LATE Dr A R Mallick (1918-1997) died this day a year ago. I am one of those, and they must be counted in hundreds, who deeply mourn his death. In his death we lost a towering man, a nobel soul, a natural leader.

As I remember, I first met him in London, early in October 1952, and on my way to Oxford. A R Mallick was in his second year in London, at the School of Oriental and African Studies, working for his Ph.D. A year later he was leaving London, after having obtained his degree, and a small group had assembled at the Charing Cross railway station to say farewell to him. He and his friend Abu Rushd Matinuddin (Exeter College, Oxford) had come by the same boat and were leaving by the same boat. For them, it was a moment of joy, for me, destined to stay on for one more year, of the very opposite. Mallick Bhai, as it became our form of address later on, could read my mind alright and said a few consolatory words. He remembered very well what I had said sometime back that I would even hug the poorest looking street cur from my homeland, repeated this memorable saying approvingly. This he did to show how well he could share my nostalgic mood.

A little more than a year later, the scene shifts to Rajshahi railway station. Mallick Bhai, now Dr A R Mallick, and a few others, Syed Ali Ashraf among them, who had already joined the newly established university at Rajshahi, were all of them awaiting my arrival. Dr. Mallick led the small group of friends and would be colleagues, to welcome me.

For the next ten years or so, we were together at Rajshahi because of the university we all served. In many ways it was an exciting time, an exciting experience, all of us joining hands to build it up. The fraternity of teachers was steadily growing in size. Amidst all changes, and the accompanying growth, the small caucus we formed with Dr Mallick as the central figure continued to exist as something of a core of the expanding community.

From 1965 to the time the war of liberation started, Dr Mallick was at Chittagong, first as the Project Director and later as Vice-Chancellor of the University. All his qualities, as a natural leader, as an organiser driven by a robust faith in the mission in hand, came into full play in his new and larger role. At Chittagong he, away from his old friends and colleagues, continued to make claims to, and to receive in return, the support and services of all of us. It was heartening to see how the teaching and administrative staff of the university had accepted his leadership in his role as the founding Vice-Chancellor of Chittagong University. All the parochialism for which the place is well-known had melted away before the charm of his personality. His tenure was cut short by the events of March, 71 but during that short span of time he got, his achievement was little short of a miracle.

As is well-known, the war of liberation found for Dr Mallick yet another challenging role: that of a campaigner, a spokesman and an emissary of the Bangladesh government in exile, led by the indefatigable Tajuddin Ahmed, touring through the length and breadth of India. The sole object was to win the assent of our Indian neighbours in favour of our national struggle. In course of time, the same mission took him beyond India, to UK and USA.

The story is well told, both by himself in his memoirs, and by his companion of those days, Dr Anisuzzaman. The one writes in a matter of fact style, and the other, whose narrative is confined strictly to the events of that fateful year, writes equally an account of the mission, without any tall talk. Together with the efforts of Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury, those of Dr Mallick forms a distinct and distinguished chapter of the history of our war of independence. Both Justice Chowdhury and Dr Mallick made their separate contribution to our war efforts and they made it in a manner that only men with their individual gifts could make.

It goes to the credit of the government in exile and later on to the government of liberated Bangladesh that Dr Mallick's cardinal qualities and gifts, his courage and wisdom did not go unrecognised at the end of the war. In fact, his services were needed in broader fields of the nation's life. His academic life had to be sacrificed to meet other and more pressing demands of the new nation. In rather quick succession, he was called upon to serve as Secretary, ministry of education, as our first High Commissioner in India, and finally, as Finance Minister, succeeding, much to his embarrassment, Tajuddin Ahmed, a friend for whom he had nothing but admiration. Reading his memoirs, one is left in no doubt about the complete trust and the highest regard in which the father of the nation held him.

For those who came close to him in their smaller world as I did, he was truly a friend, philosopher and guide. It is impossible to forget the warmth of his heart, the hospitality of his table, the magic charm of his conversation, words flowing in cascade, revealing a soul frank in the extreme, sometimes dangerously so. Here was a man born to love, to help, to befriend and above all to guide in all difficulties.

Dr Mallick's last days were sad, sad for him and sad for us who knew him and loved him. Still in possession of a stout body, his memory was failing him, blocking the gusto of his conversation. And there were memories to trouble him, to haunt him, - the killings of August and November, 1975. These were particularly painful memories, and he would often give vent to his bitterness, the bitterness of a man who witnessed the tragedy and was helpless to do anything he would have liked to do. Add to all this was the memory of the circumstances in which, however briefly, he had to be a member of the Mushtaq cabinet. His commitment to the war of liberation and its values were total. He disclaimed any political affiliation in the ordinary sense of the word but he would never deny or in any way hesitate affirming his highest regard for Sheikh Mujib. And the regard was mutual.

Dr Mallick lived a full life. He gave his best to his country at a most crucial phase of the nation's life. The country owes him a debt of gratitude.