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. 

04/09/2025: Haque Vs Awal Vs the Dark-Horse Candidate (An Wishful Musing in Political Romanticism)

Anisul Haque is a tested businessman and an untested and unknown quanta in politics. Tabith Awal is a novice businessman and also is an untested and unknown quanta in politics. Selection, as opposed to be popularly nominated, of these two persons for the highly prestigious mayoral office of Dhaka City Corporation North (DCC-North) is tantamount to political blighting or bankruptcy of the two major parties of today’s Bangladesh.

It is a shame that none of the party-supreme can find an untainted man/woman to steer the capital city to its rightful glory. And the reason behind is very simple – today’s politics nourishes neither politics nor political leadership for the morrow. It’s all about the supreme leadership – her wishes and the wishes of her kowtowing lesser leaders who have learned the art of playing kerfuffle so well …

Both Mr. Haque and Mr. Awal are from outside the rigid establishment of two political Ghoranas. It is possible that they will be able to think out of the box, and steer the city for better days. But history of the recent past forces us contemplate the opposite. If Mr. Haque wins, he will win because of the good grace of his mentor. Without any popular support (that a good politician usually can have), he will have no power but to succumb to the wishes of the Prime Minister. On the other hand, if Mr. Awal wins, his situation will be much more precarious. He will have to honor the wishes of his leader (Begum Khaleda Zia). At the same time, while navigating the murky alleys of political Dhaka, he will have to give way to the wishes of the perpetual nemesis of his own leader. An impossible feat to accomplish even by slickest of all slicks …

Any pragmatic mind, I think will give Mr. Haque a definite edge. He is smart, articulate, rich (does not own a car though … ha ha …), and above all he is in the good book of an all-powerful Prime Minister. If he works hard, and I think, he will, his chance of delivering on his promise is more than 50/50.

Mr. Awal, if elected, will find himself stranded between the rock and the hard place. Unless he switches his allegiance (yes, he will not be tethered by that awful Article 70), he may be able to finish a 5-year fruitless term and end up with a laurel of multiple politically motivated law suites; and if lucky will be dismissed by the LGRD ministry for some 'God-knows-what-reason' leaving the citizenry of DCC-North stranded in the same old “trishonku” position. However, fugacious glory, like cherry is never forever. Hence, who can tell for sure, what the fate of a Mayor Awal shall be?

Well, I am not a pragmatic guy. I voted for Professor Muzaffar Ahmed when the lesser Rahman (I mean, General Ziaur Rahman) bagged the presidency of Bangladesh almost effortlessly. I am a political romantic. When a very elderly Professor Muzaffar Ahmed politely declined to be honored with the highest state honor, my 'kind-of-dystopian' political romanticism got its highest credence.

Political romanticism still remains infectious. The primordial days of Shahbag is a testament that such romanticism can still capture the imagination of the nation. I am a hard core hater of capital punishment. I never believed that the slogan of “Fashi Chai” was the reason why the whole conscience of Bangladesh was moved so much by a handful of Shahbag Youth. An overwhelming, yet subliminal anti-establishment yearning was the essence of Shahbag-to-its-True-Core. The entrenched establishment, early on, understood the power of Shahbag. They rapidly moved in. Took it over. And entropy ensued.

That anti-establishment yearning is still in the air. The youth and the politically non-aligned majority of the citizenry can still pull an awe. Mr. Haque or Mr. Awal, even their all-powerful mentors can be dumb founded. Yes, this very romantic spirit of Shahbag is alive and well. When the right spark arrives, Shahbag shall roar again like a dragon and shall breath fire to burn the entrenched coterie to their ashes.

I still see the spirit of Shahbag in the blogosphere, in the twits and in the face book statuses. Some of the prime movers Shahbag are hyper-vocal and writing incessantly in support of the dark horse candidacy of Junaid Saki. I have seen him once in a television talk show. He came across knowledgable, thoughtful and well spoken. For Saki, being tall and handsome is definitely a plus in politics! Mahi B. Chowdhury is smart and articulate and handsome. He is likable and I like him. But his politics remain rooted in the non-kosher politics of BAL/BNP paradigm. I do not believe that he has the right innards to light up the aspirations of the Shahbag masses.

I am not sure, how things shall play out. My pragmatic brain is willing to settle for something like Mr. Haque. But my heart cries for something more, something that shall make make soul soar to its romantic self. Yes, my heart pines for the 'break-out-of-the-pack-dark-horse-candidate'.

If citizens of Dhaka desires an AshwaMedha Jagya, they have to look for and find out the right horse to run and claim the terror-laden territory once and for all. 

02/17/2015: It’s No Time to Discourse

DISCOURSE is the zeitgeist. Talk show pundits to ‘Aam Admi’ all are rooting for a discourse. Another diplomatic foray by Oscar Fernandez Taranco seems to be on the offing, apparently 'cause the natives of the land are not big enough or smart enough to tame the churlish braggadocio of the reigning actors (I mean, the honorable PM and the honorable ex-PM). 



I am not sure that a meaningful discourse is possible at this juncture, for discourse is a natural extension of two logical minds of differing philosophies as they interact and strive to interject some cohesion. Successful discourse is constructed upon a good dose of healthy respect for the “Opposing Partner”. Although it sounds oxymoron, I am choosing the term deliberately to emphasize the fact that discourse is not for the hot-headed philistine who cannot bear the smell of opposition. “It’s no time to discourse, so Chrish (Christ) save me; the day is hot, and the weather, and the wars, and the king and the dukes: it’s no time to discourse.” (Shakespeare: King Henry V, Act III, Scene II

Well, without a sense of healthy respect and optimal ambience, not even Christ is going to save a discourse.

I do watch deshi television and read a lot more deshi newspapers on the net. I notice a tremendous amount of knowledge and talent in flux. Some are lovable while some are odious; and that’s all right. But a discourse without a sense of common sense is nonsense. A discourse has to undulate our mind like a gentle stroke of a finger-on-a-harp. It’s okay to bite and scratch and scratch (borrowed from Montaigne) as long as there is a sense of sensibility.

Not long ago I received an email from a person who frequents NFB (a Bangladeshi news portal and discussion forum) rather frequently. A firm believer of religion, I gather, he was irrationally furious at a certain scribe who made a name for himself by incessantly trashing religion of all sort, especially Islam. I also gather that this gentleman, a representative of silent majority, wrote only because, he was infuriated. One who writes or speaks or proposes, by definition is vocal, and intends to modulate the hearts and minds of those who are not yet in sink. Hence a discourse that brings forth such outright aversion is no discourse at all.

Going back to our honorable PM and ex-PM; I am an eternal optimist and still my mind is shrouded in gloom. I don’t see them looking eye to eye, sitting side by side and picking and poking each other’s brain in a way, that shall glean a ray of hope for the seventeen crores of souls who call themselves the real owner of Bangladesh.

A proposition, a concept or a statement that materialize no sensible consequence in the minds of the involved, whatever vainglorious it may be, is of no meaning. A noun is nothing a noun unless a verb is there to undulate it.