Response to allegations of plagiarism from Selim AL Deen’s manuscript

In 2007, I was almost always with late playwright Selim Al Deen, serving as his personal secretary. One rainy evening in monsoon, as the downpour ceased to allow a twilight stroll for a while, he emerged onto the campus pathway. I was with him too. He used to take walks regularly in the mornings and evenings. But in his presence, I found myself unable to write anything, neither poetry nor prose. It felt as if I had been submerged in an ocean of art. Drowning in that unfamiliar sea, I struggled desperately. Just as a drop loses its existence in the Indus, so did I feel. That day, as we walked, Guru said to me, "Start writing novels, you'll do well. Poetry isn't for you. Leave that."

The Guru's command was undeniable. I abandoned writing poetry and embarked on the journey of novel writing from that day onwards. Within a couple of days, I even settled on a subject for the novel. In my ancestral village Bilonya, there was a man named Honan who fascinated me during my childhood and adolescence. He possessed a magical touch, extracting fish from the depths of ponds with amulets tied around his waist, and wandering deep into the night in search of the hidden navel of the cremation ground. Before coming into Guru's presence, I had been influenced by the doctrines of reincarnation and atheism, inspired by the Upanishadic philosophy and the Charvaka skepticism.

I wanted to portray Honan as the central character in the novel, to express the idea that there is no death of humanity, only the perpetuation of human existence. Humans are immortal, continually being reborn. There is no entity called God; instead, God is like the belly button of a cremation ground, elusive and enigmatic.
I'm contemplating how to present the tale of Navi (navel) to the Guru first, listen to his opinion, and then proceed to write it. However, the opportunity doesn't arise, yet the courage fails me. How can I muster the courage? He's such a towering figure; how do I tell him that I want to start writing a novel, Guru?
That evening, as we walked, I mustered the courage and blurted out, "Sir, if I may seek permission, I have something to say."
He paused and stood still. In a concerned voice, he said, "Speak, what do you want to say?"
I replied, "I want to start writing a novel."
He resumed walking again. I followed behind like a clueless child. As we walked, I narrated the entire tale of Navi to him. When the story concluded, he remained silent for a moment. Then, suddenly, with a jubilant voice and a flick of his right hand's two fingers, he exclaimed, "Write it down, write it down! Yes, from ambiguity to clarity. What a marvelous idea. Write it down."

"From ambiguity to clarity? Yes, indeed! I hadn't thought of it that way!" A whole new horizon unfolded before me in that moment. My enthusiasm doubled. That very night, I managed to write at least 20 pages of the novel. Within a mere span of twenty-five days, I completed the short novel consisting of 21,313 words. I wanted to show the manuscript to the Guru, but lacked the courage. However, I verbally informed him that I had finished writing the novel.

(Left) between fiction writer Swakrito Noman and his novel 'Navi' (right) Dramatist Selim AL Deen. । Photo: Collected

One day, as I was typesetting the manuscript on the computer, he unexpectedly appeared. He glanced at a page of the manuscript I had opened. I turned red with embarrassment. Surely, he would laugh at my writing! But if there were mistakes, he could correct them. After a brief pause, he took the pen in his hand. On that page, there was a line that read: "The wild fish is fresh and delicious, hence its high price." He added the word 'peculiar' before 'delicious'. The sentence now stood: "The wild fish is fresh and peculiarly delicious." I incorporated his edit into the typesetting.
After completing the typesetting of the novel, I handed a print copy to my poet friend Naushad Jamil. He was then a student at Jahangirnagar University. After spending a week reading the manuscript, he offered his opinion: "Your prose needs improvement, Noaman bhai. You should read the works of Sanjib Chattopadhyay and Shirshendu-Sunil."

The essayist and researcher Simon Zakaria used to frequent the campus often. One day, I met him and shared the story of the navel. I requested his help in arranging for its publication. Sympathetic Simon bhai advised me to get in touch with Ahmed Sayem, the editor of Sylhet's renowned literary magazine, "Sunnrit Little Mag." He suggested that I send it to him; he might even publish it.
Soon enough, Simon bhai called Ahmed Sayem and handed me the phone to talk to him. I don't know if those conversations are still remembered by either of us. Two days later, I sent a print copy of the manuscript to Sunnrit's address, but it was never published. Did it even reach its destination? I haven't looked into it further.

There's a tradition of dedicating the first novel to the Guru naturally, so I intended to dedicate mine to Selim Sir. One day, I informed Selim Sir of my inclination. He expressed interest in seeing the entire manuscript. I explained, "Sir, there's still some editing work pending on the manuscript. Once it's complete, I'd like to show it to you. I don't have the courage to show it before the final editing."
He chuckled. Amidst his laughter, he said, "Be careful, don't dedicate it to me. If you do, I'll sue you. Dedicate it to my friend."
With that, he wrote on a blank sheet of paper from the table: "To the maestro of Bengali stage, Acharya Nasiruddin Yusuf."
I asked, "Sir, will he accept it?"
Guru laughed again. He replied, "He will cherish it as a lifelong token of respect."
That laughter would never fade from my memory, never be forgotten. Who knows, perhaps he thought that in his absence, his artistic companion Nasiruddin Yusuf would be the one overseeing my literary journey.
I said, "Sir, Dainik Jugantor has called for submissions of young writers' manuscripts for their Eid issue. I want to submit the manuscript of Navi; but I don't know anyone there. Will it be acceptable if I send it to Jugantor's address?"

Upon hearing this, he immediately dialed the number of Maruf Rayhan, the then-editor of Jugantor's literary section. He said, "Maruf, my son, Sowkot Noaman, has written a novel. He says, won't you publish novels by young writers in your Eid issue? I'm telling him to send the manuscript to your address." I have no idea what Maruf bhai said in response.

The next day, I sent the manuscript to Maruf Rayhan's address eagerly awaiting its publication in the Eid issue. Eventually, it was published, but not my novel; instead, Hari Shankar Jaldas's novel "Jolputra" was published. This was his debut novel. At the end of the novel, an announcement was made. Though not exactly, the words were something like this: "We have received a total of five manuscripts. The authors are, in order, Hari Shankar Jaldas, Simon Zakaria, Rubaiyat Ahmed, Shawkat Noaman, and Rafiq Hariri. Hari Shankar Jaldas's manuscript has been published. We sincerely regret that the remaining manuscripts could not be published due to space constraints."

I retrieved the manuscript and returned. One day, my mentor informed me about an initiative to encourage young writers by a company named "Tarun Kathasahitya Puraskar" for unpublished manuscripts. He said, "Send the manuscript." I didn't think much about it. One day, my friend Farid Majhi took me to the art fair of Shrawardi Udyan. Poet Dravid Saikat was then a charismatic student of Charukala. He edited a little magazine under the pseudonym "Arbak." That day, there was a gathering of Arbak's members. Some portions of my Navel were read. Many praised it. I remember Dravid Saikat saying, "There's an excessive use of elements like fire, water, air in your novel. So much so that it seems there's no direction, no North-South-East-West." I accepted his criticism and made some modifications to Navel. After a few months, I sent it to the address of the awarding institution.

My friends Wasim Ahmed and Sumon Ibrahim took the initiative to publish the manuscript. They printed the novel on their own. I was supposed to pay them five thousand taka. They named the publication "Dhaboman Prokash"; however, "Dhaboman Prokash" alone wouldn't have gotten my book a stall in the book fair. So, they also put the name of the printers' line as "Bonolota Prokashoni." I remember, the day the books came from the binding house, my friend Wasim brought twenty copies and left them at Shahbagh. I carried the books on my shoulder to Bonolota's stall at the fairground. A respectable lady received the books, kept them under a chair, and refused to display them despite my requests. In a threatening tone, she said, "We don't have space to display books from every publisher. Where do you want your books to be kept?"

I wanted to display the novel in front of my mentor once it was published. I wanted his blessings. But before the book could be published, on January 14, 2008, he succumbed to death's call. I lost my ground beneath my feet. I started sinking with my wife and daughter in the relentless ocean. That's another story. It’s irrelevant here.

Begumzadi Mehrunnessa Parul, wife of Dramatist Selim Al Deen । Photo: collected

The book fair ended. One day, I heard a surprising thing: "I'm not the author of Navi, the author is Selim Al Din." These words were spoken by wife of my guru Begumjadi Meherunnesa. I laughed. I said to myself, "Did you write so well that your writing is being attributed to the guru? Wow!" My faith in myself increased. I patted my back, "Wow, you will do it. Carry on. You will definitely succeed."

Later, one day, Begumjadi Meherunnesa accused me publicly on a program of Bangladesh Television. After her death in 2017, the video clip of that accusation went viral on Facebook. People stood against me on the scaffold of allegations. At that time, I wrote a response, which is published in my book "Tuke Rakha Kathamala" from Vidya Prakash. The response is also included in the book "Uponnasher Pathe," published from the congregation of readers.

I had thought I wouldn't talk about this anymore; however, when a lie is repeated a hundred times, it gains credibility as the truth. Yet, I had thought to remain silent. Because, eight years ago, after the demise of Selim Al Deen, when Begum Meherunnessa raised this fictitious allegation against me, I sought refuge in Nasir Uddin Yousuf, the director of Selim Al Deen's plays. I informed him of the allegation against me by Madam (I used to call Meherunnessa Madam). He chuckled and said, "You stay silent. Say whatever you want. We know what Selim wrote and what he would write in the future." I remained silent.

But in 2012, after being honoured with the Kali O Kolom Award, an article titled "Selim Al Deen's Stolen Writing!" was published in the inaugural issue of the magazine edited by Meher Afroz Shaon, the respected wife of Humayun Ahmed. A journalist from that magazine called me. At that time, I said, "If anyone can prove this allegation, I will give them one lakh taka from my Kali O Kolom Award." My statement about the award was also published in that magazine. Meherunnessa Madam also saw the magazine. I called her. I said, "Madam, if you can prove it, I will keep one lakh taka for you." She replied, "I will give you a hunter." Without saying anything further, she hung up.

After that, I remained quiet. Busy with my own writing. A few days later, one day I saw on Bangla Vision TV that Madam was accusing me of stealing Selim Al Deen's writing again. She also said that I had brought several letters from Selim Al Deen to me from Rajshahi's Kazi Sayeed Hasan Dulal, according to Nasir Uddin Yousuf Bachchu. I called Kazi Sayeed Hasan Dulal to know about this. Upon hearing my words, he hung up. I texted him, saying, "If you want to be famous by these lies, I will take legal action against you. You have to prove when I took letters from you on behalf of Selim Al Deen." This time, he called back and said, "Sorry, I never said anything like that to Madam. You are like my younger brother. Why would I say such things against you?"

I was Selim Al Deen's personal assistant. Sir used to call me private secretary. He jokingly said, "I am a private secretary in many places in his diary. But his wife didn't agree to it." In her words, I was Selim Al Deen's computer operator. I had no objection to that. He used to call me his peon, servant, puppet, etc., but I didn't mind. Selim Al Deen was my mentor. His wife, too. But the objection arises when he says that I have become an author by stealing Selim Al Deen's writing! My first novel "Navi" is written by Selim Al Deen himself.

The allegation is laughable. Which one is famous Selim Al Deen's writing and which one is the unknown novelist's writing, Selim Al Deen's readers can easily distinguish. When I went to find the second edition of this novel, portraying Honan, the protagonist of my hometown, I felt ashamed seeing this rough draft. So, I have written such a worthless novel! It is humiliating to know that Madam was passing off this rough draft as Selim Al Deen's writing. I wonder why she is disrespecting him so much!

Even if Selim Al Deen wrote a line in his diary, his wife preserved it with great care. She protected those writings with utmost caution. Towards the end of Sir's life, I composed some writings on the computer. Selim Al Deen's friends and relatives know that he used to write in diaries. I used to compose from those diaries. After his death, an allegation was brought against me that I had stolen all of Sir's writings from the computer. Madam wrote in the preface of Sir's diary, "Has someone stolen all the writings from the computer with a black hand?" Alright, even if I have stolen, whatever Sir has written is still preserved by his wife. It's also in the diary. So, what trouble did I cause by stealing? The original copy is already in the diary. How can that be theft? And Selim Al Deen's close associates, such as Nasir Uddin Yousuf, Shimul Yousuf, actor Afzal Hossen, playwright Anan Zaman, playwright Simon Zakaria, Selim Al Deen's niece Shakila Tasmin Kajree, playwright Rubaiyat Ahmed, litterateur Humayun Kamrul Haque, and his extensive well-wishers know what he wrote or didn't write before his death?

The truth is, Sir's last play was "Putra." After that, Sir couldn't write anymore. He started writing a play called "Hadda Haddi"; however, he fell ill after writing eight pages. These eight pages have been published in his collected works. So, which play did he write, which I stole and published under my name? Can anyone say? And I don't write plays; I write novels. Did Selim Al Deen write any novels? Does anyone know?

I had previously announced that if anyone could prove that any of my novels belonged to Selim Al Deen, they would be awarded one lakh taka. Now I have increased the amount to 10 lakh taka. I will give this amount to the one who proves it at a press conference. I am making this announcement consciously. And what I have written is publicly available. My books are in the market. If anyone has doubts, they can read them. They can see that the subject matter of my novels, whether Selim Al Deen used to work on those subjects or not. By saying all these, essentially Selim Al Deen himself is being disrespected. He is being belittled. It's very unfortunate.

After all this, I still hold sincere respect for Begumjadi Meherunnesa. She is wife of my guru. It was because of her that I handed over a savings certificate worth Tk 13 lakh after Selim Al Deen's death. I handed over a car worth Tk 17 lakh to her. I could not have done it otherwise. Especially, she did not know about the savings certificate of Tk 13 lakh that I had. I could have handed over that money and the car to other relatives of Selim Al Deen, although they did not inherit any property from him. But if I had given it to them, Meherunnesa would not have been able to do anything. Even if she could, she would have faced a lot of criticism for it, but I didn't do it. With utmost honesty, I handed over my husband's property to my wife. Yet, she accused me of theft! Is this the reward for trust?

Why did she bring this allegation against me, why did she mourn against me, I know, Meherunnesa knows, Anan Jamil knows, Shakila Tasmin Kajri knows. I never wanted to tell anyone about these known things. I never thought about revealing it in the future. I thought I could keep it to myself until the end. If I had no other way, I thought of consulting Nasir Uddin Yusuf, trusted his advice. Where the main conflict lies, I will write in detail. Today, I have to say this truthfully, I am the victim of Selim Al Deen and his wife's cruel quarrel. Meherunnesa wanted to separate her husband from her. A few years before Selim Al Deen's death, Meherunnesa left her husband and went to her younger sister's house. At the time of Selim Al Deen's loneliness, I joined him as his private secretary. Begum Jadhui did not accept it. From the beginning, she could not bear me. Ultimately, after Selim Al Deen's death, she accused me of stealing Selim Al Deen's manuscript.

The sadness is that, Madam, if you had asked me once to know the truth, I would have told you. I would have informed you that someone gave you wrong information about me. Whose ears have been heavy against me? The person who accused me against you believed it! However, you doubted someone like a son. Unfortunately, you left without knowing the truth. Moreover, Selim Al Deen brought me from the village to introduce me to literature, inspired me to write novels. Yet, you always wanted to take away everything from me. Once you thought, education cannot be snatched away anytime. Even after death, now all those griefs have been recorded through videos. People are now blaming me for those. Blame. I embrace those words of the video as blessings. Whenever I feel tired of writing, I will watch the video. Then I will be inspired. I will keep writing. I want to show that I still have the strength to write. I promise, until my death, I will not put down the pen. People will undoubtedly say that the allegation against me is completely false. Because, stealing aside, one cannot become a writer.

The novel 'Navi' was published after about seven years. One day, I can find out from a reliable source that to encourage young writers, the organization gives 'Young Literature Award' for unpublished manuscripts, for which I submitted my manuscript, and it was selected for the award that year. How did Begum Jadhui Meherunnahar come to know about this information? It's known. Many people associated with the award knew her. Or someone from that organization might have informed her. She complained, "This novel is not written by a new writer, it is written by Selim Al Deen." People like her, who is the wife of a famous writer, known to many in the literary world, when she accused me of such an allegation, the awarding authority believed her words. This is natural. I was new in Dhaka city at that time. Nobody knew me. If 'allegation was made', a manuscript selected for an award would have put the organization in controversy. So my manuscript selected for the award was rejected.

I know, very well indeed, that the late playwright Selim Al Deen's widow, Begumjadi Meherunnesa, will spread that video clip even in the future. This clip will circulate on Facebook, on Messenger. A group will bring it forward from time to time. They will try to insult me, to humiliate me, and to brand me as a 'thief' in the eyes of future generations. One generation will come, and they will stand against me based on this video clip. The farther I go, the farther the video clip will go. Like a shadow. However, I am not worried about this at all. The same Bengali who accused Rabindranath of stealing from Nazrul's writings and winning the Nobel, there, what novel of mine is new!

Yet, today I declare, if anyone can prove in my lifetime that I have stolen any writing, article, essay, play, poem, story, novel, or any sentence of Selim Al Deen and passed it off as my own, then I will award them 1 million taka. If I fail to pay the award money, legal action will be taken against me.

May everyone be well. Let wisdom prevail.

Author: Fiction Writer