They say you shouldn’t meet your heroes, and if you do, don’t let them know. I started the conversation with Zafar Iqbal with those words ringing in my ears – or maybe it was the fever. The premise was simple: CholPori had recently published illustrated versions of two of his short stories, “Amra o Crab Nebula” and “Ekti Kutshit Prani.” This was to be our throughline to explore other issues of interest. The discussion session would be over a video call, so I thought I had a safe distance. It was only after talking with him for 40 minutes that I realized I hadn’t introduced myself, nor did I introduce my guest or mention the books we illustrated. I got nervous – and I’m not good with nerves. After the whole thing was done, my colleague Sadia told me I behaved like I was the celebrity, not Dr. Iqbal. It was a disaster.
The new curriculum is what the world is moving towards. Memorizing has been a scar in our education system. The new one encourages critical thinking and creativity. It gives more emphasis to working in groups and trying to find multiple solutions to problems.
D. Muhammad Zafar Iqbal
I had been told by someone that he was a grumpy man. If he was, I certainly didn’t think so. In fact, and the video footage should confirm this, he was remarkably jovial despite my somewhat scattered questioning. At one point, I suddenly asked him why he lived in Sylhet (as if it was some kind of a crime), to which he was quite taken aback. For clarification, the question had nothing to do with Sylhet, really. The greater question was, despite going to the United States and doing well for themselves, why did he and his famous brother, Humayun Ahmed, both decide to come back to Bangladesh and take teaching jobs? His answer was simple.
“The answer is the same for both of us. This is my country, and all the joys in the world don’t compare to living in your own country with your head held high. It wasn’t all smooth sailing. SUST was a new university with very few senior teachers. I therefore had a lot of freedom to work with the curriculum and young teachers, and I enjoyed every minute of it.”
But the main reason why I was interested in this conversation wasn’t where he stayed or his contribution to the education system, but why and how he wrote. I wanted the whole story.
“There’s no clear reason why I started to write, and at the same time, there was no way I wouldn’t write. You see, my father used to read a lot of books, and our house was filled with them. We read because that was the only kind of entertainment back then. And if you read, you naturally want to write. That’s what happened to all of us. We wrote because it was the only natural thing to do. Not that we wanted to be writers, mind you, but we knew we would end up writing something.”
It is, as I know from personal experience (the writing of this very blog is a testament to that), easier said than done. But that’s not enough. I wanted to know more about the process.
“We never thought writing was some difficult thing. It was simple. All you need is a pen and paper. My older brother Humayun Ahmed was one of the most popular writers of Bangladesh, I write, my younger brother writes, my father used to write, and so did my mother. It was normal and a natural progression. We never knew we would become known as writers. I am a man of science, and that’s how I see myself. The writer tag is a huge bonus and something I am still surprised by.”
“When did you start writing professionally?”
“Back then – and I am talking about right after seventy-one – there was only one magazine that used to publish fiction. It was called Bichitra, and if you could get your stories published there, you’d be known in the country as an upcoming writer. My first story published there was called Chelemanushi. After that, I have published numerous short stories there.
If you ask about my first published book, it was Haat kata Robin. I wrote the manuscript and sent it to the publisher. He said it was a bit too long for children. I had to cut a third of it out.”
At this point, I had to interrupt and ask which part. Full disclosure: Haat kata robin is one of my favorite books, and I knew it by heart. “Is it before or after the football tournament?”
“Probably after,” he said with a smile.
I could have gone on and on about the intricacies, but one look from my line manager (sitting opposite to me and conveniently out of the camera’s field of vision) meant that I had to shift it to a more serious topic. I asked him about the new NCTB curriculum that I knew he was a part of and how that would affect the students and teachers. Turns out, the most affected are parents. Because the new curriculum did away with exams and grading systems, parents had no idea how to monitor their child’s progress.
“The new curriculum is what the world is moving towards. Memorizing has been a scar in our education system. The new one encourages critical thinking and creativity. It gives more emphasis to working in groups and trying to find multiple solutions to problems. Previously, it was just one right answer, and it was written at the back. And we were not allowed to look. The outside world isn’t like that. Outside, we have to work together. And many variables determine a solution. It allows children to question things and help each other. Children need this now more than ever in the advent of social media.”
“But how do we measure progress in such a system?”
“Simple. We ask them creative questions and grade them based on the argument they provide and how well they justify their position.”
This naturally brought us to books and if they are still relevant in this new technological world.
“Something wonderful happens when you read a book. You look at some black marks on white paper, and your brain transforms this into images and worlds and characters and accesses a whole range of emotions in us. This abstraction is vital to the development of the brain. A movie, for example, does not do that. You are just an audience eating what you’re fed. A book is more interactive. It makes you think and imagine. Something great is lost when a child doesn’t go through that. This abstraction is what makes us humans. There are a lot of intelligent creatures, but it is only us that can do that: derive meaning from codes and montages. Books allow us to get into the depth of something. Videos and movies do not do that. It’s surface level. I believe if we’re born as humans and with this capacity, we owe it to the world to be more empathetic and to do good. To not just be consumers of content.”
I couldn’t agree more. I had to admit to him that I too am guilty in this regard. I often hand my two-year-old my phone to watch cartoons when I’m tired or when he doesn’t want to eat. There is a noticeable change in his behavior when he watches it for too long. He gets feisty and rigid and more prone to outbursts. He shook his head. I shifted topic again to save myself. I told him that one of the main characters of a story (yet unfinished as always) was heavily inspired by the character of Robin from his book, Haat Kata Robin. Thought it was better to let him know now than him complaining later.
To this, he laughed and said that that was a good thing. “If you read something and it doesn’t inspire you to steal, the writer is not doing it right.”
With the fear of lawsuits out of the way, I introduced myself [an hour into the conversation] and introduced everyone who was gathered behind the monitor and couldn’t be seen. During this ‘porichoy porbo,’ our zoom session ran out. Quite timely, I might add, as I was in the middle of digging more graves for myself.
And that was that, really. A very pleasant conversation with a writer, scientist, educator, and inspiration. At least, so I thought. Sadia disagrees. She said I was horrible. Maybe. But hey, no one’s going to read this blog for me. Dr. Zafar Iqbal did a fantastic job as always, and that’s all that matters. I shall now quietly go back to stealing more characters from his stories. Now that I have his blessing, that is.
