by Sazid
The nature of immortalizing someone is so prevalent in our country that we tend to forget the famous lines by Madhusudan Dutta, “Keep this servant in your thoughts, O Mother,” as immortalizing someone is the duty of time itself. We even exaggerate this immortalization to another level, making an alive, breathing figure immortal. With that being said, as the country is yet to revitalize from its post-revolution scenarios and lingering disorders, we are once again in the race of immortalizing the fighters and valiant students like Abu Sayed or Mugdho.
This tendency of immortalizing brings forward risks, diverting our focus from issues that really matter. As we scroll through social media, we see scandals involving many proponents of the quota movement. All of this is because of our endless effort to portray them as prophet-like figures. No man is beyond sin, so why go all out to portray them as sinless, angel-like creatures? Why can’t we live with this fact and move on for a greater cause? And what is that cause?
In my eyes, if only the people would know against whom we fought—Sheikh Hasina or a fascist—then we could have shaped the country with all our utopian dreams. I do remember when I, Iresh, and some of my classmates were busy cleaning the streets of Mirpur on August 6th. Vans of the Bangladesh Nationalist Party passed by us, screaming louder than “Bones,” as if they were the main characters. With the extrajudicial killing of nearly 1,200 students and people, we were able to get rid of the rule of a fascist government. Yet, our main opposition party couldn’t wait a single day to commemorate their memories; instead, they jumped right into throwing parties with the so-called “Bijoy Rally.” Now, you may question: who are they really working for? Or is it all just a display of their strength? The moment these parties realize we vote for them not to rule but to run the country, then, and only then, might we expect the success of revolution.
Back in class 8, we had a text by Kazi Nazrul Islam titled Bhaab o Kaaj, where he explored the spirit and its connection to our soul. Whenever there has been a shift through all-out movements, like the Sri Lankan Revolution or the fall of Assad in Syria, it’s the united effort that pushes people to go beyond and break the chains that held them captive for so long. When people wake up from their long years of sleep, just like Kumbhakarna, they unleash such prowess that shakes the realm of long-standing beliefs and ideologies, shattering the rusty chains to pieces. But after a few days or weeks, most of them carry on with their day-to-day lives, just like before, passing down their wand of control to another unworthy leader or ruler. In this whole process of waking up and fading away, they lose the “spirit” that helped them stand and speak out. And a whole generation loses their fantasies of a utopian land of eternal happiness.
In this country, back in the ’90s, people fought against the autocratic rule of Ershad and toppled the military regime. However, the very parties that came together to reform democracy killed it just a decade after. So if this quota turn out like that, what will happen is that our proud Gen Z will lose all their spirit in the soul, just like the millennials. As mentioned before, Nazrul termed this death of spirit as the death of a generation. Could we afford to lose ourselves in an abyss, just like the millennials?
If you ever think you are losing it, then recollect your July days—the surge of emotion blending with immense hatred made you a man. How can you forget that your boys sacrificed and shed blood on the same roads where you are now thinking of quitting and lending it all to Murphy’s law of “What happens, happens”? Our Adjutant sir always says: answer the call that revives you. Can we not hear that call?