I have many fond memories of the prolific writer, playwright and litterateur -filmmaker. For example, he returned for a few days to the country from USA where he had gone for medical treatment. During that time I went to Nuhash Palli at night, shooting a TV play. Before leaving the shooting spot, I went to his room to meet him. There, in front of everyone, he shared a memory of how I had joined the birthday celebrations of his son Nishat without an invitation. The interesting and surprising thing is that he merely said, “This is true love which I see through Faruque”. On our parting, he just said “Good night Faruque, wish you the best of luck. It may be our last meeting”. That was our last meeting and the last words between us.
Once I was very worried about a choice of gift for him on his birthday. Usually, everyone presents a shirt and panjabi on such an occasion but I went to Nuhash Palli with a plant for him. On receiving the plant, he told everyone, “Faruque presented me my favourite gift. Trees are of great importance to me.”
I worked with him for a number of plays and films. So there are many untold stories between us.
Dr Ezazul Islam
Before sir's demise, I was shooting his last play in Nuhash Palli. His cancer had not been detected at that time. During a break in shooting, we strolled on the banks of a pond surrounded by coconut trees. Suddenly he said, “You know doctor it is very sad I may not survive when the trees mature.”
He always expressed his anger on the subject of death. He questioned why a human being only had a few days of life. Anyway, the words of sir still resonate in my mind. He had a premonition that he would not survive in this world for long.
I'm a very ordinary man. I usually act on the instructions of director. People now know me because I learnt acting from sir. I owe him a huge debt.
Today is my sir's birthday but he is no more. It is really very sad.
I miss Humayun Ahmed very much. I remember an interesting incident when I was staying at his home Dakkhin Hawa for a few days. On the first day, we hung out till midnight. I was very surprised to see Humayun Ahmed knocking on my door with cups of tea at 7 am the next day. I was surprised and wondered who had made the tea as nobody was at home. He entered my room and sat on the bed with the tea but I couldn't believe that it was actually Humayun Ahmed sitting beside me with tea at 7 in the morning.
After having tea, he started writing and told me that now it was my turn to prepare tea and I did just that.
Later, Humayun Ahmed would make morning tea as long as I stayed at Dakkhin Hawa. I would make the next cup of tea.
The stories about my favourite person will never end. Thousands of such stories about the wordsmith remain untold.