Why should we regret on the 72nd anniversary of the Language Movement?

As we celebrate the 72nd anniversary of the Language Movement, it is essential to express regret over the fact that the Bengali language has not received the respect it deserved as the state language of an independent country. Despite the expectation that Bengali should have attained its rightful place, it has not. The reasons for this are numerous, including the coexistence of three different education systems in the country, the lack of Bengali language use in the higher judiciary, and the absence of effective measures for the widespread use of Bengali at all levels of society. However, to find the root cause, we must look deeper.

It can be said that the process of forming the state of Pakistan led to its eventual disintegration. However, when we established the state of Bangladesh based on Bengali nationalism, there was an inherent weakness in this foundation. That weakness was that while Pakistani nationalism sought to establish capitalism, Bengali nationalism also ultimately followed the same capitalist path. The promise within Bengali nationalism was to create a democratic or socialist state and society, but we have not achieved that. We stopped at nationalism. In independent Bangladesh, our state and society remain capitalist, much like the previous state. The bureaucratic character of the system has not changed either. As a result, although Bengali has been constitutionally recognized as the state language, the language of the state and society is still not fully Bengali. This is our major failure.

If I look back at the Language Movement, and if I reflect on it through the lens of my own life, many memories come rushing to mind, crowding the mirror of my mind. In 1952, I was a student at the higher secondary level, studying at St. Gregory's College (now Notre Dame College). On February 4, a procession was held demanding Bengali as the state language. I was a part of that procession. Spontaneous shouts erupted from the procession, saying, "We want Bengali as the state language." Among the organizers was Oli Ahad, a youth leader of the Awami League. He quickly rushed over and told everyone to chant, "We want Bengali as one of the main state languages." But it wasn't "one of the main state languages"; the students' spontaneous call was for "We want Bengali as the state language." This very awakening contained the possibility of establishing the state of Bangladesh.

To be honest, we couldn't have understood at that time how far this movement would go or how much it could achieve. Urdu was being forcibly imposed on us, and we realized that we would become second-class citizens. That was our initial realization. We had struggled to learn English, and now we would have to learn Urdu as well; the fear was that the Urdu-speaking people would dominate us. The apprehension was that our freedom would be compromised. It was in this context that February 21, the historic day, came into being.

In 1952, our St. Gregory's College was still an extension of a school—it had just been upgraded from a school to a college. The student population was no more than a hundred. We were the second batch of students at the college. At that time, the college was located in the Lakshmibazar area of old Dhaka. Therefore, on February 21, we did not go to the student gathering at Amtala of the University of Dhaka; we went from our neighborhood instead. We lived in Azimpur, in a residential colony for government employees. There were many students living there. I was in my second year of college, but many university students were also part of our group, along with students from other colleges. Overall, the group was quite large.

I remember that on the day of February 21, a few of us arrived at Amtala, Dhaka University. There was a subtle but palpable tension in the air. However, we had no real understanding—none of us understood—what was about to unfold. The government had imposed Section 144, and police were patrolling the roads in front of the university and outside its gates. The All-Party State Language Struggle Council had decided not to violate Section 144, but the students immediately decided to break the law and take to the streets. It was decided that ten people from each group would open the gates and move toward Jagannath Hall, as the Provincial Administrative Council meeting was being held in the Jagannath Hall auditorium that day. The students' decision was to go there and raise the demand for Bengali as the state language.

As the groups of ten began to move out, the police started rounding them up in trucks before they could even reach the Medical College. Later, when many students, including female students, had come out, the police began firing tear gas shells. The tear gas spread toxic smoke throughout the Amtala area and its surroundings. The gas hit our eyes as well, causing a burning sensation. This experience was entirely new to us. At that time, there was a pond on the university campus, and we tried to relieve the pain in our eyes by wetting a handkerchief with water from the pond. Despite this, we still believed that nothing worse than this would happen. The few of us who had come from Azimpur, wiping our eyes, made our way back to our neighborhood along the railway line.

The worst news came around noon. We heard that the police had fired on the students, and they had become martyrs. One of their names was Barakat. My heart sank immediately. We left our homes and made our way toward the Medical College, again along the railway line. Upon arriving there, we learned that not only Barakat, but also Rafiq had been martyred. And a student named Salam had been injured; he later died.

At that time, the students had surrounded the Medical College’s clinic out of fear that the police might come at any moment to take the bodies of the martyrs, Barakat, Rafiq, and the injured Salam. The police’s action of firing on the students spread a sense of tension among us. There were slogans and protests everywhere. Announcements and slogans were being broadcast from the Medical College dormitories, and loudspeakers were set up at the Salimullah Muslim Hall, where speeches were being given. This was how the bloody February 21 of 1952 passed.

The following day, on February 22, a funeral prayer (Janaza) for the language martyrs was held in absentia, and we participated in it. Then, on February 23, a strike (hartal) was observed at the call of the Student Struggle Council. Since we lived in a government colony, we tried to prevent many people in our colony from going to their offices in support of the strike.

February 21 was a turning point. It marked a critical moment in transitioning from Pakistani nationalism to Bengali nationalism. We didn't fully understand it that day, but we realized it more clearly a bit later. After the tragic events of February 21, people from all walks of life began to lend their support to the movement. As a result, the student movement quickly transformed into a mass movement. Even the local people of Dhaka, many of whom identified as Urdu-speaking and initially did not support the language movement, changed their stance and joined the movement. This shift occurred because there was a deep sympathy for the university students. In fact, everyone—including locals—saw the killing of the students as an attack on them. As a result, the situation changed rapidly. A significant change in the public mindset occurred, which fueled the strength of subsequent movements. Not only that, but through the continuity of these movements, we gradually moved towards independence.

After passing my higher secondary exam, I enrolled at the University of Dhaka in 1952. The feeling of the language movement was very much alive in all of us at that time. In those days, student council elections were held every year in the university’s residential halls. In 1953, during the elections, it was seen that anti-Muslim League students won in all the residential halls. It was then that the first Democratic United Front was formed in the Salimullah Muslim Hall. The following year, the concept of the anti-Muslim League United Front began to take shape, and its first manifestation occurred in the elections at Salimullah Hall. It is worth mentioning that the language movement played a significant role in the victory or defeat of candidates in these elections. As a candidate of this Democratic United Front, I also contested in the elections and, as I mentioned earlier, we won by a huge margin. Even students supported by the Muslim League contested in the elections, but through this election, they were almost completely wiped out. This was a warning to what would happen in the provincial elections of 1954.

The state language movement was not just a fight for the dignity of the language; it was the first uprising against the Pakistani state. The way the police fired on the students that day eventually transformed into a genocide in 1971. The events of February 21, 1952, for the first time, gave us a message of change—it was the moment we awakened. And our greatest fortune was that we were present at the historical moment of this awakening and change. For those of us who witnessed this event, the memory will remain forever etched in our lives.

Serajul Islam Choudhury: Public Intellectual and Emeritus Professor, University of Dhaka.