I met Sheikh Hasina twice in the Washington area, both times in informal, private settings. The first was in April 2007, when she came to visit her son. The second was the following year, in 2008, after the caretaker government released her on parole.
At that time, Bangladesh was under a caretaker government. Both she and the recently ousted Prime Minister Khaleda Zia were in deep political trouble. The caretaker government was investigating corruption charges against both of them, and there were strong rumours that cases would soon be filed against them.
In that atmosphere, when Hasina came to Washington, I suddenly received an invitation from a long-time senior friend who lived in the area and was then the president of the US chapter of Awami League. He was hosting a dinner for Sheikh Hasina and told me clearly that this was not a party-political event.
He had invited a small group of non-political professionals living in the area whom Sheikh Hasina wished to meet. I immediately told him: “Brother, I am not only non-political, Sheikh Hasina doesn’t even know me.” When I declined, he kept insisting. Since the host was a very old acquaintance, I finally agreed and went to the dinner.
I had seen and heard Sheikh Hasina earlier when she was Prime Minister, at official events in Washington. In fact, the first time I ever saw her was as PM. I had worked for several months as Special Assistant in Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s office right after Bangladesh became independent. Following that I had worked for three years with one of the leaders of the independence struggle, Mr Kamaruzzaman.
I have many memories of Mujib, and even more of Kamaruzzaman. (I have recorded the events of those four years in my recently published book Unsettled Times.) At that time I never had the opportunity to meet Sheikh Hasina, let alone speak to her.
Before and after becoming PM, and while she was Leader of the Opposition, Sheikh Hasina visited Washington privately several times. Whenever she came, leaders of the US branch of Awami League would organize small discussion meetings at different venues in the Washington area. The invitees were usually Bangladeshi professionals working in international organizations, think-tanks, or law-related institutions. Most were non-political people, though vocal about democratic rights in Bangladesh. I never had the chance to attend any of those gatherings.
That evening, when I reached my senior friend’s house, I found several familiar Bangladeshi faces -- people working in various international organizations, a few academics, and some federal government employees. To my knowledge, almost everyone was non-political. In all, there were about 20 guests. A little later, Sheikh Hasina arrived with her son Joy and four or five companions.
After introductions, Sheikh Hasina asked after everyone’s well-being and then wanted to hear our thoughts about Bangladesh. A few people said a little, then turned the question back to her, asking her own views on the country’s political situation. I was quite surprised to hear that she made no negative remarks about her rival party or its leader. Instead, she spoke mostly about her own party -- its contribution to independence, the achievements of her government, and her hopes for the future.
As the conversation gradually moved to the current deplorable state of politics and the responsibility of the political parties, I asked her a question. I wanted to know whether she did not think that a change of leadership at the top of the country’s political parties was necessary. Did long tenure of the same leadership not make political activity lifeless?
Sheikh Hasina looked straight at me and replied, “Do you think I have grabbed the party leadership of my own accord (in her words, sēdhe sēdhe)? Twenty thousand councillors voted for me and made me president.”
I persisted like a stubborn child: “But unless you step aside voluntarily, they will obviously keep wanting you.” The reply clearly did not please her. She did not exchange another word with me after that comment.
After some more discussion, dinner was served. I took my plate and saw that Sheikh Hasina was already seated and eating, with Joy beside her. When the hostess asked me to sit, Sheikh Hasina surprised me by saying, “Come, sit here.”
When Joy suddenly stood up, the hostess signalled me to take the chair beside Hasina. As soon as I sat down, I told her that I had not meant any criticism about her presidency and hoped she had not taken offense. She shook her head and said no, she had not minded at all.
Then I told her that I had never spoken to her before that evening; I had first seen her only after she became PM. I added that right after independence I had worked for several months with her father, and later Mujib had sent me to Minister Kamaruzzaman as his private secretary. I remained with Kamaruzzaman for as long as he was a minister. Sheikh Hasina’s face lit up. “Oh really? We have just made Kamaruzzaman Saheb’s son a member of the Awami League central committee.”
After the end of the meal, the conversation turned to her possible return to Dhaka. There were rumours that the caretaker government might impose a ban on her return. At one point she said that the only way to find out whether the ban was real and whether she would be arrested upon return was to go back and face it. I was astonished at how calmly she spoke about a possible travel ban or arrest -- as if it were nothing. But what she said next, though in jest, was even more astonishing.
She told us: “There is another way for me to return home. Everyone thinks I am very close to India. I am thinking I will first go to India. Then, wearing a burqa and with their help, I will cross the border and enter Bangladesh. After that, whatever happens, happens.” She laughed as she said it, and everyone laughed, taking it as a great joke. I was amazed at how easily she spoke, even in jest, about her close ties with India.
Listening to her, I wondered: Is Sheikh Hasina a magician with words, or a seasoned politician?
That night, between food and talk, it got quite late before we left. The subsequent history is known to all. The caretaker government was forced to lift the ban on her return, and she went back to Dhaka.
But a few weeks later, in July 2007, both she and Khaleda Zia were detained. Almost 11 months later, in June 2008, she was released on parole for medical treatment and came to the United States again. She stayed several months in Virginia with her son. That was when I met her the second time -- this time in Maryland, my own state.
The second meeting happened despite my reluctance. I had felt somewhat embarrassed about the first encounter. So when, a month earlier, a well-known local friend who was present in the previous meeting, invited me to another dinner in honour of Sheikh Hasina, I excused myself citing another commitment. I thought I had escaped.
But two weeks later my friend called again and said, “This time you must come, because the “Leader” herself mentioned your name and asked that you be invited -- and to bring your wife as well.”
I was stunned. We had met only once, a year earlier. How did she remember me? Working with Mujib or Kamaruzzaman was hardly something so special that she would personally ask for me to be invited. After consulting my wife, I informed the host that we would come.
This second dinner was larger in scale -- more people. Sheikh Hasina’s own entourage was also bigger. The previous time she had four companions besides Joy; this time there were nearly 10, Joy included. Among the invited guests were a few journalists, writers, and a handful of professionals. Apart from her own companions, there was no one overtly political.
By then the caretaker government had started the election process. Smaller parties had already begun campaigning. Though Awami League had not officially announced participation, their posture suggested they would contest. Only the BNP had not yet declared. The main topic that evening was the upcoming election. Sheikh Hasina shared her thoughts.
When her son Joy emphasized television campaigning, I pointed out that television had not yet reached most villages in Bangladesh, and radio and village meetings would be more effective. As Joy tried to argue further, Hasina stopped him: “Be quiet and listen to what they are saying.” Joy fell silent.
At the dinner table the conversation turned to fears of election rigging. I asked, “Who do you think will rig the election that you are afraid of? Government officials?” She replied, “No, why would I fear them? Government officials are like liquid -- they take the shape of whatever container they are poured into.”
Stubbornly I asked again, “Then who? After all, this was a non-party caretaker government with no reason to be biased.” Sheikh Hasina remained silent for a while, then said, “Still, one always has some fear about elections.”
Pressing further, I told her, “Look, after this election we may never meet again, so let me say this: During my government service as Deputy Commissioner I supervised three elections in two districts -- one presidential and two parliamentary. The presidential election was party-based, and so were the parliamentary ones. The incumbent president contested from his position, and the next parliamentary election was also contested by the political party he had created. I would not say there was outright rigging, but whenever an established government leader or his party participates, the scales tip in their favour. That situation does not exist in this election.”
After my comment, Sheikh Hasina said, “Even if there is no bias, who will guarantee that the election will be fair?” I had no answer to that.
From that evening’s conversation I drew two conclusions: Sheikh Hasina would definitely contest the election, and she fully expected to win. But what steps she would later take to hold on to that victory were beyond my imagination.
Beyond imagination because the persona I saw on those two occasions -- the outward image -- was far removed from the fearsome transformation she brought to Bangladesh’s politics over the next fifteen years. On the outside she appeared simple, straightforward, and disarmingly informal, winning people over with her easy manner -- especially those she did not consider adversaries.
An ordinary person could not detect what lay beneath. Though she spoke of her closeness with India as a joke, deep down she knew perfectly well that India would stand by her in every crisis. She knew India would back her in the 2008 election. She had only pretended to fear rigging.
My regret is that, although she was Mujib’s daughter, Sheikh Hasina did not inherit her father’s political wisdom or foresight. Perhaps her father had deliberately kept her away from politics because he knew his daughter well. She was not another Indira Gandhi, daughter of Jawaharlal Nehru.
Before ending, I want to quote a line from Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. Caesar says to his friend Brutus: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.” Whatever punishment Sheikh Hasina has received today is not because of her stars; it is the fruit of her own actions.
Ziauddin Choudhury has worked in the higher civil service of Bangladesh early in his career, and later for the World Bank in the US.
