A son voiced his grievances against his father at a memorial meeting. It went totally out of my mind that the memorial meeting at Pabna Press Club was scheduled for today. This gathering is a longstanding tradition of the Pabna Press Club, held in memory of our senior or deceased journalists. Today marks the sixth death anniversary of the renowned journalist and cultural figure, Anwarul Haque. With deep respect, I left work and headed to the press club to honour him. Anwarul Haque was a journalist for the daily Ittefaq.
January 30 marks the sixth anniversary of his passing. The Pabna Press Club organized a memorial meeting to commemorate him. Anwarul Haque was a journalist known throughout the Pabna district; in this region, Ittefaq is synonymous with Anwarul Haque, and vice versa.
The meeting commenced, with esteemed members of the community seated on the stage, including the courageous freedom fighter Baby Islam, distinguished educator and former Press Club President Professor Shibjit Nag, former president ABM Fazlur Rahman, former editor Akhinur Islam Remon, and the only son of the legendary journalist Anwarul Haque, Sushoban Haque Tutul. The speakers took turns praising him, recounting his personality and cultural contributions. The discussions focused on journalist Anwarul Haque, who had a remarkable ability to choose clear and precise words. Throughout his life, he contributed news to a widely circulated daily newspaper, characterized by clean, simple, and straightforward writing devoid of ostentation. His attire, though modest, was always neat and symbolized elegance. He had a designated sitting area in the press club, where he would relax on one of the sofas in the members’ room, a small table in front of him, often accompanied by a cup of tea and the daily newspaper. While he spoke sparingly, his humour was abundant. When friends gathered, we junior members often refrained from joining. During meetings with Professor Shivjit Nag and Mirza Shamsul Islam, he would share a flurry of jokes. His smile was warm and gentle. Beyond being a journalist, he was politically and culturally well versed.
Anwarul Haque actively participated in various movements, including the historic Language Movement and the Corn Movement. He made significant contributions to the cultural landscape and even endured imprisonment for his journalistic endeavors, yet he never bowed his head. The people of Pabna genuinely love and respect this man who stood firm. M. Anwarul Haque, former president and founding co-editor of the Pabna Press Club, was an honest and fearless journalist—a beacon of light for fellow journalists. He was also one of the founding members of the East Pakistan Mafassaval Journalists’ Association.
Now, Sushoban Haque Tutul stood before the audience, embodying every son’s complaint. He was the first to speak on stage, expressing that he was always ready to hear praises of his father but also wanted to voice a few complaints. In Bengali culture, it is customary to refrain from negative remarks about the deceased at such gatherings. This is expected, as everyone tends to offer praise. However, he had a complaint against his father, filled with frustration. He lamented how other fathers would return home from work and spend quality time with their families, while he felt deprived of that affection. He recounted how he would follow his father, calling out to him in tears, only to return home exhausted and alone, closing the door behind him to cry. His father, focused on his work, would leave his office attire behind to visit his beloved Pabna Press Club. This pain of yearning for his father’s presence, mixed with pride in his contributions, was a burden he bore—an expression of love for the Pabna Press Club.
Tutul continued to voice his grievances: his father had illuminated the world but had not given him the time to shine in his own right. His father’s thoughts were solely on the Pabna Press Club and providing news for the welfare of the people. Tutul’s eyes began to blur with emotion. Many in the room had fathers who adored them, and they had experienced the warmth of fatherhood in their childhood. In contrast, he felt deprived of this experience. He wanted to shout that his father had left him in darkness while shining light on others. Today, he stood on stage as his father’s successor.
As the successor and caretaker of his father’s legacy, he vowed to uphold his ideals and illuminate others with his father’s light. Yet, he felt unworthy of spreading those ideals, as they seemed to obstruct his path to independence. Every time he entered their home, he felt his father’s ideals blocking his way.
He could not express himself freely; he felt constrained. The ideals his father had set stood in the way of his own will. Despite this, he struggled to share even a fraction of his father’s light, which became his complaint against him. Today, he wanted to cry out to the heavens, never wanting to say goodbye. How could it be that his father had filled the void with so much blue yet remained absent from his life? His father was his sky. What he had not been able to express during his father’s lifetime, he now silently shouted: “I love you, I love you very much. I miss you deeply.” The reflection of his father’s love, pride, and accusations swirled in his eyes. “Dear father, another year has passed since you left. Oh, how I wish I could turn back time! But God knew it was your time to go home; it was His agenda, not mine.”
Naresh Madhu
Journalists
6/02/25