What is diaspora?

The word diaspora is Greek. ‘Dia’ means far, ‘speirein’ means to spread. Etymologically, though it referred to the spreading of seeds, another use of the phrase can be traced back to the 250th century BC. The Jews deported from Israel were referred to as the first of the diaspora people. At that time, Alexandrian scholars translated the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, or Torah, into Greek. In this translation, the verb ‘diaspeirein’ and the noun ‘diasporá’ are used to refer to the  homeless Jews.

The word reveals the spiritual and emotional turmoil that befell the Jews as they left their homeland. In the nineteenth century, especially after the First and Second World Wars, the term diaspora came to be used to refer to peoples scattered around the world for various reasons. Now in the expanded sense, not only the expatriates, but also the people who have voluntarily migrated for livelihood and settled in different places have been included in the diaspora population.Vinay Lal, a professor of Indian history, calls the expatriates ‘diaspora of labor’ and the voluntary emigrants ‘diaspora of longing’.As a result, the diaspora can be a group as well as an individual. At one point in the novel Shame, Salman Rushdie writess:

When individuals come unstuck from their native land, they are called migrants. When nations do the same thing (Bangladesh), the act is called secession. What is the best thing about migrant peoples and seceded nations? I think it is their hopefulness. Look into the eyes of such folk in old photographs. Hope blazes undimmed through the fading sepia tints. And what’s the worst thing? It is the emptiness of one’s luggage. I’m speaking of invisible suitcases, not the physical, perhaps cardboard, variety containing a few meaning drained mementoes: we have come unstuck from more than land. We have flew off history, from memory, from time. I may be such a person. Pakistan may be such a country.  ‍[Shame, P. 91]

According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), .6 crore people were forced to flee their countries in 2016, 22.5 crore of who are living as refugees. One crore people are living without state. Most people are migrating from Asia and Africa to Europe and North America.

Of all the refugees, 55 per cent come from Syria, Afghanistan, and South Sudan. Due to this large diaspora population, the present time has been identified by some as the ‘Age of Diaspora’.

Why is ‘diaspora’ not ‘immigrant’ or ‘expatriate’?

Some have objected to the use and introduction of the word ‘diaspora’ in Bengali. We have long referred to those living abroad as immigrants or expatriates. Is it necessary to introduce the word diaspora anew? Ask them further: Can we call Diaspora Literature Immigrant or Expatriate Literature?

Here, note: Although the terms ‘diaspora’ and ‘immigrant’ are semantically close, there are conceptual differences between them. Although the word ‘immigrant’ is in English, the Greek word ‘diaspora’ has been adopted in English. This is because the diaspora people born abroad or from the second generation to the next generation no longer think of themselves as ‘immigrants’. They are citizens of that country by birth. So, their identity cannot be identified by the word ‘immigrant’. In this case, the use of the word diaspora is logical.

The Bengali synonym of the word ‘migrant’ is Avibasi—those who go abroad for some time to study or work. On the other hand, if they go permanently, not to return, they are called ‘immigrant’. In Bengali, we can call them Prabasi. Although the issue may seem obvious, the use of the words refugee, asylum seeker, immigrant, migrant often create a problem.

Who are refugees?

Refugees are people who have fled their country due to war, violence, persecution, or natural disasters and taken shelter abroad. They stay abroad until they feel safe returning to the country. They are registered by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. As long as they are not registered or seek asylum in another country for fear of death in their homeland, they are called ‘asylum seekers’.

Not all asylum seekers may be refugees, but all refugees were initially asylum seekers at the international level.

Who are expatriates or immigrants?

Expatriates are those who consciously leave their homeland and live in another country. People usually make such decisions for the sake of a better life or out of professional advantage.

Who are migrants?

Those who do not leave the country permanently. Immigrants are those who leave their home country for a short period of time to study or work.

These are phrases used to describe people moving from one country to another for education or employment or forced exile.

But the second generation, who are born and raised in another country as citizens of that country, are not expatriates or immigrants. Again, a child who has parents from two different countries, settled in either or a third country cannot be called an immigrant or a migrant.

Let’s say a Bangladeshi and a British are married and live in the UK or a third country, Canada. Their child is a British or Canadian citizen by birth. What will be the identity of that child for Bangladesh—immigrant or expatriate?

Neither. We can explain that the child is of Bangladeshi origin. More specifically, a Bangladeshi diaspora.

For example, Manika Ali is not a Bangladeshi expatriate or immigrant writer. She is a Bangladeshi diaspora writer. As a result, diaspora in the broadest sense means all kinds of people living in these situations.

The practical necessity of the word diaspora is well explained by Professor Kevin Kenny, Professor of English. He noted the ideological differences:

“The word diaspora is everywhere. It is increasingly widespread in academic, journalistic, political, and popular usage. But what does diaspora mean?… If diaspora is merely a synonym for migration, why is the word necessary?… Diaspora is best approached not as a social entity that can be measured but as an idea that helps explain the world migration creates. As a concept, diaspora produces powerful distortions, depending on how the term is used and for what perposes.” [Kevin Kenny, Diaspora: A very Short Intruduction, Oxford University Press 2013]

Some have also suggested creating a suitable Bengali synonym for the word diaspora. They suggest that hybrid phrase ‘Diaspora Literature’ sounds somewhat odd. It would be commendable to be able to come up with a suitable synonym. My personal opinion, however, is that in some cases the adoption of foreign words enhances the beauty and diversity of the language, makes it rich. No language in the world is pure.  They are all hybrid to some extent. Moreover, the word diaspora renders an irreplacable value to the context with its unique historical bearing.

Diaspora Literature

Diaspora Literature is what a writer writes in in a diasporic situation, that is, living in exile for some reason or leaving his country in search of a livelihood. Similarly, diaspora theater, film and painting have now become individual subjects of study and research.

Now the question is, can what a writer writes in a diasporic state be considered Diaspora Literature? Would it be Diaspora Literature if they did not write about the crisis of immigrant life and the nostalgia for their native country, and the time of erosion or the new life as a stranger?

In one sense, it will be, and not in another. Direct Diaspora Literature is the literary creation where the conflicts of a diaspora existence located between the homeland and the host country are expressed. And if a writer writes about the crisis or public life of the country in which they are living or on any socio-political issue of the native country, then that particular text will not be considered direct diasporic text.

However, indirectly, that is, the text of a diasporic author will be considered the reason why an author writes in the context of their homeland (first generation diaspora writers) or patriarchy (second generation diaspora writers).

That is why when Indian diaspora writer Salman Rushdie wrote Midnight’s Children on the history of the creation of India and Pakistan and the moment when Bangladesh became independent, he was accused of ‘distorting history’ of India. And Rushdie was not then considered by Indian readers as a diasporic writer or a reliable narrator of his country’s history. As a result, Midnight Children is not a diasporic text but is studied as the work of a diasporic author.

Most of the diasporic writers who have been ruling Europe and America for several years now are mostly greater-Asians. In this case, we see that all these diasporic writers are more accepted in Europe and America than in their homelands. Kazuo Ishiguro, an Asian diasporic writer who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2017, says that the reason for this acceptance of diasporic writers is:

“Part of the reason that I was able to make my career as a novelist very rapidly in Britain in the 1980s was because there was – just at the time when I started to write – a great hunger for this kind of new internationalism…publishers in London and literary critics and journalists in London suddenly wanted to discover a new generation of writers who would be quite different from your typical older generation of English writers…And I think I was almost kind of allowed onto the literary scene because I seemed to be an international writer.” [Interview: Paris Review, January Magazine, Interviewed by Linda Richards]

Diaspora Literatur usuallly deal with a s a number of concerns, such as: leaving home, forgetting about one’s homeland, feeling lonely in a new land, compromising, building a new identity, feeling stuck between  the cultures and histories of the two countries, etc. For these reasons, diaspora is told to belong to the post-nationalist era.

The Bihari Diaspora Literature of Bangladesh

The partition of India on the basis of religion in 1947 created internal diaspora bubbles within the countries of the region. Thousands of Muslims from India left their homeland and came to Pakistan and Bangladesh. Similarly, thousands of Hindus from this region migrated to India. Many others moved to Europe and America. All non-Bengalis who came to Bangladesh from Uttar Pradesh, Maharashtra, Gujarat and Calcutta, including the Indian state of Bihar, on the basis of Hindu-Muslim riots and the partition, are identified in Bangladesh as Biharis.

According to a survey conducted in the late sixties, two million Urdu speakers came to East Pakistan. They came to undivided Pakistan, not today’s Bangladesh. They wanted to be the citizens of Pakistan. As a result, many Bihari Bengalis joined the Pakistani army during the war of liberation. Even after the emergence of Bangladesh as an independent state after the war of liberation, anti-Bangladesh did not go away. They were forced to stay because Pakistan did not accept them.

Although the body is here, the mind was in Pakistan. Bangladeshi Biharis did not suffer from remorse and nostalgia for leaving their homeland Bihar or India; they wept for Pakistan that the state was never theirs. As a result, their position has become more complex than that of other diaspora populations. Their homeland India is now a foreign country. There lies their past, which they no longer acknowledge. On the other hand, the future lies in Pakistan, the country that did not accept them.

They could not accept their present homeland Bangladesh as their own because an imaginary state of Pakistan existed in their minds. The reason why the Bengalis could not adopt the Biharis is because, as I have said before, the Biharis left their native India to become citizens of the state of Pakistan. Even though Bangladesh beacame an independent state, Pakistan stayed as their dream land. Abdul Qayyum Khan, a resident of Hatikhana camp in Syedpur town, said, “When riots broke out in India, we moved here. We were Muslims, Urdu is our language. I came here thinking of Pakistan as my own country. We have always wanted to go to Pakistan.” [Why Urdu speakers could not integrate into the mainstream of Bangladesh?, Farhana Parveen, BBC Bangla]

Pakistani television channels are popular in almost every Bihari camp in Bangladesh. When Bangladesh and Pakistan face each other in cricket, the flag of Pakistan is flown in these camps. Other times the Pakistani flag is seen flying. There are also various organizations in the name of Pakistan.

We see the pull of the native country everywhere within the diaspora. That is why V.S. Naipaul was born and raised in Trinidad but it never featured as the center of his literature. , India, to put it bluntly, the Indians who live in Trinidad. Ishiguro, a British-Japanese Nobel Laureate who left Japan as a child, did not maintain any ties with Japan, but placed Japan at the center of his novels.

Diaspora writers like Jhumpa Lahiri, Bharati Mukherjee, Amy Tan, Rohinton Mistry have done the same. But their difference with Bihari-Bangladeshis is that Bihari-Bangladeshi Urdu-speaking writers do not write in Bengali—the language of the host country or hostland. The big difference is that Bihar or India is not at the center of their literature.  Bangladesh is at the center of some, Pakistan is at the center of some, no one is at the center, that is, they have not yet cleared the place of self-identity.

Now the question is, the progressive Biharis who have accepted Bangladeshi passports, the ones who, since the beginning of the freedom struggle were in favor of the creation of Bangladesh, those who defended the Bengali language, those who, in general, have tried to build their identity as Bangladeshis, have they been able to be completely free from hatred? Free themselves from the doubt? It cannot be said that some of them did not have to be victims of the collective consciousness that has developed from a tumultuous historical event.

Because the Bihari identity is confined to a thick frame, the Bihari-Bangladeshi or Bangladeshi-American or Bangladeshi-American hyphenated identity has not been recognized with dignity in the way it has been established today. Another reason is language. Urdu was the language of the then ruling class of East Pakistan. This language was imposed on the Bengalis. We also had to give our lives to establish the status of the Bengali language.

As a result, along with the anti-Pakistan sentiment, the anti-Urdu consciousness also seems to be at work. But clearly the struggle to establish the status of Bengali language was not an anti-Urdu movement. Urdu is not the language of the majority in Pakistan, just as Bengali is the language of Bangladesh. Our language movement respects the consciousness of any language-speaking people to love their mother tongue. In Bangladesh, Biharis will speak Urdu as their mother tongue and practice literature. This is not against the spirit of our language movement. As a result, when Shamim Zamanvi wrote in his poem:

Take all my possessions, but do not take away my language.
It is the legacy of my culture
my heritage.
My language is for my people
Its identity..

[Translated to English from Urdu by Farhat Biviji]

Then we cannot deny his sense of entitlement. But the whole nation is not governed by this civic feeling. As a result, Urdu-speaking poets, many of whom are now Bangladeshis in consciousness and identity, have not been able to blend into the mainstream of Bangladesh. Writing in English is not the way to become a Bangladeshi writer with dignity, while writing in Urdu is not possible. I don’t know if any other diaspora in the world has had to go through such a language crisis. In this situation, Bangladeshi Urdu writers can respond to a crisis.

They call it Urdu literature. In other words, do they consider their creations an asset of Urdu literature? Although literature was once practiced here in Urdu, since there is not much discernible legacy of Urdu literature in independent Bangladesh, it has largely become a part of the Urdu literary canon of Pakistan. One of the reasons for this is that Urdu is the state language of an independent state called Pakistan.

The second reason is, numerous works of Bangladeshi Urdu writers get published in Pakistani newspapers. Therefore, the liberation war of Bangladesh and the Bengali cultural ideology do not feature as the subject of their stories and poems. Instead, they compose literature from a global or universal place, which does not prevent them from becoming a part of Urdu literature in Pakistan. Of course, there are some significant exceptions too.

For example, the life of the camp has become the main subject of the writing of poet-storyteller Qasim Anis. Apart from this, he has written about various contemporary issues of Bangladesh. Ahmed Elias writes about his life in the Geneva camp:

Why do I feel fear and shame
When I venture into this filth ridden place
Why do I not like these crying, whimpering children
Why do I like tall buildings
Why do shabby huts feel like hell?

[Khudkushi, translated to English from Urdu by Rukhsana Choudhury, A Search for the ‘Self’]

Bangladeshi Urdu-speaking writers need a different identity to express their uniqueness and experience. Calling it ‘Urdu-language Bangladeshi literature’ or ‘Bangladeshi Urdu-literature’ instead of ‘Urdu-literature’ will create a tradition of Urdu-language literature in Bangladesh.

As Ahmed Ilyas, a Bangladeshi writer in Urdu, named his book ‘Bihari Bangladeshi Indian Residents’, I asked the poet Shamim Zamanvi why Bihari literature written in Urdu is not called ‘Bihari literature’ but ‘Urdu literature’. He said that they are now talking about Bangladeshi Urdu literature.

Bihari literature is not meant to be said because not all Urdu-speaking people in Bangladesh come from the Indian state of Bihar. So not everyone is Bihari. Moreover, Shamim Zamanvi does not identify himself as Bihari, he considers himself an Urdu-speaking Bangladeshi. In his commentary, many poets and writers no longer feel comfortable with their ‘Bihari’ identity. Asked if there was any problem with their acceptance in the so-called Bihari community, he said, “once upon a time”.

They had to face various problems in the Bihari camp. Many Biharis could not accept their becoming ‘Bangladeshis’. However, he said that the problem is not happening now. I have raised the issue because if we can create a distinct literary tradition for Urdu-speaking Bangladeshis, a new generation of Bangladeshi Urdu-speaking writers will have the courage to write stories and poems from more regional or national places. They will be able to create a new style of literature by fusing the tradition of Bengali literature with the tradition of Urdu literature.

At present, there are three to three and a half lakh Urdu speaking people in 116 camps in thirteen different regions of Bangladesh. Recently, the government of Bangladesh has recognized Urdu speakers as citizens of Bangladesh by order of the Supreme Court. The second and third generation of Biharis are now growing. Despite being recognized as citizens of Bangladesh, Biharis have not yet been able to free them from suspicion.

There hasve been allegations that some Biharis maintain contact with the Pakistani ruling parties and act as informants. Bangladesh is a multi-ethnic state, Biharis do not need to be Bengali here, but they need to be Bangladeshi in heart. Poet Ahmed Elias has done just that. He declares in the poem:

Chabbees March

Apni pehchan ko hai bhulane ka din
Apni pehchan phir se banana ka din
Ghar ujadney ka din, ghar basaney ka din. [Jukhm Shaakh-e-Hijr ka]

Unlike Elias, most Biharis could not think of independent Bangladesh as their homeland. That is why the Bengalis could not think of Biharis as  representatives of poets like Ilyas. Majority of the Biharis consider themesleves as belonging to  Pakistan and not  Bangladesh.  As a result, in this diasporic location, a crisis of identity is being created among the Bihari poets in a different way. On the one hand, they do not always agree with their own people, on the other hand, they always have to ‘prove’ themselves to the local people.

Some of the new generation Bihari intelligentsia are writing in Bengali in an attempt to build self-identity. They take Bangladesh as ‘home’ and ‘homeland’. One such poet is Hasan Ibn Ismail. He lives in the Geneva camp in Dhaka. Hassan thinks he is treated like a stranger in his own home. He claimed that he was being singled out for the word ‘Bihari’. Through poetry, Hasan wants to establish his identity as a Bangladeshi for the new generation of Biharis. Stuck in the midst of hope and despair, Hassan writes:

When my hearth and home is set ablaze
Surely, tears will quench the fire
Life will become unbearable, I had no clue
Truth will be punished, I had no clue
Strange faces everywhere
Surely, my identity will be revealed
Reality is harsh, this is the truth Hasan
Some will give life and some, death.

A Search for the Self: Trials and Tribulations of Urdu Writers in Bangladesh]

In the recent times, poet and translator Haikel Hashmi offers crucial service to the Urdu literature of Bangladesh. The son of poet Nowshad Noori, Haykel Hashmi writes and translates in Urdu, Bengali and English. He has edited two collections of Urdu short stories in Bangladesh from Galpakar magazine. In the introduction to the book, Hashmi writes: “Just as the writings of selected writers reflect the people and the soil of this country, so do the beauty and nature of this country.”

Poet Haikel Hashmi is one of the notable poets of Bengali and Urdu. The heart of his works is his homeland—the soil and people of Bangladesh.

There is a Bengali-Urdu Literary Foundation. Established in 2006 as a collaborative initiative between much acclaimed poet Asad Chowdhury Kamal Lohani and many others. A Bengali translation of a Bangladeshi Urdu poem has been published under the title Arshinagar Near Home edited by Asad Chowdhury.

My guess is that the Urdu poets, who are members of this foundation, are committed to address their Bangladeshi identity. However, since, they write in Urdu, some of which still gets published in Pakistani newspapers, it becomes clear that, the way we have severed our ties with Pakistan, many of them haven’t been able to yet.

Many learn two languages ​​if they live in a foreign country—the native tongue and the language of the country of refuge. Some even write in two languages. Bihari Bangladeshi writers did not do that very much. I have seen some poets reaching out and communicating with Pakistan via social media but are not able to do the same with Bangladeshi Bengalis. Some are writing in English but more often than not their subject remains international or Pakistani.

Practicing bilingualism surely would have increased their acceptance in Bangladesh. We can say that Indian diaspora writers like Naipaul, Rushdie, Jhumpa Lahiri, Bharati Mukherjee, Rohinton Mistry or Pakistani diaspora writers like Hanif Quraishi, Mohsin Hamid would not have received readership if they if their medium was their native tongue, Hindi or Urdu.

Most acclaimed diaspora writers are seen to have always adopted the language and culture of the host country. They have shown that it can be done without completely sacrificing one’s identity. As Bharati Mukherjee had said, “I want to be American but keep my Indian identity intact.” Reading the poems of some Bihari Bangladeshi poets, I felt that Bihari-Bangladeshi writers could not assimilate the dual identity so strongly. However, at this stage I would like to expand briefly about some of the few who have succeeded, who have become Bangladeshis in their minds and hearts.

Ahmed Ilyas is one of the famous Urdu poets of Bangladesh. Born in 1936 in Calcutta, he came to Dhaka after partition in 1953. He has written articles for the Bengali language. When Rabindra Sangeet was banned, he raised his voice against Ayub Khan. Ahmed Ilyas represented the only newly independent Urdu literature in Bangladesh at the World Urdu Conference held in Delhi in 1972. Due to him, the flag of Bangladesh was flown at that event in Delhi that day. His poems are regularly published in famous newspapers of Dhaka, Karachi, Kolkata and Lahore. So far, he has six books of poetry to his name. His important research work on Bangladeshi Urdu speakers is ‘Bihari: Indian Emegrees in Bangladesh’. A series of studies on literary practice in Bengali and Urdu will soon be out as a book. In Ahmed Elias’s poem, the issue of homelessness and reminiscence occurs frequently.

Separation did not enable me to live alone
The very walls are crowded with memories
Faint traces appear every moment
Scenes of the past are still there in my eyes.

[Translated from Urdu: Rukhsana Chaudhuri, A Search for the Self: Trials and Tribulations of Urdu Writers in Bangladesh]

Another poem goes…

The townspeople have divided the earth amongst them
The village has no home for me now
Even the sky has rejected us
They say that this land is not trustworthy anymore
In sleep, spent the whole night in travel
When awake, found no signs of the journey anywhere.

[Translated from Urdu: Rukhsana Chaudhuri, A Search for the ‘Self’: Trials and Tribulations of Urdu Writers in Bangladesh]

The pain of adapting to a new country is expressed in another way in Salimullah Fahmi’s poem:

Meri zindagi hai woh zindagi
ke khushi ka jis me asr nahi
mere saath shaam hi shaam hai
mere raaste me sehar nahi.

“My Life is that life
The one without the affects of joy
With me only evening stays
On my road, there are no dawn”

(translation by Bishnupriya Chowdhuri)

Another Urdu-speaking writer from Bangladesh was Joynal Abedin. He was born in an undivided subcontinent where India, Bangladesh and Pakistan were one. Joynal was born on 15th January, 1937, in Allahabad, Uttar Pradesh, India. This used to be his original home. The family moved from Bihar, their ancestral home to his father’s workplace Syedpur, then East Pakistan, in 1947. He passed matriculation from Syedpur. After the death of his parents he moved to Dhaka. He originally wrote stories. His writings were regularly published in eminent Urdu literary magazines. Pakistan’s daily Dawn says he has written between 100 and 125 stories. One of his famous stories was called Sat Bhai Champa. He has translated Akhtaruzzaman Ilyas’s Chilekothar Sepai into Urdu, which has not yet been published. After the war of independence, his house was occupied because it was an Urdu-speaking household. A few days later, he went to Dhanmondi. Seeing Joynal, Bangabandhu asked, “What do you want?”

“A passport,” Joynal answered. Within three days he got the passport. The address was 18 Artillery or National Press Club. Joynal Abedin has scripted at least five Urdu films, including the popular film Chakori, based in dhaka. He wrote screenplays and songs for Bengali films too. He is the composer and composer of Dhaka’s first color film Sangam. He also wrote the dialogue for the Bengali film Janata Express. [References: Mananey Mukta, Jiboney Eka, Prakrititey Udar: Ekjon Joynal abedin (Free in mind, alone in life, generous in nature: a Joynal Abedin/Kazim Reza, Jugantar Sahitya Magazine]

Nowshad Noori is another leading Urdu poet of Bangladesh. He was born in 1928 in a zamindar family in Bihar, British India. In 1949, at the invitation of US President Harry S. Truman, the Communist Party of India and the Writers’ Association held a public meeting in Patna in protest of Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru’s visit to Washington. Nowshad Noori recited his famous poem Vikhari at this gathering. Bihar authorities issued an arrest warrant against Nowshad Noori for reciting the poem. He moved to Dhaka in 1951 to avoid arrest. He had a job in the military audit and account department. Posting was in Quetta, then West Pakistan. He was forced to resign in protest of the imposition of Urdu on Bengalis in his poem Mohenjodaro written in 1952. He left his job and returned to Dhaka in 1970. Back in Dhaka, Nowshad Noori opened a bookstore. Besides, he took a job in a private company. In 1986, he joined the Urdu weekly Rudad, published under the patronage of Maulana Abdul Hamid Khan Bhasani. He joined Jarida, another Urdu weekly published in 1961-1971 under the patronage of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. [References: Nowshad Noori! Poet speaking in the delta of oblivion/Ashraf Siddiqui, Parivartan.com]

Here are two poems by Nowshad Noori in  Bengali and in English translation:

আঙুলগুলো সব ক্ষত বিক্ষত, কবিতা লিখি কীভাবে?
ঘা খাওয়া আক্রান্ত কলম আমার, কেমন করে লিখব স্তুতিবাক্য?
পাথরের তলায় দণ্ডিত এই হাত,
লক্ষ্যভেদ হয়েছে যখনই
পালিয়ে ছুটেছে এটা ওটা নানান ছুতোয়
মৃত্যুদণ্ডে দণ্ডিত হয়েছে সে কদাচিৎ। 

চোখ বেয়ে অশ্রু ঝরে পড়ে
পাহাড় থেকে নেমে আসা নদীর মতন।
গভীর সমুদ্রর সন্ধানে উদ্বেল
অলক্ষ্যে অতিক্রম করে যায় প্রান্ত থেকে প্রান্ত;
অশ্রুজলের সমুদ্র কোথায়?
নদীর স্রোত যেখানে বিলীন হবে উদ্যত তরঙ্গে ।

 আহত আঙুল থেকে ছুটে আসে রক্তের তরঙ্গরাজি
আক্রান্ত কলমের ক্ষত থেকে রক্তের তরঙ্গ উপচে পড়ে
এই প্রবল প্র¯্রবণের সব গন্তব্যই যে অভিন্ন
জোয়ার ভাটার দোলায় এই বিশ্বের শেকড় গাঁথা,
বিশাল সমুদ্দুর তাকিয়ে থাকে কার দিকে?

[চাঁদ আর সমুদ্দুর, নওশাদ নূরী, অনুবাদ: মিজারুল কায়েস]

কোনো ভোরের আশা যদি জাগে নিদ্রায়
তখন ঊষার আলোর জন্ম হয় স্বপ্নে
যদি কোনো বসন্তের আগমনের আবির্ভাব ঘটে মনে
উন্মাদনার তীব্রবেগের উৎপত্তি তখন পাতাঝরা মৌসুমে
কোনো বন্য হরিণের সন্ধান যদি জাগে মনে
নোঙর ফেলি সমুদ্র তীরে, খুঁজি চাঁদের তরঙ্গে । 
ভোর, বসন্ত, মৃগ, সৈকত, জ্যোৎস্নাভরা রাত
প্রতিটি জিনিষ রয়েছে আমার নাগালের বাইরে
আমার চেতনা, আমার অঙ্গ প্রত্যঙ্গ, আমার ভাবনা
মনের ভীরে এই অধিবাসীদের বসবাস
কিন্তু সবই আমার নিয়ন্ত্রণের বাইরে
আমার বোধশক্তি বন্দি, উন্মাদনা কয়েদি, দৃঢ়সঙ্কল্প হাতকড়া পরিহিত
শুধু কারারুদ্ধতার অনুভূতি রয়েছে কারাগারের বাইরে।

[কারারুদ্ধ, অনুবাদ, হাইকেল হাশমী, কবিপুত্র]

Fingers are all bruised, how do I write poetry?
My pen, afflicted and wounded how can I make a hymn?
This hand punished under the stone,
Whenever there is a target
He ran away for various reasons
He has seldom been sentenced to death.
Tears well up in my eyes
Like a river coming gushing from a mountain.
Overflowing in search of the deep sea
Goes from invisible to invisible;
Where is the sea of ​​tears?
Where the current of the river will disappear in the rising waves.
Waves of blood rushed from the injured finger
Blood waves gushing from the wound of the affected pen
All the destinations of this strong influence are the same
The roots of this world at the ebb and flow of the tide,
Who is looking at the huge sea?

 [Moon and the sea, Nowshad Noori, Translation: Mizarul Kayes]

If you wake up in the hope of a dawn
Then the light of dawn is born in a dream
If the arrival of a spring seems to occur
The origin of the insanity is then in the fall season
Feel free to search for any wild deer
I anchored on the beach, in the waves of the moon.
Dawn, spring, deer, beach, moonlit night
Everything is out of my reach
My consciousness, my limbs, my thoughts
These inhabitants live in the depths of the mind
But everything is out of my control
My mind is a prisoner, a prisoner of insanity, a determined handcuff
There is only the feeling of imprisonment outside the prison.

[Imprisoned, translated, Haikel Hashmi, son of a poet]

He writes about carrying the Shahadat of Bangabandhu (Sheikh Mujibur Rahman)on the 15^th august of ’75 in his poem “Utthan Utsa” (trans. Source of Rising)

One who is there,  is there
Present as endless power
immortal, he has no death.

[Translation by Asad Chowdhury]

… সে আছে, সে আছে—

সর্বদা হাজির সে যে, অফুরান শক্তি হয়ে
সে আছে, সে আছে
সে অমর, মৃত্যুঞ্জয়ী, মৃত্যু নেই তার।  

After the burial of Bangabandhu on 16 August 1975, he wrote a poem called Tungipara. The poem goes:

Do you know? Do you know?  
The path that began from here,
Alas , Lost the way, , here too.

[Translation by Asad Chowdhury]

তোমরা কি জানো? তোমরা কী জানো?
পথের শুরুটা হয়েছিল এইখানে,
পথ খোয়া গেল, হায়, সেও এইখানে।

We find Bihari Bangladeshi poet Ahmed Sadi as a devotee and servant of Bengali literature. Saadi was born in 1923. He lived in Syedpur. Saadi’s unique contribution to Bengali literature is that he translated selected poems of the national poet of Bangladesh, Kazi Nazrul Islam, into Urdu. Kazi Nazrul Islam Ki Muntakhab Nazme O Geet was published by Nazrul Institute in 2006, three years after his death. He had earlier translated Manik Banerjee’s writings for an Urdu magazine published from Delhi. Apart from that,  has also translated works of Alauddin Al Azad, Abdul Gaffar Chowdhury, Fazal Shahabuddin. Shawkat Osman and Syed Shamsul Haque. According to family sources, he translated Kari Diye Kinlam of  Bimal Kar.  Many of his translated manuscripts were lost during the war of liberation. [Source: Ahmed Saadi: Bangladesh’s Urdu poet, E. A. M Asaduzzaman, Daily Star]

Along with Salimullah Fahmi (1905-1975), Ahsan Ahmed Ashak (1914-1993), Shah Mohammad Shafi Firdausi (1878-1950), Syed Yusuf Hasan (1924-1995), Jamal Mashraqi (1942-1997), Maher Faridi (1934-1991), there are other notable contemporary writers such as, Qasim Anis, Kamruzzaman Taleb Kabir, Arman Shamsi, Enayetullah Siddiqui, Jamil Akhtar, Shamim Zamanvi, Syed Afzal Hossain, Syeda Fatima Islam Rozi from Chittagong; Anwarul Haque, Nazar Niazi from Chittagong. Maulana Ashraf Bihari; Chishti Talib Hasan Talib from Khulna, Afzal Hossain, Qurban Ali; Mohammad Mustafa Ansari from Rangpur; Ashraful Haque Sagar from Syedpur, Riaz Riaz Rafiq, Shawkat Noor, Rakib Akbar; and Jakhmi from Jessore. [Source: Inside Bihari Camps: A Study of the Urdu Literature Produced in Dhaka Mohammad Kasifur Rahman]

লিখেন সাম্বাদিক সাব আমি বিহারি
পাটনা জেলায় ক্ষেতি ছিল হামাদের
আব্বাজান রেলওয়ের গুমটিগার্ড
সোয়ামিও রেলে লাইনম্যান
হামাদের চমন পুড়ে নতুন পতাকা হলো
যখন এলাম প্রথম পাকিস্তান মালগাড়িতে দিন গুজরান
আজও কানে বাজে শান্টিং ইঞ্জিন
এ কলোনি ও কলোনি
কেটে গেলো জিন্দেগির দিন; 

তারপর কী ঘটল মুলুকে বাঙাল
সেবারে পুড়েছিল ঘর এবারে কপাল
স্বামী শান্তাহারে খুন হলো মেয়ে–জামাই ময়মনসিংয়ে
দিনাজপুরে ছেলেকে ডেকে নিল মিটিং বলে
৩৬ বছর পার হলো সে মিটিং আজও শেষ হলো না! 

লিখেন এনজিও আপা আমি বিহারি
মেজ ছেলে অনেক তকলিপ করে পালিয়েছে পাকিস্তান
আরেক মেয়েও করাচি রঙ্গি টাউন
বাইশ বছর ওদের সুরত দেখি না
আর ছোট ছেলেটা গুল্লু
ভিসার অপেক্ষায়
দারু খায় আর কী কী যেন খায় জোয়ান ছেলেরা
ক্যাম্পে তো আসমান নেই ফেরেশতারা তাই দেখতে পান না!

 লিখেন বিদেশি স্যার আমি বিহারি
কিতনা জেনারেল আয়া গ্যায়া
লেকিন ম্যায় আজ ভী ইন্তেজার মে হুঁ
কব যায়েঙ্গে পাকিস্তান
ইয়া কবরিস্থান!
চোখে হামার ছানি এখন ভালো দেখি না
শুধু ইয়াদ হয় পাটনায় আমাদের ক্ষেতির কথা 

আর ভালো লাগে ঝরঝর বর্ষা বাংলার
যেন তা সমান আমার কান্নার আর
রাতের খোয়াব দেখি পাকিস্তানের পাহাড়

লেকিন আপসোস খোদাকা এতনা বড়া দুনিয়ায়
কোনো মুলুকেই মাকান নেই হামার;
ইয়ে সাম্বাদিক সাব, ইয়ে এনজিও আপা, ইয়ে বিদেশি স্যার
আপা জারা জিন্নাহ সাব সে পুঁছিয়ে না
মেরা ওয়াতান কিধার?

 জি, লিখ লিজিয়ে…ম্যায় বিহারি হুঁ!

[‘বৃদ্ধা বিহারি’, তানভীর মোকাম্মেল, দৈনিক প্রথম আলো সাহিত্য সাময়িকী]

Take a note, journalist sir, I Bihari
                had a farm in Patna district
Gumtigard of Abbajan Railway
My man too, a Rail Lineman
the lawn was burnt and a new flag, raised
When I first arrived, I spent a day in a Pakistani wagon
Even today, I can hear the shunting engine go
this colony and that one
Gone are the days of life; 

Then what happened to land of Bangal
The house was burnt down this time
Husband killed in Shantahar, daughter in Mymensingh
In Dinajpur, they called the boy son for a meeting a
36 years have passed and the meeting is not over yet !

 NGO Apa, note down, I, a Bihari
The elder one fled to Pakistan after a hastle  
Another girl, too, to Karachi, Rangi Town
Haven’t seen those face in twenty two years
And the little boy, Gullu
Awaits a visa
Drinks and feeds on stuff the those boys eat
There is no sky in the camp, so the angels cannot not see!

 Oye Foreigner, write, I am Bihari
How many generals came and went,
But still I wait
When do I go to Pakistan
Oh my graveyard!
Cataracts in the eyes, I cannot see too well
Just remember our farm in Patna

 And I like the gushing rains of this Bengal
Similar to my tears
I see those mountains of Pakistan in sleep
But alas God! such a big world
We have neither a home nor a land ;

 Yeh journalist Saab, Yeh NGO Apa, Yeh foreigner Sir
Please can you ask Jinnah saab
Where is Mera Watan? 
Yes, take a note … I, a Bihari!

[‘Vriddha Bihari’, Tanvir Mokammel, Daily Prothom Alo Sahitya Magazine]

Rohingya Diaspora in Bangladesh

Bangladesh declared it illegal and did not force the deportation of Urdu-speaking Muslims from India. The Myanmar government has declared the Rohingya, a Muslim minority, as illegal immigrants to Bangladesh, forcing them to flee the country after being tortured by the country’s security forces and extremist Buddhists. Rohingya refugees have been living as refugees in Bangladesh since 1980. The total number of Rohingyas in the official biometric registration completed in 2016 is 11,17,558 people. All of them are residents of the 30 camps set up in Ukhia and Teknaf. There are many Rohingyas outside the camp, according to government and private sources. [References: Daily Our Time]

Everyone is concerned about the basic needs of the homeless Rohingyas—food, clothing, shelter, and medical care. The time has not yet come to think about their cultural crisis. The issue of their survival and healthy rehabilitation in their homeland is now under discussion. But there is no denying that the issue of homelessness and identity crisis has exacerbated the plight of educated Rohingyas. Some of these appearances have also started to happen through writing. We have seen the final form of the internal diaspora of South Asia before and after the partition of 1947. After that, the issue of diaspora did not stop by force. Even after the independence of Bangladesh, Hindus went to India, from Bangladesh and Pakistan, though not large masses but in scattered groups or as a family. The situation of Indian Biharis in Bangladesh has already been discussed. The latest blow came on the Rohingyas. As a host country, Bangladesh is also going through a difficult crisis.

The first of the four Rohingya poets I am presenting here is Ali Zohar, a Rohingya rights activist who took refuge in India in 2012 as a refugee. He wrote the poem I am a Rohingya from a diasporic position about the Rohingya ethnicity and the crisis of their diaspora life. I am quoting from a long poem. The identity of the poet Nojongi Miro is not known. Poet Haikal Mansur lives in Ireland, forever in  exile. The identity of the last poet Maulana Zafar was also not found. Everyone’s poems have touching descriptions of how they are being persecuted in Myanmar. Intense love and affection for the motherland has been revealed. All the poets are suffering from nostalgia for their motherland due to living in exile or being a refugee. The inhuman sufferings they are suffering as refugees arealso mentioned in their poems.

কখনো আমি পেরিয়ে চলেছি অচেনা সীমান্ত,
কখনোবা আমি সেখান থেকেও বিতাড়িত।
কখনোবা আমি পরিণত হচ্ছি উন্মত্ত সাগরের নির্মম আহারে,
কখনোবা চোরাইমালের মত আমিও পাচার হয়ে চলেছি অজানা কোন ঠিকানায়।
বন্ধু! আমি এক রোহিঙ্গা
কেউ ভাবে আমি দেশহীন,
কেউ বলে আমি উদ্বাস্তু,
কেউ বলে আমি ভিনদেশী,
আবার কেউ হয়তো উপলব্ধি করে প্রকৃত আমাকে।
কোথাও আমায় ‘কালার’ বলে ডাকা হয়
কোথাও বলা হয় ‘বাঙালি’
কেউ বলে আমি নাকি ‘আরব’!
কিন্তু জেনে রাখুক সবাই, আমি ওদের কেউ নই।
বন্ধু! আমি এক রোহিঙ্গা
কোথাও আমি আমার পরিচিতি লুকাতে বাধ্য হই
কোথাওবা তা ছিনতাই হয়ে যায়;
কোথাও হয়তো মিলতে পারে আমার নাগরিকত্ব,
কোথাও আমি এক অনুপ্রবেশকারী অসংস্কৃতজন।

[আমি রোহিঙ্গা, আলী যোহার, www.tdnbangla.com/entertainment/litlature/poetry/i-am-rohingya/]

Sometimes I cross unfamiliar borders,
Sometimes I get expelled from there.
Sometimes I turn into the cruel food of the mad sea,
Like smuggled good I am trafficked to an unknown address.
Friend! I am a Rohingya
stateless,
Some say I’m a refugee,
Some say I’m a foreigner,
no one realizes the real me.
Somewhere they call me ‘color’
Somewhere, ‘Bengali’
Some say I am ‘Arab’!
But know, I am none of them.
Friend! I am a Rohingya
I was forced to hide my identity
Somewhere it is snatched away;
My citizenship may match somewhere,
Somewhere I am an intruder uncivilized.

[I am Rohingya, Ali Johar, www.tdnbangla.com/entertainment/litlature/poetry/i-am-rohingya/]

ওরা আমাদের কৃষ্টি–সংস্কৃতির কথা বলতে দিচ্ছে না,
আমরা হয়ে উঠতে চাই আমাদের ভাষা—
এটাই প্রকৃতি,
আমরা বেড়ে উঠতে চাই আমাদের ধর্ম নিয়ে—
আমরা বিবেচক মানুষ,
আমাদের ওরা জাতিসত্তা আর চাষবাস নিয়ে
থাকতে দিচ্ছে না।

[মিয়ানমারের রোহিঙ্গা, নোজোঙ্গি মিউরো, অনুবাদ: মাসুদুজ্জামান, সূত্র দৈনিক সমকাল]

এটাই আমার পরিচয়—নক্ষত্রের মতো যা অচঞ্চল, স্থির।
জীবন পরিভ্রমণের পথে কখনোই আমি তাকে হারিয়ে ফেলব না।
যেখানেই যাই আমি, তুমি আমার আত্মপরিচয়টাকে উজ্জ্বল করে তোলো,
আর সংগোপনে তোমার দৃষ্টি থেকে আমার হৃদয়ে ছড়িয়ে দাও আলো।
আমার মনোলোকে তোমার ছবিটি সারাক্ষণ জেগে থাকে।
এটাই আমার আত্মপরিচয়—ক্ষণিকের জন্যে তোমার কাছ থেকে
দৃষ্টি সরিয়ে নিলে আমি হারিয়ে ফেলি আমার মন, আমার পথ।
কোনো কোনো মুহূর্তে যখনই আমার হৃদয় লক্ষ্যহীন দিগ্ভ্রান্ত,
তোমার স্মৃতি তখন আমাকে গভীর লজ্জায় ডুবিয়ে দেয়।

এটাই আমার পরিচয়, তুমিই আমার একক অবিনশ্বর অস্তিত্ব
সুসময়ে ও সংকটে আমার পথে পথে তুমি ঝরাও আলো
হে আমার জীবনের স্থির নক্ষত্র।

[আমার পরিচয়, হাইকল মনসুর, অনুবাদ: মাসুদুজ্জামান, সূত্র দৈনিক সমকাল]

They don’t let us talk about culture,
We want to become our language:
That’s nature,
We want to grow up with our religion:
We are prudent people,
They are about our ethnicity and agriculture
Not allowing.

[Myanmar Rohingya, Nojongi Miro, Translation: Masuduzzaman, Source Daily Samakal]

This is my identity like a star that is immovable, fixed.
I will never lose him on the journey of life.
Wherever I go, you brighten my identity,
And secretly spread the light from my sight to my heart.
Your picture stays awake all the time in my mind.
This is my introduction from you for a moment
When I look away, I lose my mind, my way.
Whenever my heart wanders aimlessly,
Your memory then plunged me into deep shame.

This is my identity, you are my only immortal existence
You shed light on my path in good times and in crisis
O steady star of my life.

[My Introduction, Haykal Mansur, Translation: Masuduzzaman, Source Daily Samakal]

আরাকানের সোনালি ভূমি,
তোকে আমরা অনেক ভালোবাসি,
তোর বুকের উষ্ণ স্পর্শে আমাদের বেঁচে থাকা,
তোকে ছেড়ে আমরা কোথাও থাকতে পারব না।

[আমরা হলাম রোহিঙ্গা জাতি, মওলানা জাফর, অনুবাদ: মাসুদুজ্জামান, সূত্র ঐ]

The golden land of Arakan,
We love you so much
Survive us with the warm touch of your chest,
We can’t stay anywhere without you.

[We are the Rohingya nation, Maulana Zafar, translation: Masuduzzaman, Source Daily Samakal]

Many documentaries have been made with the help of local diaspora about this forced diasporic population. However, the first duo fiction I saw under the title Janmabhoomi was made by Bangladeshi film director Prasoon Rahman. The movie can be studied from a diasporic perspective. Highlighted here is the longing of a pregnant Rohingya woman to return to her homeland. Sophia is one of the 75,000 pregnant Rohingya women have come to Bangladesh. She does not want to build the future of her unborn child in an 8-feet by 10-feet house in a refugee camp. He says firmly: “Home, house, mind—everything is lying on my ground. Only the body is here. I don’t want to give birth to my children in this refugee camp, I want to go back to my village.”

The director said that the reason for choosing the name ‘Sophia’ was:

“When I was thinking about the story, a robot named Sophia was traveling in different countries. Several other countries, including Saudi Arabia, have given the robot honorary citizenship. It seemed then that I would tell the story of a flesh-and-blood Sophia, who has no citizenship. We grow up in the light and air of the same world. On the one hand, one million people are being evicted from their land, no one is giving them citizenship—at the same time, we are giving citizenship to a robot!” –  Birthland of the Rohingya Chronicle, Ismat Mumu, Dainik Kaler Kantha, 13^th, December, 2018