Remembering Humayun Ahmed on His 77th Birth Anniversary

On the 77th birth anniversary of Humayun Ahmed, memories rise like soft waves—memories of evenings gathered around a television, the smell of old books, and characters who felt more intimate than most real people around us.

■ Eisob Din Raatri: A Mirror of Middle-Class Life

Before many readers encountered his books, Humayun Ahmed had already become a household name through the beloved TV series “Eisob Din Raatri.” In an era without countless streaming platforms, drama nights were community events. Neighbours walked in, tea cups clinked, and characters were dissected with affectionate zeal.

The story of a large middle-class joint family felt both familiar and extraordinary. Anees Bhai’s magic tricks, Rafique’s bohemian charm, Dolly Zahur’s quiet solitude at the dinner table, and Bulbul Ahmed’s helpless breakdown moved audiences deeply. When the character Tuni died, school classrooms across the country mourned her as if she were one of their own.

■ First Encounter with the Novelist: Shonkhonil Karagar

The first Humayun novel many discover is Shonkhonil Karagar—a story that instantly transports the reader to a rain-soaked provincial night. Montu and Khoka’s fragile world, their mysterious mother Shirin and the silent tensions of class and broken relationships linger long after the last page.

■ Between Logic and Fear: Missir Ali

In works like Brihonnola and Jinn-Kofil, Humayun Ahmed demonstrates a masterful ability to create atmosphere—where human fear often eclipses the supernatural. Missir Ali’s sharp observations, reminiscent of Sherlock Holmes, reveal how truth hides in the smallest inconsistencies.

■ Himu: A Wanderer Against All Logic

Himu—dressed in his yellow panjabi, drifting through life with disarming honesty—is the complete opposite of Missir Ali. Yet both share a strange loneliness and a deep emotional vulnerability beneath their contrasting philosophies.

■ Characters That Reflect Life’s Contradictions

Humayun Ahmed’s characters are never linear. Like Chhoto Mirza in Aoyomoy, they combine tenderness and cruelty, innocence and violence. Their contradictions make them as real—and as unsettling—as people we meet every day.

■ The Man Behind the Stories

Humayun Ahmed himself carried layers: childlike curiosity, sharp intellect, whimsical impulses and profound emotional depth. He laughed, questioned, rebelled and loved on his own terms. He exposed social absurdities with humour and carved a path entirely his own.

He cannot be confined to a single definition.
He remains around us—like the wind—felt deeply, understood only in fragments.

Khaborwala/SJ