The first one was a golden episode that has been transformed into an epitaph of tragedy as the dream of hope has been replaced by the nightmare of despair. The dream was not for a utopia; it was a set of pragmatic charters that lay the foundation of a modern state, achieved in many parts of the globe, including, to certain extent, in our very backyard. As a young man in his early twenties, born in a very conservative Muslim family, I was exulted with pride when secularism was adopted as a state principle in the newly framed constitution of the new-born state. I thought my motherland has been pulled out from the medieval age to the modern era. My faith on this pinnacle of virtues would be reinforced over the years during my stay in some of the finest societies on our planet, where no one ever would ask you about your religious faith, albeit one had the freedom and access to one's place of worship. I had a difference of principle with my close comrades who were strong advocates of scientific socialism, the system that could

only be the part of a monolithic regimented society. I was more in tune with the thought of Harold Lusky than Karl Marx, more akin to George Washington than Mao Tsetung.

The most shattering moment of our national life, in my view, was the tragedy of August 15, 1975. It was a Friday, I just came back from the University (in USA) defending my Masters' thesis and the provost of my residence hall gave me the news of the tragedy. It was not the era of Internet. I was distraught and tried to argue if this gruesome tragedy is tantamount to the denial of the merits of our causes for which three million of our people met martyrdom. Was I one of those who were misled by the leader to fight for the causes, which were proved to be no causes within a span of 44 months? What could I have replied when the Pakistan's Washington's ambassador told directly on my face, "at last you Bengalees have realised and corrected your mistake"?

Next came the unabated sliding of the virtues, which were the guiding maxims of our decades of struggles before its culmination into the war of liberation. It was believed that the birth of Bangladesh invalidated the so-called two-nation theory. Does it hold true any more? Most of our politicians from both sides of the aisle love to call their country a 'modern Muslim state'. Is it to be named a Muslim country as because bulk of the people happens to be Muslims? In the same token if the countries of Europe and Americas called themselves Christian states, will they remain modern any more? Over the decades, distortion, deception, destruction, deviation and dichotomy have taken the centre fold in every sphere of the national life. Is it not a paradox when a highly respected newspaper puts a banner headline on 23rd of February that reads, "Mother language day was observed with the pledge to build a non-communal Bangladesh"? If one goes through the messages of the President, the PM or any other government leaders delivered on the occasion, no trace of such pledge was evident in any of them. If the headline of the paper was not a self-deception, then the government surely does not represent the wishes of the people.

There was a short renaissance of patriotism among the expatriates when the AL won the election in 1996. There was resurrection of history of the only golden chapter of our nation, the tales of the war of liberation. But it was a short blip in the radar. The executive and judiciary, by and large, were tooth and nail against its dominance. The government even did not have the power to replace the khatib of a mosque, let alone getting the final dispensation of justice in the gruesome Bangabandhu murder case.

With the assumption of power by the current ruling alliance, in words of our main poet, the nation is passing through the 'dark period of the lunar cycle'. The situation is so despicable that many of our compatriots have stopped reading the newspapers in the internet. The apathy is so deep that there is hardly any drawing-room argument on the happenings in Bangladesh these days. Recently, the editor of a very well known weekly and a newly published Daily, who claimed to see the PM very frequently, depicted a very gloomy picture of the state affairs in a congregation (which I was presiding) in Toronto. In fact, the nation is heading towards an irreversible catastrophe. My use of the word 'irreversible' came from my belief of Newton's third law that states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Secondly, it is unfortunate that I live in a country that very well emulates Martin Luther King's dreamland or Mahatma Gandhi's wish-land of non-violence. The use of the word 'unfortunate' was deliberate for the fact that it constantly reminds me of the dream that I had when I was moving from village to village, from paddy fields to jute fields, from hideout of the jungles to the protection of the hawores with a carbine on my shoulder. As one of the top students of my 4th year engineering class I used to lecture my fellow comrades in arm on the forthcoming bright future of my motherland if we can attain victory. I 'had a dream' that in my cherished land, no one would take some one's life only because they come from different political spectrum; the judicial system would issue the verdict on a committed crime, not the PM of the day; the ministers' statements in the august parliament would not invoke ridicule, rather trust; corruption would be an exception, not the rule; rule of law would reign over the rule of the powerful; accountability to the people would be the core essence of democracy and the judges of the court of law would be accountable to their own conscience in dispensing justice, rather than feeling embarrassed; right and privilege of the citizens would not be determined by their personal religious and political beliefs, rather by the constitution or the charter of right and freedom. Does it sound like a utopia?

In fact, it is very much a reality in the land I live in. On individual account, my religion and colour of the skin did not create any hindrance to my reaching where I am now. There is no such thing as political persecution in the vocabulary of the state. On the other day, a federal minister lost his job (his political fate has been sealed) only because his ministry awarded a $50,000 contract to his friend without any open tender bid. Last week, the popular incumbent PM has pledged to the nation to resign if the judicial enquiry reveals that PM as the then finance minister had the knowledge of the financial irregularities of one of the ministries. If this happens, his party, which virtually had no opposition a few weeks ago, might go down the drain with him as well. These are the reflections of the dream that I once had for my motherland. The full-filled dream of my adopted land has become a constant source of anguish for the unfulfilled dream of the land that I so much cherish.

Am I an escapist? I asked my daughter who is embarking on a career in legal profession. "No papa, you are not", interjected my daughter. "There has not been a single moment when the well being of Bangladesh has slipped from your thought. You teach numerous Bangladeshi students every year. You probably, would have done the same thing had you been in Bangladesh. As your daughter and a future lawyer, I am pledging to avail myself of any opportunity to defend the human rights in Bangladesh ". I do not know if I could draw any consolation from my daughter's words.

I had a classmate in my hometown college; both of us were activist of the same student party and together got elected to the students' union. Over the years, he changed his political belief and in 1971, we were on the opposite sides of the history. As a leader of the infamous badar-bahini, he was assisting the occupation forces to carry out the genocide on our people. Currently, he is a very powerful cabinet minister of the alliance government. Had I been in Bangladesh, probably I was bound by the protocol to salute him. Would I be able to do that? This query resulted not from the fact that, he was a backbencher and I was the top student in the class, but only because he was instrumental in torturing and killing our people, while I was baiting my life to save them. Should it help me to alleviate the guilt of my escapism?

Dr. Mozammel H. Khan is the president of the Association of Bangladeshi Engineers of Ontario, Canada.