Book Review
Of Martyrs And Marigolds
by Aquila Ismail
Forgotten people have a strange way of re-surfacing. These days they appear on social media Facebook pages, groups, comments and connections with a renewed vigor. Old memories and relationships driven by the diminishing fuel of nostalgia still overcome the self-constructed obstacles to our senses. Additionally, the forgotten ones may be lucky enough to be featured in published articles or even full-length books. One such book is “Of Martyrs And Marigolds” written by Karachi-based author Aquila Ismail.
The forgotten people featured in the pages of Of Martyrs And Marigolds are often still (erroneously) all called “Biharis”, who were in reality the Urdu-speaking people that made the journey East instead of West during and after the partition of British India in 1947. Partition is referred to as “the cleaving” in this book, which happened not once but twice. This book focuses on the second cleaving, the bloody birth of Bangladesh in 1971 resulting in the breakup of Pakistan and the creation of a new country. During the period many (but not all) Biharis chose to support Pakistan, or what turned out to be the losing side.
Winners usually get to write history and flood the works of literature related to any period. For the losers, one can use these (Rita Brown’s) words of wisdom, “One of the keys to happiness is a bad memory.” And with that said Of Martyrs And Marigolds stands out as an exception. It was not written to make us happy. Actually it does not let anyone forget, neither the beauty that was, nor the ugliness that befell the land that became Bangladesh. From page one onwards; the reader is taken on a journey of love, a passion for a country and its people and how hate engulfed the area to reach a point of no return.
It is a story of an Urdu-speaking family of well-meaning people who came to love and adopt the culture of East Pakistan after moving there from India. It is also the story of their daughter Suri who is in love with Rumi, a Bengali who belongs to a family with deep ties to the language and the movement for preserving it.
If this reviewer had the talent to write a book on the year “The Liberation War “of Bangladesh was fought and won (by the Bengalis with the assistance of India) it would be titled “1971: The Year of Madness.” Thankfully, Aquila Ismail has already written it, and much better than anything than many of us could possibly have attempted. For all South Asians, and especially those Urdu-speaking people who lived in former East Pakistan and fell in love with it wholeheartedly, this book is a must read. And for others who just love good English literature, it is a treat as well. Aquila herself is a remarkably talented woman. After moving (in 1972) to what remained of Pakistan and making Karachi her home, she not only became an engineer herself but also an Associate Professor of Engineering at the prestigious NED University of Engineering and Technology, Karachi.
There is no place to hide in this book. Whether you were Urdu- or Bengali-speaking, right from the start it is about which side got the upper hand and when. After a while it did not matter who was right anymore. “I know,” Ammi cried out. Who else but all the men gathered at the crossroad are on the bus? They are being taken away …This is the last we will see them …say goodbye to them…say goodbye…God be with them.” And it was not just lives. Even memories are to be erased in this book. “Everything that could be sold was taken away within a couple of days of their leaving the house. The television, the refrigerator, the radio, and the furniture were carried away by Nuru’s father and his friends. The books were sold to the ragman by weight. She asked him about the large collection of photographs, the images of her children as babies, as toddlers, her pictures with her husband and friends, Abbu’s graduation picture that she was so proud of. These were thrown in the garbage dump, Nuru said. So their past was now in some large pile of rubbish!”
Of Martyrs And Marigolds has plenty of romance in it too. Not only do the characters love each other and Bengal from both sides of the language divide, but it is evident that the writer herself misses the place and that sentiment is shared in the book. As a reader, one can almost see the luscious green landscapes and smell rich fragrance through her words here. For that reason alone, even for those who have never visited Bangladesh, parts of the book could be a treat.
The tragic years 1971-72 created many martyrs. The death toll was enormous. And it reached the homes of many families who never themselves had engaged in the violence or hated “the other” group. Some like Suri’s family grew marigolds to add fragrance and color to their carefully cultivated gardens. But even these symbols of their efforts and affection were stolen. The reader is taken for quite journey through this work of fiction here, so be prepared.
(With apologies to Aquila Ismail for taking 8 long years to write this review. For some of us, the Marigolds of Dhaka still remain a too bittersweet and painful memory)
- Reviewed by Ras H. Siddiqui
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