Trump Virus and the dead Muslim captain

“The Trump Virus’s primary effect is twofold: First, it implants in its hosts the unshakable conviction that one of the most execrable clowns in history of these United States is a hero who deserves to be elevated to the White House; then, having inculcated the conceit, it removes the faculties that are necessary for its removal.”

Above is an excerpt from Charles C. W. Cooke’s essay titled “Donald Trump – Trumpism Is a Virus” in National Review. National review happened to be an iconic conservative semi-monthly that was founded by none other than William F. Buckley.

The article was published a year ago in August 10, 2015. A year ago, Trump was still considered to be an insignificant fringe show of good entertainment.  Things have changed. Trump virus is now mightier than ever; the afflicted ones have become increasingly ovine, rigid and un-nuanced when the world world-order has become mightily nuanced.

Since the coronation of Trump at RNC convention, Michael Moore and Robert Reich came with scary scenarios where Trump, indeed, could triumph. In today’s (08/03/2016) New York Times Thomas L. Friedman wrote: “It scares me that people are so fed up with elites, so hate and mistrust Clinton and are so worried about the future — jobs, globalization and terrorism — that a bare majority could still fall for this self-infatuated carnival barker if he exhibited half a political brain.”

Yes, the Trump Virus is proving to be scarier than the deadly Ebola or even the currently trending Zika. 

Death of Mahishasura was ingrained in the very boon that provided him with near-total immortality. He too was killed by the most unlikely of possibility – a woman!! 

Donald, as he repeatedly says, he loves women; at the same time his disdain for women is of epic proportion.

But nope! Donald needed no Durga for his ultimate unraveling; all he needed is a dead soldier, and precisely a dead Muslim soldier. Agape with incredulity J

Khizr Khan, the father of the dead captain, did the doctoring. Trump Virus is slowly relenting on its octopus grip in the gullible brains of millions. “Is this the beginning of the end for Donald Trump?” – asks Dana Milbank in his yesterday’s (08/02) opinion piece in Washington Post.

May be … Trump no longer tweets of incredible poll numbers !!!

do we need an election in 2019?

In Wachowski brothers’ movie MATRIX, machine made in the image of man took over; placed man in the pods and used them as batteries to energize their sentient bodies. Morpheus explained to Neo, matrix is nothing but a system of algorithms – a computer program and it must be defeated to save the human kind. Neo, a deft programmer, is the only hope left …

When come to the purportedly digital and/or digitized nation of ours, astute one can see a matrix of  giant governmental juggernaut brewed by a nexus of corrupt polity, business gluttony, coercion by armed outfits (police/RAB and by extension the armed forces) and an indifferent public  consciousness.   It is nothing about Khaleda or Hasina; nothing about AL or BNP or JI or even JP – it’s all about the Matrix – the supposed prime movers of power on Bangladesh are just levers of power and nothing more.

As Morpheus correctly understood – it is the system that is the enemy; and with this neology in mind, I would like to answer the most poignant of questions of this day.

Do we need an early election? Why one should such proposition that is invariably fraught with enormous expense, violence, loss of lives and totally unproductive exercise in economic term, unless there is a fair chance of an outcome that shall be unlike the previous ones.

Why replace one despot with another? Why replace one Asaduzzaman with a Babar who, in his remand-free heydays, presided over the birthing of the RAB? I can go and on adding more and more examples as to the stupidity of having another election early or even at scheduled date, but it is pointless unless the matrix is changed in a meaningful way.

So, do we need an election in 2019?
Answer is in the matrix!

An Eulogy for Qandeel

Qandeel Baloch promised an online striptease to celebrate Pakistan’s cricket victory over India. Pakistan lost and the dance never happened. Qandeel is dead. Her brother strangler her to death and unabashedly declares that he killed to save his family’s honor – the so called and dreaded honor killing.

No I am not writing to mourn. I am not writing a tome on societal maladies either. I am writing for a free spirit that did rock the core of a society that is still rooted to its feudal past.

Fauzia Azeem is one of those garden variety teen from rural Pakistan (one can read rural South Asia instead) who was married off to an older man, birthed a child and then divorced; a life full of pangs of pain.

She had a free mind. Her mind soared. She buried her olden name. She could have the namesake like Icarus or Phoenix; but she chose a befitting name Qandeel, that in Arabic means LIGHT.

 Light she was.  She asked Imran Khan, one of the most handsome men in her land to marry her. He was a village girl and yet her sweet-nothings and her cooing absurd* undulated the hearts of Pakistan’s urban uppity. She became a light in her own right. At her death, she was a star with over 750,000 Facebook followers.

Qandeel had a very short life. Her social media life started in January of 2014 and ended in July of 2016. And that two and half, indeed, was her real living.

Reuters reported that on the wake of Qandeel’s killing, Pakistan is about to pass law against honor killing. Let this be her legacy. Let this be her epitaph.

Mohammad Zaman

July 06, 2016: Its Time for Soul Searching

Tonu was a subaltern uppity while Mitu was already in the midst of privilege and power. Death is supposed to be the ultimate equalizer. They both are dead. 

Tonu was raped in secret by her killers and then raped in open daylight by some conniving doctors in cahoots with some dog-eat-dog-type-behind-the-scene powerful "Gods" of a safe zone. Mitu was killed in front of her child’s forsaken eyes by a gang of lowly culprits; and then was doubly killed by a process unleashed by none other than her husband’s own ilk.

Tonu’s father lives in one of the most secured place in Bangladesh and he was advised to keep mum. Mitu’s father says, “The sirs asked us to keep mum.” Rumor thus roars while the police and the doctors and the media continue to fan the flame of falsehood and innuendo.

One day blame is directed to extremist ‘jongi’. The next day ‘jongi’ melts away; and there comes the garden variety miscreants. Cycles of suspicion brings cycles of more suspicion and even more confusion.

It is reported in some electronic news media that few guys in MainaMoti were made invisible by their powerful superiors; nope, law enforcers has no access to them. 

For all practical purpose, the Tonu’s case has strayed into the cold. Miracles may happen and high authorities may blink; we better keep our hands folded in eternal prayer …

Mitu on the other hand is still kicking. However, things seem to be taking a turn toward the colder corridor. Some media tried to tarnish the image of the killed. The police, by creating a haze around the very unorthodox interrogation of once-decorated officer of their own, have created an aura where Babul’s reputation is thrown into unpleasant question.

It is reported that three senior police officers (DIG), during their 15-hour marathon interrogation, asked the SP to resign from his job or face prosecution as a suspect in his wife’s murder. As if, the value of Mitu’s life is less valuable that the reputation of the police force – cool stuff!!

It is also reported that Babul, under pressure from superiors, signed a resignation letter that is yet to be produced to the department …

In the meantime, Tonu’s story is shifted to the back seat. Her father is afraid and quiet. Her mother is crying her soul out. And her brother is hiding in Dhaka away from harm’s way. Sorry my dear daughter, in today’s Bangladesh you do not matter more than an empty zero.

But Mitu is the dead wife of a once-powerful man. It is not very easy to brush her away. On the hilt of her death over ten thousand commoner and a few ‘jongi’ are already in police custody; the nefarious people in the net tried to call this drive ‘Sref Eid Banijyo’ or just Eid Business J

And this brings us to the Armageddon of 7/1. 

Yes, Mitu too is now in the back burner. It’s time move on. It’s time to move on past Hefazat, past BNP and past JI. History of decades of misrule has reached a precipice. 

It's time for the ruling elite to feel the pangs of an ever increasing national rictus.  

It’s time to ponder. As Professor Yunus says, “We must do soul searching on how this breeding of violence began in our country” (http://www.thedailystar.net/dhaka-attack/yunus-calls-soul-searching-after-gulshan-attacks-1250695)

July 27, 2015: No Fresh Start for BCL - Ah!!

"BCL Should Take the Opportunity for a Fresh Start” – was the heading of July 27th Dhaka Tribune (DT) editorial. Obviously, the editorial was upbeat because the Prime Minister who, ideally, should have nothing to with comings and goings BCL suggested that the BCL hierarchy should be elected by the councilors. 

Then there was the usual behind the curtain dealings and negotiations; there were no opposing candidates; and the leaders were selected by an election! As opposed to alleged 5% voter turnout in the last general election, 95% of councilors voted. 

Walla!

No, the heartfelt wish of DT editor did not come true for the very reason he was optimistic about. When a partisan political leader goes to the house of a student’s organization and dictates what to do and what not to do; that is the miasma that ails. 

When a national political organization, be is BAL or BNP, uses the student’s organization as a muscular front and lavishes its foul-tongued leaders with illicit money and power; this is the miasma that ails. 

And when the politically appointed administrators of public educational institutions fail to hold student’s body elections for years to come; this is the miasma that ails.

When I was a student of my eleventh class, I have seen a very charismatic leader of BCL in my neighboring college in Sylhet. I passed my higher secondary certificate examination and went to medical school for 5 years. Then following a year of internship I, in search better life, came over to this supposed El Dorado in North America. Years passed by. I finished my residency and my fellowship training. It was 90’s. 

In those pre-internet ages, news from home was slow to travel. One day, I got hold of a rather recent weekly issue of Bichitra. And there he was – a glowing picture of him as the elected VP of Dhaka University Student’s Union.  

I know politics does not pay. He must be in his early mid or late-thirties.  Was he married, and if married who his putting up with his bills – I wondered. I wondered about the sorry wrinkles on his father’s forehead …

No, I really was not that naïve. I knew his father must have been proud of his son. And his son definitely was bringing some dough home …   

That puny dough now in 2015, must have transformed into mighty trunk-full of golden bills adorned with BongoBondhu’s head.

Yes, it is the money and power that ails BCL.  

Lofty ideals? What’s the heck …

July 23, 2015: When the Rajons get Killed

It seems that the murderers of Rajon will face prompt justice. This is welcome news. However, the Rajon’s murder did not occur in a void. The milieu is littered by trails of hundreds of murders or other gruesome crimes where the perpetrators remain out of reach of the supposedly long arm of justice. 

Despite great leads by different investigating outfits including the elite RAB, justice for Tawki remains in perpetual limbo. Limon’s perpetrator remains untouched. AB Siddique’s allegedly well-built stout professional-looking kidnappers also remains yonder. 

Mastermind of N-7 murder reportedly snarled that the government is afraid to get him back home. 

Murder-investigation of an erstwhile minister of BAL (Shah Kibria) still remains shrouded. And yes, Avijit’s wife may get to speak to her foreign friends of PEN, the pencil of justice in Bangladesh, as it pertains to her husband’s murder, shall keep doodling forever … 

Now, let’s suppose that the killers of Rajon belonged to a powerful BAL-Family like the one in N-Ganj, and let’s suppose the police officer who let the culprit set free to travel to Saudi Arab hails from a specific district; given the matter of fact and the prevailing state of affair in Bangladesh, would you expect that the legal process would have taken the same celerity?  

Twaki’s father goes to Jail for writing a bad check (if the news reports are correct) but those cousins of Borgi bandits who have plundered the banks and the money-houses of DSE over and over, still remain free to roam the alleys of power in style …

Those Epicurean virtues like simplicity, courage, honesty and moderation are not the forte of our today’s leaders – both in power and in opposition.  Save a few, they are the modern-day epicures enjoying fine wine, gourmet food, classical music and finer-than-Muslin raiment.  

As the nation slowly but surely slides towards more and more entropy; they, by grace of God, keep on talking lovely about their puny democracy and development. They taunt any opposing view by touting Bangladesh’s promotion to lower middle income economy. Ayub Khan's much talked about "Decade of Development", frankly, did not save the day! 

In a country where un-natural death in the hands of nefarious outfits is a constant fear; where accidental death in highway is pervasive, and in a country where the supposed blindness of justice is blind – does it matter if the highly skewed per capita income is few hundred dollars more than a few years ago?

06/12/2015: When the Hype is Over

Narendra Damador Modi has come and gone. In the print and electronic media it’s all gold and glitter. Our honorable PM danced in elation. And our honorable ex-PM read a litany of complaints from her sorry cheat-sheet at Modi’s musings. Yes, if he wished, like Caesar, Modi could have twitted back to his own capital - veni vidi vici ...

Yes, substantial accomplishment happened. LBA is done. It’s great. However, the scope of LBA is not that wide or important in the context of wider national scape. Murder at border and Felani’s hanging corpse is languid but still lingers. Despite fanfare and signing of score-plus bilateral accords of puny-plus significance, a half billion vs six billion dollar trade imbalance still lingers in our sceptic mind. Visa simplification still cries in vain for the Delhi-Wala’s sympathetic ears. 

And the five-hundred-pound gorilla, I mean equitable sharing of common river waters, thanks to the Chief Minister of our neighboring Opar Bangla, is a hush hush taboo… 

In his well-received speech Modi uttered the forbidden words Teesta and Feni with an urbane inflection. He, too, is thinking of a resolution; he said – it is humanitarian … 

Sorry. It’s no humanitarian. It is a legal issue. Norm of water sharing of international rivers follows certain international rules and regulations. It can’t be done by diktat or by benevolence of a brutal (think of Gujrat pogrom) leader. 

Hope is what we got from Manmohan – it didn’t work. Hope is what we again got from Manmohan’s successor – and it shall not work. 

When the hype is over, it’s all fruitless floccinaucinihilipilification – thus says the wiser.