The language we breathe in 

On January 22, 1905, in St. Petersburg, Russia, unarmed demonstrators were fired upon by the Tsar's Imperial Guard. 

On April 13, 1919, a peaceful crowd in Amritsar, Punjab, was fired upon by the British Indian Army who did not stop until they ran out of bullets. 

On January 30, 1972, unarmed civilians in a protest march in Derry, Northern Ireland were fired upon, again, by a British Army unit. "I can't believe the news today," Bono sang in a now-immortal song by U2, "I can't close my eyes to make it go away."

On the morning of February 21, 1952 -- 19 years and one month before Bangladesh's declaration of independence -- students gathered in the premises of Dhaka University. 

For a few years preceding, discontent had been brewing in the East Pakistan side over Urdu being mandated as the sole state language of the republic. Section 144 had been imposed, so the students congregating on the grounds were defying the law. 

Arrests were made, tear gas shells were fired, emotions were inflamed. The police fired their guns. Dead bodies of students fell to the ground, right in the middle of the most hallowed institution of our land. 

The blood reddened the earth, creating a stain Pakistan would never fully wash itself of. The names of the martyrs are etched in history: Salam, Rafiq, Barkat, Jabbar. 

Today, here we stand, in a Bangladesh free from Pakistani rule, with Bangla as our mother tongue. 70 years later, we still commemorate that day, because like the events in Tsarist Russia or Amritsar, Ekushey February represents a pivot in the psyche of the people -- a rupture, a kind of snapping of the public consciousness -- where it became clear as daylight that an overhaul in the regime was needed, that the uniformed officers supposedly enforcing order and following the letter of the law were not protectors, but oppressors, on behalf of an oppressive government. 

Disagreements between people and government happen, protests and marches are not all that rare, and protesters are not necessarily in the right all the time. However, when peaceful, unarmed protesters are mowed down, the government loses any and all moral high ground, and its legitimacy crumbles. 
After these ruptures in consciousness are caused by unconscionable brutality, the ball always rolls faster towards some historical inevitability: the collapse of Tsarist

Russia, the end of British India (and the gradual crumbing of the British Empire). And of course, the inglorious end of Pakistan's dominion over the land we now call Bangladesh, and the birth of a new nation.

Losing our way

Over the years, much of the discourse surrounding Ekushey has become warped -- hijacked by vested quarters, made to serve narrow ends. It has given rise to a nonsensical attitude of Bangla supremacy in some circles, who see the practice of other languages as some kind of betrayal of Ekushey. 

As though Ekushey were about upholding only Bangla and turning our backs on -- or self-righteously wringing our hands in the face of -- other languages, especially English. This exclusionary attitude towards language-learning distorts history, and indeed taints the legacy of Ekushey in the guise of honouring it. 

The protests of that tragic day in 1952 were never about replacing the tyranny of Urdu with the tyranny of Bangla. The protests were about freedom, and ultimately, about having more choices. 

We need the right to speak and read and write Bangla, as well as any other language we please, in order to realise our potential as individuals, and as a nation.

The immature culture of vilifying Urdu, then, must be resisted. Urdu is a language, and a beautiful one. It is a language that long predates the nation-state of Pakistan, or the arrival of the British, or the Mughal Empire. 

So let us not politicise this language which has given us some of the richest poetry and philosophy in the world. 

Let us also stand against the utterly puerile tendency to view the practice of English with an odd mix of righteous indignation, classist resentment (let us face it, those in

Bangladesh with high competency in English, maybe a segment largely foreign-educated, are also generally members of the more affluent classes), and puritanical condescension. 

Holding a grudge against English will only hold Bangladesh back as a nation. Some of Ershad's disastrous policies should have taught us this lesson by now. 

Still, the purists continue their misguided protests, sometimes raising their voices against events like the wonderful Dhaka Lit Fest, which has in the last few years attracted authors from all over the world, including Nobel-prize winners and Booker-prize winners. 

How dare Bangla Academy let itself be encroached upon by foreign culture, they whine. These purists seem to forget that the very name of Bangla Academy contains the word academy -- a word derived from the Greek Akademeia. So much for resisting foreign influence. 

Can we find our way back?

Along with March 26 and December 16, Ekushey February will always be a day that Bangladesh -- as a nation -- remembers and marks. But as each year goes by, it is also impossible to cut out the noise, the various competing agendas and power plays regarding the day, and think back to the meaning of the movement. 

On February 21, 1952, numerous brave students stood up against tyranny -- cultural, linguistic, and governmental tyranny. Their fight was a fight for rights, which in turn was embedded in a dream of nationhood. Their quarrel was not with other languages, or with other ways of thinking, speaking, feeling. 

The best way to honour Ekushey is to respect all languages, and protect and uphold the freedom of speech, the freedom of the press, and the freedom of peaceful protest. To turn against these values would be to turn into the oppressor. And just like the Tsar's men or the brutal British army, those who clamp down our basic freedoms will very quickly lose any and all moral authority.

Abak Hussain. Illustration: TBS

Abak Hussain is a journalist. 

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.