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My father used to subscribe and read the then Pakistan Observer (later The Bangladesh Observer), the weekly Holiday and the Reader’s Digest in particular. It was on his insistence that I started reading newspapers in my high school days. And by the time I was in the 9th grade of high school, I developed a passion for the weekly Holiday, though most of the words used in the write-ups of A Z M Enayetullah Khan were unfamiliar to me at that age of mine. I used to take almost the whole week looking up his words in the dictionary and trying to comprehend his write-ups by repeated reading. Around that time, I felt an urge to enrich my knowledge in English language and was inspired to match Enayetullah Khan’s vocabulary which I am yet to do. Subsequently, I cherished to meet Enayetullah some day and pursue a career in journalism.
   In 1972, I got an opportunity to work as an apprentice sub-editor of Bangla daily Dainik Bangladesh published from Borga, when I had to mosty translate the English version national and international news (received through tele-printer) into Bangla. Subsequently, I worked as an apprentice staff reporter of the daily. In 1975, I was appointed as the Rajshahi University correspondent of The Bangladesh Times. Enayetullah Khan was then its editor. Subsequently, I was appointed as an own correspondent of the daily.
   I have not been in the profession of journalism ever since I resigned as an own correspondent of The Bangladesh Times in 1982. Neither have I been able to be in regular contact with the journalist community due to my preoccupation as a business executive. So, it was my nephew Riad Hassan, who phoned me immediately after listening to the BBC radio news on 10th November, 2005 evening to inform me of the demise of the weekly Holiday editor-in-chief and the daily New Age editor Enayetullah Khan. Riad, who has just completed his MBA from Dhaka University and is an admirer of Enayetullah Khan, was aware of my great admiration for Khan.
   I hardly missed the write-ups by Enayetullah Khan. And from the press reports, I was aware of Khan’s illness and his on-going treatment in Canada. But, as he used to send write-ups from his sick-bed in Canada for his newspapers in Dhaka, I was under the impression that he was recovering slowly but steadily and would return to Dhaka fully cured in near future. So, the news of his demise came to me as a bolt from the blue and I was deeply saddened. As an instantaneous reaction, I lamented, ‘Alas, the great people don’t live at least for a century! The titan has left when the country needed him the most.’ I told Riad, ‘I am going to buy all the leading national dailies tomorrow to know the reactions, feelings and sentiments of the people who used to admire Enayetullah Khan and also of those who were his critics.’ Next day, I did buy the newspapers and was overwhelmed to read the instantaneous reaction of The Daily Star editor Mahfuz Anam, who apparently had political and ideological differences with Enayetull but had risen above all the differences to give the latter what he well deserved. Anam duly branded Enayetullah Khan as the ‘icon’ of journalism and commented, ‘He was by far the best among us.’
   I recall, in mid-1970s, a foreign journal (I do not remember its name) had branded Enyaetullah Khan as ‘one of the best political writers in South-East Asia’. Obviously, Khan also emerged as one of the best journalists in South-East Asia in the contemporary period.
   Since last few days, I have been feeling an ever-increasing urge to write something about late Enayetullah Khan. But being aware of his professional and human qualities, I am in a dilemma over what to write about the great son of the soil who had multi-dimensional talents and succeeded in every career he had pursued.
   All through his life, Enayetullah Khan had been committed and consistent to the ethics, ideals and practices of objective journalism. He pursued journalism with extraordinary courage and honesty. He did not hesitate to write about the naked truth. He was not only one of the pioneers, but also a trend-setter in English journalism in the country. Writing to him was a passion and not merely a profession. He could produce a master-piece write-up in no time. Over the time, he had become an idol in the domain of journalism. In fact, Enayetullah Khan and journalism, particularly English journalism in Bangladesh, had become synonymous.
   Enayetullah was a patriot, broad minded and magnanimous. He was above all a nationalist who loved his country and the people. He never compromised with secular democratic principles. He was bold against any kind of religious fundamentalism in politics.
   During past several years, I happened to meet him on several occasions particularly in the diplomatic parties in Dhaka. I found him to be the centre of attraction in all parties and the social gatherings. The host and the invitees used to gather around him to hear his views on national and international issues. People used to be impressed apparently by his personality and knowledge.
   Although Enayetullah had political and ideological differences with many, they, after his death, rose above all the differences to give him the respect and the love that he earned and deserved. He will live on in the hearts of his readers, associates and admirers. I pray that the Holiday and New Age, founded by him, survive for ever to keep his memories alive and as reminders of his contributions to the country, people and journalism. I am optimistic that the journalist community as a whole will carry forward the mission for welfare of the country, people, freedom of expression and the dignity of journalism for which Enayetullah fought all his life.
   Three years ago this month Enayetullah Khan passed away. To pay my tribute to late Enayetullah Khan, or Mintu Bhai, the name by which he was popularly known, I would like to reminisce a memory.
   It was in 1976, about a week ahead of the historic Farakka Long March. I was then the Rajshahi University correspondent of The Bangladesh Times and president of the Rajshahi University journalists’ Association. I phoned Mintu Bhai, then editor of The Bangladesh Times at his office in Dhaka to know whether he would come to Rajshahi on the occasion of the Farakka Long March. He sounded very excited and enthusiastic. He told me he would arrive in Rajshahi at least a couple of days before the long march would start.
   Mintu Bhai, accompanied by his good friend Anwar Hossain Monju, editor of the daily ‘Ittefaq’, arrived at the Rajshahi Circuit House in the afternoon of the appointed day. I, together with The Bangladesh Times Rajshahi correspondent Anjum Ferdous, received Mintu Bhai at the Circuit House. He was in his traditional Khaddar punjabi and jeans trouser. His punjabi was completely drenched with sweat as he had personally driven his car all the way from Dhaka to Rajshahi. But he was so excited and enthusiastic that, to my surprise, without taking any food or rest after such a long drive, Mintu Bhai told me, ‘Now I would like to call on Maulana Shaheb (Maulana Abdul Hamid Khan Bhasani) and then visit the marchers wherever they have gathered in city, and take part in the historic Farakka Long March. I want you to lead me.’
   I, together with Anjum Ferdous and the driver, drove straight to the advocate’s residence (I do not remember the advocate’s name) in a jeep provided exclusively for The Bangladesh Times team by the Rajshahi district administration to cover the Farakka Long March. Mintu Bhai, accompanied by Anwar Hossin Monju, followed us in his car. After meeting Maulana Shaheb, we all visited each and every place where the excited and enthusiastic marchers from all over the country had gathered. An
   excited and enthusiastic Mintu Bhai talked to the marchers and enquired about their feelings and sentiments
   in respect of the ensuing long
   march.
   At night, when we all returned to the Circuit House, Mintu Bhai sounded and looked even more excited and enthusiastic about the long march scheduled to start after a couple of days following a mammoth public meeting at the Rajshahi Madrasa Maidan to be addressed by Maulana Bhasani. I could sense the highest degree of patriotism of Mintu Bhai. He spoke mostly of patriotism.
   Meanwhile, The Bangladesh Times team from Dhaka, comprising special correspondent Amin Ahmed Chowdhury, assistant editor Mustafa Jasim Ahmed and senior staff photographer Rafiqur Rahman, arrived at Rajshahi to cover the long march. The Bangladeh Times team was the biggest among the local and foreign media teams to cover the long march. Apparently, this was because of the importance Mintu Bhai, as the Times editor, had attached to the Farakka Long March.
   As planned by Mintu Bhai, the Times team from Dhaka left Rajshahi city early next morning for a visit to the Bangladesh-India border areas. They returned to the city in the afternoon and reported their findings to Mintu Bhai, who asked them to write the news story and send it telegraphically to the Times Dhaka office with a note that ‘The editor has okayed this.’ Mintu Bhai, being the competent editor of the state-run national daily, was sure that the daily’s news editor in Dhaka office would need the editor’s approval to publish the sensitive news story that it was.
   The next day’s issue of The Bangladesh Times carried on its front page an exclusive news item titled ‘India amasses troops along border’ to the envy of all other local and foreign media representatives who had gathered in Rajshahi to cover the Farakka Long March, but apparently did not conceive the idea of making such a news item.
   Though Mintu Bhai was the editor of The Bangladesh Times, his feelings and magnanimity were not limited to the Times staffers only. In fact, he had strong feelings and sentiments for the journalist community as a whole. This was duly demonstrated when, learning that no transport was available for the Dainik Bangla staffers, who had gathered in Rajshahi to cover the long march, Mintu Bhai urged me to let the Dainik Bangla staffers share the jeep earmarked for the Times team.
   On the Farakka Long March day, Maulana Bhasani addressed a mammoth public meeting at the Rajshahi Madrasa maidan prior to leading the long march. Sensing that most of the marchers were in a mood to march to the ‘Farakka Barrage’, located in the Indian territory, the Maulana, in his address, made it absolutely clear that the long march would continue only up to the border and definitely not beyond the Bangladesh territory. He warned the marchers not to infiltrate into the Indian territory. The meeting was over, the march led by the Maulanam started.
   Mintu Bhai and the Times team had covered the march and returned to Rajshahi Circuit House in the evening. After washing his face and having a cup of tea, Mintu Bhai told me, ‘Shahed, go to Atiq (Atiqul Alam of BBC) and tell him that I have requested him to give me his typewriter.’ I complied with his request and so did Atiqul Alam. After finishing with his typewriter, Atiq offered it to Mintu Bhai, who told me, ‘You people write your stories and come back to me before you go to the telegram office to file your stories.’
   When I returned to Mintu Bhai about a couple of hours later, he gave me his write-up to be sent to The Bangladesh Times office. By mid-night, all our news stories as will as the write-up of Mintu Bhai were sent telegraphically to the Times office in Dhaka.
   Next morning, at around 11 o’ clock, Mintu Bhai asked me when the newspapers from Dhaka usually arrived in Rajshahi. As desired by him, I rushed in the afternoon to the newspaper agent in the city and bought several copies of the Times. Back in the Circuit House, I gave a copy of the paper to Mintu Bhai, who had been anxiously waiting for it. While going through his write-up, Mintu Bhai occasionally uttered ‘Uooh’ which, I was later told by him, was to express his annoyance at replacement of words in his write-up. The Bangladesh Times Dhaka office chose words, apparently because of the typing (telegraphic) error. However, what amazed me was the sharp memory of Mintu Bhai, who remembered the words he had chosen and used in his write-up.
   Later, as I read Mintu Bhai’s write-up titled ‘Palassy to signal victory this time’ which covered almost 75 percent space of both the front and the back pages of the Times, I was overwhelmed to discover the depth of his knowledge, his ability to conceive ideas as well as his flair for writing. I wondered how, in about an hour and a half, he could conceive ideas and the context and produce a unique master-piece write-up, which would have taken some writers hours or even days to write and that also with a quality not near to what he had written. I would like to retain this image of him as long as I live - a
   brilliant Mintu Bhai producing a unique master-piece write-up in no time.
   Mintu Bhai, writing about you has been a great honour for me. May your soul rest in peace.
   Md. Shaheduzzaman, Former Own Correspondent, The Bangladesh Times (now defunct)

There’s an MoU on every mountain, river and forest glade. We’re talking about social and environmental engineering on an unimaginable scale. And most of this is secret. It’s not in the public domain. Somehow I don’t think that the plans afoot that would destroy one of the world’s most pristine forests and ecosystems, as well as the people who live in it, will be discussed at the climate change conference in Copenhagen. Our 24-hour news channels that are so busy hunting for macabre stories of Maoist violence – and making them up when they run out of the real thing – seem to have no interest at all in this side of the story. I wonder why?
   Perhaps it’s because the development lobby to which they are so much in thrall says the mining industry will ratchet up the rate of GDP growth dramatically and provide employment to the people it displaces. This does not take into account the catastrophic costs of environmental damage. But even on its own narrow terms, it is simply untrue. Most of the money goes into the bank accounts of the mining corporations. Less than 10% comes to the public exchequer. A very tiny percentage of the displaced people get jobs, and those who do, earn slave-wages to do humiliating, backbreaking work. By caving in to this paroxysm of greed, we are bolstering other countries’ economies with our
   ecology.
   When the scale of money involved is what it is, the stakeholders are not always easy to identify. Between the CEOs in their private jets and the wretched tribal special police officers in the “people’s” militias – who for a couple of thousand rupees a month fight their own people, rape, kill and burn down whole villages in an effort to clear the ground for mining to begin – there is an entire universe of primary, secondary and tertiary stakeholders.
   These people don’t have to declare their interests, but they’re allowed to use their positions and good offices to further them. How will we ever know which political party, which ministers, which MPs, which politicians, which judges, which NGOs, which expert consultants, which police officers, have a direct or indirect stake in the booty? How will we know which newspapers reporting the latest Maoist “atrocity”, which TV channels “reporting directly from ground zero” – or, more accurately, making it a point not to report from ground zero, or even more accurately, lying blatantly from ground zero – are stakeholders?
   What is the provenance of the billions of dollars (several times more than India’s GDP) secretly stashed away by Indian citizens in Swiss bank accounts? Where did the $2bn spent on the last general elections come from? Where do the hundreds of millions of rupees that politicians and parties pay the media for the “high-end”, “low-end” and “live” pre-election “coverage packages” that P Sainath recently wrote about come from? (The next time you see a TV anchor haranguing a numb studio guest, shouting, “Why don’t the Maoists stand for elections? Why don’t they come in to the mainstream?”, do SMS the channel saying, “Because they can’t afford your rates.”)
   Too many questions about conflicts of interest and cronyism remain unanswered. What are we to make of the fact that the Union home minister, P Chidambaram, the chief of Operation Green Hunt, has, in his career as a corporate lawyer, represented several mining corporations? What are we to make of the fact that he was a non-executive director of Vedanta – a position from which he resigned the day he became finance minister in 2004? What are we to make of the fact that, when he became finance minister, one of the first clearances he gave for FDI was to Twinstar Holdings, a Mauritius-based company, to buy shares in Sterlite, a part of the Vedanta group?
   What are we to make of the fact that, when activists from Orissa filed a case against Vedanta in the supreme court, citing its violations of government guidelines and pointing out that the Norwegian Pension Fund had withdrawn its investment from the company alleging gross environmental damage and human rights violations committed by the company, Justice Kapadia suggested that Vedanta be substituted with Sterlite, a sister company of the same group? He then blithely announced in an open court that he, too, had shares in Sterlite. He gave forest clearance to Sterlite to go ahead with the mining, despite the fact that the supreme court’s own expert committee had explicitly said that permission should be denied and that mining would ruin the forests, water sources, environment and the lives and livelihoods of the thousands of tribals living there. Justice Kapadia gave this clearance without rebutting the report of the supreme court’s own committee.
   What are we to make of the fact that the Salwa Judum, the brutal ground-clearing operation disguised as a “spontaneous” people’s militia in Dantewada, was formally inaugurated in 2005, just days after the MoU with the Tatas was signed? And that the Jungle Warfare Training School in Bastar was set up just around then?
   What are we to make of the fact that two weeks ago, on 12 October, the mandatory public hearing for Tata Steel’s steel project in Lohandiguda, Dantewada, was held in a small hall inside the collectorate, cordoned off with massive security, with an audience of 50 tribal people brought in from two Bastar villages in a convoy of government jeeps? (The public hearing was declared a success and the district collector congratulated the people of Bastar for their co-operation.)
   What are we to make of the fact that just around the time the prime minister began to call the Maoists the “single largest internal security threat” (which was a signal that the government was getting ready to go after them), the share prices of many of the mining companies in the region skyrocketed?
   The mining companies desperately need this “war”. They will be the beneficiaries if the impact of the violence drives out the people who have so far managed to resist the attempts that have been made to evict them. Whether this will indeed be the outcome, or whether it’ll simply swell the ranks of the Maoists remains to be seen.
   Reversing this argument, Dr Ashok Mitra, former finance minister of West Bengal, in an article called “The Phantom Enemy”, argues that the “grisly serial murders” that the Maoists are committing are a classic tactic, learned from guerrilla warfare textbooks. He suggests that they have built and trained a guerrilla army that is now ready to take on the Indian state, and that the Maoist “rampage” is a deliberate attempt on their part to invite the wrath of a blundering, angry Indian state which the Maoists hope will commit acts of cruelty that will enrage the adivasis. That rage, Dr Mitra says, is what the Maoists hope can be harvested and transformed into an insurrection.
   This, of course, is the charge of “adventurism” that several currents of the left have always levelled at the Maoists. It suggests that Maoist ideologues are not above inviting destruction on the very people they claim to represent in order to bring about a revolution that will bring them to power. Ashok Mitra is an old Communist who had a ringside seat during the Naxalite uprising of the 60s and 70s in West Bengal. His views cannot be summarily dismissed. But it’s worth keeping in mind that the adivasi people have a long and courageous history of resistance that predates the birth of Maoism. To look upon them as brainless puppets being manipulated by a few middle-class Maoist ideologues is to do them a disservice.
   Presumably Dr Mitra is talking about the situation in Lalgarh where, up to now, there has been no talk of mineral wealth. (Lest we forget – the current uprising in Lalgarh was sparked off over the chief minister’s visit to inaugurate a Jindal Steel factory. And where there’s a steel factory, can the iron ore be very far away?) The people’s anger has to do with their desperate poverty, and the decades of suffering at the hands of the police and the Harmads, the armed militia of the Communist Party of India (Marxist) that has ruled West Bengal for more than 30 years.
   Even if, for argument’s sake, we don’t ask what tens of thousands of police and paramilitary troops are doing in Lalgarh, and we accept the theory of Maoist “adventurism”, it would still be only a very small part of the picture.
   The real problem is that the flagship of India’s miraculous “growth” story has run aground. It came at a huge social and environmental cost. And now, as the rivers dry up and forests disappear, as the water table recedes and as people realise what is being done to them, the chickens are coming home to roost. All over the country, there’s unrest, there are protests by people refusing to give up their land and their access to resources, refusing to believe false promises any more. Suddenly, it’s beginning to look as though the 10% growth rate and democracy are mutually incompatible.
   To get the bauxite out of the flat-topped hills, to get iron ore out from under the forest floor, to get 85% of India’s people off their land and into the cities (which is what Chidambaram says he’d like to see), India has to become a police state. The government has to militarise. To justify that militarisation, it needs an enemy. The Maoists are that enemy. They are to corporate fundamentalists what the Muslims are to Hindu fundamentalists. (Is there a fraternity of fundamentalists? Is that why the RSS has expressed open admiration for Chidambaram?)
   It would be a grave mistake to imagine that the paramilitary troops, the Rajnandgaon air base, the Bilaspur brigade headquarters, the unlawful activities act, the Chhattisgarh special public security act and Operation Green Hunt are all being put in place just to flush out a few thousand Maoists from the forests. In all the talk of Operation Green Hunt, whether or not Chidambaram goes ahead and “presses the button”, I detect the kernel of a coming state of emergency. (Here’s a maths question: If it takes 600,000 soldiers to hold down the tiny valley of Kashmir, how many will it take to contain the mounting rage of hundreds of millions of people?)
   Instead of narco-analysing Kobad Ghandy, the recently arrested Maoist leader, it might be a better idea to talk to him.
   In the meanwhile, will someone who’s going to the climate change conference in Copenhagen later this year please ask the only question worth asking: Can we leave the bauxite in the mountain?
   Guardian, October 30

Teachers and part-time jobs

Ref: Teachers’ part-time job hampers edn in public univs: UGC (New Age, November 8)
   Certainly not. Teachers in public universities teach students nothing but only politics; our political parties made sure of that. A teacher must belong to AL, BNP, Jammat or any other political party and follow whatever politics it may be. And as such nothing is hampered in public universities. Also see the wonderful result. Are not our students good at running with guns in the campuses and doing ‘chandabaji and tenderbaji’ very well? Recent report says that they are now experts on snatching things and robbing people too.
   Why complaining, sirs?
   An expatriate
   

* * *
   For a government officer it is a crime to hold more than one paying job. Does this stipulation not hold for the teachers in the public universities? It should because the salaries of the teachers in the public universities are paid by the taxpayers.
   AA
   Via e-mail

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