Daliy Doodles

My failing memory is my biggest enemy.

I will use this posting to publish my thoughts.

Aniqa's Engagement

 

Pictorials - Aniqa's Graduation

 

Fifty Years Later

                                                        S.A.Sobhan

May 1 is the fiftieth anniversary of the day when Allah decided to take my beloved father from this world. It was only weeks after the March 25 Pakistani military crackdown in the-then East Pakistan.

In spite of my father being diagnosed with an enlarged heart, living with blood pressure issues and cholesterol, and his bout with pethidine addiction – which also almost killed him – and two previous heart attacks, his passing was unexpected and untimely. It was not only the end of his life, but the end of the carefree life I and my siblings were used to growing up.

Given all his career positions in civil service, his brilliant academic achievements, his school life as captain of his school hockey team, a fervent tennis player, and accomplishments that could be envied by many, he died almost unknown an unrecognized son of Bengal.

 The just begun War of Liberation brought planted conditions exploited by his unscrupulous business partners to take full control of Hotel Purbani, which he had sunk his life savings and properties to bring into being. Having suffered financial setbacks, the hotel was economically salvaged by the new partners—only to brutally deprive the orphaned children upon his death.   They were not allowed to occupy any of the 2 houses, each 10 room homes that was owned by Mr Sobhan, as they were used as part of the share capital of the hotel business. Instead his family was kindly given a paltry Tk 1000 monthly for a family of 10 and a rented home to live in.And we were thankful for that. The business partner insisted that the Sobhan houses were the property of the hotel and we, his children had no right to those homes. School fees were stopped the children were taken out of school and were not able to complete their schooling. They also shutdown a running rental car business and all the cars were taken to Momin Motors on the pretext that they were owed to the Bank. This was another way of putting our family in financial constraints. It was how they put the children in a position for selling their Purbani shares to the partner.

  Those of us who completed school was a result of their own efforts and good fortune in face of adversity.

The breakup of Pakistan affected our family in many ways. A big part of my father’s career was holding high civil offices in the Central Government including his posting in Karachi as Planning Secretary under President Ayub Khan. Such a senior position was a rarity for a Bengali to hold in a Government then dominated by West Pakistanis.

The tragic circumstances that befell the Sobhan Family was a family of 10 without a home and no known finances. Vehicles from a rental car business, owned apart from the hotel, were confiscated by the hotel partners on the pretext of bank loans. What could have been a source of sustenance for the family was shut down. The Military crackdown put all Bengalis on edge and at risk . It was a time of survival for and uncertainties for all Bengalis. There was not a single person, relative or friend, who cared enough to inquire into the Fate of a family that had just been deprived of everything they had and almost put out on the streets.  

I enter the seventieth year of my life on this the fiftieth year of my beloved fathers passing. Embarking now into my Golden Years, I feel the necessity to share some parts of thesobhanfamilyhistory  from my perspective.https://thesobhanfamilystory.blogspot.com/2021/04/fifty-years-later.html As I am childless, it will be up to the rest of my family should someone think it worthwhile to continue our story.

Thanks to Allah's benign Mercy, the Sobhan family members survived and each living their lives to best of their abilities. They were not wiped out in spite of the most trying circumstances. My hope is all will remember our father for the great person he was  and my regret is not having any accomplishments that come even near his shadow.

 

My Mother's Story

Zaheda – is  the only name known to us of Ammi, our mother. Apparently she was linked to our father’s family tree through our Great Grandfather, Syed Abdul Wahab’s father, Syed Abdul Hye, branching out to a part of the bigger tree. As I am searching for our family tree, if found, will old the answer to this question. Ammi grew up in a house, close to our paternal home at 10/2 Abul Khairat Road, in the Old Town area of Dhaka known as Becharam Dewry.

Her marriage to my father, from what is known to me, was either by his choice or upon the
quest of my grandmother for a grandson who would carry our lineage since Abba was an only son. My half-sister , Farida's mother, passed away untimely and was also an only child. Abba's  previous marriages had not yielded any other children.  Ammi was bethrothed prior to becoming of full age and is considered child marriage, which was, and in many places, is still practiced, though there were laws passed in British India making it illegal. At any rate, Ammi was married at a very young age to Abba and lived in her own home for a few years before moving in with Abba.

Practically being neighbors in the residential area known as Becharam Dewry in Old Dhaka, Ammi and Farida knew each other as kids. It is sad we do not know Ammi's date of birth, but since Farida Apa's birthday is in 1939, Ammi's birth year is likely within a few years of 1939. Ammi passed away in 1979, which would mean she was in her early or mid-forties when she left us. Her life ended tragically while I was in school in Austria, 12000 miles from Dhaka.

Ammi never got the benefit of education. She grew up disadvantaged in more than one-way so it is very easy to blame her for her inability to deal with the obstacles and hardship that haunted us all after Abba's untimely demise in 1971. The extreme hardships we went through even caused serious rifts within the siblings. Ammi sought some form of moral support and security when befriended by a distant cousin of hers. That painful 
relationship was sorely and poorly viewed by all. Hardly anyone gave Ammi any refuge from her pain and suffering. Even I am regretfully guilty of failing to understand Ammi's needs at that time. As Allah would have it, I was unable to be by Ammi's bedside when she tragically passed away, drowning in a bathtub. I was told she knocked herself out when she hit her head on the bathtub faucet. To this day, I know in my heart how I loved my mother, but was never able to do anything that would have perhaps been looked back upon today as a consolation for myself, to somehow soothe myself from the anguish I feel for having so miserably failed my mother.


The utter dislike Farida Apa had for Ammi continues with her even today after Ammi has been dead so many years ago.It amazes me to hear Apa still speak so poorly of Ammi. I have extended my hand out in friendship to Apa considering that we are not getting any younger but closer to our golden years. I wish we could let bygones be  bygones,. but some people never change. I have tried hard to understand what drove Ammi and Apa to become so polarized but I never will because of Apa's rigid dislike for Ammi.

I do remember from when I was a young boy, maybe about 6 or 7, I witnessed an event when Abba took the steel almirah from Apa and handed it to Ammi. This was like turning the charge of the household over to Ammi. I do think this was held in a lot of disdain, the feeling of which was so profound that it embedded dislike in Apa against Ammi. Something that festered and grew over the years, never to leave her heart,until this day.