A Cup of Tea with My Mother-in-law: A Tribute to Makbula Manzoor

Anthony Benka

 

To the majority of readers, Makbula Manzoor was a distinguished author, a professor of literature, an activist for women’s rights and a campaigner for social causes that promote a better and fairer Bangladesh. You may have acquainted yourself with her novels in the 1980s and 1990s, or eagerly read her children’s literature as you grew up and learnt about the world. You may have devoured been fascinated by her historical works that reflected on Bangladeshi society or relished her articles in Begum for over 25 years. You may even have a set of her novels on your bookshelf, or read her children’s stories every evening to your young son or daughter; those same books you cherished when you were growing up.

To me, I did not grow up with such memories nor the understanding of Makbula Manzoor’s place in Bangla literature or history, for I did not know Professor Makbula Manzoor, I simply knew ‘Amma’.

For years, I had not been acquainted with her many achievements nor her wide corpus of publications. I came to know Amma on my first visit to Thailand in 2000, and on later overseas travels as a family, or on her stays in Australia.

When I reflect on Amma, I vividly recall her humble and elegant demeanour. I will always remember her as a kind, loving, honest and energetic woman with a sweet smile. As I write these words, I recall her special smile; humble, intelligent and selfless. Unfortunately, the limitations of words cannot do justice to her smile.

Much of my treasured memories of Amma fall into two categories: those many occasions when I shared a cup of tea (cha) with Amma, and our times appreciating nature.

Sitting down and having a cup of tea is a ritual appreciated across all corners of our world. The appeal of punctuating the day over a cup of tea with someone dear was never lost on Amma. As an overly enthusiastic tea drinker myself, I frankly cannot recall a single occasion when Amma declined my offer to make her cha. The opportunities to share time over a cup of cha were numerous, particularly during her second visit to Australia. Sitting with Amma was always comforting; the ritual of tea drinking with Amma was an expression of our mutual understanding, a gesture of kindness, and an act of uniting two minds in between our daily chores.

I quickly came to appreciate that Amma had a deep appreciation for nature. Her love for nature was not one marked by the obligatory zoo visit, nor trips to picturesque tourist locations. It was marked by a special fascination – one that was distinct in character that I can best describe as a ‘child like’ wonder. Amma thoroughly enjoyed the Australian landscape. She would take in each and every aspect of our southern land which she later scribed into her travelogues. I recall her commenting during her first visit on how big the sky was. She was taken by the wide open land and broad horizons. Amma marvelled at our rich birdlife. She loved the vast array of birds that would visit our parks and backyard and treasured the moment one of our feathered locals landed on her table, seeking to share some of her pastry! I recall Amma’s first encounter with a kangaroo and koala. I also will never forget the deep emotion Amma expressed when we visited a waterfall at night. So moved was she as we watched the water plunge and project fine mist into the clear night sky, illuminated by flood lights. With tears in her eyes, Amma said “when we all leave, no one will be here late in the night to witness its immaculate beauty, but that will not worry the waterfall, as it will continue to cascade in its own delight.”

Amma was a petite woman, but there is nothing small about her legacy, nor the impact she had on others. What has become evident to me in the months following her passing is that she has left a trail of good will. The respect, the well wishes and the stories of gratitude and admiration have been a constant reminder of how loved and cherished Makbula Manzoor is to so many.

Clearly, she leaves a rich, beautiful, and vibrant legacy to the people of Bangladesh. To me, she leaves a void that can only be filled with memories. For, are we not all but memories? Are we not images in other people’s minds; pictures captured on film, and reproduced in an album, or filed away on a phone, somewhere? Are we not etched in marble at the end of our days? In essence, as we all pass on, are our memories not seeking an opportunity to shine, like dormant candles awaiting a flame to light the wick? In Amma’s case, her memory is awaiting to be lit up again through her novels, her travelogues, her children’s books, or simply by reflecting on a time when you spoke with her at university, at a book launch, or simply shared a cup of tea with her with some mishti. I like to think that Amma’s life-long works are akin to ‘memory triggers’ awaiting that moment in time when you select one of her books from your shelf and spend some time reading her words whilst sipping on some cha.

As I sit down to have a cup of tea, I will remember Amma sitting beside me, having a casual chat. I will recall her lively eyes, her voice and her special smile. My ritual of having a cup of tea keeps her memory alive. I sincerely hope that you too will keep her memory alive as you turn a page of one of her novels. For each time I have a cup of cha, and for each time you turn a page of one of her books, we collectively keep her memory alive, and her candle shining bright.

 

Anthony Benka

Melbourne, Australia 2021