PART VIII

The symphony of our times

THE memory of listening to popular radio programmes still lingers in the mind. Every Friday morning we used to listen eagerly to the programmes for children broadcast on Radio Pakistan, Dhaka. Sunday mornings were earmarked for children’s programme broadcast from All India Radio, Akashbani Kolkata. I still remember the welcome tune of that programme: 

Be a hero in matters spiritual,
Be a hero in work and career.
Hold your head high
There is nothing to fear.
Sunday nights featured programmes of songs by request broadcast by Akashbani Kolkata. I was an eager listener along with chhoto khalamma and apa. It was in that programme we first enjoyed the charming songs of reputed Bengali Indian singer Sandhya Mukherjee. Although childhood could not grasp the meaning of the words of romantic love in the songs, their enchanting tune and thrilling rhythm were captivating.
As children engaged in simple and innocent life, we could not comprehend the courage and patience of our elders, especially parents, in rebuilding life, brick by brick, in a newborn state curved out of the partitioned subcontinent. All of us, brothers and sisters, passed days ofdelight and sweet memories with uncles and aunties in the residence of our grandparents. Looking back, we find that our treasured memories were built on foundations of hard work, great sacrifice and generous love and affection of our elders.
As father was allotted a quarter in the newly-constructed colony for government officers in Azimpur, we left grandparent’s residence in Mahuttuli. This put an end to the first phase of our residence there. We moved to Azimpur where a new phase of our childhood unfurled.
The partition of the subcontinent resulted in the sudden transformation of Dhaka, the district town, into a provincial capital. Nevertheless, it was still without trappings of a large, modern city. We left Kolkata for Dhaka but could not find similar amenities here. Father Mahfuzur Rahman taught English in the Dhaka Intermediate College here before serving in the Krisnanagar College in the 1940s. Driven by inexorable fate he became controller of fertiliser in undivided Bengal and in post-partition East Pakistan. We had a flat in Tarak Datta Road, Park Circus, Kolkata. 
The new state of Pakistan could not initially provide father and us with similar such facilities. We heard from elders that not to speak ofresidential quarters, the fledgling Pakistan government could not even arrange proper office accommodation and stationery for officers and employees. The Eden building, which in pre-1947 days housed the Eden Girls School, was turned into a provincial secretariat overnight. Abundant paper bags used for shopping were transformed into note papers for officials. It was under these circumstances that our parents had to take initial shelter in grandparents’ place. A little more than one year passed when we got the news that Azimpur colony had been completed as quarters for government officers.
I don’t remember, the day or date when we first entered our new flat in the colony. The only things I recollect are mother’s smile of happiness and father’s victorious glances. The walls were full of mellow fragrance of newness. The delicious taste of mashed potatoes, egg curies and plain rice still feel fresh in the mouth.
It is not possible to sketch with fidelity the portrait of Azimpur between 1949 and 1956 when we lived there for the first time. But there is no harm in trying. At that time Azimpur colony was a new and novel experience. It was the abode of mid-level officials of a new state born out ofa bisected subcontinent. People of this area were enthusiastically engaged in adjusting to a new life. The new generation watched wonder-eyed as wilderness got transformed into new settlements. Our varied colourful and sonorous childhood blended perfectly with this great transition.
To be continued.