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Thursday | 16 January 2025 | Epaper

Press Club tales, lost combs and shameless men

Published : Friday, 3 February, 2017 at 12:07 PM  Count : 324
Syed Badrul Ahsan
The National Press Club is an interesting place, and not just for exchanges of ideas. It is a spot where you get to meet your colleagues in the profession, many of whom were once with you in some newspaper or the other. And when you speak of newsmen working for English language newspapers, you know only too well how small and constricted that world is. There are so many of us who have known one another for decades. We were together at the New Nation or the Morning Sun. Again, when we went our separate ways, we discovered to our surprise that we were coming together once again at such places as the Independent and News Today and then New Age. At the Daily Star, there was again a reconfiguration, followed again by departures for newer shores, like Dhaka Tribune and the Daily Observer.
If small is beautiful, we can easily apply the phrase to the compact world of those of us who have been associated with English language journalism in Bangladesh. Come to think of it, we are in a most interesting way Englishmen and Englishwomen seeking to project through our reports and columns the aspirations and sorrows of the Bengali nation to which we belong. At the Press Club, when we meet, it is these common interests that intensify the bonds. And of course the bonding gets to be tighter when our colleagues in the Bangla newspapers turn up, each with a story or a snippet or an anecdote. The banter, of the usual kind, is always there. But what does add glitter to all this presence at the NPC is the quiet, subtle and then purposeful entry of music in the conversation. With friends like Shaheed Rahim and Shamsuddin Pyara and Zainul Abedin and our very own Belal Bhai, talk of old songs takes hold of the place. Eating then becomes a healthier affair. Tea gets a fresh spurt of energy through remembrances of Mahmudunnabi, Talat Mahmood and Mehdi Hasan.
Journalists are not always a difficult lot, you know. They too can sing, can speak of old movies. Some of them, despite being in their sixties, can even pretend they have an appeal that is close to that of Dilip Kumar or Uttam Kumar. That is not narcissism. It is a rekindling of a wish that should have been fulfilled long ago. 
At the National Press Club, the heart beats in greater rhythm. The soul deepens in thoughts of life's beauty.
***
For a man who has been losing hair in consistent manner for the past many years, the presence of a comb in the pocket on a twenty-four hour basis is important. The more hair you lose, the greater becomes that need for security, in the form of a comb. But, assuming you are, like this scribe, among the tribe of creatures condemned to go through a biological process we can refer to as the hair loss syndrome, when you find your comb missing or getting lost, you feel you are at sea. 
No, you may not have used that comb all the time it was there in your back pocket. Even so, it was something of security for you. There are always the seasons, always the sudden gusts of wind, which threaten to play havoc with your departing hair. You cannot allow your hair to be showered with such disrespect, can you? After every visitation by the winds, therefore, you need to go into a programme of damage control. And you do that by whipping out your comb and going into rehabilitation mode.
But such a restoration of dignity comes under intense strain when the comb is lost. People suffer when they lose a kidney, when they lose an eye, when they lose a beloved. It is almost the same with the comb. Once it goes missing, sheer helplessness overtakes you. The lost comb was a deterrent to provocation, of all kinds. You cannot do without it. But when do not or cannot recover it, you know what you must do. You acquire a new comb.
On an evening last week, having come upon the loss of his long-serving, almost veteran comb, this scribe knew he needed a fresh new one. His sibling did something better. He bought him two new combs. Isn't that nice? He now has two combs to apply to his handsome head. But will either or both of these combs find the hair they are supposed to put back in order every time it gets riotous?
***
Some politicians in the country --- and they belong to the ruling party --- appear to be getting rather innovative, not to say brazen. Of late they have invented, or have had their hangers-on invent, human bridges along which they can walk in the manner of false little gods. If you have been watching some images that have gone viral, you will not have failed to notice how these shameless men have walked on the backs of young school students with not a thought to how such behaviour will be perceived in the country.
The absence of shame apart, these men who have walked on the backs of our young boys at school have not cared to see that their acts may already have led to a loss of a very large number of votes for their party. Should the party leadership not be pulling them up for such atrocious behaviour? One is tempted to ask if being among the ruling dispensation or being close to the powers that be gives such people immunity from the law or the principle of morality.
***
Everyone should be in a state of alert at the Ekushey book fair. The police, many in plainclothes, will be there to detect any book that threatens to undermine communal harmony through hurting people's religious sentiments. Even the Dhaka Metropolitan Police Commissioner has warned writers and publishers to stay away from engaging in any such provocation.
It is time to remember things Orwellian. In this day and age of the brotherhood of man, who needs Big Brother? Some of our powerful individuals seem to think we do. You wonder if that is not an assault on freedom of speech. 
And we are a people's republic?r
Syed Badrul Ahsan is Associate Editor, 
The Daily Observer





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