Books and brickbats

It’s not that we didn’t have our fair share of violence and mayhem on campus back in the day. It would be unfair to bask in the haze of select amnesia and paint a utopian picture of life at Dhaka University through the eighties. There were processions, clashes between students and police, even ugly incidents in the halls, an incident at Rokeya Hall almost as vile as the ones which recently occurred at Sufia Kamal Hall.

Yes, it was not roses all the way. But there was a difference. There was an inherent ideology that ran through the veins of the student politicians at the time. There were the left wing idealists sprouting Marxist dogma at every step. Then we had hardcore right wingers with their political beliefs. There were the cultural groups invariably dominated by the Chhatra Union walas. And all these students of different political colours mingled with a unique mix of camaraderie and rivalry. Dhaka University was not a melting pot, it was more like a pizza - one whole unit with each entity maintaining its separate flavour.

There was, most importantly, DUCSU. The DUCSU elections, no exaggeration, were as festive and exciting as any national election. The students were all involved, whether actively or not. The big names in left politics would come to campus. Firebrand speakers like Major Jalil of JSD, ASM Abdur Rab and the likes of them would deliver speeches while the students would listen with their mouths gaping in awe. Farhad Mazhar came to campus and sang his self-written songs, inspiring young blood to rise up against all that is wrong, much like Kazi Nazrul Islam, but with all the trappings of a Che or Castro. ‘Eto ondhokar ami kokhono dekhini priyotoma...' he sang. Little did he know what ‘ondhokar’ or darkness waited for him in the years to come.

The issues that were of concern among the students of those days were more or less directly or indirectly connected to education, to the university and the students. There were protests and demonstrations about the session jams, about the lack of accommodation in the student halls, the quality of food in the halls (that hasn’t change much- the dal is as watery, thin and insipid as it was back in the day, apparently), protests against the sunset rules for the girls’ halls, and about other facilities and rights of the students.

Bloody clashes and turf wars over contracts and tenders were not the issue. The term ‘tender-baaji’ arrived on campus much later, along with the ‘tender-baaj’ who don the guise of students and student leaders.

But unlike the dal which the students reluctantly consumed, not all the movements were of such insipid nature. It was not only books on campus, there were brickbats too. Marching in the footsteps of the rebellious students of the sixties and seventies, it was the Dhaka University students who stood up against the autocratic rule of Ershad. Protesting students were brutally crushed to death under the wheels of a truck, but they did not relent till the fall of the dictator. Today? Today that spirit seems to be crushed. Yes, a glimmer of hope appeared in the quota movement, but that seems to have ended in a pyrrhic victory.

It is rather shocking to hear terms like ‘guest rooming’, a term previously unheard of on campus. Then there is the ‘ragging’ which has taken on proportions amounting to sheer cruelty and abuse. In those days, ragging was restricted to hurling colours on students passing by or some such innocuous fun.

The vice chancellor inspired respect as did the teachers. Frankly speaking, back then there were certainly a handful of unscrupulous teachers who would give an extra mark or two to the pretty girls and the sycophantic boys, but then polticisation wasn’t ugly and unfair as we hear it is today. Teachers came to teach, not to get involved in some sort of vicious political power play.

There was a proprietary sense among the students when it came to the Dhaka University campus, a sense of belonging. Charulakala, TSC, Curzon Hall, Madhur Canteen, the DU Library, the university masjid, the VC’s house, British Council, the shady trees, Neelkhet... it was all home. Yes, that sense, that feeling is strong there today too. Driving down the area even at night, one sees the students walking with that casual ‘swag’ down the middle of the street, a ‘damn-care’ attitude which only befits the young.

Things will change. That is only natural. Change, after all, is the only permanent truth. Values, lifestyles, attitudes, everything changes. All we can hope for is that Dhaka University can bring back the integrity, the commitment, the devotion, the sacrifice and sheer academic quality of its teachers. We can hope the fiery spirit of student politics is not doused out in the deluge of ill-gotten gains. The young boys and girls are fine, perhaps better informed and pragmatic than we ever were. All they need is a little guidance, a nudge in the right direction. After all, that is what university is all about. And perhaps it would serve the nation well to heed the words of 18th century American politician Edward Everett: ‘Education is a better safeguard of liberty than a standing army.’