Professor Dr. Fakrul Alam

The year 2025 was one of the worst years of my life. The main reason for this is that two of the men I loved, valued, and most enjoyed spending time with left me that year, as did three of my closest relatives. On 30th April, one of my “best” friends, Kazi Shahidullah was no more. On 10th October, the other person with whom I had spent decades as a colleague and a friend, Syed Manzoorul Islam, left us all. My three relatives were well past eighty, while Shahid had been struggling with a lethal variant of cancer for years when he passed away.  And Manzoor Bhai? He always seemed to be in good health, even in his mid-seventies. Indeed, I would see him quite often on some Dhanmondi road or the other, walking briskly part of the way to the Dhaka University (DU) or University of Liberal Arts Bangladesh (ULAB) campuses, for he was a fitness freak of sorts.

DU, ULAB, or BRAC University, students of all three universities benefited for decades from his flowing, learned, but quite often wit-illuminated lectures. So, did his friends and colleagues. Whether in conversations, speeches delivered on public occasions, or conference presentations, his lectures and talks were sprinkled with humorous examples, compelling anecdotes, and lively moments that brightened up his captivating words. Personally, I valued and benefited most from the addas we had.

Even in his most casual conversations with our group, he would discuss topics of interest or share the books and authors he loved in a manner that invariably enlightened and inspired his listeners. Whether in the DU Arts Building Teacher’s Lounge, or the DU Teacher’s Club, or the Dhaka Club lounge, people from different disciplines and age groups would join him spontaneously. Even his informal comments would enable him to contribute to discussions of issues in a manner that made him well worth listening to. Indeed, he was a true addabaj at heart. His love for casual chatting always showcased his sharp awareness of recent academic, cultural, and political happenings, alongside his deep knowledge of contemporary authors and artists. And as I noted in a tribute, I published on him a few years ago, he was always on the move, mentally as well as physically.

The range of Manzoor Bhai’s acquaintances was truly amazing. Over decades of spending time with him, I came across some of his close Sylheti school and college friends, his DU batch mates and colleagues, artists and cultural personalities he was intimate with, and even acquaintances in business circles who knew and admired him. And then there were writers, journalists and publishers who sought his works, either as readers or as people who were aware of his readership. Whether in Bengali or English, on television talk shows and in brief or extended interviews, he was always visible, a much-admired, much-sought-after personality.

Is it any surprise then that so many people were shocked, traumatized, and upset when he passed away? He was hospitalized at Labaid, Dhanmondi, on 3rd October, and from that day onwards, visitors from different walks of life constantly gathered in the waiting room outside the CCU. When he passed away on 10th October, the outpouring of grief and tears was nothing less than astounding.

On 11th October, Manzoor Bhai was taken to the Central Shaheed Minar where even in pouring rain, thousands of people mourned for him and listened patiently to the eulogies delivered on his death. He was then taken to the Martyred Intellectuals’ Graveyard, where I believe hundreds of people had assembled for the funeral prayers.

I was, of course, devastated emotionally by Manzoor Bhai’s passing away. Unfortunately, I had just been diagnosed with a rather troublesome illness at the time, which prevented me from standing for a long time or venture out into the rain. So, I missed the funeral and was left depressed for weeks.

Even now, it is impossible for me not to remember him for one reason or another. I keep thinking: how could a man with whom I shared a three-hour adda at the Dhaka Club on 1st October, suffer a stroke just two days later, and pass away on the 10th October?

The day we lost him was truly a dark day for us all. But today, marking a full year since his departure, I know that he is not truly gone. He will live with us just as long as our memories endure.