If Your Name Be Das, Tripura, Roy

http://shobakorg.blogspot.com/2006/11/das-tripura.html

To The Polls, Unless Your Name Be Das, Tripura, or Roy
by Naeem Mohaiemen
DAILY STAR (Bangladesh), November 3, 2006


"Why can small numbers excite rage? They represent a tiny obstacle
between majority and totality or total purity. The smaller the number
and the weaker the minority, the deeper the rage about its capacity
to make a majority feel like a mere majority."
[Arjun Appadurai, Fear of Small Numbers]


"Hey Ghosh, don't do so much Ghosh-Ghoshani!"

Another day in school, another round of mutual teasing. Young boys
specialize in quiet brutality. Schoolyard taunts can be cruel, but
nicknames are nothing to be upset about. Everyone at St. Joseph had
one. Even the son of the Police IG had been renamed "fangface" (from
the cartoon) and "kaula" (lovely reference to his hue). In that
context, teasing Ranjan Ghosh by his last name seemed very mild.

Who cares, right? Just another tiffin break. Everyone run to Peter's
canteen to ask for an oily burger.

But something about this particular dig stuck, even though my class 6
brain couldn't navigate the cause of unease. Much later, many years
on, I realized that it was the first time I was forced into awareness
of a "minority" surname. Ghosh, Das, Sankar, Goldar, Adhikary,
Purification, Lal, Trivedi, Larma, Gomes, Bhattacharjee[i]. They were
all part of me once, before we started taking on names from
elsewhere. Ahmed, Ali, Mahmud, Hossain, Jahangir, Rahman. Our elders
started saying, "You see, we came from the mountains or beyond,
perhaps Persia."

Yes, right.

Relative to all things we have seen in this epoch of Bangla life, St
Joseph now seems to be(retroactively) a model of communal balance.
Propelled by an affirmative action policy in admission, enforced by
the Jesuit brothers, almost half the students were Hindu and
Christian. Besides the Ghosh incident, life was fairly uneventful.
Even my hyper-active brain can't locate other examples of communal
tension (but perhaps I'm not looking hard enough). At that age, the
only difference we saw was that the Hindu students studied Geeta in a
separate room during Islamiat. Who cares, to each his own...

The mind soaks up many fragments and saves it for future processing.
Even at that age some part of me vaguely registered that the wealthy
students all had last names like Rahman, Ahmed and Hossain. One day a
teacher asked for a collection of money to help Gomes, poorest
student in the class, buy the required Geography Atlas. Scattered
chuckles in the room. But perhaps at his plight, not his name. Still,
a strange unease, but nothing I could pin down.

In 1985, we anxiously crowded around a notice board to find the SSC
results. Star Marks, Letters, First Division, Ranking. Magic symbols
of future success and prosperity. Two decades on, many in my
graduating class (sometimes referred to as Generation 71) have become
industrialists, bankers, television directors, ad firm creatives ––
executives of every stripe. When I sit with my old Dhaka crew,
there's a palpable air of "masters of the universe." But when I take
a closer look, not a single non-Muslim among my classmates has made
it into this magic circle. 1985 was perhaps the last moment of parity
between us. The in-between time has been rough for those who don't
fit the national identity project. When I ask my classmates about
this, they shrug. Not my problem. One of these bright souls even said
to me, during a BUET strike, "Hindu students protesting again! They
are always making trouble.  lai dithe dithe mathai thule rekhechi."
Yes, really, we have spoilt them so!

Amena Mohsin talks about the flaws of Bengali nationalism –– a
structure that sings of Ek Shagoro Roktho, yet remains blind to the
invisible second class of Hindus, Christians, Buddhists, Paharis,
Adivasis and all other communities that don't fit within a Bengali
Muslim ethos. The concept of a singular nation, needing to be
produced or naturalized at any cost, is not unique to us. Hannah
Arendt argued in 1968 that the idea of a national peoplehood was a
fatal flaw in developed societies. Philip Gourevitz, surveying the
brutality of Rwanda, observed that "genocide, after all, is an
exercise in community-building." But what is remarkable for
Bangladesh is a national memory project devoted to the 1971 Pakistan
army genocide (against "us") that fails to recognize how we are
replaying that scenario on a smaller level against non-Bengali and
non-Muslim identities. "Non" is the key modifier, everything is about
what you are not. When these small groups assert their presence and
refuse to be crushed under a "Bengali Muslim" identity, spectacular
and extreme violence is our tool for producing a homogenized national
map.

The strange, so very strange, thing is that even hyper-minority
status in other spaces (North America, Europe, India) have not given
the Muslim ummah an extra sensitivity, or sense of responsibility, or
even historical prerogative (think of the Caliphate's decent track
record vis-a-vis conquered non-converts) on how it treats its own
minorities (can someone please come up with a better phrase) with
respect and equality. Friends and allies say to me "This is not the
time to bring up these issues. Muslims are under attack everywhere,
we should talk about ourselves first." I usually respond with an
expletive and a pronoun. A gentleman sent me yet another e-mail about
"Quran desecration." I wrote back that this was not a priority. Waste
of time, I said. Enough already with our offensensitivity. Our
hysteria about the slightest offense to the Prophet, the Book, the
People. Are we so very weak? A terse reply: "Maybe not a priority to
you, but to us it is." Who is the us? People who value a book more
than a human life?  Gamal al-Banna (who parted ways with his brother
Hassan, founder of Muslim Brotherhood) says: "Man is the aim of
religion, and religion only a means. What is prevalent today is the
opposite."

My St. Joseph memory trip came while considering the crucible of the
approaching Bangladesh elections. In keeping with the overall pattern
of convulsive violence, minority communities are already under
threats to stay away from the polls. Unlike 2001, when the orgy of
anti-Hindu violence was enacted after the elections, the idea is to
block these communities from even daring to vote. As documented by
Daily Star, Prothom Alo and others, a signficant proportion of
minority voters have already been taken off the controversial voter
list.[ii] When even Muslim voters find themselves missing in large
numbers from the list, what chance for Bahadur, Kumar, or Larma?

The 1991 and 2001 Bangladesh election results could have been
different given the razor-thin margins by which many seats were won,
and the huge number of minority voters that were prevented from
voting in those very seats. Out of 300 constituencies, there are 71
where minority voters are significant (ranging from 11% to 61%)[iii]
and 50 where they are visible (5-10%). The current election sets
every incentive for the 4-party rightist-islamist alliance to
aggressively choke off the minority vote. The opposition Awami
League's embrace of secularism has always been shaky (is there
anybody with the guts to hold their feet to the fire and force them
to eject Nejame Islam from the 14-party coalition?). But even this
weak commitment has produced many potential Pahari candidates for
Hill Tracts, as compared to the exclusively Bengali Muslim candidates
from the 4-party. For Bengali candidates to win in Pahari-majority
areas, a massive blocking of the Pahari vote is needed. A similar
pattern is expected in all areas with a significant minority
population. This is not to say that minority voters should vote en
masse for AL –– but simply that they to be allowed to vote.

I invoke St Joseph because anecdotes sometimes carry more emotive
power than statistics. When the silent majority continually ignores
the pain of others, we end up at the embryo stages of ethnicide.
These days it is hard to sit still for a song ashor during 1971
commemorations without choking on the failure of the nation project.
Yes, yes, we liberated ourselves from Pakistan. Yes, they were
destroying our adored Bangla language.  Yes, yes, but and again but.
What of the state that we created since 1971. 22 wealthiest Pakistani
families have been replaced by 22 wealthiest Bangla Muslim families.
Was that what the revolution was about. Pity Shiraj Sikder, Colonel
Taher and all the other revolutionaries. Actually the bullet in
Sikder's back, and the noose around Taher's neck saved them -- who
wants to live to see this end? Today, our numerical majority has
chosen methods of predatory nationalism that include racist tactics
that directly echo the Pakistan regime, reify Bengali Muslims, and
render all other identities invisible[iv].

My uncle used to tell the story of the maulana who stood in front of
a temple in 1940s Noakhali, using his body to defy those who wanted
to burn alive the Hindus who had been their former neighbors. This is
in Noakhali of all places, a blight in 1940s partition narratives for
so many examples of brutality, including the apocryphal story of
Muslims who slaughtered Gandhi's goat (is it true? I have never been
able to find any evidence). If that village elder found an
interpretation of religion that taught compassion, how are we in this
backwards trap fifty years on?

I shout at all of you with rage, because I refuse to accept a haven
for me that is a nightmare for others. There is still time to stop
this with our words, our actions and our bodies.

Amra ki ei Bangladesh cheyechilam?

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Naeem Mohaiemen is a filmmaker and media artist based in Dhaka and
New York. He is author of the chapter on <Hill Tracts Paharis and
Flatland Adivasis> in the 2004 <Ain Salish Kendro> Annual Human
Rights Report.
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http://shobakorg.blogspot.com
http://disappearedinamerica.org
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Footnotes:
[i] A researcher friend recently explored the etymology of the names
in Bangladesh and wrote in an e-mail:

"Of course not all surnames are created equal. Chattopadhyay/
Chatterjee, Bandopadhyay/Banerjee, Mukhopadhyay, Gangopadhyay,
Bhattacharya/jee, Chakrabarty, Mahalanobis, Adhikari etc are Brahmin.
Some names are titles that are usually held by higher caste including
Brahmins, but can also be Muslim names (as they were handed out by
either the Nawabs or the British to loyal retainers) - Thakur
(Tagore), Majumdar, Talukdar, Dastidar, Ghatak, Chowdhury, Biswas,
Sarkar. Most of these people will still know their original
"gotra" (ie, "apni ghotok? asholey ki?" - answer: chattopadhyay, sen
etc so you can still signal caste when prompted). Next rung includes
Sen, Das, Ghosh, Bose, Sarkar, Nath, Saha, Dev, Mandal, Pandey
(Parey), etc The rung that you won't hear much of in academia,
business, politics or probashi communities include Basak, Gain, Bain
(as in Goopy & Bagha), Tisku, Barui, Majhi, Gop (Gope), Dop (Daup),
Soren, Marandi. Many of these names are also found among Adivasis
through intermarriage or loss of language some time back. Some purely
sub-ethnic names as well. Rajbongshi, Tripuri, Puruli, Pradhan,
Bahadur (indicates Gurkha lineage) etc. In terms of people left in
Bangladesh, hardly any from the Brahmins, and most are probably at
the bottom of the caste hierarchy - as they are pretty screwed
whether in Bangladesh or in India."

[ii] Daily Star, May 6, 2006: "Religious Minorities Under Pressure";
Daily Star, May 10, 2006: "Minority Voters Intimidated"; Prothom Alo,
January 6, 2006: "Voter List Compilers Say They Didn't Go to 4
Minority-heavy Villages By 'Mistake'"; bcdjc.org/mreport-1.html

[iii] According to the 1991 census, the following 71 constituencies
have a minority ratio ranging from 11% to 61%: Rangamati, Khulna-1,
Bandarban, Khagrachari, Gopalganj-3, Moulavibazar-4, Khulna-5,
Sunamganj-2, Dinajpur-1, Gopalganj-2, Dinajpur-2, Barisal-1,
Khulna-6, Satkhira-3, Bagerhat-1, Gopalganj-1, Chittagong-6,
Thakurgaon-1, Dinajpur-4, Pirojpur-1, Bagerhat-3, Satkhira-5,
Moulavibazar-2, Magura-1, Madaripur-2, Narail-1, Bagerhat-2,
Hobiganj-4, Chittagong-7, Nilphamari-2, Nilphamari-3, Magura-1,
Satkhira-4, Rajbari-2, Lalmonirhat-1, Jessore-6, Narail-2, Khulna-4,
Barisal-2, Satkhira-1, Netrokona-4, Natore-1, Sunamganj-1,
Brahmanbaria-5, Hobiganj-1, Thakurgaon-2, Satkhira-2, Netrokona-1,
Manikganj-2, Sunamganj-4, Chittagong-1, Kishoregonj-5, Rangpur-1,
Kurigram-2, Pirojpur-2, Dinajpur-6, Rangpur-2, Jhalokathi-2,
Manikganj-1, Faridpur-1, Natore-3, Bagerhat-4, Netrokona-2, Dhaka-7,
Faridpur-3, Madaripur-3, Khulna-2, Barguna-2, Mymensingh-1, Dhaka-3,
Sunamganj-3. All portions of the 2001 census were released, with the
exception of the religious figures.

[iv] This can be seen in the drastic drop in minority populations:
1961 (18.5%), 1974 (13.5%), 1981 (12.2%) and 1991 (10.5%). Analysts
expect the 2001 census to reveal even further drop, but the
government has not released those numbers.

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