‘We were sure they were going to kill us’

New Age
Xtra
February 23, 2007

Actor-director Shahiduzzaman Selim, tells Syed Tashfin Chowdhury of the memories of torture that still haunt him, two decades after he gave up student politics, and how he is approaching a bend in his career that could lead him into commercial cinema

By his own admission, the greatest and most inspired moment in Shahiduzzaman Selim’s two-decade-long acting career is likely to be one even his die-hard fans have long forgotten.

In the 1993 film Ekaturrer Jishu, Shahiduzzaman Selim re-lived the pain and anguish of the state torture he had endured as a student leader while portraying the character of a Dhaka University student, half of whose body had been charred during the Pakistan army’s raid of the institution in 1971. Albeit a three-minute cameo in the film, that single role has been seared into his memory as the one in which he achieved the greatest achievement an actor can hope for: to fit into the shoes of his character as if he were living that reality.

Though Selim is a familiar and established face in television and theatre, few know the scars of a troubled past the under-rated actor carries with him. As a student leader while studying for his MA at Jahangirnagar University in 1983, Selim made his bones in protests against a new education policy the government was about to introduce. Erstwhile education minister Majid Khan was proposing a new policy which would make English and Arabic compulsory for all students at the university level. ‘It was an absurd move and as the policy was announced in the month of February, naturally the students resisted it,’ says Selim.

The students revolt that followed caused the dictatorial regime of the time to lash out with all its draconian force. ‘The primary targets were the dissenting students of Dhaka University, who were arrested and tortured on February 12,’ he says. The next day Jahangirnagar University students blocked the Dhaka-Aricha highway in protest. The government looked anxious as the protests spread across the major universities and colleges. On February 16, the state responded. Selim and his fellow protestors woke up to find their entire campus surrounded by army trucks and jeeps on all sides.

‘They huddled all the students in rooms and called the names of the student leaders. They asked us to respond as they called our names. In good faith, we responded and all of us were detained while the other students were released,’ Selim remembers. The leaders and activists were rounded up into trucks and taken to the Savar Cantonment.

‘There were 50 of us in one room initially. Later, the numbers were divided and kept in two rooms. We were stuck there for seven days without even realising our fault. We were scared as none of us had been arrested before. Student politics was quite different back then and the leaders mostly hailed from middle-class families and were all meritorious students,’ he says.

‘I still remember clearly that the torture began from February 19 and continued till February 21. On that day, we were sure they were going to kill us and intently listened to the dictator’s speech to the nation on the radio, dreading that he will order the army to kill students who had revolted,’ Selim remembers. Possibly seeking to avoid a nationwide student revolt if they murdered Selim and his colleagues, making martyrs out of them, they were released the next day and put on a bus to their respective homes. The army made each of them sign a bond to never take part in student politics again. ‘And that was the end of student politics in my life,’ says Selim with a faint smile.

He points to the scars he bears from that nightmarish episode. ‘I carried the mental trauma for over 20 years, during which my sleep was haunted by frequent returns to that torture chamber,’ he says.

Although the actor began his career in stage performances at the Jahangirnagar University in 1981, the experience enhanced his fighting spirit and his drive to fulfil his dreams at becoming a renowned professional actor.

He explains that his struggle began at home. ‘Initially, my parents rebuked me for taking acting too seriously as I am their eldest son and should have been a more dependable role model for my four brothers and sisters,’ he says. He remembers his father as an erudite government service-holder, who tried to discourage Selim’s passion for acting with witty and subtle remarks.

‘He used to call me “Notun-da”, linking me with the timeless character from Sharat Chandra Chattapadhay’s classic, Shrikanto,’ Selim says. He explains that in the novel, the character always dressed up and left his home with his harmonium, despite rough weather. During one such incident, he slipped on the mud and lost one of a pair of new sandals. ‘My father teased me with this, because like him, despite unfavourable weather conditions, I always showed up at drama rehearsals at the school theatre,’ he says.

In school and in university Selim was an active member of theatre troupes. In 1981, the actor joined ‘Dhaka Theatre’ and performed on stage for the first time in the drama ‘Kirtonkhola’.

All this while, Selim’s father had wanted him to sit the Bangladesh Civil Service (BCS) examinations and become a government service holder like him. After obtaining a Bachelors and a Masters degree in Economics, Selim sat the examinations for the first time. ‘I didn’t do too well as I hadn’t studied for it,’ he says. The next time he didn’t even show up for the exams. ‘There was a high possibility that passing the examinations would get me a job that would see me posted outside of Dhaka – and that would end my acting career,’ he explains.

Soon, Selim found a job in a bank but later left it for another job at a multinational pharmaceutical company. ‘It was strange that a Masters in Economics was doing a job in a pharmaceutical company but my aim was to do a job, which would spare enough time for me to do theatre,’ he says.

‘I never needed money for luxury; only as a bare necessity. Back in 1985, I had made up my mind that if I could earn a monthly income of only Tk 6,000 through acting, I would happily leave my job at that time,’ he says. His dreams were realised in 1989, when he auditioned and became an actor for Bangladesh Television. ’The platform helped me immensely through maximum exposure and appreciation from audiences from all classes,’ he says. Those who have followed his rise in the Thespian world will remember his early works in Chaya Shikari, Granthik gon kohe, Tar Rohoshomoy Hashi, Dipto Bashona, Shabujer Holud Badhi, Zero Point and more.

Selim is predictably a fan of method acting and draws his inspiration from actors Robert DeNiro and Al Pacino in Hollywood, and Humayun Faridi in Bangladesh. ‘In the movie, Bihongo, directed by Abdullah Al Mamoon and produced by the Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed (CRP), I played Madhob. He had passed away only 21 days before we reached CRP in Savar to shoot the movie,’ he says.

To build Madhob’s character, Selim sought the help of Madhob’s girlfriend and friends at the CRP. ‘I got very much into the character making it another memorable yet pleasing experience of my life. To this day, whenever I visit CRP, I am addressed as “Madhob-da” by the staff there rather than Selim, the actor,’ he says.

The most recent work that audiences will likely remember Selim by is for his role in the Mostofa Sarwar Farooki film Mad_e in Bangladesh, in which Selim played Naushad, the hilarious personal assistant of the district commissioner, who takes flattery to heights.

‘Almost everybody I come across, who has seen the movie, congratulates me for my performance. The other day, I went to the movie’s web site to find out that around a third of the positive comments on the site were for me. This is definitely the biggest award an actor can get as this is coming directly from the common public,’ he says.

The actor stepped into the director’s chair in 2000. ‘My first package drama was Nizamuddin er Bitto Bashona,’ he says. He received numerous awards for his first mega-serial Sporsher Bairey and received significant appreciation for directing more recent mega-serials like Rongchut, Nokol Poshak, Aguntok and others.

What his contemporaries in the field of drama say Selim does best is, realistic portrayals of teenage and young adult lifestyles. ‘Interaction with my two daughters, Troma and Seema, helps me understand their fears, insecurities and joys. I even listen to popular music and keep track of fashion to detect the subtle changes in lifestyle,’ he says. These dynamic concepts helped him to direct Gourchondrika and his upcoming serials on Bangla Vision, Ei Shob Ondhokar and an adaptation of Selim Al Deen’s novel, Protno Nari for Ekushey TV.

The actor and director feels that Bangladeshi TV drama has been successful due to its realistic concepts and adherence to tradition. ‘Audiences in neighbouring countries are still watching our TV dramas, preferring them over local shows where they are introducing titillating issues like living together and sex,’ he says. He thinks Bangladeshi drama will only improve in the future as a new generation of directors are attracting audiences through simplified dialogue, music, concurrent issues while adhering to tradition.

Looking ahead, Selim says his career could take a turn in the next five years. ‘I want to contribute as much as I can to Bangladeshi drama. When I feel I have given all I can give, I want to direct a commercial movie,’ he says. With a smile, he continues, ‘I know there will be critics and others, who will doubt my abilities at doing that. But I know that through hard-work, I will be able to do well.’

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