After watching Bangladesh Television’s production of Raktakarabi, Satyajit Ray remarked, “This is our Montu’s work? But why has he done it for television instead of film?”
He knew Mustafa Monwar by the name Montu. Mustafa Monwar’s father, poet Golam Mustafa, had been Satyajit Ray’s teacher. That productions such as Raktakarabi, Mukhra Ramani Bashikaran and Dakghor could be made within the limited scope and meagre resources of BTV in the 1970s remains, to this day, a matter of great wonder to those who work in audio-visual media.
Not only in the production of TV shows and programmes, but also in the invention of ever-new ideas for the voracious appetite of a medium like television, it is almost impossible to find a second person as creative as Mustafa Monwar in our country.
From a genuine love for children, it was Mustafa Monwar who birthed the idea for Notun Kuri. The most quality-rich and content-diverse programme in Bangladesh for nurturing the talents of the young, it was popular not only among children but among adults as well.
The programme’s theme song — Amra nuton, amra kuri nikhil ban-nandane, oshthe ranga hashir rekha, jibon jage spondone — was taken from a celebrated poem by Golam Mustafa.
His greatest contribution to many people’s childhoods, however, was undoubtedly the puppet show he created featuring his characters Parul, Baul and the Bull. Broadcast as a long-running serial called Moner Kotha, the show was a wonderful blend of stories, songs, illustrations and puppet performances for young audiences.
The principal concept and presentation of this puppet show were by Mustafa Monwar himself, who played the role of Shilpi Bhai. Through the conversations between Shilpi Bhai and the puppets (and the magical strokes of Shilpi Bhai’s brush), the programme remained enormously popular among children for nearly two decades.
He made an important contribution to the adaptation of the world-renowned children’s programme Sesame Street into Bangladesh’s Sisimpur. He ensured that the language, characters, setting, stories and cultural characteristics of the programme fully matched the everyday lives and activities of Bangladeshi children.
By blending the traditional puppet dance of our folk culture with modern puppetry, he gave Sisimpur a distinctly local identity. As the programme’s chief adviser, his creative vision played a direct role in the design and construction of the puppets.
It would not be an exaggeration to say that he gave new expression to the beauty of Bangladesh’s own puppet art and to the world of children’s imagination. He also represented Bangladesh on the creative team of the Meena cartoon.
Mustafa Monwar organised his first puppet show in 1971, during Bangladesh’s Liberation War. Seeing the frightened children who had fled the Pakistani army’s indiscriminate killings, destruction, arson and looting to take refuge in camps in India’s West Bengal, Mustafa Monwar felt compelled to do something for them.
Day after day, in order to bring smiles to the faces of the children, he created puppets of Yahya Khan, Pakistani soldiers, and freedom fighters, and staged puppet shows in the refugee camps with comic storylines.
Not only children, but the displaced ordinary people who had lost their homes and the freedom fighters too were inspired by these puppet shows.
In 1984, under a plan by Mustafa Monwar, Mahbubul Alam and I jointly launched a programme called Din Ponero, with senior producer Haidar Rizvi in charge of overseeing its production. This 30-minute programme contained more than 25 to 30 segments, with each being around 2-3 minutes long.
Most of these segments were a dazzling variety of information, visuals, statements and entertainment in around 25 seconds, or at most, a minute. When the programme was discontinued after three months due to BTV’s limitations and some degree of non-cooperation from the authorities, Mustafa Monwar sir said, “You have started a programme belonging to the year 2004 in the year 1984. You will have to wait at least twenty years for a programme like this.”
Unfortunately, more than 30 years later, it has impossible to produce a programme of its kind.
Mustafa Monwar, son of poet Golam Mustafa and Jamila Khatun, was born on 1 September 1935 in Magura. He had been passionate about painting and music since childhood.
Even as a school student, he joined the language movement. He was imprisoned for a brief period due to his drawings. In later years, he was also one of the architects behind the blood-red sun that can be seen at the back of the main structure of Central Shaheed Minar.
Mustafa Monwar began his professional career as a lecturer at the East Pakistan College of Arts and Crafts. At various times thereafter, he worked at many important institutions including Bangladesh Shishu Academy, Bangladesh Television, Bangladesh Film Development Corporation and the Shilpakala Academy.
At Bangladesh Television he served as general manager and deputy director general. It was in his role as the latter that he retired from government service.
We had him directly as a teacher at the National Broadcasting Academy. In that capacity, he was not merely a senior officer or a boss — he was a true teacher and, in the fullest sense, our “Sir”.
His method of teaching was to make things understood through simple, conversational storytelling and through practical, hands-on work. His classes on set design, that is art direction, graphics and lighting, were an extraordinary experience for the next generation of audio-visual media professionals.
In the use of light in the studio, he was an incomparable creative mind. One experience on this subject is worth mentioning. When the renowned Rabindra Sangeet singer Kanika Bandyopadhyay visited Bangladesh, she was invited to sing on television.
Mohordi — that is, Kanika Bandyopadhyay — had been sitting on the set for a long time. Recording was to begin at 11am, but until noon, Mustafa Monwar was adjusting the lights.
Mohordi called out, “Montu, what are you doing for so long? I’m only going to sing a few songs.” Then the lights came on, and Mohordi cried out, “How did Gurudev come to be behind me?”
Mustafa Monwar had arranged the light in such a way that the portrait of Rabindranath appeared to float in the background. In that setting, seated at the feet of Gurudev, Kanika Bandyopadhyay sang her songs.
Mustafa Monwar himself said, “Mohordi was already very beautiful. In that light she looked even more beautiful. That day she sang with great joy.”
We had a saying among colleagues at Bangladesh Television in those days: “Mustafa Monwar is somewhat untidy and laid-back in administrative work.” This may have been true of routine paperwork or the unnecessarily long, almost pointless daily office meetings.
In the BTV conference room, he might have been presiding over a meeting concerning some programme of ours. Many a time after the meeting concluded, I noticed that on the blank paper or notesheet placed in front of him he had, during the very course of the meeting, doodled the portrait of a village woman, a river and boat, or Rabindranath Tagore.
Yet, in reality, his extraordinary quick-wittedness and practical wisdom in administrative decision-making is evidenced by several incidents. In the early days of Pakistan Television, anything uniquely belonging to Bengali language and culture was discouraged from broadcast as a non-Muslim cultural element.
Rabindra Sangeet was broadcast only once a week. There was a ban on the broadcasting dramatic adaptations of Rabindranath Tagore’s plays or stories. When India began construction of the Farakka Barrage, radio and television in Pakistan were instructed to broadcast more content against Farakka.
Mustafa Monwar seized the opportunity and went ahead with the production and broadcast of Rabindranath’s play Muktadhara. The authorities of Pakistan Television in Pindi were displeased and kicked up a great fuss.
Mustafa Monwar replied that even if Muktadhara was Rabindranath’s, its message was one of opposition to building a dam. At that, the Pakistanis said, “Theek hain, bahut achcha kiya.” (“Alright, in that case, great job!”)
Mustafa Monwar made what was perhaps the most important decision of his career on the night of 23 March 1971. That day, on the initiative of the Central Student Action Committee, the flag of independent Bangladesh was hoisted across the country, including in Dhaka.
This glorious day was observed as “Resistance Day” and “Flag Hoisting Day”. That day, the flag of independent Bangladesh was also formally raised at the Dhanmondi residence of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Officers and employees of Bangladesh Television at all levels decided that, at the end of the session on 23 March, the Pakistani flag would not be flown.
But how was this to be done? The decision was given by General Manager Mustafa Monwar. By broadcasting various fillers during the night session of 23 March and carrying the session past midnight, an announcement was made: “Today’s session ends here. It is now 24 March, Wednesday.”
It was only then that the Pakistani flag was displayed and the national anthem performed.
The Pakistanis, however, did not take the matter easily. As a result, immediately after Operation Searchlight began on 25 March, Mustafa Monwar and many other officers and employees of Bangladesh Television were forced to leave the country.
Mustafa Monwar was an extraordinary teacher, cultural worker and lover of children. His simple and direct language, sincere manner, sense of humour and creative thinking made him accepted by all.
Guided by the belief that creative work plays an important role in awakening the human spirit and in building the cultural identity of a nation, he worked tirelessly alongside his artistic practice to develop the creativity of the new generation of artists and children.
Now, with his passing, an era has come to an end. Yet the brilliant chapter he wrote in Bangladesh’s cultural history, from the Liberation War onwards, is one that will never be forgotten.
Faridur Rahman is a former deputy director general of Bangladesh Television.
