A Tribute to Tareque Masud and Mishuk Munier
August 13, 2011. The nation has not yet recovered from the wounds of a recent road accident that claimed the lives of 44 school children, and yet with the tragedy that was about to unfold, the wounds were about to become much deeper. At around 1:00 pm on the day, the nation is confronted with the news. Tareque Masud (December 1956 – August 2011) and Ashfaque Mishuk Munier (September 1959 – August 2011) are NO MORE!
Award-winning film-maker Masud and ATN News CEO Munier, son of martyred intellectual Munier Chowdhury, were killed along with three others in a road accident on the Dhaka-Aricha highway. They were on their way back from Manikganj after visiting a shooting location for Masud's new film Kagojer Phul (Paper Flower).
Award-winning film-maker Masud and ATN News CEO Munier, son of martyred intellectual Munier Chowdhury, were killed along with three others in a road accident on the Dhaka-Aricha highway. They were on their way back from Manikganj after visiting a shooting location for Masud's new film Kagojer Phul (Paper Flower).
They were revered as the secular voices of our generation, modern-day freedom fighters, flag bearers of this nation. They were extraordinary men who touched the hearts and minds of millions by their creative creations, values and most importantly, their awe-inspiring 1971 narrations.
Masud, both a dreamer and a pragmatist, was a director who had the unique capability to make the viewers smile and cry at the same time. Muktir Gaan (1995, Song of Freedom) was the first film on our Liberation War which is a testament, powerful enough to evoke both happiness and tears from a generation born way after 1971.
The film was released in a time when our present generation was plunged into darkness, ignorant of the truth about our glorious revolution and independence. Being a student who received madrassah education and then a Masters Degree in History from Dhaka University, and incorporating creative zest with his knowledge, Muktir Gaan revolutionised not only filmmaking in the country but intrigued the new generation into becoming more informed and involved citizens and to search for their roots.
He was a great narrator and all he ever wanted to do was tell his stories through emotional celluloid. Teaming up with his American wife Catherine Masud (also injured in the accident), they gave the nation thought-provoking films and intriguing concepts never done before. This fetched them instant critical success in both the local industry and international circuit winning massive accolades.
Muktir Gaan, jointly directed by the couple, is a documentary that tells the tale of a journey by a music troupe that travels through the country during the Liberation War in 1971, singing inspirational songs to motivate the freedom fighters and ordinary citizens.
He and his wife rescued the 20-year old footage of these singing bards from the basement of the American film-maker Liar Levin's New York apartment. The project required an immense amount of work, and was only possible due to the intense desire shared by the couple to bring out the truth about the struggle and birth of a nation.
Masud's 2002 release Matir Moyna (The Clay Bird), initially banned by the government and hence released in the UK first, was one of his most critically and commercially successful film. It won a prize at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival in 2002 and caused a stir in the 2003 foreign film category of the Oscars.
Matir Moyna was set against the backdrop of pre-independence Bangladesh and then the turbulent times of 1971. It was the tale of the life of a young boy in a madrassah (religious school) portraying themes like religious tolerance, cultural diversity, and the complexity of faith.
His other noted films include – Shonar Beri (1985, The Chains of Gold), Muktir Kotha (1996, The Story of Freedom), Noroshundor (The Barber), Ontorjatra (2006, The Homeland), and Runway (2010).
One of Masud's close friends Maqsoodul Huq, an iconic musician of the country, narrates his feelings, “I had known Tareque since our college days in 1977 and understood that if anybody can recreate the Liberation War with real footage, it was him. He not only had the skills, talent and genius to execute the project, he was a patriot par excellence.
1995 was a particularly torturous year for Tareque. Muktir Gaan was complete, he had invested heavily on the project and the censors had already refused clearance several times. But quite suddenly he called me one afternoon to say ‘We have got it Mac’! Our joy knew no bound. We partied from evening until morning the following day.
Screening Muktir Gaan was a huge challenge. No movie hall would screen it given it’s political sensitivity. The launch and initial screenings had therefore to be done at the Public Library Auditorium and all of us friends volunteered to help. On the first day we were hugely overcome by emotions to see thousands of people queuing up.
By end of 1995 after we had managed to screen the movie in most district towns, Muktir Gaan became a symbol of unity nationwide. I think that’s when we started to slip into complacency. I had heard about the movie being screened inside the Cantonments and that in turn was a worry. How would the soldiers react? Tareque assured me that all is going well and there were very positive and emotional reactions. But the Government of the day, especially the Home Minister, thought otherwise.
I was at a dinner with friends and my cell phone rang (not many people had those devices on them in those days.) It was Tareque and his voice was anxious. ‘Mac this is a May Day signal, stop whatever you are doing and come to my house right away.’ I wanted to know if he was in trouble. His answer was, ‘No not personally, but Bangladesh is. I have just heard that Muktir Gaan has been banned, soldiers had raised Joi Bangla slogan at the screening in Garrison Hall in Dhaka.’ I was shocked beyond belief and drove like a mad man to his house then in Kalabagan, close to Panthapath.
The house was pitch dark, a power cut worsened the situation. I switched off the headlight and called his land phone to make sure things were okay. The answering machine had one terse sentence in Catherine’s voice ‘Muktir Gaan Cholbey’! In no time we entered his house. With me was Shadhin Khasru, today a famed actor, then a visiting student from London.
Tareque handed me the expensive celluloid master prints of Muktir Gaan and asked me to disappear. There was to be no communication among us till the prints were in safe custody. Me and Shadhin took the print and drove out of Dhaka and back to the city later, under most hazardous circumstances.
We were tailed by motorcycles, cars and eventually our roads being blocked by a truck so that plain clothesmen could search my car. I swore to Tareque as to keep quiet on the details how we managed to evade the situation and get out with the prints intact.
Late one night an arduous week later, with no news from Tareque or Catherine, my cell phone rang. It was Tareque. A few coded words later and after my assurance that the prints were safe and packed for eventual smuggling to London he heaved a huge sigh of relief, yet there was a tinge of sadness in his voice.
To cheer him up I said ‘Joi Bangla Dosto’ to which Tareque replied ‘Mac – and let not our head ever hang with shame when we use that slogan. It was a people’s slogan and let the people of Bangladesh reclaim it’.
He hung up and we met three months later under more conducive situations.”
An ex-journalist friend of this reporter reminisced, “Masud was a very humble man and never showed off or capitalised on his stardom - the best part about him was that he was easily accessible for any quotes or big interviews with the news and media journalists so that his knowledge and experiences can be shared for the greater good of us, something which the man believed from the core of his heart. He mixed with anyone and everyone irrespective of class, religion, social status – a testimony of how he was living the credo of 'simplicity'.”
It is believed that Masud worked as a director with his friend Munier first in his debut on the documentary Adam Surat (1989, The Innner Strength) on the iconic painter S. M. Sultan. Munier was also the chief videographer of Masud's film Runway. Their collaboration and friendship only grew stronger over the years to bring out the best of both and Kagojer Phul was to be next product of their ever-strengthening partnership.
Munier is the son of martyred intellectual Munier Chowdhury and was a witness who saw his father being picked up by the collaborators of the then Pakistani army in 1971.
He was a celebrated journalist, an eminent cinematographer who had worked with world renowned institutions like BBC World, Discovery, National Geographic, locally Ekushey TV and more. In his illustrious career, he also taught video journalism at the Department of Mass Communication and Journalism at Dhaka University.
He took charge of ATN News as CEO in November 2010 upon returning from Canada after having worked with The Real News Network (TRNN), a Canada-US based television news and documentary network.
Paul Jay, CEO and senior editor at TRNN recently published a very emotional message of condolence on Munier on their website. Jay stated that, “Mishuk had recently taken up a new job in Bangladesh, partly to be closer to his mother. We saw him only two weeks ago in New York. He was excited about building a TV news channel in his homeland and exploring new technology, his second passion after documentary filmmaking. I remember his smile so vividly as he told us about his new adventures. One consolation is we had the chance to give him a hug and kiss before we lost him.”
Jay added more, saying, “We all loved Mishuk. He was a man of great integrity, profound social conscience and with a deep love for people...He died doing what he loved most. In the field, shooting a documentary film. Our hearts are broken, he will be greatly missed.”
Munier was the one with the relentless effort behind the camera of the ATN News Coverage of the Libya, turmoil portraying the situation of Bangladeshis there.
Recently, it was disclosed to the media that, Mishuk Munier and Tareque Masud were listed as witnesses for the investigation agency of the war crimes tribunal. They were compiling documents and audio-visual evidence for our 1971 war crime trials.
The tragedy of their death, and immensity of our loss should have left us speechless. It should have been a time of quite introspection and commiseration. But the circumstances of their death have left us with a very different emotion: rage. Rage at the ineptitude of the system, rage at out inability to do something about it, and rage at the injustice of it all. We are in mourning, but we do not seek closure. We cannot undo this tragedy, but we can prevent a tragedy that would be even worse. The root of the problem has to be addressed, we cannot just forget.
Masud, both a dreamer and a pragmatist, was a director who had the unique capability to make the viewers smile and cry at the same time. Muktir Gaan (1995, Song of Freedom) was the first film on our Liberation War which is a testament, powerful enough to evoke both happiness and tears from a generation born way after 1971.
The film was released in a time when our present generation was plunged into darkness, ignorant of the truth about our glorious revolution and independence. Being a student who received madrassah education and then a Masters Degree in History from Dhaka University, and incorporating creative zest with his knowledge, Muktir Gaan revolutionised not only filmmaking in the country but intrigued the new generation into becoming more informed and involved citizens and to search for their roots.
He was a great narrator and all he ever wanted to do was tell his stories through emotional celluloid. Teaming up with his American wife Catherine Masud (also injured in the accident), they gave the nation thought-provoking films and intriguing concepts never done before. This fetched them instant critical success in both the local industry and international circuit winning massive accolades.
Muktir Gaan, jointly directed by the couple, is a documentary that tells the tale of a journey by a music troupe that travels through the country during the Liberation War in 1971, singing inspirational songs to motivate the freedom fighters and ordinary citizens.
He and his wife rescued the 20-year old footage of these singing bards from the basement of the American film-maker Liar Levin's New York apartment. The project required an immense amount of work, and was only possible due to the intense desire shared by the couple to bring out the truth about the struggle and birth of a nation.
Masud's 2002 release Matir Moyna (The Clay Bird), initially banned by the government and hence released in the UK first, was one of his most critically and commercially successful film. It won a prize at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival in 2002 and caused a stir in the 2003 foreign film category of the Oscars.
Matir Moyna was set against the backdrop of pre-independence Bangladesh and then the turbulent times of 1971. It was the tale of the life of a young boy in a madrassah (religious school) portraying themes like religious tolerance, cultural diversity, and the complexity of faith.
His other noted films include – Shonar Beri (1985, The Chains of Gold), Muktir Kotha (1996, The Story of Freedom), Noroshundor (The Barber), Ontorjatra (2006, The Homeland), and Runway (2010).
One of Masud's close friends Maqsoodul Huq, an iconic musician of the country, narrates his feelings, “I had known Tareque since our college days in 1977 and understood that if anybody can recreate the Liberation War with real footage, it was him. He not only had the skills, talent and genius to execute the project, he was a patriot par excellence.
1995 was a particularly torturous year for Tareque. Muktir Gaan was complete, he had invested heavily on the project and the censors had already refused clearance several times. But quite suddenly he called me one afternoon to say ‘We have got it Mac’! Our joy knew no bound. We partied from evening until morning the following day.
Screening Muktir Gaan was a huge challenge. No movie hall would screen it given it’s political sensitivity. The launch and initial screenings had therefore to be done at the Public Library Auditorium and all of us friends volunteered to help. On the first day we were hugely overcome by emotions to see thousands of people queuing up.
By end of 1995 after we had managed to screen the movie in most district towns, Muktir Gaan became a symbol of unity nationwide. I think that’s when we started to slip into complacency. I had heard about the movie being screened inside the Cantonments and that in turn was a worry. How would the soldiers react? Tareque assured me that all is going well and there were very positive and emotional reactions. But the Government of the day, especially the Home Minister, thought otherwise.
I was at a dinner with friends and my cell phone rang (not many people had those devices on them in those days.) It was Tareque and his voice was anxious. ‘Mac this is a May Day signal, stop whatever you are doing and come to my house right away.’ I wanted to know if he was in trouble. His answer was, ‘No not personally, but Bangladesh is. I have just heard that Muktir Gaan has been banned, soldiers had raised Joi Bangla slogan at the screening in Garrison Hall in Dhaka.’ I was shocked beyond belief and drove like a mad man to his house then in Kalabagan, close to Panthapath.
The house was pitch dark, a power cut worsened the situation. I switched off the headlight and called his land phone to make sure things were okay. The answering machine had one terse sentence in Catherine’s voice ‘Muktir Gaan Cholbey’! In no time we entered his house. With me was Shadhin Khasru, today a famed actor, then a visiting student from London.
Tareque handed me the expensive celluloid master prints of Muktir Gaan and asked me to disappear. There was to be no communication among us till the prints were in safe custody. Me and Shadhin took the print and drove out of Dhaka and back to the city later, under most hazardous circumstances.
We were tailed by motorcycles, cars and eventually our roads being blocked by a truck so that plain clothesmen could search my car. I swore to Tareque as to keep quiet on the details how we managed to evade the situation and get out with the prints intact.
Late one night an arduous week later, with no news from Tareque or Catherine, my cell phone rang. It was Tareque. A few coded words later and after my assurance that the prints were safe and packed for eventual smuggling to London he heaved a huge sigh of relief, yet there was a tinge of sadness in his voice.
To cheer him up I said ‘Joi Bangla Dosto’ to which Tareque replied ‘Mac – and let not our head ever hang with shame when we use that slogan. It was a people’s slogan and let the people of Bangladesh reclaim it’.
He hung up and we met three months later under more conducive situations.”
An ex-journalist friend of this reporter reminisced, “Masud was a very humble man and never showed off or capitalised on his stardom - the best part about him was that he was easily accessible for any quotes or big interviews with the news and media journalists so that his knowledge and experiences can be shared for the greater good of us, something which the man believed from the core of his heart. He mixed with anyone and everyone irrespective of class, religion, social status – a testimony of how he was living the credo of 'simplicity'.”
It is believed that Masud worked as a director with his friend Munier first in his debut on the documentary Adam Surat (1989, The Innner Strength) on the iconic painter S. M. Sultan. Munier was also the chief videographer of Masud's film Runway. Their collaboration and friendship only grew stronger over the years to bring out the best of both and Kagojer Phul was to be next product of their ever-strengthening partnership.
Munier is the son of martyred intellectual Munier Chowdhury and was a witness who saw his father being picked up by the collaborators of the then Pakistani army in 1971.
He was a celebrated journalist, an eminent cinematographer who had worked with world renowned institutions like BBC World, Discovery, National Geographic, locally Ekushey TV and more. In his illustrious career, he also taught video journalism at the Department of Mass Communication and Journalism at Dhaka University.
He took charge of ATN News as CEO in November 2010 upon returning from Canada after having worked with The Real News Network (TRNN), a Canada-US based television news and documentary network.
Paul Jay, CEO and senior editor at TRNN recently published a very emotional message of condolence on Munier on their website. Jay stated that, “Mishuk had recently taken up a new job in Bangladesh, partly to be closer to his mother. We saw him only two weeks ago in New York. He was excited about building a TV news channel in his homeland and exploring new technology, his second passion after documentary filmmaking. I remember his smile so vividly as he told us about his new adventures. One consolation is we had the chance to give him a hug and kiss before we lost him.”
Jay added more, saying, “We all loved Mishuk. He was a man of great integrity, profound social conscience and with a deep love for people...He died doing what he loved most. In the field, shooting a documentary film. Our hearts are broken, he will be greatly missed.”
Munier was the one with the relentless effort behind the camera of the ATN News Coverage of the Libya, turmoil portraying the situation of Bangladeshis there.
Recently, it was disclosed to the media that, Mishuk Munier and Tareque Masud were listed as witnesses for the investigation agency of the war crimes tribunal. They were compiling documents and audio-visual evidence for our 1971 war crime trials.
The tragedy of their death, and immensity of our loss should have left us speechless. It should have been a time of quite introspection and commiseration. But the circumstances of their death have left us with a very different emotion: rage. Rage at the ineptitude of the system, rage at out inability to do something about it, and rage at the injustice of it all. We are in mourning, but we do not seek closure. We cannot undo this tragedy, but we can prevent a tragedy that would be even worse. The root of the problem has to be addressed, we cannot just forget.
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