I am here in the land of Master Da, a.k.a., Surya Sen.
Baba Alauddin was here... Sarat Chandra was born here.
When I landed in Chittagong last week, I saw, from up above, the Jalalabad hills that dotted the landscape. Those young revolutionaries of 1930 would have gone into the forests in these hills to hide. Some of them were killed by the Brits.
When I stepped on this land, I could feel the presence of these great lovers of the land here.
Ah, well, the romanticism died soon after- the presence of some touts at the airport did the job.
This really huge Toyota vehicle was waiting for me at the airport. Probably one more of the seconds from Japan, I thought- and right, I was.
This is a huge market for second hand vehicles from Japan. And, perhaps the biggest market for ship breaking.
The week has been largely uneventful, except that I have had the chance to work with some wonderful people from back home, and here.
Today I met this gentleman whose father knew Surya Sen- they were from the same village. When I told him that I am keen on visiting the memorial of Surya Sen and the other greats who were a part of that legendary chapter in Indian history, he was more than keen to tell me about places and also, stories.
While I share below some excerpts from the stories he narrated, I will never be able to deliver justice to the emotion in his voice. Here is the story of the aftermath of the the revolution, as he told me..
"The British came to look for him in our village. He was staying with his Mama, Netra Sen at that time. The first time they came to look for him, he was dressed in a Sari, they did not recognise him and went away. The next time they came, he was a fisherman and the next time a farmer. Then the British announced a reward of 50 taka. Netra Sen was tempted and he informed the British of Masterda's location. When Masterda was being arrested and taken away, the entire village, almost 1500 of them assembled...some were crying... Masterda told them not to cry and promised them- "before my neck goes into the noose, we will have the traitor Netra Sen's head"... And so it was to be.
Netra Sen bought a big fish with 2 taka of his reward and was about to eat it when his mother taunted him for having betrayed his own nephew. It was at this time that one of Masterda's friends came, hacked him and took away his head.
Later on, Masterda was hanged in Andamans."
And then he proceeds to ask me about the Andamans...
I was reading this site later and chanced upon the last letter written by Masterda (link given at the bottom of the page on the website). I have a deep desire to go to this park in the Jalalabad area where they have the busts of the revolutionaries as a memorial (the same gentleman who narrated the story tells me that the park is still there).
Tomorrow I have an off... My friends and I are being taken on a local tour- to the temples in Sitakunda... More on that once I come back.
For today I leave you with an incident that gave me a deja vu of the time i landed in Dubai (read this if you have the time and inclination) - I was standing in the immigration queue at the Dhaka airport last Saturday. I was chatting with my Dad on the phone when the man behind me in the queue asked me, "Malayali aanalle?" ("you are a Malayali?"). I was thrilled to bits to hear this language, here in Dhaka.
And more thrilled that the gentleman who is taking us out tomorrow... is from Kerala too...
Long live NRKs (Non Resident Keralites)...
Baba Alauddin was here... Sarat Chandra was born here.
When I landed in Chittagong last week, I saw, from up above, the Jalalabad hills that dotted the landscape. Those young revolutionaries of 1930 would have gone into the forests in these hills to hide. Some of them were killed by the Brits.
When I stepped on this land, I could feel the presence of these great lovers of the land here.
Ah, well, the romanticism died soon after- the presence of some touts at the airport did the job.
This really huge Toyota vehicle was waiting for me at the airport. Probably one more of the seconds from Japan, I thought- and right, I was.
This is a huge market for second hand vehicles from Japan. And, perhaps the biggest market for ship breaking.
The week has been largely uneventful, except that I have had the chance to work with some wonderful people from back home, and here.
Today I met this gentleman whose father knew Surya Sen- they were from the same village. When I told him that I am keen on visiting the memorial of Surya Sen and the other greats who were a part of that legendary chapter in Indian history, he was more than keen to tell me about places and also, stories.
While I share below some excerpts from the stories he narrated, I will never be able to deliver justice to the emotion in his voice. Here is the story of the aftermath of the the revolution, as he told me..
"The British came to look for him in our village. He was staying with his Mama, Netra Sen at that time. The first time they came to look for him, he was dressed in a Sari, they did not recognise him and went away. The next time they came, he was a fisherman and the next time a farmer. Then the British announced a reward of 50 taka. Netra Sen was tempted and he informed the British of Masterda's location. When Masterda was being arrested and taken away, the entire village, almost 1500 of them assembled...some were crying... Masterda told them not to cry and promised them- "before my neck goes into the noose, we will have the traitor Netra Sen's head"... And so it was to be.
Netra Sen bought a big fish with 2 taka of his reward and was about to eat it when his mother taunted him for having betrayed his own nephew. It was at this time that one of Masterda's friends came, hacked him and took away his head.
Later on, Masterda was hanged in Andamans."
And then he proceeds to ask me about the Andamans...
I was reading this site later and chanced upon the last letter written by Masterda (link given at the bottom of the page on the website). I have a deep desire to go to this park in the Jalalabad area where they have the busts of the revolutionaries as a memorial (the same gentleman who narrated the story tells me that the park is still there).
Tomorrow I have an off... My friends and I are being taken on a local tour- to the temples in Sitakunda... More on that once I come back.
For today I leave you with an incident that gave me a deja vu of the time i landed in Dubai (read this if you have the time and inclination) - I was standing in the immigration queue at the Dhaka airport last Saturday. I was chatting with my Dad on the phone when the man behind me in the queue asked me, "Malayali aanalle?" ("you are a Malayali?"). I was thrilled to bits to hear this language, here in Dhaka.
And more thrilled that the gentleman who is taking us out tomorrow... is from Kerala too...
Long live NRKs (Non Resident Keralites)...
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