Bangladesh: A Legacy of Blood, a book review

[Review of the original text in English. The language is bold, not sure if the Bengali translation carried that boldness or it was censored]

Book author: Anthony Mascarenhas

In the very introduction of this book, the author makes a statement

Shakespeare said: ‘The evil that men do lives after them. The good is oft interred with their bones.’ So it is with Sheik Mujib and General Ziaur Rahman who by their headstrong acts and selfish ambition left Bangladesh a legacy of blood. In these circumstances the focus of this book inevitably is on the wrong doing. I make no apology for it. The people must know the truth about their leaders; and may we all take lesson from their mistakes.

I remember, I was in eighth grade when one of my nerdy bookish friends told me, “You know, Mujib was not that good also”. In eighth grade my life was black and white. And Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was white in that world. I gave my friend a curious look and kept clinging to my belief - that Mujib cannot be black. For one thing, she did not present me with evidence, but even if she did, I would learn later that it is pretty difficult to digest that one’s life-long beliefs are just imaginations.

Growing up, a new shade of color was born in my world - gray. And almost everything is gray in my world now. I have changed, and got more comfortable with gray than black and white. After the great student upsurge in my country, I looked back at the comment of Mujib made by my old friend, the first negative remark I heard about him. I was looking for a book that would show Mujib in both white and black. Neither it would be shy to criticize his wrong-doing nor it would unregister his good deeds. A book that would focus on what the leaders of new-born Bangladesh did or did not do rather than praising/bashing them in one way. Anthony Mascarenhas exactly gave me that book.

The book starts in 1972, Mujib is returning to Bangladesh from his captivity. Mujib, who did not fight the liberation war nor did he announce it as per any record, took the hold of the country. Running a two person household can be tough, and we are talking about a country born after shedding a sea of blood, whose spine is eaten up by corruption, illiteracy. It can be a hell of a responsibility but Mujib wanted more power.

The author, Tony, in a session with Mujib would ask him why he just doesn’t give up. Maybe giving up was the best option the leaders could do. Giving up doesn’t mean you stop caring, it means you care for it more than your ego so you let another person take on the lead.

Tony took many interviews of the characters of this book. With Mujib, he not only took interviews, but shared a friendship too. Tony met Mujib for the first time in 1956 in Karachi. In the summer of 1958 their friendship developed during a tour in the USA. They played card games against three Indonesians where Mujib won themselves $386 dollars by a shift of ‘luck’. This incident amazed Tony and he asked MUjib how he did it. His response was and the experience is illustrated by the author- 

‘When you play with gentlemen, you play like a gentleman, But when you play with bastards, make sure you play like a bigger bastard. Otherwise you will lose.’ Then he added with a laugh, ‘Don’t forget I have had good teachers.’ It was a startling glimpse of this earthy, gut-fighting politician and the intrigue and the violence to which he was bred. Later, when his star soared and he began to make headlines, I would recall these words and have no difficulty predicting the response he would make to the crisis of the moment.

It was not the first time that imprisonment had made a demi-god of a national hero. It was not just Mujib’s thirst for power, we the countrymen failed to use our brains too. We trusted Mujib like he is a god. After 40 years of his death, criticizing him was like blasphemy.

Soon the dual roles he had undertaken began to show up the folly of the arrangement. As prime minister, Mujib was required to inject harsh discipline into the government, to recreate a country from scratch along orderly lines. Most of all he had to sustain and guide into channels of reconstruction the tremendous patriotic fervour that galvanised the people in 1971. Mujib could do none of these things. As Bangabandhu, the friend and father-figure, Mujib had to be magnanimous, forgiving and helpful. This role was more suited to his nature, for Mujib was large hearted, a kindly man, generous to a fault and one who never forgot a face or a friendship. Mujib did not have the capacity to compartment his hats. Every moment of the day he was simultaneously Prime Minister and Bangabandhu. The contradictions inherent in this situation inevitably led to chaos.

In the newborn Bangladesh, the administration was still largely run by the East Pakistan officials who showed no or little resistance.

A Yugoslav delegation, conveying greetings from President Tito in January, 1972, exhorted Sheikh Mujib at that time to give those involved in the freedom struggle the central place in the Bangladesh administration. ‘They may be inexperienced and make mistakes,’ the Yugoslav told Mujib, ‘But their hearts are in the right place. They will learn quickly and they will push the country forwards.’

Mujib never fully awakened to the realities of the new dispensation over which he presided. The dramatic events of the nine months preceding the birth of Bangladesh—and all the trauma and patriotic fervour that it generated—would remain a blank spot in his consciousness. He would never fully know it because his vibrant personality had not experienced it. Mujib, after all, was essentially a projectionist, a prism translating light to rainbow. Total isolation in prison had been an obliterating experience. Time stood still for him while the people moved on to a new life and new hope. So when he emerged from the ‘darkness to the light and the sunshine of a million victorious smiles’, Mujib, true to form, continued exactly from where he had left off. He did not have the capacity to catch up, Nor did he try.

I liked how Tony built Farook slowly. A freedom fighter, who sacrificed a life of luxury, although temporarily, to join the liberation war. An ambitious Army officer, smoking imported cigarettes and driving imported cars and all that… Farook was appearing as a hero. Posted in a crucial role to wipe out corruption, Farook found himself caught in a double-ended job. He was catching the corrupts and Mujib was excusing them. The ambitious man started planning to kill Mujib. Military has both power and arms. And Mujib being a hater of the Military system did not let the Army get strong in Bangladesh. And he probably planted his own death by doing so.

Farook and Rashid from the killers of Mujib, came to this book again and again.

Major Rashid, when asked why Mujib was killed and not deposed, replied: ‘There was no other way. He had the capacity for mischief and given the chance he would have turned the tables on us.’

Mujib dies, and we see

The sycophants needed no encouragement to switch loyalties. They went in droves to the President’s house to fawn on Mushtaque, and any of the Majors they could find. Congratulatory telegrams and letter poured in from everywhere.

After the “heroic” deed the Majors have done, things started to be lame and lamer. People started to question Mujib or no Mujib, what is the difference? If no difference, why Mujib had to die. What were the Majors thinking? Where is the promised revolution… The Majors didn’t have the first idea how to run a country. The Army chain of command was broken and all hell broke loose. The coup, counter-coups - I almost lost track of what was happening. But good thing the void is filled with something now, LOL. History slowly shifts from one Mujib to one Zia. The book also gives you a sense of the mutinies happening during the transition from Mujib to Zia.

Zia would not have succeeded were it not for the remarkable character of the Bangladeshis. However volatile their politics and violent their political changes, Bangladeshis are paradoxically middle-of-the-roaders, eschewing extremism in both religion and politics. What else would explain the persistent eclipse of the left or the rejection of Ayatollah fundamentalism of the right whenever it reared its head? Their basic chemistry is constituted in equal measure of burning nationalism, unobstructive piety in the practice of Islam, and an aggressive sense of equality combined with a penchant for instant outrage when confronted by injustice and wrong-doing in others.

The decision to assume the role of President had grown on him in the same manner that Belal Mohammad’s invitation ‘to say something’ over the radio in 1971 had prompted Zia to switch from an uninvolved spectator to a high-profile role in the freedom movement in the early days of the Pakistan military action.

Zia was cunning, in the middle ground, he was like the cartel heads of cartel TV series who trust no one. Big impressions. Here is a guy untouched by corruption, who takes a three item lunch made in his home, wears two shirts by rotation, the man is so honest about money, the rent of an apartment in Mohammadpur seemed too costly to him. But after studying Zia, I was even more disappointed, all the hotshot accented English interviews, but deep down there was nothing intelligible. Like when I watch Dr. Younus giving interviews, my mind actually feels with joy by his knowledgeable ideas. Whereas, take Mujib, could be a great reciter, Zia, could be a great tv presenter. Instead what career they chose and how that left the country for us, sigh...

Six years after Sheikh Mujib’s assassination, the wheel had turned full circle. Ziaur Rahman’s Bangladesh was coming apart at the seams. And Zia, like Mujib, was looking for more draconian extra-constitutional measures to control it.

In Zia’s case the basic problem was his character flaw that would not allow him to let go even a semblance of the overwhelming power he exercised. It made him a prisoner of political convenience, quite unable to create the viable political institutions that alone could have saved him and Bangladesh. And his insanely suspicious nature in the end made no one trust him. In an ironic way General Zia achieved his all-consuming ambition to be President for Life. But it was a short one.

Towards the end, the book got more documentary-like and missed the personal touch that we see in the beginning. Maybe it’s because the later chapters are based on author’s interviews and white paper, newspaper references. Even though the events are thrilling, a lot of references and characters and details (this is a pure history book) might make the reading pace slow. Definitely not an easy read in that respect.

I will soon be 28 and I can’t remember when was the last time I read a thriller book or a fantasy book. Getting old and munching on everything boring—classics, fictions, psychology, memoir, geopolitics, science—anything that resembles reality. I can’t watch more than 3 minutes of a sci-fi movie. Every time I start, I ask where the poor third world countries' population is in this movie? Where are the migrated folks after climate disasters. Harari killed sci-fi movies for me, LOL. So in my dry reading timeline, I picked up this political history book without any idea that it’s going to be the most thrilling book of this year. I slept every night last couple of days brainstorming about what was the most pressing problem of the newborn Bangladesh, what was the root cause, how could we solve it… I tried to identify some problems—not much motivation to practice discipline, honesty etc., scarcity of resources, lack of educated leaders, a demigod leader whose hands were tied with nepotism and legs were tied with sycophancy. I slept dissatisfied with not finding a concrete solution the newborn country was facing. In the course of my reading, I will remember this book as the one which fed me with lots of answers, and yet more questions.

It should be mandatory to teach the folks how Mujib was raised to the status of demigod and how he fell. What happens when the Military chain of command is breached. We should know the cunning Zia, not the one who by luck announced the independence of Bangladesh. Forget dates, character names, all these nonsense our Social Science history chapters emphasize on. Think of the drama. The actual deeds that happened. Set questions like- what do you think of the reasons someone might kill Mujib? Criticize Zia’s leadership qualities. What is your take on Tajuddin, or Taher. No, don’t ask the birthdays, birthplace, or the parents' names, no one needs to know about Tungipara. Think about it, Bangladeshi folks know no history of deeds of a person, but cultivates rude thoughts against a whole village or a whole population of a religion where that person belongs. Why is that so?

Our past is rich with brutality, pessimistic repetition of the same wrong acts. By knowing the history of recent years, we can see a break through the cycle of repetitive mistakes.