by Anisur Rahman Did I do have to do anything? I could not manage a job even after completing my university degree, even knocking thousand times to hundreds positions. I had my parents, I had siblings - who were individually were a load on me. On the other hand I fell in love with a girl. That was not enough! I got to married her. What could I do without marrying her. Tender youth in me at that time, green-fresh idealism, purified thought for revolution, perfection in patriotism, all I had in me in those days.
After completion of university education, I would serve the nation and bring fortune for my family, that was a motto in me. At the end, I myself do not find my way out. I entered into a blind alley. I did manage a job indeed. There is in my country a society and surroundings, particularly for women in my goodness of the ‘V’ island called Bangladesh in world map. My wife too had same headache for society and surroundings. It is to have in all ideal (?) women!
That was a big matter as I managed a job in land of 150 million people and in the market of millions of unemployed. Excitement indeed in me! How could I know what was their business where I got my job? It was too late for me as they were mafia, they were smugglers! Thieves! When I came to know and understand, it was too late for my survival. The godfathers or mafia don, whatever we call…Moti Muhammad Bhai or Shahiduzzaman Bin Jomsher or Nulauddin Nader Chowdhury… were the owners, the culprits! They wanted to make me a scapegoat!
I am now in a country in the north. I have metamorphosed into a strange animal from human being after a six-year awaiting, I am an animal today, but my memory is working fine. I can think more than usual as a human being.
It is a story that took place six years ago in Bangladesh. Ten trucks illegal arms were seized by police in Chittagong. Two trucks out of ten went missing. I realised I was going to be made the ‘scapegoat.’ By this time my wife along with my eight-month daughter was kidnapped. The indications were clear, I would go to police in search of my wife and daughter, police or mafia gang will pick me up and kill me. So? Where do I go? Where is the difference between police and mafia? As I find military and fundamentalist today have their resort in same feathered nest.
Stealing seal pad from my office, I went into hiding and reached this land in the north after a long trip and trick. That was another long story and could be a large novel. Let’s skip that!
I applied for refuge in Sweden. What was the reason? I wanted to survive from fear and threat. That was the honest cause. But, who were getting me to run? Who were threatening to kill me? What were the evidences? Yes, where is my evidence. I could be killed, that was true and cent percent true. Even my animal brain right now could think it.
But the problem was with the officials at migration offices. They need evidence. They demand evidence for every single word. My wife and daughter were kidnapped and it was true you know. But I had no evidence in this regard that I could show to migration officials. They told me you had you job, your relatives, parents, siblings, wife and daughter all are in your land. ‘If they can survive, why not you.’ Yes, they are right on their part. I too was right true as I know and see my danger. Even my animal brain is convinced as my life was not safe at all in my land. But I had no evidence in support. Migration board people must need evidence and evidence. They are even happy getting evidence in favour of a true falsehood.
I did get refuge, my application was refused. My ways got all lost. I went on hide, passed my nights here and there, at churches and so. I pass days starving and half starving. I worked at horse firms in remote country side. At last police arrested me. I got shelter at custody in far remote area. After long waiting there one morning I found myself as a strange animal. I had a mirror in my pocked that helped to see my new outlook. This is a hot issue all over the world. I was sent shifted to the animal protection and research centre in Stockholm.
So many reporters, photographers and eager people gathered to see me today. I can exactly recollect those days in churches, in remote areas in my starving days. I wrote to many newspapers, to Amnesty, to Red Cross. None did pay any attention to my words. I can hear members of the crowd are saying Bangladesh authorities are demanding me back home. They are saying that I am their national resource. Swedish authority is saying my passport proves the identity that I was a human-being that was Adam Ali. Adam’s passport should not be this animal’s identity. This animal is a national property of Sweden. That is why they cannot return me back to Bangladesh. Swedish animal protection law does not permit the government to hand me over to any second party.
Now I am a tourist attraction too. Business analysts are writing in newspapers and expecting billion dollar income, biological scientists are taking preparation for huge research on me filmmakers are thinking for making a documentary on me. Everything is an outcome of their own business thinking. Human rights groups are too aware. They are taking a hand hard over Bangladesh and Sweden ’s governments. They are raising the issue of my daughter ‘Borshaa’s right to her father. I can hear everything the crowd is saying outside my cage – all about me. Bangladesh government is taking preparation for filing a complaint to the UN. They are also thinking of filing a case with the International Court. Newspapers reported by this time in a couple of weeks of my being an animal, the number of tourists doubled in Stockholm. The number is increasing at geometric rate. I have been a hot factor in the upcoming elections in Sweden and Bangladesh. All parties in both the country are prioritising to claim me, ‘an anima’ in their election manifesto. They all are trying their best to convince the voters they would succeed in protecting me according to the national interest.
I have no headache for those. My tension is for my daughter ‘Barshaa’ only. She is seven now. At her 8-month age, I came here and went to Red Cross and requested them to bring my daughter and wife here anyhow. They did do nothing or could not do anything. The same Red Cross with the help of UNICEF now brought my daughter and her mother to see her father who is no more a human being today …a strange animal!
They are coming, my daughter Barsha and her mother… The face of my Barsha is like a carbon copy of mine. Oh, misfortune, with the baby! This is my wife and I can read her eyes even being an animal today. I can see her mind is indeed breaking. She wants to die, but she will not die, she will survive only for her daughter. She will be kidnapped, she will be abused, but she will regain her strength and confidence on for the cause of her daughter, she will be living for Barshha as dead grass regain their life at the touch of rains. I can see water is dropping from the eyes of my wife. No sound from her mouth.
The Bengali interpreter girl echoing the voice of the Swedish guide instructing my daughter, let you see that is your father inside cage. Let you see, see!
Barsha is saying: That animal is not my papa. My papa was a human being. Let me find my human-being papa!
photo courtesy: http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1392/1085211695_9a834ff17a.jpg?v=0
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar