Each photograph has an independent value and a purpose of its own. But it acquires special significance in the eye of the beholder if it has the image of an iconic leader of a nation whom the people loved so dearly.
The year was 1956 when this photograph was taken at the Hotel Shahbagh (now converted into Sheikh Mujibur Rahman Medical University) and at the East Pakistan Secretariat (presently Bangladesh Secretariat). In one of these photographs Bangabandhu was conspicuous in his sherwani. The photo shows Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, Minister in-charge of Commerce, Labour and Industries at a dinner hosted by the Dacca Chamber of Commerce. Among the journalists are seen Syed Jafar Ali, chief reporter of the Daily Azad (writing, facing camera) and Mr Fazlul Karim of the Dainik Pakistan and myself (back to the camera in the rear). The other photograph shows Bangabandhu in white hawaii shirt at a food conference in the Secretariat. Among those present at the conference were cabinet ministers Captain Monsoor Ali, Dhirendro Datta, Khairat Hossain and Moshiur Rahman.

At that moment, it was absolutely beyond my dream that these photographs had also captured the images of the architect of independent Bangladesh, now the home of a 120 million of his fellow Bengalis who per force had to live a life of utter ignominy for ages under colonial rules.

After a stint of journalism behind, my induction into government job as Press Officer to the Honourable Minister was a benchmark in my service career. Obviously I was a little nervous and shaky for my assignment with a high-profile minister like Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. But as I was formerly introduced to the Honourable Minister, I however felt much reassured and comfortable. I could discern his simplicity and warmth of heart, a hallmark of his personality. The charisma he possessed however could not be missed by anyone coming in his contact.
A natural speaker as he was, he sparkled in his extempore speeches, his baritone voice of course a bonus for his audience. Initially I used to show my copies to Bangabandhu, but latterly it was not needed.

The room which he occupied as Minister was located on the first floor of the Shahbagh Canteen (presently Secretariat canteen) seemed rather inadequate for ministerial accommodation. It had wooden chairs around the main table and a sofa set. The curtains of his one-door room and the two windows were of moderate variety as was the norm in those days. It exuded gentleness and a quiet ambience that characterised the secretariat premises at the time. Number of visitors was too few and far between.

There were moments when he seemed austerely private, a loner, it was rather impossible to recognise his turmoil in his faraway look and the frozen melancholy of his features.

What is more regrettable is that his room still remains unmarked and unrecorded by the secretariat authorities. The period that he had spent in the secretariat as a Minister too rarely finds mention in the writings that appear about him or mention about him in electronic and print media, although every stage of his career was significant in shaping his political thought and career in politics. His tenure as Minister had in fact offered him a unique opportunity to get first-hand knowledge about the exploitation of the Bengalis by the Pakistani rulers since Partition. It reinforced his conviction that liberation was the only option left for the Bengalis if they were to live honourably in the comity of nations.

In one of his official tours to Faridpur town, Bangabandhu asked me to accompany him on his inspection visit to the jail compound. He suddenly stopped in front of a cell and remained standing there for some time. For a moment he seemed lost in nostalgia. He told me of his imprisonment in his earlier days in that particular cell for protesting repression by the government.

But only after a few months in office, Bangabandhu elected to opt out from the cosy club of ministerial comfort and authority and be with his hapless people to galvanise them to freedom albeit on a graduated scale-- a star role he seemed to be preparing for all his life. The end of the colonial domination of the former East Pakistan was so linked with the year 1971, that we oftentimes tend to forget that it had a pre-history of decades. Since then an “eternity” went into oblivion, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman became Bangabandhu and the Father of the Nation as Bangladesh emerged on the world map from a classic war of liberation in contemporary history.

In the early days of independence we had streams of visitors from all corners of the globe. On one occasion I accompanied a venerated German writer on her visit to Bangabandhu at 32 Dhanmondi. Bangabandhu received the honourable guest at the doorstep of his residence and took her to the drawing room. The writer complimented Bangabandhu for his unique leadership in the liberation movement that won freedom for the Bengali nation.

Bangabandhu was also appreciative of the support extended by her country in building our war ravaged economy, I recollect. I was however amazed that Bangabandhu remembered my name even after decades.

The importance of his Tungipara upbringing cannot be overstated. His impassioned interest in the political process manifested right from his school days when he had the assurance from the Chief Minister of Bengal Sher-e-Bangla AK Fazlul Huq to redress the grievance of his village school which lent authenticity to his becoming the iconic leader in the fullness of his political career. His path to nation's stewardship was not necessarily linear. He never suffered from delusions of grandeur. He could visualise things much earlier and never shifted from his principled stand under any circumstances. Despite heavy odds he remained focused and concentrated with singular intensity on his objective. But he always emerged as a warm, earthly person whose lusty embrace of life even his captors could not take from him. There is undiminished love for him among the people. But there is also the question “Who will bind us together again?” Can we forget the magic of his March 7 speech? There is a yearning for the exhilaration days when Bangladesh had won her cherished freedom and a constant desire to understand their leader who embodied that moment.

The killing of Bangabandhu and his family members on 15 August 1975 at 32, Dhanmondi traumatised the entire nation beyond measure, leaving a deep emotional scar on the psyche of the people. The building is a historic landmark where Bangabandhu for the first time had publicly hoisted the sun-etched flag of Bangladesh well ahead of liberation. It stands with stubbornness to defy the killers' notions that were associated with the martyrdom of the nation's indisputable leader and his family. Beyond this national tragedy enacted at the building, it emerged as the heart of nation's political activities which eventually transformed into liberation movement of Bangladesh. Each and every brick of the building is enigmatic and pulses with meaning. Deservingly 32 Dhanmondi is a part of our national heritage.

Notably, Bangabandhu's unfinished memoir is the most seminal document for our understanding of the Father of the Nation. Importantly, an authoritative biography too needs to be brought out, as is commonly perceived. Further, the prison cells at Dhaka and Faridpur where he was imprisoned need to be nationally preserved.