Enayet — My friend

by Enam A Chaudhury

With the death of Enayetullah Khan, the nation lost not just one of our brightest and bravest journalists, but also a most valiant fighter for rights, justice and fair-play. Far away from the place and people for whom he always yearned to work, Enayet breathed his last in Toronto on November 10, seven years ago, fighting valiantly against the dreadful cancer of the Pancreas. Fighter as he was against heavy odds throughout his life, his last battle couldn’t perhaps have been against a lesser enemy.
Enayetullah never compromised with what he thought to be unjust, wrong or improper. At the same time, he was understanding, compassionate and benevolent. We became best friends from the very first day we met at school about six decades ago. Subsequently, in college days, we occupied neighbouring rooms at the Baptist Mission Hostel, were together in the Executive Committee of the students’ Union, studied at the Dhaka University together, belonged to the same cultural group, and mostly held the same view on almost all matters – ranging from political to very personal ones. I had the opportunity to see him from very close quarters – occasionally we competed against one another in debates and I can say with all the authority at my command that he always exuded a sense of warmth, cordiality and consideration, and we continued to remain best friends through all vicissitudes of fortune, and in all courses of life.
His greatest quality, I thought, was to always speak up for truth and justice. This was the driving force of his life, and that is why in spite of so many other financially lucrative and risk- free comfortable careers which he could have chosen for himself, he decided to be a journalist, completely dedicating his life to the profession. Journalism offered him the avenue to express, and he bestowed dignity upon the profession.
The trails of his character were evident even in the early years of his life. In 1953, when I was General Secretary of Dhaka College Students’ Union, I was expelled from the college (along with three others) in connection with erection of Shahid Minar at the College premises and organizing a college cultural function, where, inter-alia, ‘Amar Bhaier Rokte Rangano….’ was publicly sung for the first time by the eminent singer the late Abdul Latif. Enayetullah, who was the Cultural Secretary, took a leading role in organizing a strong, non-stop protest movement which subsequently led to the withdrawal of the expulsion orders. As a member of East Pakistan Students’ Union (EPSU), he participated fully in students’ movements in the fifties and passionately continued his cultural pursuits. I recall, when I was the President of Sanskriti Samsad, and late Zahir Raihan, a common friend, was the General Secretary, Enayet vigorously co-operated with us, and once composed a beautiful ‘Geeti- Bichitra’ for an immediate presentation. Subsequently, he also became President of this progressive, vanguard cultural organization. Many are perhaps unaware that Enayet, or Mintu, the nick-name by which he was popularly known, was a very good vocalist, played violin and harmonica well, and in debates and cultural competitions, he earned laurels without much of an effort. He was also a literary enthusiast, and besides English and Bengali, also knew Urdu well. Professor and poet, Ahsan Ahmed Ashk taught us Urdu literature at college, and Enayet, with his proficiency, was adjudged the best student in the class. He started contributing to newspapers since his University days, and easily found out his niche in journalism, which he embraced as his profession and subsequently emerged as one of the greatest journalists of the sub-continent in the contemporary period.    And this, I say, without the fear of being contradicted.
When he was in his twenties, Enayetullah became the owner-editor of the weekly Holiday, which became not just the bold voice of political dissent in the sixties, but also a forerunner of a style which embraced all aspects of a conscious, liberal, forward-looking middle class existence, laced with vigour and sophistication. His journal had a ‘certain audacious urbanity’, and his ‘fuming radicalism spiced with cynicism’ boldly championed the cause of whatever could be envisioned as goals of civilised existence—democracy, rule of law, freedom of thought and expression. The trend continued under all regimes and governments - both in Pakistan and Bangladesh. The weekly was banned, Enayet imprisoned under authoritarian regimes, but he could not care less and he never changed. The quotations I provide are from the eminent Indian economist, politician and columnist, Ashok Mitra, who continued to describe Enayetullah as ‘extroverts, loquacious, steeped in bourgeois sophistication, generous to a fault, liking the good things in life.’ And yet, the ‘left’ in Enayet never died — his concern for the equitable welfare of the people, for fairness and justice, and for global peace continued to make his pronounced presence in whatever he did, said or wrote.
As Mr. Ashok Mitra aptly commented, ‘Enayetullah could not quite spell out what alternatives were available to the people of Bangladesh. That precisely defined his charm, just on the side of being irresponsible, he still took his role seriously. For a fledgling people open to many temptations, a journal of dissent ought to be worth its weight in gold.’ Enayet thought that the victory of truth, reason and justice over shortsighted opportunism, ill-motivated deception and narrow self interest could be an illusive one, but worth striving for, and the struggle itself in important. That required unswerving conviction, extra-ordinary zeal and unflagging political coverage of dedicated persons. And Enayet chose and decided to be one of them—right from the day his mind opened up to the wide strange world.
Yes, he was courageous. Even in his personal life, he never hesitated to break norms, throw away practices and overcome prejudices if he felt like doing so. One might not have always agreed with him, but Enayet saw to it that differences of views did not create irritation or a sense of bitterness and enmity. He ensured that his mind would not be shackled to a pattern, just for the sake of it. His spirit arose out of his enlightened and in emasculated mind. Indeed, to me his life itself is a historical milestone, and his writings a testament of time (as he himself chose the title), bringing us closer to understanding how evil can be masked by a surface of apparent nationality, declared faith and even veiled benignity. And, being unarmed, how to ‘take up arms against a sea of evils, and by opposing — at least try to end them. When Enayet refused to join the BAKSAL bandwagon, Bombay’s ‘The economic and political weekly’ of June 4, 1975 commented, ‘The non-joiners have a choice—they can go to prison and languish there. Fortunately, few of them will be as foolish as Enalyetullah Khan.’ And the future course events proved how Enayetullah made his point.
But with all his apparent propensity of being a maverick (which he was not, really) Enayet, when in power, stuck to rules and regulations which he thought - and knew - were products of principles embodied in law. As a Minister, as an Ambassador or as an Editor, he was disciplined. In decision making processes, he was not be arbitrary and gave due recognition to objectivity and fair-play.
Mintu really had a zest for life and wanted to experience the varieties and challenges that life offers. He was immensely well-liked in the social arena and was a popular president of the Dhaka Club. Even in the uncertain days of the early seventies, parties at Mintu’s house in Lalmatia was a regular. In Beijing and Yangon, I saw how important government representatives, diplomats, and local elites liked to attend and positively respond to his invitations, and enjoyed his company. The practice continued subsequently at his Gulshan apartment which became quite a centre for socio-political gatherings, but in an informal manner.
I met him at BIRDEM when the doctor’s report came confirming the dreaded disease. He immediately decided to go to Canada where his children were, for both their company and treatment. I went to Toronto in September – and, on two occasions, had long meetings with him. In our heart of hearts, we knew that the end was near, and this could as well be our last meeting. But Mintu maintained his robust optimism and we talked about the shape of things to come. Till almost the last moment, he wrote for the New Age and Holiday. He was irrepressible.
But now he is gone, and how very much we miss him. How very much the nation misses his bold voice, his thoughts, his ideas, and his patriotism and courage to challenge and meet a most difficult situation.
The writer is Adviser, Chairperson, BNP