The history of a nation is often told through grand monuments, official proclamations, and the heavy leather-bound volumes of academic history. Yet another history, one told through the fragile pages of magazines, hand-printed pamphlets, and small commemorative books. These are the artifacts of the 'print commons,' a collective space where the people of Bangladesh have, over the past seven decades, expressed their identity, their dissent, and their dreams. The exhibition Sangkalan, curated by conceptual artist and researcher Aninda Rahman, brings these ephemeral objects into the light, presenting the power of the printed word and the enduring spirit of the Language Movement.
At the heart of this exhibition is the recognition that it is an eternal movement.
Seven decades ago, the streets of Dhaka became a stage for a struggle that was as much about socio-economic survival as it was about linguistic pride.
Aninda Rahman says, "I believe February 21st is not merely a date on a calendar or a singular historical event. Those who initially took to the streets to strengthen their mother tongue, they hope of better jobs and a better life; those who were martyred seventy-four years ago: Barkat, the political science student; Rafiq, the son of a press businessman; Shafiur, the High Court clerk; Jabbar, the traveler; Salam, the government office peon; Awal, the rickshaw puller; and Ohiullah, the mason they all live on as the core mantra for the socio-economic advancement and class-dignity struggle of the people of India, Pakistan, East Pakistan, Bangladesh, and all Bengali speakers."
Sangkalan traces the ripples of that sacrifice through seventy years of printing, showing how the 'black ink' of these publications became the lifeblood of a national identity.
The journey to assemble this exhibition has been one of quiet, persistent labour. For over a decade, Aninda Rahman has explored the vanishing landscapes of physical archives and personal collections to recover these materials. The task was difficult because they were 'ephemera' objects meant for a moment, printed on cheap paper, that might not last long, and were often.
Aninda Rahman shares his experience. "Over the past decade," Rahman explains, "I have gathered these printed materials with patience and persistence. The task has not been easy; such items are often discarded as ephemera, and over the last three decades, public fascination with printed matter has markedly declined. I regard my collection as largely accidental, assembled through chance encounters as much as intention, and as representing only a small fragment of a much larger corpus comprising hundreds of similar publications."
What Rahman observed while studying these works from seven decades ago is a deep, decentralised culture of expression. Unlike the 'high culture' of state-sponsored literature, these Sangkalan (compilations) emerged from every corner of the country.
From small towns to big city alleys, people found their own 'indigenous path' for language and design. They did not wait for the approval of aesthetic elites; they wrote, designed, and printed.
Rahman views this body of work not just as a collection of old books, but as important for national memory. "It is where a language rehearses its memory, negotiates dissent, and circulates shared imagination beyond official institutions," he says.
Through pamphlets, commemorative volumes, and small-run publications, the nation speaks in many registers-not only through canonical literature but through its dispersed public voices. The exhibition reconnects these fragile artifacts to that broader cultural continuum, restoring them to the living conversation from which they first emerged," he added.
The exhibition also highlights a fascinating intersection between the Language Movement and the physical act of printing. One of the most striking examples is the story of Martyr Rafiquddin Ahmad. A son of Manikganj, Rafiq's father, AbdulLatif, ran a printing press. Their move from Kolkata to Dhaka following the 1946 riots brought them to Babubazar, a hub of the printing industry situated in old Dhaka.
The attempt by the Pakistani state to disenfranchise the Bengali language was, in essence, an attack on the livelihoods of those who worked in the press, the bookshops, and the schools. By defending their language, they were defending their right to work and their right to dignity.
The exhibition offers the modern viewer a chance to reconnect with this history of resistance, showing how the insult to the Bengali language by anti-Bengali 'Ashraf' elites of the time backfired, fueling a desire for a sovereign state that eventually became Bangladesh.
For the contemporary audience, the exhibition offers a vital lesson in the value of the 'fleeting commons.' Visitors to the exhibition will find more than just paper and ink; they will meet the people who refused to be silenced. They will see the evolution of graphic design, the shifts in political rhetoric, and the steady, unwavering love for the mother tongue. They will understand that the 'print commons' is a place of constant negotiation, a place where the nation is always being written and rewritten.
As we move further into the 21st century, Sangkalan stands as a powerful testament to the fact that while technology may change, the human need to leave a mark, to print a word, and to be heard remains universal and eternal. The exhibition will run until February 28th, from 3 to 9 PM, at Galerie Zoom, Alliance Française de Dhaka, Dhanmondi.
Aninda Rahman is a conceptual artist and curator with a background in Islamic arts, film studies, and printmaking. His work explores the margins of formal institutions, focusing on spaces often overlooked by mainstream history. By showcasing these small-run publications, he challenges us to think about who owns history and whose voices are preserved.
Rahman says, "Despite the long history of oppression against the Bengali speakers of East Bengal, today, people in every district of independent Bangladesh take pride in their own local dialects. This pride, too, is ultimately rooted in the Bengali language, and in East Pakistan, language politics and oppressive linguistic planning sought to diminish the national identity of Bengalis. If the claim to national identity is erased, the very foundation of ancestral claims to one's land and heritage becomes unstable. When the Bengali language was attacked in Pakistan, the fire of protest spread everywhere; the Language Movement took place in every single district of Bangladesh."
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