Humble tribute of a proud son to his late father
This is the humble tribute of a proud son to his late father - a father who hardly bowed to anyone, but the creator, a virtue that helped him rise high, but perhaps also barred him from rising higher. This proud gentleman however failed to withstand the toll of three successive heart attacks over a span of only 48 hours with a feeble heart and started his journey to eternity at 4:00 am on 15th February 2016.
As a professional person he headed the Department where he served, retiring as the Chief Engineer of the Roads & Highways Department. He also attained the dream height for any Government servant, becoming the Executive Director of the Dhaka Transport Coordination Board and then the then Jamuna Multipurpose Bridge Authority (now Bangladesh Bridge Authority) enjoying the rank and status of a Secretary to the Government. He was an officer whom his colleagues would both adore and fear. A 'boss' who 'bossed' his colleagues, uncompromising for quality, but compromising with them when they compromised office hours working with him till 10:00-11:00 pm even on weekends and delivering quality - compromises that he would make defying any rule and any authority, if so needed. I have seen him bargaining with SSF officers to secure the release of his driver who accidentally breached the VVIP entourage in a hurry as his 'boss' needed to visit a highway construction site before sunset.
He spear-headed the development and widening of highways in this country and all the major highways in northern Bangladesh from Bangabandhu Bridge to Panchagarh and also most in southern Bangladesh, built by him in the 1990s. He was the Project Director of the Road Rehabilitation & Maintenance Project III, which was judged by the World Bank as the best project funded by the organization in Asia and according to engineer Gavin, an Australian expatriate, who visited us to condole his death, 'he is the best Project Director with whom he had the opportunity to work with in his career spanning over 40 years in different corners of the world'. Not only highways of the utmost quality were built, he also led the development of construction industry in Bangladesh. He ensured special protection and privilege for the local construction industry, the reason why the Chinese construction firms were confined only to mega-building projects and not beyond.
He was an engineer who loved to accept challenges and during the Martial Law enforced by General Ershad, when the hot headed DCMLA in charge of the Communications Ministry (now Road Transport & Bridges Ministry) ordered him to fill up a 40 feet deep gap on the under construction Pragati Sarati, leading to Kanchpur Bridge on the Dhaka-Chottogram highway in 24 hours, he remained at the work site overnight and walked across that gap on foot with the Rear Admiral who was returning from Sylhet the next day. They crossed a 10 feet wide stretch of nearly 500 meters length walking! The gap was gone and the challenge well accepted.
Challenges were something that he had loved and longed to accept in order to deliver quality professionalism throughout his professional carrier. I have seen him inviting Shanti Bahini insurgents of the Chottogram Hill Tracts and Sorboharas of Kushtia to our residence and negotiating with them, ultimately convincing them to allow unhindered construction of highways under the Maini Valley Project and Asian Development Bank financed Road Improvement & Maintenance Project (RIMP). He had gone that far and taken such risks not for any personal gain, but for his country.
He was a 'Sylheti' by heart long cherishing the dream of bringing Sylhet closer to Dhaka - a dream that he also fulfilled. The Dhaka-Sylhet highway via Bhoirob that we use today not having to drive through Brahminbaria, was his brain-child, which he built and would proudly proclaim till his last breath that he was the 'first Sylheti' to drive from Dhaka to Sylhet along this highway - a privilege that he took as the Project Director.
He was a firm believer in Bangabandhu. He saved Tk. 80 crores from RRMP-III and 'conspired' with late Mr. Fazlul Haque Mia, the then Divisional Commissioner of Khulna, to construct the herringbone road link to Tungipara. Both of them were however 'amply rewarded' by the Khaleda Zia Government no doubt, as Mr. Miah was put on force retirement and my father made an OSD by the then Prime Minister Khaled Zia. The reason why my father was not force retired also tells another story of how 'great' a fighter he was.
During the Martial Law of General Ershad my father was dismissed without being given the chance to defend himself by an order of Martial Law Ordinance (MLO)-9. His crime was not bowing to the request of General Atiq, 'a powerful' general of his time, of giving an undue benefit to his nephew in a construction project in the Chottogram Hill Tracts. He however accepted this challenge gallantly, took the case to the highest court of the land. Interestingly he found no lawyer to appear for him against the mighty military ruler. As was not unexpected from my father, he studied and graduated in Law and fought his own case in the High Court and then in the Supreme Court, with his niece on his side, a fresh lawyer at that time and now a hon'ble sitting High Court Judge. He did yield the results of his perseverance and courage and got his job back by an historic judgment of the Supreme Court against Martial Law, not too long before the rule of General Ershad came to an end - a deterring factor for Mrs. Zia to sack him for such 'heinous conspiracy against the Jatiyatabadi forces'.
Was he a freedom fighter? I am not sure of that. In Bangladesh where even the number of martyrs is sometimes a subject of research and discussion, where to some 'Awami Leaguers were enjoying their time in Kolkata in 1971' and where to Mr. Goyeshhor Roy 'Martyred Intellectuals' were serving the Pakistanis and taking salaries from them sitting in Bangladesh, how can I say that my late father was a freedom fighter, as he also served in Chottogram during the 9 months of 1971. Although I know he helped the Muktibahini with money and more importantly with crucial information about Pak military movements, which he had access to being the Executive Engineer of Roads & Highways Department in Chottogram and for the reason why he was taken from home by the military to be assassinated, an assassination that he merely escaped in exchange of brutal torture. His luck favoured as the Pak Major became softer as he came to know that my father's only 10 month old son (i.e. me) had uttered the word 'abba' for the first time that day - I am still not sure if he was a Muktijoddha as he never applied for a Muktijoddha certificate ever.
But a brave man he was! I have experienced travelling in Chottogram Hill Tracts with him with my family during the troubled times of 1985. An administrator going through official files with his licensed revolver lying lazy on his office desk to silence the 'tender snatchers' - this is something that many had experienced and this was my father.
On the other side of the coin, he was a very soft man. One of my friends condoling me after his death told that at the time of his elder sister's wedding, when he was going through tough times following the untimely death of his father, my father did not disgrace him with any donation, but presented his sister handsome cash and a necklace that eased settling the bills for him. I can't hold back tears when one of my juniors tell me that today he travels the globe, but having come from a middle-class family, he 'saw the world for the first time' through my father as he travelled northern Bangladesh on two different occasions with my father in his official Nissan Patrol jeep and using his cell phone whenever he wanted to, which happened to be an aristocracy during Mrs. Zia's rule. No wonder I feel astonished when at least two of my class mates tell me that it is not only me, but they have also lost their father, as they always knew that they had someone to go to, even he was feeble in his last days, had they been in any trouble.
My aunty tells me that when my uncle, who had served in one of the top administrative posts of the land, was being victimized after the 'so called democratic government' of Begum Zia was sworn in 1991, it is my father who eased her burden by rendering his shoulder with all possible support or when I see my friend sacrificing his very busy practice in a district town being stuck in traffic jam on the highway on way back with the satisfaction that he could attend my late father's burial. And I am not surprised when my cousin, born and brought up abroad spending only a few months at our residence decades back, writes in his face book status that he idolizes my late father. He actually chose the carrier of a civil engineer like my late father in the highway construction sector under the US Government.
My father was a pious man. He offered Namaz regularly since he was seven and half years old and helped construction of mosques in places where he had no links with- in Brahminbaria and in Gazipur to name a few. He had two hobbies - one to distribute blankets in the slums during the winter and the other to distribute kachchi biriyani, cooked by the best cook, to orphanages and slum dwellers.
My father died a satisfied man not having to take a single penny for his living from me or my sister, living in his own house, driving his own car and spending only 14 hours in the ventilator. He loved to live a high profile life and Allah the almighty made his last journey a high profile one. Although he had dissociated himself from active life after his sufferings following 1/11 which shattered his health, he had almost a thousand people attending his Janaza and around two hundred biding him farewell at the Banani grave-yard. Although he perhaps deserved a gun salute for his role in 1971, something that was not to be as he lacked a certificate - he received police escort during his last journey from Banani Jame Mosque to Banai grave-yard by the courtesy of late Shakil bhai, former Special Assistant to hon'ble PM.
I am sure Mr. Mahtab Udin Ahmed is loving to see all these from across the seven skies. My father was my silent admirer and when I wrote columns in newspapers in the 1980s he would personally accompany me to all the different newspaper offices. And when my first book was published in 1993, he became the champion in promoting it. I am sure he was equally happy seeing me writing so many prescriptions daily, but would be happier had he seen me continuing with my columns. Abba I am trying to write again these days. I don’t know if you are reading my tribute to you and if you are, please know that I love you, I miss you more than ever and you have made me proud!
Writer: Chairman, Department of Hepatology, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib Medical University and Member Secretary, Sampritee Bangladesh.
