Ever looming large in our national psyche

Larger than life. That was Bangabandhu. That was Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. In physique and personality, he towered above others. At five feet eleven inches, he was taller than most Bengalis. His personality served to embellish his stature further. His booming voice, the manner in which he addressed most people in the familiar and affectionate manner of ‘tui’, the pipe which was his constant companion, his aura of confidence, all of this conjures up the image of Mujib, the man, the intrepid leader, the dauntless hero.

He was not one to bow his head to anyone, whether a menacing military general or the president of any superpower. Even over four decades since his death, the nation basks in the glory of its founding father.

The weekly Newsweek describes Bangabandhu adroitly: “Tall for a Bengali (he stands 5 feet 11 inches), with a touch of greying hair, a bushy moustache and black eyes, Mujib can attract a crowd of a million people to his rallies and hold them spellbound with great rolling waves of emotional rhetoric. He is a poet of politics, so his style may be just what was needed to unite all the classes and ideologies of the region.”

Given the history of the man, his struggle, leadership, pains and suffering, his political acumen and courage, his sheer presence, there is no end to what can be written about him. His Agartala case alone will take up an entire volume. His historic speech of 7 March 1971 itself is a testimony of the Bengali determination for freedom. His interaction with world leaders, this innate Bangali-ness, his blunt matter-of-fact style in all spheres, there is so much to know and learn and recall about Sheikh Mujib.

His personality speaks volumes. Only a man with such a personality could achieve what he did, could scale heights impossible for a lesser man. The force of this personality proved to be stronger than an entire army, than the flexed muscles of the western powers and any conspiracy that ensnared him down the years.

Winding his way through an eventful political life, intermittently incarcerated by the Pakistani rulers, nothing daunted Mujib. The iron bars of prison could not snatch away his freedom, whether it was in Dhaka or Mianwali. No wonder his historical speech of 7 March resonated with the call of freedom, “Ebarer sangram muktir sangram!”

His 7 March public address at the racecourse in 1971 was more than a speech. It is a historical documentation of the Bengali nation’s self-determination, spurred on by their leader. The speech is an extension of Mujib’s personality.

Well aware of the impending danger, of martial law hanging above like Damocles sword, who else would have the sheer guts to call out to the people to take up whatever they had and fight the foe? Who else would declare that this time the struggle was for freedom, for independence? Who else could draw in a crowd of two million people to listen rapt and enthralled, inspired by his fiery rhetoric, despite the heightened tensions all around?

Sheikh Mujibur Rahman ranked among the top leaders of his day. The giant personalities of those times included the likes of Fidel Castro and Marshal Tito. And Mujib stood shoulder to shoulder with them in terms of leadership, charisma and persona. In fact, after meeting Mujib during the non-aligned movement summit in Algiers back in 1973, the Cuban leader Castro remarked, “I have not seen the Himalayas, but I have seen Sheikh Mujib. In personality and courage, this man is the Himalayas.” What a tribute, and what a befitting description of this great man.

Another person awed by Bangabandhu’s presence was the veteran British journalist Mark Tully. He recalled attending several meetings addressed by “Sheikh Saheb”. He said, “He had a wonderful voice that could mesmerise the crowd. I could feel that from the reaction of the people when Sheikh Saheb used to address public meetings.”

And it wasn’t just crowds that were drawn to Sheikh Mujib. He drew individuals close too. No one was a stranger. He would talk to anyone with such warmth and familiarity, it was like being engulfed in warm hug. If anyone loved this nation more than life, it was Sheikh Mujib.

The clothes he wore have become iconic. The black waistcoat worn over his white panjabi is now known as the Mujib coat. His was a simple life. He loved typical Bengali meals of fish and rice. Grandeur and show were not a part of his persona. His language was that of the common man, his every word resonating with their hopes and aspirations.

There have been many turning points in the near 48 years of Bangladesh as an independent nation, but nothing has impacted the fabric of the nation more than the assassination of Bangabandhu. In his death, the nation did not just lose a leader. It lost a father. It lost a man who was as high as the Himalayas but unquestionably down to the earth. He will remain ever looming large in our national psyche.