That foolish father of mine!

November 2, 1984. Exactly 49 years after Shirshendu’s birth. Exactly 19 years after Shah Rukh Khan’s birth. On this day, I was born. I’m not writing this post to lament why Aishwarya, born just the day before, left me—”one day younger”—to marry Abhishek, who’s three years my junior. When we were in ninth grade and registering for our SSC exams, our class teacher gave my father this wise counsel: he should reduce my age by a year or two on the certificate. Everyone usually does this for future advantages. My father never could think in twisted, roundabout ways. Unable to understand why the age needed to be reduced, he asked the teacher, “Why? Will there be any problem taking the exam if we don’t reduce his age?” The teacher laughed and said, “No, no, brother, why would there be? He’s first in class. We expect he’ll do well in the future. If he ever gets a government job, having a slightly younger age on the certificate will give him some advantages. Everyone’s doing it. That’s all!” My father’s response will stay with me for life. “If he can’t get a job based on his own merit, then he’ll do whatever his abilities allow and make a living from that. Why should I give false information for him? I don’t want my son’s life to begin with a lie. I’ll give the original information.” Hearing this, the teacher smiled and said, “I’m pleased to hear you say that. I pray that Sushanta never has to resort to any falsehood to achieve anything.” Years later, when I learned about the apparent benefits of age reduction, I used to get very angry with my foolish father. What was the big deal! I’d see so many with fake freedom fighter certificates happily employed, getting into BUET with tribal certificates, people who’d never kicked a football in their lives getting jobs through sports quotas. And so much more! What harm could reducing age by a bit do! When preparing for the BCS exam, I’d sometimes think—I can only take the BCS four times! Why was father like this?

In this matter, father has always been from another planet. In ’71, father was 22-23 years old. He didn’t fight directly, but secretly supplied food to freedom fighters, hid weapons in vegetable baskets and transported them from one place to another. When freedom fighter registration was happening in our village, many people told father to get a certificate—it would be useful for us two brothers in the future. Father refused completely. He had only one thing to say: I didn’t fight in the war! Many of our close relatives were among those conducting the registration. So it would have been easy for father to get it done. At that time, many newfound freedom fighters were born in our village. My foolish father, despite having the opportunity, chose not to be reborn. (Those interested can read my note “I Am Not a Freedom Fighter” on this topic.)

I don’t remember if it was ’94 or ’95. I was moving from class five to six. Getting into good schools was very difficult. It required extensive preparation. I studied from kindergarten to class five at Sunny Tutorial School. A few days after my class five annual exams ended, my great-grandfather died. In that grief, my great-grandmother also died within days. At that time, our entire family had to move to the village home for many days. I didn’t get admission coaching. Father was the eldest in the family. Mother was the eldest daughter-in-law in our family. Mother had to manage so many responsibilities that she couldn’t find time to sit and study with me. I was extremely happy about this, of course. I’d roam around carefree all day. Those were wonderfully happy times. Such joy! Such peace! Later, I studied with mother at home for about a week before the admission test and failed to get a ‘chance’ at Collegiate School, one of Chittagong’s best schools. Later father inquired and learned that I had scored half a mark less than what was needed for admission. Some well-wisher told father that with a ‘donation’ of 10,000 taka, I could study at Collegiate. Many with much lower marks than mine were apparently getting admitted through the ‘back door’ this way. That day father was too embarrassed to say anything to him. Many people in high positions whom father had helped liked him very much. But father never requested anyone through any connection. I never saw father bow his head to anyone or make improper requests for us two brothers. At one point, I used to get very angry with father. I’d keep thinking father was an incompetent man. Showing the ultimate extreme of useless honesty, he couldn’t achieve anything in life himself, nor did anything for us. His contemporary lawyers made so many cars and houses, so much land and property, such bank balances. And what did father achieve? Now I understand how important it is to be ‘incompetent’ in life! Becoming partners in sin for children’s temporary happiness is utterly foolish. Because he didn’t cripple us, today we can stand on our own feet entirely through our own merit. Those who have the habit of walking leaning on others’ shoulders can never walk with straight spines. When they don’t find anyone to lean on, they simply cannot walk.

Another incident comes to mind. While doing my MBA at Dhaka University’s IBA, I was also doing another master’s at the same university—MDS. You can’t do multiple master’s degrees in the same session at the same university. My sessions were different. MBA was 2010-’11; MDS was 2011-’12. So officially there should have been no problem. But the MDS authorities wouldn’t accept this at all. They had only one thing to say: no, you can’t do two master’s degrees simultaneously. If I wanted, I could leave the IBA master’s and continue only the MDS course. Several teachers advised that if I officially ‘tactfully hid’ the fact of doing the MBA, then no one else would say anything. They liked me very much. But I refused completely. According to university rules, I could do both master’s degrees. Why should I bow my head and do a master’s like a thief in hiding? I never hid from anyone that I was also doing an MBA. After attending classes for three months in the first semester, I was forced to leave MDS. Had I lied then, or at least tactfully concealed the truth, by now I would have had two prestigious master’s degrees next to my name. Now I have one. Honestly, I have no regret about this whatsoever. I wasn’t even supposed to do my bachelor’s degree. And here I am, having completed my master’s as well. Life hasn’t given me anything less! Who knows what other bonuses I’ll receive if I keep living! As long as I live, I’ll live with my head held high on the strength of truth.

Thank you, my foolish father.