Bengal Hound: 1960s Dhaka comes alive in Rahad Abir's debut novel

The Language Movement in 1952 and the War of Independence in 1971 have had a recurring presence in the realm of literature, thanks to Bangladeshi writers regularly taking pen to paper to portray those tumultuous periods of the country. 

But when it comes to the events that preceded the 1971 war, especially the 1964 Hindu-Muslim riots and the 1969 uprising, there seems to be a dearth of fiction that truly digs deep into these events and paints a vivid picture of the times.

This is what sets Rahad Abir's debut novel, 'Bengal Hound,' apart, as something truly exceptional—it boldly endeavours to spotlight the events that paved the way for the birth of Bangladesh.

Set in then-East Pakistan during the late 1960s, the novel places Shelley Majumder, a young man of Hindu descent, in the spotlight. Shelley, bearing the name of the British poet, is a student of Dhaka University studying English. His mother and two sisters moved to India, while he chose to stay behind in East Pakistan with his father. 

At a time of political discord, the young protagonist is further thrown into disarray as he and his childhood sweetheart, Roxana, a Muslim girl from their village, decide to elope, igniting a chain of events that serve as a faithful reflection of the stormy relationship between Hindus and Muslims during the 1960s.

Through this novel, the Dhaka from six decades back springs to vibrant life in its most authentic form. Abir skillfully situates the unfolding events in iconic locations such as the corridors of Dhaka University, Madhur Canteen and Fuller Road. He paints a flamboyant resemblance of various streets and areas, including DIT Road, Northbrook Hall Road, Hatkhola Road, Motijheel Commercial Area, Azimpur Graveyard, Fulbaria Railway Station, Palashi Bazar, Narinda, and more. 

Abir's meticulous attention to small details and relevant references transports readers on a nostalgic journey back to that bygone era of the 1960s.

Talking about descriptions of the settings, Abir also seems to be at his best in his craft as he goes on to portray the scenic beauty of nature. Whether he's depicting the tranquil charm of the small village called Gopala, or unravelling the enigmatic allure of a virgin island shrouded in ghostly legends, his prose shines with arresting imagery.

Abir is equally brilliant in creating distinctive and memorable side characters. Whether it's Laloo, who shares a unique bond with animals; Maya, haunted by her tragic past; young King Siraj, whose political activism belies his age; or Monu, the Gita-graduate dacoit—each of Abir's characters boasts a rich and intricately woven backstory. These backstories serve as the keys that effortlessly unlock the readers' understanding of each character's traits and motivations.

Abir claims to have read Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman's 'The Unfinished Memoirs' and Akhtaruzzaman Elias's 'Chilekothar Sepai' (Sepoy of the Attic) throughout the writing process. While the authenticity of this claim is mirrored in the final product, it's also evident that he also drew substantial inspiration from the giants of Bengali literature, ranging from Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay to Zahir Raihan, and from Sunil Gangopadhyay to Humayun Ahmed.

Novels set against the backdrop of a historical period frequently try to establish parallels between that particular period's socio-political and cultural milieu and the personal lives of the characters. However, more often than not, many authors struggle to achieve a seamless synchronisation between these elements, leaving readers desiring more from the novel. 

Fortunately, despite 'Bengal Hound' being his maiden novel, Abir achieves this feat with remarkable finesse. To such an extent, that he manages to navigate the story without delving into exhaustive explanations of the country's political landscape, which might have risked overwhelming the narrative with excessive information and potentially compromising the quality of the storyline itself.

Nonetheless, this also raises a vital question: Who is the intended audience for this novel? Is it exclusively aimed at individuals well-versed in Bangladesh's pre-independence history? It doesn't appear to be the case. 

Clearly, Abir has penned this novel in English with the intention of reaching a broader readership, extending beyond those already familiar with the historical timelines. Consequently, there's a possibility that many foreign readers, lacking substantial knowledge of pre-independence Bangladesh, may struggle to grasp the connections between Shelley's life and the nation's broader context, which happens to be the story's most significant asset.

'Bengal Hound' has its fair share of some other shortcomings as well. In particular, Abir's portrayal of intimate moments falls flat. These scenes were swarmed with the mention of private body parts, but devoid of any sensibility or emotional awareness necessary to connect readers with the developing chemistry between the lead characters. 

It's important to note that this critique isn't rooted in conservatism. Descriptions of intimacy can certainly be a powerful and artistic element in literature. However, in this instance, Abir's depictions appear to resemble a situation where male authors are indulging in their own sexual fantasies, overlooking the natural flow of the story. 

The protagonist's decision to persuade an idol-maker to make a statue resembling his dead wife Roxana and then making out with it can also serve as a fascinating subject for psychoanalytic scrutiny.

The absence of a conclusive ending in the novel is another significant drawback. Again, one could argue that open-ended narratives can often be more thought-provoking, which is an idea I also wholeheartedly concur with. However, even when judged as an open-ended conclusion, this ending felt abysmally abrupt. 

Abir established a promising backdrop and introduced intriguing characters, all of which had the potential to birth an epic plot. Yet, in the end, it seemed as though the author began with a grand concept but didn't quite know where to go with it. 

Therefore, Abir's 'Bengal Hound' could be seen as a mixed bag of great potential and unrealised opportunities. Nevertheless, the true triumph of this novel would lie in its ability to spark curiosity and encourage readers, both from Bangladesh and across borders, to delve deeper into the country's profoundly significant history. 

'Bengal Hound' will be published by Gaudy Boy, an independent press, on 1 October.