Ted Hughes at our home

I consider myself extremely lucky having had the privilege of welcoming Ted Hughes, the late poet laureate of Britain, as a guest at our home in Uttara. It was the year 1989 and the season was mild winter. By sheer coincidence, I was asked by the poet's liaison officer to arrange a cultural evening-cum-dinner in Bangali style in the informal and relaxed atmosphere of a home, an experience that the poet himself wished for when he was on the last leg of his tour of Bangladesh. Although initially nervous, I was beside myself with joy at the thought of the plan taking a concrete shape at our home. Then again, I panicked momentarily, telling the surprised liaison officer that I didn't have furniture good enough to welcome the poet laureate with. The officer simply smiled and waved my worries aside. That same evening Ted Hughes flew back to Dhaka after a few days' stay at the Sundarbans, having had first hand experience of observing wildlife in their natural habitat, which was one of his passions throughout his life.
As he entered our home, we saw quite a hefty man with broad shoulders and ruddy cheeks walking in a kind of regal gait, looking rather tired. I could instantly guess why he wanted to have a quiet evening listening to songs and music in a family atmosphere. We had been briefed by his liaison officer. He had told us that we could feel very free in talking with him on various subjects, except mentioning anything about Sylvia Plath, whose tragic end we remembered. We took the advice well. Ted Hughes asked that we delay dinner, although it was getting pretty late, because according to him in the Sundarbans he and his team had been fed like kings. He described it as a very big feast every time. He left to us the choice of presenting songs and instrumental music in any order we liked. So at first a Tagore song was presented by Sajed Akbar. Then there were a few modern songs and Nazrul's songs sung by my sisters Sabina Yasmin, Farida Yasmin and Nilufar Yasmin At this stage, there was a request from Ted Hughes for a particular Nazrul Geet, a request that he expressed by narrating the theme, adding that the name of the bird appeared in the refrain. The explanation was guessed correctly by Farida Yasmin, who rendered the song chokh gaelo chokh gaelo kaeno dakishre/chokh gaelo pakhire/chokh gaelo pakhi twice. The poet enjoyed it thoroughly.
There were moments when everyone had a chance of talking to him in line with her or his interest. Caroline Wright, an American poet of note in recent years, accompanied Ted Hughes. She had already spent about four years in Calcutta and Dhaka busy in the job of translating poems by women poets only, those that were almost ready to be published at the time. We also talked about the poet's visits to some cluster villages along with President Ershad, in one of which a villager had presented him with a bottle-gourd that he held in his hand as he sat on the raised platform made for his reception.
The poet laureate showed intense interest while listening to Shahadat Hossain Khan's sarod recital in a dimly illuminated drawing room and asked for the name of the raga which revealed that he was pretty conversant with the music. Later on he recollected Shahadat Hossain Khan's recital in London, adding that he had attended that function. It was very much evident that the poet was really fond of our music in the broad sense. We noticed that for every performance he kept his eyes closed as if engrossed to get the essence of it, the music belonging as it did to the culture of a different region.
With a smiling face Hughes kept on looking only when my ten-year old nephew danced to the rhythm of a folk song in a fast beat. Everybody seemed to have access to him. That included my youngest son, who was supposed to receive him with a bouquet. Although he had been missing, right at that moment he appeared as if from nowhere, sat next to the poet and started talking about his O-level examination and higher education to which Hughes lent an equally sympathetic ear. His interest in people, their predilections turned him into a very approachable personality. He felt easy and so did we all. It never appeared to us that a distinguished poet of his stature was sitting amongst us. It was rather a very natural and soft-spoken person there, one it seemed we had met before. Finally came my turn to serve dinner. As I served the appetizer, which was the pineapple juice, I hesitated, saying that it was rather sour. He reassured me, "It is supposed to be sour." He appreciated all the preparations made about the food, in particular handi kabab in which he showed great interest after I had described it as beef paste. When everything was said and done, it was past 11 pm and everyone needed to say goodbye.
The poet's visit was an extraordinary experience and a very precious gift to all of us from him. Now that he is no more, we cherish that memorable evening all the more dearly.

Dr. Nazma Yeasmeen Haque writes reviews and essays, loves music and is Principal, Radiant International School.