MY father was the most important person in my entire life. There was no one like him. That's why I recall him with this write-up. Those who lost their father cannot do much but for recalling the good times with the parent and carry his memory in the heart. I've been doing that since the day I lost my father on December 05, 2007, after he suffered heart attack. I expect all to appreciate me doing this. I'm writing this piece to share my feeling with others who have lost their loved ones, and also to remind myself of the goodness in this man. My feelings, I hope are not different from the others who also lost someone close to their heart. Dad meant the world to my mother and us, their children. So, this one is for you 'Pappa'.
My father was born on May 6, 1941 in Kolkata. When a little boy, he was liked by all. As a young man he was the model for many. My grand parent's pampered but did not spoil their only child. As a student he never ever led down his parents. It sounds like a story but actually it is a fact. After his matriculation examination he heard that the results had been published. An anxious and inquisitive boy without letting his parents know went out to know the result from a shopkeeper. Without uttering a single word the shopkeeper ordered sweets for the people around. Gradually the startled boy came to know that he was the only student who obtained first division, in the whole district. In intermediate also his brilliant result made everybody happy. All through a talented student he did his BSc in civil engineering from the BUET. In 1969 he obtained a Commonwealth scholarship to do his MS at the Imperial College, London. He wanted to be a teacher. But as an obedient son, listened to his parents. He took government service and joined the Public Works Department (PWD) as an engineer at the age of 21 in 1962. The next year he got married. My mother says he was a wonderful husband, a true companion to her. Of course, to us -- the children -- he was the BEST father in the world. He never let us feel that he had less of time for us. My father was a true teacher. When I was four, he taught me the word 'INTROSPECTION'. He used to pay that every night when one goes to bed one should think of the bad as well as the good things one had done. 'On the next day, try not to repeat the bad things. I now understand that this is the way he aroused my conscience, taught me to differentiate between good and bad. That's why later in life, I couldn't do anything dreadful just because my conscience never allowed me. Our parents raised us, infusing in us the self-confidence that there is nothing we cannot accomplish in life. A good education was all they stressed. But we were allowed to choose our own way, regardless of which direction it took us. They gave us to believe that gender, race, social or religious status can't stop one from achieving one's potentials.
During Liberation War, my father, Md. Reza-ul-Islam, who was then an assistant engineer in Governor House (now Bangabhaban), fought against the Pakistanis through surrounded by them.
On Victory Day, December 16, 2007, it was extremely difficult for us to hold our emotions as Md. Reza-ul-Islam, out and out a portrait, a nationalist and true fighter, was no more with us or to celebrate the great, as had passed away 11 days back. We the three children, lived with our parents at Dhanmondi Road during the Liberation War. He never considered leaving the city or his job. Being a little child I didn't have the slightest idea of Pak Army or what was exactly happening to us. We, the three siblings, were only minor children at that time. My father secretly fought for his country. I passed my childhood without ever realising that there was a true freedom fighter in my father. My parents used to support the freedom fighters in many ways. One incident I can recall was that my elder brother Abu Hena Reza Hasan, who now teaches at Dhaka University, and I were very inquisitive to see a big white sack in our room. When we asked mum, she replied, "it is nothing but sarees that someone has left in her custody". But, we were not allowed to touch the sack. For a little adventure and, disbelieving mother, elder brother and I attempted to open the sack and found with great astonishment that the sack contained not saris but guns. Later, we understood what our parents had done. They were not in the battlefield. They helped the freedom fighters and gave them shelter. Another memorable incident I would never forget was that the day the Pakistanis surrendered, my father came home to take us out, driving the car himself, just to breath the free air of a free country.
My father had designed and built the Indira Mancha as it was his official duty. He never neglected his official responsibilities. We could have lost our father in 1971. Pakistanis prepared a list of intellectuals and government officials for killing them. His name sixth in the list of officials serving at Governor House. Coincidentally, he survived the day the Pakistanis killed the intellectuals and officers as my mother didn't let him attend office on that particular day. Then again on Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman's homecoming day on January 10, 1972, the lorry that carried the leader was decorated by my father. The arrangements for Indira Gandhi's stay during her visit were also made by my father. His aesthetic sense was appreciated by all. I heard from my mother and my elder brother that he painted the room for Mrs. Gandhi's room in pink and arranged rose water for her. Bangabandhu's room was painted off-white.
My father constructed SAARC Fountain, designed by Nitun Kundu. During the first SAARC conference, I saw my father working day and night to complete the arrangements and constructions.
He built so many buildings and monuments including the PG Hospital Annexe Building, Public Library, National Museum. He gave his sweat and hard work for all such work.
Bogra Cantonment, one of the largest in the country, also involved my father's hard work. Inaugurating the cantonment in early 1980s, President Ziaur Rahman said, "Bangladesh needs engineers like Md. Reza-ul-Islam, who is not only honest but also a real hard worker."
These were definitely a part of his responsibilities as an engineer. But my only point is that the people don't know about these little contributions of those persons who worked really hard to build. As his daughter I see and feel his dedication and presence in these structures. To me they all stand as commemorate him. He was never awarded by the government for his work. But I know that no award would be enough to reward him.
On Independence Day, March 26, 2008, 1 was watching the parade on television the presentation of the highest honour, to the martyrs of the Liberation War. I was missing my father like anything. My father had built the National Parade Ground following the decision of the government. He worked round the clock to complete the work before the independence day. He had to do it with a limited allocation in the budget.
My father was religious in his own way. He prayed as a requirement of our religion. He read The Holy Quran in Arabic, Bangla and English so that he could understand the meaning. As an engineer he constructed the first temporary Haji Camp shortly after independence. Many people don't know he selected spot of Bishwa Ijtema. Instructed by the then Chief Engineer of PWD, TA Chowdhury, he selected the place where people could come together for such a big congregation. Roaming far and near he found the site at Tongi, beside the Turag river. When he reported about his selection his superior didn't feel the need to visit the spot as he had faith in my father's choice. With the permission of the authorities he, with a team of engineers, made the primary base for Bishwa Ijtema. Gradually, over time the venue has been developed beyond expectations of many. But I feel overwhelmed when I see millions from all corners of the world gathering at Tongi for Bishwa Ijtema once a year.
My father is now resting at the graveyard at Uttara beside the Turag River, near the Ijtema venue. My only concern now is whether that graveyard will be officially developed soon or not. He yarned for a place where he could eternally rest in peace.
The writer is an Assistant Dean and Acting Head, Department of English Studies, Stale University of Bangladesh
A tribute to my idol on Father's Day
Rezina Sultana | Published: June 21, 2008 00:00:00 | Updated: February 01, 2018 00:00:00
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