Footholds of Desire

1. Identity maintenance

Multiplicities of belonging, identity as placeholders. Making amends in charted and uncharted territories.

2. Tiptoeing around history

1. Identity maintenance

“My father Niaz Ahmed arrived in East Pakistan in 1964. My grandmother passed away many years before that, so he was raised by his sister and he came here mainly with them. They first settled in Narayanganj and then Mirpur 13.” Emphasizing her connection to locality and country, Mehnaz Akhtar adds, “I was born here.” She says she never felt trapped and objects to being called “stranded Pakistanis” because “in my opinion, I’ve been living here willingly.” The tags of “stranded” and “Bihari” used pejoratively upset her: “Even friends sometimes taunt us saying to our face our language and culture are different, that we are Pakistanis. Why does it matter my father is from ‘that side,’ this is my birthplace. I am not happy that ‘Urdu-speaking Bangladeshi’ passed as a legal category, because when I speak Bangla even with my father, no one can tell I am Urdu-speaking.”

Photo by: Sushanta Kumar Paul

Mehnaz is proud to speak two languages, equally at ease in both, but cannot deny the discrimination and identity crises that come from being an Urdu speaker. “I’ve seen and experienced discrimination for being an Urdu speaker from an early age, made to feel like an outsider, different, as if this isn’t my country too.” By her estimation things have improved and some legal hurdles cleared, but not by enough: “One cannot yet get a passport with a camp address. And how do we eliminate discriminations and attitudes that are socially ingrained?”

2. Tiptoeing around history

Of the three Imambaras in Mirpur, Shahid Hossaini, looks after the largest and most storied – a community pillar that attracts adherents of multiple faiths. As its khadem, Hossaini has witnessed both the Imambara’s expansion and his family’s contributions. For him, serving as a khadem has been a calling. “It started small, every year my family marked Muharram in a big way, but it was at home at first, from which this Imambara grew as more people joined over the years. My family expanded the structure on an adjoining land around 1968 and as followers of Iraq-based shrines, we try to follow those rituals. Now we have soil from Karbala and a tazia made in Iran and Pakistan which we installed in 2013. In one Muharram, the turnout was so high, we distributed sherbet made from 470kg of sugar to the devotees in a day and as is our custom we distribute fruits, sweets every year.” Of the multi-faith attendance, Shahid says, “We have visitors from so many backgrounds, Hindus too, people come here with their problems wishing for miracles, prayers to solve them. I’ve even given prayer incense to a Hindu priest. I fast five days a week and if I didn’t have solid intentions, didn’t have respect for every religion, I couldn’t serve my religion well. I think I couldn’t be (a khadem) for 27 years without God’s grace.”

Photo by: Sushanta Kumar Paul

Shahid’s account of the Imambara’s glories transitions to stories of survival. In a Sunni dominated country, a Shia shrine like an Imambara has an uneasy existence. Though Shahid doesn’t accept the logic of the ill-ease: “Some people try to create unnecessary troubles, some overzealous quarters issue fatwa against us. There are several schools of thought in Islam, so there’s bound to be some differences among them, but that should not be any grounds for disrespect. People must understand that; it is unbecoming to disrespect others for that.” The Imambara’s struggles are also complicated because of its association with “Biharis” – though Shahid was born here, his family migrated to East Pakistan from Kolkata – and detractors abound. “In the past years, we have had officials show up with bulldozers to demolish the shrine. They say we are occupying sidewalks, which isn’t true, still I spent lot of money to reconstruct it giving up some land, but the harassments haven’t stopped. I suspect (the bulldozers) will be here this year too. I’ve to lobby city officials, local MPs, and others, and despite their assurances, the threats loom. The bigger issue is the hostility in general; there are those who think the Imambara isn’t compliant with Bengali customs and culture. Those who think this is a Bihari establishment, (think) it must be demolished. But I didn’t bring my religion from Bihar. This is a house of God and its beauty is that it hosts so many devotees from so many places, backgrounds, and cultures.”