50 years on since Bangladesh has become a sovereign nation and we, British Bangladeshi, have had a footprint in the UK that stretches back four centuries. It started with the expansion of the East India Company in Calcutta in the 17th-century, with merchant seamen known as ‘Laskars’. They were recruited to serve the ships and on occasions, they would jump ship in one of Britain's ports. There were also ‘ayas’ – servants and cooks brought back by returning employees of the East India Company, however, this was in very small numbers and there is little account of their presence in the UK.

 
The first notable records of Bangladeshi people settled in the East end of London after jumping ship in the 1930s.  Many of the Laskers were forced to serve during World Wars as their ships were commandeered. It was only after the Second World War that Bangladeshi men started to arrive with other commonwealth countries to help rebuild Britain. One of the differences with Bangladeshi men was that they did not bring their wife and families to join them until the mid-1970 onwards.  The myth of return lasted longer with the Bangladeshi community and when their families finally joined them, they were at a disadvantage compared to their other commonwealth counterparts and indeed the British people.

Our family arrived in 1976 and eventually settled in Lozells, Birmingham.  It was a hostile period with the backdrop of Enoch Powells Rivers of Blood speech and the National Front (NF) movement, which was very established by then. Growing up, we were subjected to “Paki Bashing” from racists thugs. We were mugged by the African Caribbean boys and mocked by many for being “fish eaters” – so much so that my cousin's nickname was Fish and he embraced it. He developed a reputation during the school years as he attended Lougar Kung-fu as did many others so that they could defend themselves.  Being the last commonwealth cohort to arrive certainly put us at the bottom of the pecking order and a smaller build from the other South Asian communities meant that we were easy targets. Growing up, we had to learn to defend ourselves or run. My understanding was: if you run you would have to do that all your life. I chose to stand and fight when I was able to.  We organised ourselves into what some would consider a ‘gang’ these days, in truth we were a group of friends defending ourselves and our community. This was the case with many of the gangs during that period, set up to protect themselves and some moved into criminal activities.

 During the 80's we were subjected to racist taunts for being Bangladeshi, there was hardly anything that we could be proud of Mithun Chukrabarthy gave us something to be a little proud of with hits like Disco Dancer.  The music was composed by Bapi Lahiri, another Bangla man, however, I didn’t now that at the time . During that period his fame almost eclipsed that of Amitabh. But there was much to be proud of, if only we were taught our proud heritage. I wish I had known about Lalon, Tagore, Nazrul and our Mukhti Bahini (freedom fighters). It would have given me a deep sense of pride growing up knowing that "we are descendants of warrior poets and freedom fighters".  I do recall my older brother talking about Lalon and his famous song, 'Jaat gelo' about the horrors of the caste system.

50 years of Bangladeshi independence and I have managed it to 51. Over the years in my quest for knowledge of Bangladesh, I have learnt a great deal about our heritage and arts. I have preserved some of this and presented it in the professional work that I do. I wrote a book called 'Bangla Food Journeys' on Bangladeshi settlement in Birmingham and this was followed up by another book called 'Old Wives Tales – Journey of Bangladeshi Women to the UK’.

 During the lockdown, we formed a national group called 'Freedom 50' to celebrate 50 years of Bangladeshi independence and we set in motion a set of projects, the first being Kee Khobor, lighting up iconic buildings in red and green for the 26th of March 2021, outdoor photo exhibition in the centre of Birmingham and a national charity bike ride from Oldham to London to raise funds to build a school in Bangladesh and draw awareness of the climate change issues that Bangladesh faces. Several more projects are in motion.

The photo exhibition was one of my proudest moments and I tweeted that a day like this doesn't happen often and this attracted nearly 200 likes and over 40 re-tweets. You are probably thinking I'm shallow, well in the past I've only ever managed 40 likes. But in truth, it's about the impact and the significance of such a project. I have had requests from several cities across the UK for it to be hosted in their cities and plans are afoot to make this happen. 

Being British and Bangladeshi affords us the opportunity to express our ourselves artistically.  However, artists in Bangladesh don’t have the same basic right.  Artists and campaigners in Bangladesh have been under the spotlight to the point where they are fearful for their lives. The internationally acclaimed photojournalist Shaidul Alam was arrested and tortured for featuring a protest and some artists have disappeared. As much as I love Bangladesh, I am not happy with the direction it's travelling with curbing of civil liberties and moving towards a one-party system, democracy is quickly disappearing with the opposition party leadership under house arrest.

From a personal perspective I have often painted the idyllic village life of our Bari, I have always left out the countless fights and cases that we have been running to protect what we have. This is the price you have to pay in Bangladesh with an underhanded legal system that can be manipulated with a goosh (bribe) and we have paid our fair share to keep our land. I do hope the rule of law reaches my village in my lifetime. However, I remain doubtful.

It is true to say in Poppy Jaman's word we are now 'unashamedly Bangladeshi' and our children are proud of their Bangladeshi heritage.  In this day and age where we live in a multicultural society, it is very important to be rooted in one's heritage and draw inspiration from it.

My biggest fear and question are how much connection will my children have to Bangladesh once we pass away? I would like to develop our Bari into a comfortable place that can be enjoyed by all our children, nephews, nieces and our grandchildren. I aim to develop a family trust that keeps it in our possession for generations to come. That is my hope, time will tell if our children will embrace it. If they chose not to, who can blame them. They don't have the same ties to the land that I had. Most British-Bangladeshi children manage to visit their motherland for an accumulation of a few weeks during their lifetime. Is that enough to be tied to a place? 

Even though that 'place' is a repository of their ancestral heritage and as we move forward, we need to be connected to our roots to ensure that we don't lose sight of this and remain 'unashamedly Bangladeshi '.