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As for the choice of the theme ‘SAARC: Connectivity’, political, economic, and of ideas and people, considering the ‘shared destiny’ of the regional countries to commemorate the 14th summit of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation in New Delhi from April 3 to 4, it is appropriate one for the regional forum which represents people of different nationalities, ethnicities, faiths and political beliefs.
   Despite these diversities, they share common values such as democracy, just and honest government, advancing the cause of peace and prosperity.
   This theme is quite reasonable for SAARC countries as this organisation is the largest regional organisation in the world by population, covering approximately 1.47 billion people.
   Starting the journey on December 8, 1985, SAARC is now more matured with Afghanistan joining India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Nepal, the Maldives and Bhutan.
   For the first time, representatives from the United States, China, Japan, the European Union and the Republic of Korea would attend the plenary and the closing ceremonies as ‘observers’. Iran has also formally requested for ‘observer’ status and the request is being considered.
   No doubt to say that SAARC is too important and could be more effective for its geopolitical relationship with surrounding countries and emerge as regional strength.
   There are many disputes among South Asian countries and SAARC can be used as a platform to solve these nagging differences but virtually it fails in most of them. The 52-point Dhaka Declaration adopted at the end of the two-day 13th SAARC summit in Dhaka on November 26, 2005 is yet to get practical shape.
   SAARC has not been able to take up such critical issues for the member countries like the dispute between India and Pakistan over Kashmir, the Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka, the Maoists in Nepal, the conflict between India and Bangladesh about border issues, human and drug trafficking, cross-border terrorism, water sharing and so on.
   Though many of these countries are composed of many races and religions, their governments tend to give little consideration to minorities.
   As a result, their situations are apt to become violent and divided since religious influences are strong like Islam in Pakistan, Bangladesh and Maldives, Hinduism in Nepal and India and Buddhism in Sri Lanka and Bhutan and also they are on the process of nation-building.
   Another thing is terrorism which is a challenge to all states and a threat to all of humanity, and cannot be justified on any grounds. Member states should strengthen their cooperation in such important areas as exchange of information, coordination and cooperation among their relevant agencies.
   Regardless of the differences between governments of the neighboring countries on the question of definition of terrorism, what is clear and what we can all agree on is any deliberate attack on innocent civilians, regardless of one’s cause, is unacceptable and fits into the definition of terrorism.
   Sharing information, building mutual legal assistance in criminal matters, enhancing joint action or forming regional taskforce can resist so many criminal activities like bombing in Samjhauta Express in India, in different places and court premises in Bangladesh or six recent Taliban suicide bombing attacks inside Pakistan which have killed 35.
   The investigations into the recent terrorists’ bombings in India have indicated that militants are freely using the porous border to enter into India to carry out their heinous acts.
   Economic security in the South Asian region cannot be defined merely in terms of investments, energy security or greater flow of goods and services rather than the issues like terrorism, drug-trafficking or money laundering.
   Many items produced in the member countries that can easily be accessed at better and cheaper price but due to bad relation this becomes impossible. Good relation among them will solve many problems even if any dispute exists that is easily solved.
   The Indo-Bangladesh border is highly porous making the illegal movement of people and goods a perennial problem.
   Bangladesh and India should evoke strong feelings towards each other because not only of the historically close religious, linguistic and cultural affiliations or 4,053-kilometre land boundaries but also to share economic security or to tackle issues like terrorism, drug trafficking, human trafficking and money laundering.
   Democratic institutions and a culture of democracy, coupled with an independent judiciary, a vibrant civil society and a free media, provide the most appropriate platform that would allow South Asian states to nurture the aspirations of their diverse communities in a pluralistic milieu.
   In line with trends of advancing human society, in particular with requirements of economic and technological progress, the nations of the world are drawing closer together, and conditions for enhancing their relationship are taking shape.
   Exchange of dialogues periodically and implement them as much as possible rather quite often between SAARC countries will communicate opinions, problems and way to solution is definitely helping hand to improve relations.
   In order that SAARC becomes a more effective organisation for regional cooperation, its rules may need to be changed so that the member countries can take up any matter that hinders amicable relations among them at SAARC.
   It may create a difficult situation in the short term but in the mid and long term it will build mutual trust among the member countries in the region, promote trade and investment and bring development and prosperity in the whole South Asia.
   To make SAARC more effective, the first and foremost step is to encourage movement of people in the region, reduce visa fees, make obtaining visas easier, open immigration counters dedicated to South Asian nationals at international airports, reduce entrance fees to tourist sites for South Asians.
   Ripan Kumar Biswas is a freelance writer based in New York

RABINDRANATH has said that it is possible to find a person worthy of seeing, but it is not easy to find a worthy place to see him. I realised the truth of it at a wedding in 1938. I was then a student of class ten. I saw the groom, turbaned and donned in a light cream sherwani under a ‘choga’ embroidered with real silver work. Tall and erect, bright eyes and slightly tanned complexion that was the first sight I had of Barrister Syed Mahbub Murshed. I saw him in the worthy place. I had then such an age when in the rich juvenile imagination I was trying to find his resemblance with those who always flashed. The first that came was Indranath of Srikanta but Indranath had a few marks on his face. He had a perfect unblemished face. I got it –– it was Shibnath of ‘Shesh Prasna’. Yes, Shibnath has donned the groom’s dress. Or may be, it is Othello –– tall, dark and handsome but his eyes lacked the hardness of a soldier. His eyes were electrified.
   After about four decades, in remembering him, I am asking myself why it is so important to talk so much about his looks? It is probably necessary because unknown to myself I accepted him as my hero, who later became my idol in my professional life. I was and still am enveloped with his profound influence. To imitate him would be an audacity because he was inimitable. About two decades after I saw him first I accepted him as the only person in my professional existence.
   In 1943, when I was a student of Calcutta University Law College, I was lucky to be present in the courtroom where a murder trial was on and the counsel for the accused was cross examining the prosecution witness. Those days little did I understand the pointing questions. A few other barristers, young and old, were sitting in the courtroom one of whom said ‘the questions indeed are worthy of a barrister’. The prosecution witnesses were tumbling. The judgement was delivered. The accused got a clean acquittal. I saw him after this in a few other cases. His questions were equally pointing. The witnesses dared not look at him straight. Still then I was not very sure if I would take up legal profession, but the more I saw him the more I was convinced if there was any worthy profession it was to become a barrister. I till then saw him from a distance.
   August 1946. In the great Calcutta killings I had my first chance of getting a little close to him. He was then one of the leading barristers of Calcutta High Court, a terribly busy practitioner. A relief committee was organised which was located on the ground floor of the Congress Exhibition Road residence of Khan Bahadur Ataur Rahman Khan in Park Circus. The drawing room of the late Ismail-reputed industrialist was used as the office. Syed Mahbub Murshed used to reside then in a flat on the second floor. Within a few days, legal complications cropped up concerning those who were arrested during the riots and concerning property and families of these persons. I was entrusted to contact Syed Mahbub Murshed as I was the only one in the committee who had something to do with legal affairs. I was then a law student waiting to take the law final examination which was postponed because of the riots. After much hesitation, I picked up courage to meet the legal luminary in his flat, but before I could finish, he came down with me to the office. The other members, late Mr. Ismail, late Mr Sayedul Hasan, Poet Gulam Quddus and few others who were present were puzzled over the situation and were eager to know the proper procedure to be followed in the matter. Very briefly and within a short time he clarified the situation and told us what to do. I saw him that day frankly discussing with us the problems and he gave us much time as needed although he could hardly spare that. He helped us voluntarily and ungrudgingly. I witnessed his concern for the affected people –– his sympathy and help for the people who lost everything during the riots. In a short time he became a respectable leader in the matter. His success went beyond the legal matters. We found his deep concern for the suffering humanity.
   Later I saw him as a judge of the Dhaka High Court. In every case it was wonderful to see how he applied legal principles to facts. His way of looking at facts and the application of law stood out from other honourable judges. He could fathom even a difficult case in the shortest possible time. His interpretation and application of legal principles were subjects of envy. The subordinate staff found a father figure in him when he became the chief justice of East Pakistan.
   The first blow was struck at the autocratic regime of Ayub Khan by the Dhaka High Court and Chief Justice Murshed was the author. He excelled himself in analysing and setting the constitutional issues that were raised before him. His rich language intermingled with the interpretation of law. It was like the admixture of the Padma and the Jamuna. His superior power of interpretation of legal principles and fearless dispositions of constitutional matters once promoted Ayub to say, ‘Pakistan was rightly proud of two things-the cricket team and the judiciary’. I wonder if knowing Syed Mahbub Murshed, Ayub echoed with Shylock: ‘A Daniel come to judgement Yea, a Daniel!’ He was the author of most of the constitutional cages that settled the rights of the citizens, the human rights and established the supremacy of the rule of law.
   In his area he was uncompromising, unique. He was fearless in his confrontation with the tyrannical and autocratic regime of Ayub Khan. He was both an architect in upholding the rights of the citizens and a terror to the ruling clique. He had thus çreated a few conspirators who like the creatures of darkness fought against the light of the day and who like the devils of deception fought against the messenger of truth.
   He preferred to resign his high office rather than to bow before the authoritarian regime. The loss was entirely that of the nation, of the people and of the judiciary. The blow was to the public conscience from which the nation has not yet recovered.
   One gets overwhelmed with emotion in writing about him. The country was deprived of his unrivalled personality; his scholarship was confined not only to jurisprudence but encompassed world literature, music and socio-political philosophy and economics. Whenever he broached a topic, he appeared to know more than the others as he finished talking. He was free with any subject of conversation. His genius lighted up anything he touched.
   I pay him my homage with deep sense of gratitude and respect and close it with the words of the poet Nirmalendu Goon: ‘With these reminiscences come the melancholy clew drops on the pages’.

He pushed the huge weather-beaten wooden door and found it closed from inside. Looking around, he saw a clutch of small white coloured buttons arranged horizontally in two columns on the right side of the wall. Beside each button was something written and in the middle, between the columns, were perforated spaces on the copperplate. Drawing himself near, he saw the written words were names of people, all Americans with the middle name abbreviated by a single letter. It was a big panel and there must have been more then twenty names written beside each button. He looked for the name of Evelyn Schayer, an effort that appeared no less challenging than trying to find the needle from the haystack. Starting from the bottom he glanced upward, scrutinising the names carefully. Little short of the top he came across the name of Evelyn Schayer; his heart jumped in joy. It was short-lived because the name only indicated the floor where she lived, tenth floor of the skyscraper. His problem was not yet solved, the door was closed and he did not know how to open it. After some hesitation he pushed the button hoping it might act, as the ‘open sesame’ words did for Ali Baba. Instead, a voice came through the perforated space beside the names. The tone was metallic and harsh; with difficulty he could, hear ‘ Evelyn Schayer speaking, who is it?’ He was elated and told the invisible owner of the voice that it was him and he wanted to get in. Evelyn Schayer told him, ‘the door will be open now, you enter the building and take the elevator to my apartment at tenth floor.’ No sooner she had spoken then a creaking sound came from the hinge of the monumental door. He pushed the door rather gingerly and was relieved to see it yielding to the shove. The door closed gently as he was inside facing a cage-like contraption on one side of the floor attached to the wall. In the dim light and shadow the iron cage and its casing, going from the floor to the high ceiling above, gradually revealed their outline. It was very unfamiliar and looked forbidding, like a medieval torture chamber. He knew Americans called ‘lift’ ‘elevators’ but the mechanical contraption that he saw before him could not be one. He had seen the elevator in Adamjee Building in Dacca and it was not at all like this intimidating cage. Moreover, there was a lift (elevator) man to operate it. The cage was shut with shutters and there was no one near it. Inside the cage he could see many buttons with numbers written beside them and there was a dim light shed by a low powered bulb hanging from the ceiling of the box. If it was the elevator, how was he supposed to enter it and how would he take it to the tenth floor? He looked for written directions and found none. As he was hesitating the door behind him started to creak, accompanied by a buzz of the push button at the entrance. Presently, through the open door entered a middle aged man and looking at him said, ‘hi’. He was very surprised that the stranger knew his last name. (Hye and hi sounds same). The man hurriedly pulled aside the shutter of the closed door of the cage-looking elevator and entered inside and looked at him with a question in his glance. He quickly entered inside and stood in one corner in the elevator. The man pushed number 12 and the elevator jerked itself loose with a clanging sound and started climbing up. Through the open bars of shutter of the elevator he could see the floors appearing one by one and disappearing below. The sensation of defying gravitation was magnified by the visual experience. The elevator stopped with a whimper and a jolt as it reached floor number 12. The man got out pushing the iron bars on one side like a collapsible gate (it was, in fact, one); he followed him in a hurry. The man looked at him and closed the door, winking at him. The elevator went down with a whooshing sound which echoed in the empty space of the iron cage, making it sound as if a fast moving train was in motion.
   He saw the staircase and walked down to floor number ten where Evelyn Schayer lived. He did not want to take any risk with the strange contrivance and thought it safe to use his good old feet. Reaching tenth floor, he found the door with the name plate of Evelyn Schayer. A stuffed head of a leopard looked at him menacingly, baring its feral teeth. He pressed the door bell; it opened with a middle aged woman with salt and pepper hair arranged in a bun, standing before him. She smiled stretching her lips from ear to ear and said in a gravelly voice, ‘Hi, Mr. Hye, come on in (come on in, not come in!).
   He entered the room with a sense of relief and said ‘Thank you.’
   Evelyn Schayer put her hand on his shoulder and said in a warm voice, ‘See, I told you, it is very near to your hotel. You could not miss it.’ He could not tell her anything about the elevator and his thrilling journey to her apartment, riding the elevator. She would have laughed at him or think that he was joking. These ordinary things are taken for granted by them, being part of their daily life. For him the short walk from the hotel and the climb to her apartment by the elevator was a veritable adventure.
   ‘Sit down and tell me what would you like to have, tea or coffee?’ He sat on a huge sofa which caved in at the contact and was startled by a cat that jumped from there. He did not see the cat; it was curled up in one corner and was asleep. ‘Kitty come here, don’t be naughty. We have a guest from Pakistan. She picked the cat named Kitty from the floor and coddled its white fur. Kitty let out a soft purring sound, relishing the caress. He looked around from floor to floor and then floor to ceiling. Statues, masks of all shapes, stuffed animals from carnivorous to vegetarian and souvenirs of every description were everywhere. The room was a veritable museum of ethnography and natural history. Following his gaze Evelyn Schayer said gleefully, ‘My life time’s collection. Wherever I go I buy these stuff (Stuff?). My favourite collection is a shrunken human skull from Borneo. Wanna see it? Come over here.’ He sensed danger and became tense and nervous. Was he in the right place? He wondered for a fleeting moment. Evelyn Schayer (if that was really her) said with a smile, ‘It is kind of (kind of?) spooky, I know. Some people get upset. I don’t want you to get upset on the first day in America. The shrunken head can wait. Look at the bronze head of a woman. It is a genuine piece from Benin. ‘She pointed to a bronze head with a pointed hairbun on top and kept looking at it fondly as if it was part of her flesh and blood.
   He said, ‘You have travelled to many countries’. Evelyn Schayer chuckled and said, ‘Yes, I have. This is one of the blessings of being a travel agent. You get fat discount in air fare and also in hotels. Why shouldn’t you travel?’ He looked at the stuffed animal heads and said, ‘Are these from Africa?’ ‘Yes, they are, wild life is abundant in that continent. It is as if the primeval time is not yet over there, All animals, except humans, live side by side, sharing the same ecology. Of course, the stronger animals kill and eat the weaker ones. Survival of the fittest and all that stuff. You see it before your eyes in Africa. I love that country. Have you been to Africa?’ He nodded his head sideways. No, he had not been there.
   Evelyn Schayer went to the kitchen and brought a tray with a kettle, pots of milk and sugar, two mugs and a plate with biscuits. Sitting beside him she said, ‘I have brought coffee. In America we love to drink coffee. How would you like it? With or without? He was at his wits end and looked uncertainly at the tray. Evelyn Schayer said, ‘I always have it black; milk spoils the aroma and the taste.’ He said he would also like to have it black. Evelyn Schayer looked at him with satisfaction and said in a low voice, ‘Gottcha’ (gottacha?).
   Offering him the black coffee (he never had it black before) she told him to have cookies (cookie?). Pointing to the biscuits she said, ‘They are nice and crisp. Goes well with coffee.’ He picked up a cookie and munched it with relish. Evelyn Schayer said, ‘I don’t entertain clients. But you are special. I don’t know why it is so, but you sure are special. Yessiree (Yessirree?)’.
   Gradually, the smell of the room reached out and overwhelmed him, it was a strong brew of animal hide, mouldy books, weary wall paper, threadbare carpet, liquid coffee, the perfume used by Evelyn Schayer with Kitty thrown in. It was by no means fresh and invigorating but it had a soporific effect; what with this melangey of smell and the lack of sleep last night he felt drowsy.
   Evelyn Schayer went to the desk at one corner of the room and rifling through the strewn papers up yellow file (yes, yellow!). As she looked inside, she exclaimed, ‘What the heck (heck?), you have the whole day free. Your flight out of New York is in the evening. Hmm. Why not take a walk-around tour of Manhattan? Yes, that is what you should do.’
   ‘But I don’t know anything about New York.’ He mumbled.
   ‘Hell, you don’t (was that an abusive expression?). That is why I am here. I will draw a map for you and show the interesting places that you can see without any guide. It is so much fun that way.’ She sat down in the chair at the table and started writing something. Without raising her head she said, ‘I don’t do this for all my clients. But you are special.’ (This is the second time she said that. It was as much puzzling as it was amusing).
   Evelyn Schayer came back to where he was sitting and taking her place in the downy sofa, held out the thin yellow file. ‘Take it, you will find your air ticket to Minneapolis - St. Paul and the flight schedule. And here is the map for your walking tour in New York.’ She lit a cigarette and inhaled in silence. Her eyes were close as if in meditation. She said in a sonorous tone, ‘Do you know why you are special? Because you arrived in America half past midnight. I don’t have clients calling me after midnight. Yessiree. That is what makes you special. Gottcha?’
   He was expecting her to talk money. She took another puff and this time exhaled with wide open eyes.
   Evelyn Schayer looked outside beyond the only curtained window and said, ‘In New York you are surrounded by skyscrapers. They constitute the city’s famous skyline that you see in pictures. Some of them are robust like men, some are sleek and supple like women. Some are like sun temples, others recall the Aztec pyramid. All the crazy lust for growth, which sprawls American towns in the west, finds expression here in a vertical drive. You try to count the floors one by one, but the eye grows tired and takes them ten at a time. Those who knew city thirty years ago are surprised by what they see today. The skyscrapers were then buildings of ten stories or so; standing in isolation from each other. They looked kind of ugly (kind of?). The town then was brown, now it is pink. Tomorrow perhaps these buildings will be no less distasteful. The newer it is, the more beautiful does New York appear. She paused and took another puff from the cigarette where the ash had become long and crooked. She continued in the refrain of a reverie, ‘But you know something. Skyscrapers did not begin in New York. They were born in Chicago in 1881, a ten-story building rose over the Michigan mud. The Home Insurance Building was the first to stand up without the help of walls. The advance was an enormous leap forward, like hell it was, the greatest that architecture made since the Gothic age. But you know something? It was French architect Le Due who long before 1881 had written in an essay on architecture that an edifice could be imagined having an iron framework, its stone envelope serving only to enclose it. This notion of genius was lost upon Frenchmen, but not on the American pupils at the Eeole des Beaux-arts. I have a book written by W.C. Staratt ‘Skyscrapers and their construction’. It is over there (an American expression he became familiar with soon) in the bookshelf. One of my favourite.’ She paused in amazement and said, ‘Why am I saying all these to you? This is your first day in America and a free day in New York. Why am I wasting your time? Go out and walk down the streets and find for yourself the wonder that is New York, skyscrapers and all; you will love the skyscrapers even without knowing the history. Here is the sketch of your walk-about tour in Manhattan. Not very neatly done but practical, I hope.’ She held out a piece of paper with lines and circles done in blue, the colour of the paper was yellow. As he stood up clutching the yellow file and the yellow paper with the map he was hoping she would mention money. She said, ‘I do not bother about arranging sight-seeing tours for my clients. But you are special.’

JMB kingpins’ execution

All deaths are sad. But we can always learn from sad happenings. It is quite obvious that the extremists could not have gone so far if they did not get assistance from a section of the administration. The government could easily get information if they cared to talk to the people of the areas where the extremists were active.
   Waheed Nabi
   Sheffield, England
   

* * *
   It was a job well done. It demonstrates our firm commitment in rule of law. The souls of Jagannath Pandey, Sohel Ahmed, Kajoor and many others may rest in peace now. May god give strength to the little innocent son of Jagannath Pandey and all the dear ones of the victims of violence.
   MH Khan
   On e-mail
   * * *
   Excellent news. Some have been eliminated through the legal process. Why not the others? A snake is always a snake.
   M Emad
   Oxford, UK
   * * *
   Those extremists should have been brought in front of the media. They were just instruments of a game while somebody behind the scene was controlling them. We have lost the opportunity to uncover the identity of those godfathers.
   Tareq Bin Ali
   Mirpur, Dhaka

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