Thoughts on the day my brother Kabir Chowdhury died

Shamsher Chowdhury The night before, I told my wife and daughter to keep the car available for my use so that I could go meet my brother Kabir Chowdhury this Saturday (December 17) and now the Creator has taken him away. He breathed his last in the morning hours of December 13, 2011. This was the fourth death in the family amongst eight of our brothers including the tragic death of my other brother Shaheed Munier Chowdhury at the hands of the infamous gang of Albadr and Alshams. It was rather too much for me to withstand the shocking news of the death of my brother, myself languishing in a wheel chair. But then it was for a brief spell. After all, death is inevitable, yet we remain grateful to Allah for the fact that He was gracious enough to grant him 88 years of life so that we could enjoy and benefit from his love, affection, learning and wisdom. People often fail to assess the true worth of a man until he dies. Only after my brother died only a couple of days before, the flood gates of memories of my brother have engulfed my entire mind. I am too small a man to write about the scholastic pursuits and other achievements of my brother, I would only endeavour to reflect on the various aspects of the man Kabir Chowdhury was, and what he meant to the extended family since the death of our illustrious father Khan Bahadur Abdul Halim Chowdhury who himself was a District Magistrate during the British rule in India. My mother affectionately used to call him Manik, meaning Pearl and thereafter all of our brothers and sisters began to call him 'Manik bhai'. I used to visit my brother every other week and we talked about a host of issues freely, despite the fact that he was senior to me by more than one decade and a half, over and above, he was far too superior in his intellect and wisdom. The first thing that he used to ask me was about the welfare of our other brothers and sisters (of the 14, we now have four brothers and four sisters living). He was always most appreciative of my efforts to visit him regularly, despite being confined to a wheel chair. After the departure of my father, he led the family from the front. He was more than a brother to us. We looked upon him as the family's philosopher, guide and mentor. He was our inspiration. He was always ready with a smile anytime and every time we arrived at his door. I clearly visualise his countenance brightening up. Only the other day I when went to see him, he said in his usual manner, "Come, brother, come with a broad smile." Every time while coming out from his house he used to walk up to the lift to see me off, despite the fact that I often tried to prevail upon him not to do so. My brother was a big man and a humble man. He had time for everyone, known and unknown, including the rich and the poor alike. He was a man of indomitable spirit and courage. Anger, jealousy and hatred had no place in his life. Kabir Chowdhury was loved and respected by countless people from all walks of the society. He was a crusader against religious extremism and vandalism of all forms. He was a staunch nationalist and yet a passionate lover of western art and culture. Despite the fact that he was a champion of Bangla and Bengali nationalism, he believed that if we were to become a civilised nation and a modern-day country, we need to integrate ourselves with other cultures and, if the need be, to borrow the best they have. He was relentless in the pursuit of his ideals and objectives. Until towards the very end, he attended seminars and meetings and even lectured particularly when these related to people who carried out genocide against innocent men and women of the country during our war of liberation. Even there, unlike others, he stuck to the agenda in a dispassionate way and never allowed frenzy and anger get the better of him. Kabir Chowdhury was an institution by himself. He was a sportsman in the truest sense of the term. In his youth, he played cricket and tennis. Even the other day he and I talked about world cricket. He remembers the names of nearly all famous players of cricket in the world today and the early era of cricket. During the last world cup event, his eldest daughter, who was his all-time companion looking after him, one day called me to say that she was rather concerned since her father often watched TV late into the night. He was very much into music. He and I together often enjoyed listening to songs of the likes of Kanan Devi, K.l. Saigal, K.C. Dey, Sachin Dev Barman and so on and so forth. Kabir Chowdhury was a unique individual as a writer. One day I arrived at his residence and found him sitting on the dining table. I asked him as to what was he writing all about. I was rather surprised when he told me that he was translating a fiction in English into Bangla and at the same time writing an essay on art and culture in English. He had two different copy books laid open side by side. My brother was one of those rare individuals who was a visionary and revolutionized the thinking of an entire society. He was a relentless crusader against extremism and any form of human rights' violations. We have lost a truly valiant son of the soil and a patriot of the highest or order. The writer can be reached at e-mail: chowdhuryshamsher@yahoo.com