The more we talk about one of the greatest wordsmiths of Bangladesh, Humayun Ahmed, the less it will be. His literary genius is woven into all branches of Bengali literature like a deliberate cobweb. One might find themselves enchanted with his crowd-favorite movies and books like "Nandito Noroke" (1972), "Aguner Poroshmoni" (1995), "Shankhonil Karagar," "Jothsna O Jononir Galpo," "Himu," "Misir Ali," and others. For this instance, we will delve into his lesser-known movies, novels, and characters and see how he mirrored the perplexing stance of society and subtly offered his antithetical views against societal stigma, injustice, and contradictions.

There is a great debate on his inclination towards choosing safer routes as a laureate; critics always said he downplayed his capabilities and did not utilize his literary brilliance on social and political instances much; rather, he opted for popular and contemporary content, a discussion popular among critics and fans alike. 

However, Humayun brings light to the little things of the present that matter, talking about the heart-wrenching stories hiding in homes and alleyways and creating a social impact through their representations of society. He takes minute quirks in characters that we come across in daily life but never really seem to notice and sketches stories that are unforgettable.

He was a weaver of stories from lands and cultures, all within Bangladesh. His stories still ring a connection with many families living in Bangladesh today—both urban and rural. His sharp and writerly instinct takes us to the part of the world and society as a whole we don't know or don't want to discuss.

Humayun Ahmed was always subtle yet cunningly crafty, and if we trace back to snippets of the plots of his movies, books, and short stories, we see how much he spoke against societal, familial injustice, taboo, and stigma and how it somehow mirrored our observations about it, without pressing any particular judgment.

Take his debut novel, "Nandito Noroke," which loosely translates to "In Blissful Hell." The book was published in 1972 when he was just a student at Dhaka University. Centered around a low-income family, this novel takes an incisive look at power, money, and caste dynamics. Humayun, as an omnipresent narrator, tells us a gripping tale that shows the unmasking of demons residing within each of us when we are pushed to the edge. We see a differently-abled innocent girl getting exploited by a completely less-talked-about character, a school teacher, in the novel—leaving the girl and the family suffering in a 'blissful' societal hell.

Humayun points out the same incongruity and the family's blind stance to societal exploitation. Take "Brihannala" and "Pipra," for example. Humayun never pushes his judgment toward a character, and he is famously nonpartial in portraying them. It feels like, throughout every bit of his books, novels, he remains in full oblivion of any human biases or fallacies, so much so that it seems that he is even ardent towards even the worst of characters. Yet, it hits the chords of humanity with subtle but strong swirls of contradiction and loathing.

With his subtly brilliant visualization in filmmaking and a masterful blend of ordinary words, he makes everything alive—be it for love or detest. Take his 2003 directorial movie "Chandrokotha" as an example. We see a wealthy elderly man, portrayed by Asaduzzaman Noor, and the nuance of pedophilia, domestic violence, casteism, and familial exploitation is embedded in his character so much that he did not even doubt his decision to cut his young wife, portrayed by Meher Afroz Shaon, fingers, as he is as prudent and carefree as the rich are in our pre-modern society across Bangladesh.

In his novel, "Debi," we see how extreme mental illness can be in women and how powerful they can be even bridled by it. He revolves around the same old and clichéd circle of writing and dealing with hackneyed human behavior and eccentricities, which he confronts at every turn.

In this book, Humayun spoke of women who went through rape, exploitation, and derangement with such delicacy and deliberation that it seems ethereal. The master weaver of Bengali literature makes his literary presentation magical and impossible to resist. His storylines often blend reality with supernatural episodes. This blend is, in some ways, similar to magic realism.

In his 1973 novel "Shonkhonil Karagar," he spoke about other familial and societal issues that families faced back then—looking for suitable grooms for young, dark-skinned daughters, looking for a job, the daily taunts from society, the countless taboos that shaped societal life at the time. Only Humayun Ahmed can comprehend and visualize these sensitive issues faced, especially by women. Through his sharp eye and writerly instinct, Humayun Ahmed managed to touch the hearts of thousands and quickly millions through his family sagas, mysteries, and comedies.

However, Humayun's 2012 musical film "Ghetuputra Komola" was perhaps his most direct stance toward rape and child exploitation under the pretense of family contribution to our society 60 to 70 years back.

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Remembering Humayun Ahmed through the eyes of three actors

On his 75th birth anniversary today, Humayun Ahmed seems so relevant and mandatory in Bengali literature. In retrospect, the wordsmith has left a formidable empty space in Bengali literature that can never be fulfilled.

Now, it is up to the readers and viewers to decide upon Humayun Ahmed's literary genius and his subtle yet powerful stance against societal cruelty, exploitation, and prevalence as a societal spokesperson.