hard, but the problem was the hot sun above our head. In the middle of the day at a temperature of 30 to 35 degree centigrades no one of us wanted to volunteer to push the jeep. Of course we made an arrangement so that each and everyone had to push by turn. Now, being in Europe I can't even dream of such a vehicle on the road. But, as being student, it was a luxury for us at that time to have the jeep. In reality it is luxury for any one in Bangladesh considering those peoples who pull/push carts to transport goods from one place to another. They push/pull carts for the whole day. They do it when it rains, they do it when it is hot in the summer or cold in the winter. And they do it, may be, for 10 to 15 takas per hour (2 to 3 Krones). It is unthinkable for me how these people walk whole day on asphalt roads on a summer day without shoes. The temperature melts the asphalt - but they keep on walking. Alas! for them no season is soothing. In the summer it is too hot - they don't have warm clothes for the winter - and in the rainy season they don't have roof over their heads. They struggle for their existence each and every moment. They live in total uncertainty. They don't have the capability of sending their children to schools. As a result their children take the same occupation. A vicious circle. What did we do for them? What did independence do for them? What changes have democracy brought for them? The whole of Bangladesh is moving in a vicious circle - who can move her out of it? Or, can it be moved out at all? May be no one can answer these questions - not only me. We are opportunists, thinking only about only ourselves. Politicians and bureaucrats are corrupted, religious leaders are living in the sixth century, people are uneducated - who can help us? We are destroying ourselves - it is a self-destructing society, who can show us the right path, get us out of the self-destructive mechanism? Like others we didn't want to think much about those unpleasant thoughts. Yet we used to help financially two of our fellow students out of our monthly allocation from our parents.
We were working to achieve our goals. We were working together - working hard and sincerely. Everything went as planned. Finally the dream started becoming actual. Our magazine was published. We earned from the advertisements. It was sufficient for air ticket (Dhaka - Calcutta - Dhaka), and pocket money around 800,00 Indian rupees per head. We gathered information about different expenditures in India and found out we could only make Calcutta and Delhi. So we had to be satisfied with that. Made our plans based on Calcutta and Delhi instead of whole Asia. Finally the Day came. It was May 12, 1975. At 11:00 hours we started for Calcutta by Biman (Bangladesh Airlines). That was the first day in my life travelling outside Bangladesh. It was thrilling. I never get the same feelings by travelling to a new country now, as I had on that day. I was looking down through the window of the aircraft. Looking at my country from up above. The captain announced when we crossed the border. I looked down - it is the same. It was the same as Bangladesh, and I think it is. I was looking at West Bengal - a province of India. Once we were together - Bangladesh and West Bengal known as Bangla. The division is only political, because of religion. We are the same people, we talk in same language, we have quite a lot of cultural similarities. Now because of religion we are divided. It seemed to me I was travelling to my own country as a foreigner. Anyway I crossed for the first time in my life a political border. And it was thrilling. Our aircraft landed Damdam Airport at Calcutta at 11:15 hours local time. People from Bangladesh High Commission were waiting for us outside the airport with a micro-bus (long live political connections!). They drove us to a place called Beleghata. There we would be staying at "Bangladesh-Bharat Maitri Samity" house. Our journey through India started there. It is another history. So many memories, so many facts, so much funs. If I start writing about it, it will take months, and if BSU waits for it the magazine will never come out. So I think I should stop here for the time being. And may be I will tell the rest another time - may be in another place.
Please note that the present name of Calcutta is "Kolkata".
