-Sir Frank Peters-
The tranquil picturesque village of Haydarabad (near Gazipur) is in a state of shock and deep mourn-ing over the passing of its most legendary son, Dr. Ali Akbar.
The vibrant, virtuous, multi-talented forever smiling father of two was 48-years young when he died of a heart attack last week. It took everyone completely by surprise because he was as ‘fit as a fiddle’, as they say.
Ali was unique. Allah broke the mould after he had made him. He was a man of exemplary charac-ter, human qualities, and discipline. He was extremely good-natured, honest to a fault, and had enormous love and compassion for his fellow human beings.
He was also at times (and annoyingly to me, at least) a perfectionist. He flatly refused to accept second best in all assignments he undertook! Artwork we performed together for a royal household was acceptable to me, but not Ali. It had to be perfect.
I’ve known him for 25-years (he says 26) – before he grew facial hair –¬ and initially I played a role in his learning of the English language.
When he visited me in Dhaka, he always carried a Bangla-English dictionary. If I said a word un-known to him, out came the dictionary, and he would memorize its spelling and meaning. I did mention he was unique and the word lazy wasn’t in his dictionary.
At 15 his academic schooling came to an abrupt stop. His father had disbanded him, his mother, his three tiny-tot sisters Shaheda, Moriam, Halima, and his brother Ali Nawaz.
Overnight he became the head of the house, and a surrogate father to all.
To keep starvation from the doorstep, he took a job at a garments factory that paid him the paltry sum 7,000-taka a month.
Ali was every garment factory’s dream. He needed to be shown only once. He had a photographic memory and abundance of intelligence and enthusiasm to execute the task demanded.
During his tiffin breaks he studied the work of higher paid colleagues, and eventually transferred to that section… and then another… and then another, increasing his take-home salary by leaps and bounds. He became in expendable.
He was so good at what he did, the management labelled his work “The Ali Akbar Quality”. Much to his embarrassment, an announcement came over the public address system that said: “from all our employees, we are seeking the standard of Ali Akbar quality.”
Promotions he declined regularly. They would have given him an increase in salary and prestige, but he calculated there would be less monthly take-home pay than that his piecework provided to feed a six-member family. Personal glory to the side, his family came first.
Despite the odds stacked up against him, he went on to put his three sisters through university. He, Shaheda, Halima and his stepdad – the celebrated and renowned Guru Suruj Dewan – were homeopathic doctors and served the community on a pay-only-if-you-can basis. Moriam became a lawyer. His brother, Ali Nawaz, opted-out of further education and went into the grocery business.
The weekly Ali Akbar Fun’n’Games and annual Cricket Tournaments were what brought his name to public attention, appreciation, and wide acclaim. From 2004, F’n’G was a weekly festival that was purely for fun, family entertainment, and friendship.
American, German, British, European ambassadors, and the MD & CEO of Biman Airlines were among many of the VIP guests who participated as fun-loving judges and presented the prizes.
About two hundred youths made the pilgrimage to the site weekly. Everyone went away with a prize in their hand or a smile on their face and joy in their heart.
Community spirited, he also orchestrated an English Language Club. Participants were required to learn two new English words daily and were given weekly tests. Those who got all right were given candy as prizes. When they learned 100 English words they received 100-taka.
Local boys, Amer Hamja (teacher), Sorif Islam (chef), and Rajowl Karim (business man) – now chatterboxes in English – fondly remember the English Language Club with profound gratitude.
Ali is survived by his mother Hamida, his wife Poppy, his two beautiful children Angelina and Frank, (whom I’m thrilled to say he named in my honour), and his three sisters – Shaheda, Mori-am, Halima – and his brother Ali Nawaz.
The body of Ali Akbar is buried in the soil, but people like Ali will never die while those who loved, admired, and appreciated his compassion and excellent qualities remember him.
Ali was of exemplary character. I’ve never known him once to use foul language. He was a total gentleman. Understandably, the entire village has only good to say about him.
Thank you dear friend, Ali, for the wonderful human being you have been and for bringing so much joy into the lives of thousands. Be assured your tombstone inscription will read, as you have so humbly requested:
“I am who I am… I’m nothing more; I’m nothing less… I am Ali Akbar.”
May Allah embrace you with as much love as the people of Haydarabad and I do.
