“Although my Guru Shuri goes home
Yet his name is Nityananda Roy.”
Nineteen seventy years. Bangla Academy published an advertisement in the newspaper inviting applications from candidates for the three-year fellowship programmer. Friends all said, you spit a request. If you get the scholarship, then three years of secure livelihood. Research may be done, but no harm done. I remembered the proposal. But the goal came in one place. My MA exam was not over yet. They are retreating in the face of the demands of the students. Meanwhile, Bangladesh's independence movement continues to gather momentum. It is not clear when the exam will end. If I wait for the test results, the application time will pass.
I met the director of the academy, Mr. Kabir Chowdhury. I was able to convince him that even though I didn't have an MA degree, at least he wouldn't mind accepting my application. Kabir Chowdhury Sahib said, OK, you apply. I will put yours on the board along with the application form of other candidates. The board members will select whoever they want. So despite not having an MA degree, I applied for Bangla Academy's PhD fellowship program.
Like other candidates i also got inter card. And on the specified day I appeared in front of the interview board. Dr. Ahmad Sharif, Professor Munir Chowdhury and Dr. Enamul Haque was present in the interview board that day. Dr. I knew the rest of the members except Enamul Haque. And they were all my teachers. They were all slightly familiar with my writing. Dr. to do the question to me. Muhammad Enamul did the right thing. He blinked at the application and looked at me in a serious tone and said, "You have no less courage to apply for PhD without taking the MA exam." Dr. Enamul Haque is a very greedy person. Even junior colleagues would not dare to approach him. Dressed in a gray suit and black tie. Enamul Haque looked like a real old tiger. The hair on the head from the eyebrows is completely dry. Carefully comb the center of the head. My situation was like a young calf in front of a hungry old tiger. He will jump and chew my scalp. My sixth sense kicked in. I thought to myself, if I don't stand in front of this old man, he will make my eyes and nose water together. So, directly looking at the glasses of his strong glasses, I said, Charuchandra Bandyopadhyay served as the head of the department in Dhaka University without passing his MA. Mohitlal Majumdar also did not pass MA, but taught here.
I will pass MA, two or four months is a matter here and there. What have I done wrong by applying? Hearing Dr. Enamul Haque put her finger in her mouth and looked at the thesis plan sheets submitted with my application and asked, what subject will you work on? Hearing the voice, it seemed that the voice had decreased a lot. I humbly replied, the emergence, development of the middle class in Bengal from eighteen hundred to eighteen hundred and fifty-eight and its influence on the literary culture and politics of Bengal. Then Dr. Haq said, tell me what you mean by middle class. I am Harold Lankey, B.B. From Mishra's English book I continued to gurgle and chant the works of the famous Binidra Rajini. Dr. Enamul Haque is a man of grammar. He had no interest in the glitter of sociology. Leaning on the chair, Munir looked at Chowdhury and said, if you have any questions, ask. Mr. Munir Chowdhury Dr. Enamul said to create a good impression about me in Haque's mind, the boy has good handwriting and considerable influence on the youth. No one else asked questions. Mr. Kabir Chowdhury said, "Okay, you go."
Two hours later on the same day, I was informed that Bangla Academy had nominated me for a research scholarship. The next day I went to the Bengal department to express my gratitude to Mr. Munir Chowdhury. He was then the head of the department. Seeing me, he said, you are doing MA. In political science? I said yes. He then said that your thesis should be done from the Bengali department while registering in the university. Munir Chowdhury's proposal did not please me. Yet for the sake of courtesy I remained silent. He saw my face and understood that I did not accept his proposal. He said, We taught you for three years. From the middle, you suddenly sat for the exam in political science. I understand, you want to leave us. But why do we leave you? If you do not agree to work under the Bengali department, I will not allow you to register your thesis in the university. I was overwhelmed by the knowledge of Mr. Munir Chowdhury. But I stuck to my decision.
About fifteen days before the interview, I met Mr. Munir Chowdhury and requested him to recommend that I get the Bangla Academy scholarship. Chowdhury Sahib told me, since your MA is not over yet, Bangla Academy may not consider your application. If you agree I can send you to Australia. They won't mind if you have only graduation to do PhD on Linguistics. I was delighted to hear Munir Chowdhury's proposal. But on examination I felt from within myself, a subtle objection was rising. I kept my head down and looked at the floor and said, I'll think about it for a couple of days and tell you. Tears came to my eyes while pondering whether to accept Mr. Munir Chowdhury's proposal or not. If I get such a scholarship to go abroad, I go. You have caught the opportunity. I should consider myself lucky. But I decided to politely decline Professor Munir Chowdhury's offer. And because of having to reject this, tears came to my eyes. Opportunities do not come often in life.
I joined the Bengali department of the university and studied for three years. Although not a very good student, my intelligence was not insignificant. Students should have the same right to teachers' affection as a child has to the mother's breast. I didn't get that love from the teachers. The result was that I left the Bengali department and passed the BA pass course by taking the examination as a private candidate. After passing my BA, I decided that I don't need more university education. But again I had to take the MA exam in political science in private. This is how I thought about everything. No one looked up to me when I desperately needed a little encouragement from teachers. When I started to rise up in my own efforts, everyone wanted to thank me by distributing favors. I made up my mind that if the thing that I have not wished for a thousand times in the time of need, even if some compensation should come to me after that special time has passed, I cannot accept it. Tears came to my eyes because I could not accept this. Meanwhile, one day I went to his office and said, Sir, I am not interested in Linguistics. So should choose someone else for the scholarship. He stared at my face for a while.
Munir Chowdhury Sahib was a very sensitive person and his intellect was very sharp. I think he caught my unspoken complaint. That's why they were pushing to get my thesis registered under Bengali department. March 1971 came before our final exams. Our viva voce exam was held on March 21st. At midnight on March 25th, the Pakistani army attacked the sleeping Dhaka city. Our liberation war has started. When I came home from India after nine months, Professor Munir Chowdhury was not alive. The pro-Pakistani Razakar-Bahini shot him dead along with other intellectuals in Ray's Bazar Slaughterhouse. Even as I joined the voices of all the people grieving for him, I felt my private pain more and more. I lost a man who understood the language of pride.