This is not a regular tribute piece on someone admired and respected passed away recently. On the contrary, it is my unremitting grief for not to have met the deceased despite a number of opportunities.
Annisul Huq is gone for good. He will undeniably be missed by his family, friends, relatives to supporters and all. However, in the case of this writer, more than his untimed passing away, not to have met him is the one and only grief. I am usually well known to be hell-bent to meet my role models — be it Khushwant Singh in his Delhi apartment, Salman Rushdie in a London bookshop or William Dalrymple on the immigration waiting lounge at Doha airport — I somehow came across a number of his favourite personalities just because of his sheer enthusiasm and fortitude. But the sorrow for not to have met Mr Huq would surely remain sine dies.
More often than not, he will likely be remembered for his endless long-list of contributions for business chambers, associations and of course for giving North Dhaka a noticeable facelift and discipline. Employees by the thousands of his esteemed business establishment Mohammadi group will immortalise his ideology. Beyond all these recognitions, he was perhaps the one man who could have unite and lead people for a greater cause. Moreover, he boldly extended this unique quality to his short-lived political career.
Being junior to him by some 27 years, professionally, I wasn’t too far away from his daily activities. Apart from scattered memories of him as a TV host, it was in Desh garments in Chittagong when I first came to know of his business acumen and organisational skills. On top of it he was frequently coming in the media’s limelight. What was particularly fascinating about Mr Huq is that, he could practically and effectively connect with any group of audience anywhere. Not only did he deliver results, the man-for-all-seasons (the way I think of him) could inspire and motivate crowds to march forward.
In the place of being indulged in vehement criticism for the long list of shortcomings in real life, he would dare to pickup mammoth challenges. Similar to countless nouveau riche RMG entrepreneurs of today, he could have well restricted his life within his business , leisure and private life; expand his Mohammadi group in the likes of Bashundhara and Square business empires but wealth was not his sole target.
He chose a role quite the opposite. Unlike many of our so-called intellectuals, entrepreneurs, politicians, Civil Society members, newspaper editors and eminent citizens he chose not to waste his valuable time over delivering dismal critical speeches in TV talk-shows. He would deliberately conceal his weaknesses, so to display his strengths.
I believe, he identified a problem, analysed it and mobilised his resources to the maximum to address it strategically and efficiently. Concurrently, he was well-aware about his limitations and it’s perhaps that’s why he picked one issue at a time. Be it the setting-up and running Mohammadi group or leading the FBCCI, BGMEA, etc. He was understandably a man with a clear vision and goal. His approach often reminded me of that famous saying by T S Eliot: Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. That said — looking at his social and professional engagements, he actually managed to go quite far.
Most importantly, he was determined to create an impact into the lives of people that came in his way. For instance, when our architects, city corporation officials and city planners were too busy engaged in heated debates about the capital’s predicaments in private TV talk-shows, he was silently doing his job. His actions became visible within the DNCC locality. Since he hadn’t belong to any of our perceived ‘privileged classes’ so life was a relentless struggle for him, and he never shied away from honestly admitting it — be it to inspire a bunch of private university students or building a business chamber office in some remote location.
Coming to the reason why I will hugely miss him — unquestionably we have wise, learned, experienced and eminent senior citizens in this country. Unfortunately, most of them are incapable and somewhat unenthusiastic to inspire and guide today’s youngsters. At maximum these renowned personalities will keep parroting the importance of religious and social ethics and values, provide a long-list of uncalled-for advices and that’s all. After they are delivered, they are vanished from the scene. The legacy of Huq — he is always there to show how they are practised in real life.
However, I had actually come close to meet him but then again not close enough. Being a resident of Gulshan 2 and a voter for the DNCC — the opportunity was right there on the day of polling. It was unutilised. While working as a merchandiser and quite often visiting the BGMEA headquarters, it was learnt that the boss was in office, but some strong hidden inhibition was there. Perhaps, it was he was too big for me.
Most regrettably, he was on a different flight but in the same VIP lounge when I was going to the Maldives to celebrate Eid-ul-Fitr with my mother. Once again, I felt like he didn’t expect to be irritated by some ‘uncalled – for subject.’
Whatever there was this strong conviction, since I somehow manage to meet his idols; Annisul Huq was just a stone’s throw. He was dead wrong. He may not have been a globally recognised writer, but he was a man I admired.
In Bengali there is a popular proverb — Makka’r lok Hajj paina (residents of Mecca cannot perform Hajj) — that’s what has happened with my desires to meet Mr Huq. He was close enough — so not to be taken seriously.
Taking him to be very near and easily reachable, this lazy writer kept procrastinating to make his move to meet his man-for-all-seasons. With complete agreement with the saying: Procrastination is like a credit card — it’s a lot of fun until you get the bill. The writer got the bill where it was written — Annisul Huq passed away in London.
The moral of the piece is: if you honestly admire and respect someone, go and meet that person when the very first opportunity strikes. He may be your next door neighbour, but you never know if he/she will be around for long. In terms of distance, Annisul Huq is actually a stone’s throw from my apartment at road 59 in Gulshan 2, yet so far away resting in peace — a harsh reality I had not imagined even in my wildest and weirdest dreams.
The writer is Assistant Editor, The Daily Observer
