In the crowded memoryscape of the Bangladesh Liberation War, countless lives remain unrecorded. Lovely Talukdar’s Rakta-Teep (Blood-Vermilion) turns to one such forgotten figure. Dr. Premankur Roy (alias, Prem), a freedom fighter who served in Sector 11 under Colonel Abu Taher, to tell a story where love and war become inseparable.
At its heart, the novella is a love story shaped by rupture. Prem and Anjali’s relationship unfolds in a rural area that war swiftly overtakes. The last time they saw each other was under a Gab tree before Prem left for India. Anjali gives Prem a sweater, a handkerchief, and hibiscus as gifts to show how much she loves him. In return, Prem marks her forehead with his own blood, which makes the rakta-teep. This moment foreshadows the tragedy to come. The narrative then moves on to displacement. Both Prem and Anjali are forced across the border into refugee camps in India, just like millions of others in 1971. The author here captures two parallel forms of resistance. Prem, a doctor, joins the Red Cross and sets up a makeshift field hospital to treat injured soldiers with very few resources. His dedication earns him the nickname ‘Che Guevara.’
Anjali’s resistance, however, takes a quieter form. She lives in a refugee camp with her family and takes care of the sick people to show resilience in the face of vulnerability. This parallel structure is one of the strengths of the text. It paints a very vivid picture of what life is like for refugees, similar to Allen Ginsberg’s remarkable poem, September on Jessore Road. The cholera outbreak in refugee camps that causes Anjali’s death is the most emotional part of the story. Prem arrives at the camp too late to save her. As a last act of love, he puts sindoor (vermilion) on her forehead and salutes her with the national flag. Anjali’s death transforms her into a symbol for countless other unnamed victims of the war.
In Rakta-Teep, the personal grief mixes with the plight of many people. It serves as a reminder to readers that freedom was achieved at a significant personal cost. Without going into too much detail, the novella also hints at the abduction, torture, and murder performed by the Pakistani army in 1971. The short length of this book, however, makes it easy to read. With the addition of familiar cultural symbols and the occasional use of dialect, Lovely’s writing style is simple and straightforward to understand. Even though there are some small spelling mistakes, the book makes the text interesting for a wide range of readers. The story sometimes relies on well-known themes of sacrifice and martyrdom, but its emotional honesty keeps it powerful.
What distinguishes Rakta-Teep is its focus on an ‘unknown’ freedom fighter. By foregrounding Premankur Roy – someone who, as the narrative suggests, never received official recognition – the novella raises a quiet but important question: who is remembered in the story of 1971? The author questions the selectivity of national memory by highlighting the experiences and sacrifices of those like Premankur Roy who have been overlooked in mainstream historical accounts.
In the end, Rakta-Teep does not intend to tell a different story of the liberation war. Instead, it invites us to look beyond official narratives and to listen for the quieter stories that history often leaves behind. It asks us to remember not only our victory, but also the people who made it possible.
The writer is an Assistant Professor & Chairman, Dept. of English, The People’s University of Bangladesh. Email: [email protected]
