Split

by Taslima Nasrin

  (Maulana) Mahiuddin Khan

  Editor, Mashik Medina, Dhaka

  (Maulana Poet) Ruhul Amin Khan

  (Maulana) Abdul Gaffar

  Mufassir-e Quran, Dhaka

  (Maulana Mufti) Wahiduzzaman

  Mohaddis, Barkatra Madrasa, Dhaka

  (Maulana) Abdul Jabbar

  Chief Secretary, Befaqul Madarisil, Bangladesh

  (Maulana) Noor Hossain Kasemi

  Muhtamim, Baridhara Madrasa, Dhaka

  (Maulana Kwari) Obaidullah

  Khatib, Chakbazar Shahi Masjid

  (Maulana) Muhammad Habibur Rahman

  Convener, Bangladesh Chhahaba Sainik Parisad

  A handful of scholars mounted a passionate defence of freedom of expression and wrote in support of me. Mustafa Nurul Islam wrote:

  We are living in contentious times, in a weird country, where they have decided that no one is going to be allowed to think freely, or dream. I reserve my rebukes for us, that these sins are being committed with impunity in a country whose legacy is the Liberation War. Taslima Nasrin writes, and she writes about her beliefs and her thoughts—who are these alternate legal authorities who seem to possess the right to issue a fatwa against her demanding her assassination? What is her fault? That she has dared to strike at the dark roots of centuries-old superstitions and spoken out against opportunists. Her only fault is that she writes what she feels and is open about discussing her trusted experiences . . . It is possible that many of us may not agree with her opinions all the time. But it does not imply that we can let a writer’s fundamental rights be violated . . . Nazrul was once termed a kaffir and sentenced to death. Abul Hossain and Kazi Abdul Wadud, proponents of the Freedom of Intellect Movement (Buddhir Mukti Andolan), were made to sign an indenture. I fear we are facing a revival of such medieval instances of prejudice. The final truth that must be acknowledged is that the wheel of history can never turn back.

  Professor Sirajul Islam Chowdhury observed:

  What is happening around Taslima is no longer a literary issue, it’s political. We are no longer discussing literature, we are discussing causes for possible fundamentalist attacks. For the fanatics this is a political issue, they are not interested in books at all. Yet it is these sorts of issues they wait for. Neither are they interested in a logically sound counter-argument. That is exactly what has happened in this case. Whenever these fundamentalist parties get an opportunity they try to capitalize on such issues. Everyone is entitled to a right to express their opinion. Those who are attacking this freedom are enemies of progress.

  Leftist thinker Badruddin Umar did not agree with most of my writings but even he was of the opinion that religious reactionaries were using me as a tool for stoking communal tension. Decisively opposing them, he opined that it was an important duty of every progressive force in the country to resist religious barbarism. K.M. Sobhan wrote:

  The freedoms of speech and expression are fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution to every citizen. It is the duty of the state to ensure security of its citizens and make sure that every citizen can move about freely without restrictions. The fundamental rights guaranteed to every citizen by the Constitution ascertain that unless there are strong legal grounds no action can be taken that jeopardizes a person’s life, freedom, body, reputation and property. The language that the conservatives and fundamentalists have used to attack Taslima Nasrin’s private life has undoubtedly caused harm to her reputation. They misrepresent her opinions and one cannot help but ask if they are actually aware of the opinions they so vociferously distort. The people who cannot seem to stand Taslima’s talent and her literary acumen are the ones who threaten her and spread rumours about her.

  An editorial was published in Bhorer Kagaj.

  Time progresses, the world progresses, but Bangladeshi society shows no signs of progress. Instead our society is constantly being pulled backwards by communal differences, fundamentalism and our reactionary attitudes. Back in 1971 these fundamentalist forces had dubbed the muktijoddhas as kaffirs. Their latest target is Taslima Nasrin and her writings are what have sparked the ire of these fatwaphilic fanatics. Some sections might deem a book objectionable; it is not a given that everyone will accept all forms of writing. Similarly there is controversy around Taslima’s work and there is a multiplicity of strong opinions both for and against them. But the so-called Sahaba Sainik Parisad of Sylhet has shown extreme disregard and contempt for all legal and social tenets of the country by calling for her head in a public gathering, declaring a cash reward of 50,000 taka for anyone willing to accomplish the task. Ultimately they wish to re-establish the Middle Ages in Bangladesh. It is indeed difficult to comprehend how a group of people can declare a reward for someone’s murder in a country where there is a legally elected government, a judicial system and the rule of law in place.

  Meanwhile, London-based Amnesty International has already expressed their concerns regarding the matter. Taslima Nasrin has sought legal recourse and the court has ordered the police to ensure her security. But those religious traders have not ceased their activities. These elements that are pushing the country towards chaos and anarchy by repeatedly undermining our established laws, how do they manage to carry on with their undertakings in broad daylight with such complete impunity? We believe in the religious freedom of every citizen of this country. We must similarly stand for the freedom of a writer. Our Constitution guarantees us the right to life and the freedom of speech and expression.

  ‘Balance’ was the mot du jour doing the rounds in the papers, especially the progressive ones. In this editorial as well the conclusion was dedicated to finding a delicate balance.

  It is not a sign of good health of a nation when someone instigates others to murder an author. This is against the central tenets of Islam as well. (Was it though, completely against the tenets of Islam?) At the same time, the idea that a writer’s freedom to write does not imply a freedom to write whatever they wish to (so I was supposed to write according to whose wishes?) and that a writer automatically develops a sense of responsibility (had I done something irresponsible?) are facts that no true writer (so was I not a true writer?) needs to be reminded of. No sensible writer (I was being insensitive too?) will want their work to be used for unscrupulous political ends (how is a writer supposed to know if their work is going to be used for unscrupulous political ends).

  It was a good piece of writing. Especially at a time when there was a crisis of good writing, this was surely one to remember. I call it a crisis because at the time most of the articles being written were in favour of the fatwa. Flashes of fiery dissent from the liberals and rationalists were few and far between. In an article Shamsur Rahman expressed his heartfelt disappointment at the state of affairs.

  It has become difficult to envisage a scenario where I can live in Bangladesh and not be disappointed by it from time to time. The very act of reading the newspaper is a source of disappointment. And why shouldn’t it be so? Road accidents, police violence of peaceful picketers, terror activities in educational institutions, interfering in a writer’s freedom of expression, a free rein given to fatwa-wielding goons, harassment of women in the villages that often leads to murder, a spike in the rate of robberies and thefts, growing influence of fundamentalists and the dilemma facing freethinking individuals—these are reasons enough to wound, disappoint and outrage any open-minded rationalist. But it is dangerous to express this outrage and anyone who speaks up against such evils risks severe repercussions. When people wear their ignorance like a crown, in a system where prejudices, superstitions and orthodoxy are well established, is it any wonder that rational individuals do not find a space to articulate their thoughts! It is even more disappointing when one sees a freethinking writer becoming a target for reactionaries and fundamentalists and most other writers remaining indifferent to her plight. One cannot expect that everyone will agree all the time with something an aggrieved author has to say. However, despite differences of opinion
if the literary community does not write in favour of a fellow writer’s freedoms, then who will?

  It was not as if the literary community answered Shamsur Rahman’s call and applied themselves to write in my favour all at once. Some were of the opinion that I had gone too far with my views on religion and there was no point siding with me. Some said I wrote such things deliberately to instigate the zealots, that I had created the issues that had brought them together. Many believed fundamentalism was on the rise in the country solely because of me, because I had deliberately made myself the centre of controversy. Others opined that I had a tendency to go overboard while talking about women’s rights and it was not right for them to comment in my favour. Despite these faultlines some opinions were still emerging; if there were a hundred things written against me, there was usually one in solidarity.

  The fundamentalists had banded together and declared jihad, which was an easy thing to do since they had the support of those in power. They were utilizing this support to the hilt and their dailies, weeklies and bimonthlies, despite there being no love lost among them, were constantly writing against me. Most of it was lies, fake stories, dirty and obscene things meant to engender hatred in the mind of the reader and nourish that hatred to such an extent that the reader was forced to admit that my death was necessary for the greater good. Not just readers who already harboured prejudice but the common man too, who would be shocked and aghast at such things and demand my hanging at once.

  In comparison, the progressive journals and papers that were usually quite vocal about their opposition of communal and fundamentalist politics were also rather quiet on the matter. The attitude was as if the fundamentalist attack on me was a stray incident and entirely my personal issue in which they could not interfere. Roads were being blocked for public meetings, thousands of people were marching in protest during which traffic came to a standstill and it was being called Taslima Nasrin’s personal matter! It made sense in a way. The fanatics were not after them, so the progressive journals and papers did not feel the need to stick up for me. Unfortunately when renowned authors wrote in protest they had no choice but to publish such articles, more because of the author’s name than in solidarity with me. Nevertheless, sometimes some voices of conscience cried out from the dark.

  Shakina Hossain of Dainik Sambad, like the chorus in a tragedy, declared:

  No, this is not Taslima Nasrin’s personal matter because throughout the country fundamentalist and communal forces, individuals, groups and media houses have declared jihad. Every progressive writer must rise above petty self-interests and treat this as an assault on their freedoms too. By sticking to their usual stance of non-interference, to save their skins and their votebanks, progressive political forces are turning a blind eye to all that is happening. But no matter how dumb and blind they pretend to be they will not be able to avoid these flames themselves and that is something they better figure out at the earliest.

  According to Shakina such progressive voices had to realize what exactly was at stake before things got very late. Unfortunately none of the political parties showed any interest in understanding this and the issues remained, for the most part, my personal matter. Typically the Awami League would be at the forefront whenever forces of communalism were on the rise but in my case the League too took a vow of silence. Even if they did not wish to speak in support of me, they could still have denounced the fatwa. But since that could not be done without mentioning my name it was not something they wanted to commit to. Atheism was inextricably linked with Taslima Nasrin’s name and perhaps the League was afraid that its recently acquired religious façade would slip off if it were to utter my name.

  That meant if an atheist had a fatwa hanging over her head, she had to take care of it by herself. The attitude was simple—no matter what the ideology of our founding fathers had been, the progressive leftist intellectuals wished to toe the line of Islam and the Prophet. Thus there was no way I could expect their support. Of the other political parties JASAD must be mentioned. The National Socialist Party had been founded in the 1970s primarily to oppose Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. After Sheikh Mujib’s death, even though there had been no reason for the continued survival of such an organization, it had survived. Since mere survival hardly amounted to anything, many of its leaders had joined other parties over time, some even migrating to the Awami League.

  During the elections the JASAD and factions like the JSD that had broken away from it were part of the eight-party coalition headed by the Awami League. Of the other remaining parties the biggest was the nationalist party, the BNP, which was no different from any other fundamentalist party. Especially after the 1991 elections, when they came to power thanks to the assistance and largesse of the Jamaat, whatever little difference had been there previously was on the verge of being eradicated. With eighteen seats in Parliament Jamaat wielded considerable influence, bolstered by the more than forty lakh votes they had received.

  Ershad was in jail but one could not be sure that he would not have joined the fundamentalists with his supporters had he been free. The Jatiya Party had no character of its own; its politicians who had joined the BNP or the Awami League as soon as Ershad was put in jail had proved this irrevocably. Changing one’s party affiliations was like second nature in Bangladesh and it all depended on whether an arrangement was suiting someone or not—a classic side-effect of not having any ethics or ideology. On the other hand the fundamentalists never wavered from their ideology and no one could accuse members of the Jamaat of changing sides. Usually, the Awami League was more than ready to exploit any weakness on the part of the BNP. When the Ekattorer Ghatak Dalal Nirmul Committee was holding mock trials and sentencing Golam Azam, the League had swooped in and joined forces with the committee. But when the government was wilfully ignoring a fatwa issued against a writer by Jamaat-backed fundamentalists, when the BNP had nothing to say against the outpouring of communal tensions across the country, even the League was strangely quiet. The fatwa issue could have been a huge opportunity for them to build an anti-BNP mass movement but even the usually resourceful Awami League did not want to go down that road. And there was only one reason behind that: Taslima Nasrin.

  Ulemas across the country were gearing up for a larger movement and were busy mustering forces at the ground level. No ulemas, alams, imams, maulanas, pirs, mashaikhs were sitting idle and a united Muslim front had been established. A protest committee too was established to oppose anti-government and anti-religious activities. All religious organizations, political or not, had come together for the United Front. Despite numerous differences of opinions among them they were all united on this one issue. Despite five to ten thousand people taking out protest marches and the fundamentalists blocking roads and thoroughfares, no political party was ready to take up the initiative of a movement against communalism.

  When no political party, no human rights organizations, no writers’ groups or women’s rights groups appeared willing to do anything, my friends Nahid, Jhunu, Mitun and Neepa formed a group called Taslima Sapakkha Goshthi (Pro-Taslima Front) and took to the streets in a silent protest march from the TSC to the Press Club with a banner emblazoned with ‘Resist Communalism’. The group also printed and handed out a leaflet appealing to all progressive and conscientious people who had faith in the ideals of independence and the Liberation War:

  Let us all rise above our party affiliations and ideologies to stand by Taslima Nasrin. Let us unite on her behalf and appeal to the government, to ensure the safety of those who have spoken out in support of Taslima Nasrin and the larger movement for the rights of women and universal human freedom, to restore all of Nasrin’s rights as a citizen and to take strict punitive action against communal forces.

  How many people joined the silent march? Hardly a hundred to a hundred and fifty! Most were girls, and some of the women from the garments factories joined in too. Jhunu was a gifted public speaker and her rousing speech in front of the Press Club was enough to dra
w a crowd. Jhunu was a brave girl. With her short hair and her penchant for wearing shirts and pants she was subjected to a lot of comments on the road regarding her appearance, but she cared two hoots about such things.

  One big attraction of the protest march, from what I heard later, was the renowned sculptor Shamim Sikdar who chanced upon the rally at the TSC crossing, joined in and held the banner aloft. There were few people in Bangladesh gutsier than Shamim Akhtar. A professor at the Dhaka Art School, a group of her colleagues had once joined forces and carried on a long campaign demanding her removal from her post. Sikdar had not broken down in the face of such a concentrated assault, had not buckled and cried. She had fought and won and she used to walk past her belligerent colleagues with her spine stiff with pride.

  Like her own unwavering stance her massive sculptures too dotted the landscape of Dhaka. To Sikdar self-respect was paramount and she was not willing to compromise on that front under any circumstances, just like she had not compromised as a child when, on her way to school on a bicycle, a local boy had snatched away her stole. Not only had she beaten the boy up, she had also never carried a stole or worn a salwar kameez again, let alone a sari. She wore pants, shirts and hard shoes, and kept a revolver at hand for emergencies. Since my adolescence I had heard about and idolized Sikdar. At one point I had even aspired to be like her, but that could never be because I was always held back by my shame and fear.

  Sikdar, Goon and some of the latter’s friends and followers finished the silent march and went to Sakura. They called me from the restaurant and asked me to join them there. I had never had the opportunity to meet Sikdar in person, having only seen her from a distance working with her tools on the giant sculpture ‘Shoparjito Shadhinota’ (Self-earned Independence) at the TSC. My intense fascination for her drove me to Sakura. On my way out I ran into Chotda and took him along too. The group had occupied a large table at the back of the restaurant. As usual Sikdar was wearing a shirt, pants, a hard leather belt and boots. As soon as she saw me she said, ‘We have just come from a rally in solidarity with you. It went well.’ What ensued was a long description of the march although I was so overwhelmed by her presence that I had scant interest in any rallies or such. Patting my shoulder Sikdar said, ‘Don’t be afraid. The mullah bastards will not be able to do anything. It’s not that easy! If you become afraid they will try to capitalize on that. Write whatever you wish, we are all here for you. Send me word if there’s any problem. I’ll see which scoundrel dares to do anything to you! I’ll break all their bones.’