with Sayeda and my family about you and they want to see you. From my side, I think you two would probably be a good match. After your return, if you want to see her then just contact my family directly.' I thought it was very positive news.
Once back in Bangladesh, I had two immediately personal jobs in hand: to find someone who could give reliable information on Sayeda, and to kick-start the process of applying for my PhD. Through one of my friends I came to know a college lecturer, of about my age, in Dhaka's Maghbazar area who knew Firdaws. He was from a district in western Bangladesh, but had recently got married in the city of Barisal. I called him one evening and asked how much he knew of Firdaws' family. He responded: 'I know them well; my wife also knows Sayeda very well.' I visited him the next evening and learnt more about Sayeda and her family. It was all very positive and I asked if he would become an intermediary for us. I then went home and informed my father and family of my course of action. Everyone was delighted and I was given the go-ahead to proceed.
What followed from then on was simple: Sayeda and I exchanged pictures, she must have heard plenty about me from her brother, and I asked if she could come to Dhaka and stay in a relative's house. My auntie in Azimpur (in old Dhaka) spent plenty of time with her and gave me a favourable description of Sayeda and her personality. The following day I went to see her and we 'connected' straight away. I felt an immediate bond as we shared information about our lives, our likes, dislikes and ambitions for life. We spoke for hours and both felt we should agree to tie the knot – and straight away, I said. It was a momentous decision and I couldn't sleep that night. The thought of not being alone anymore and a sudden sense of responsibility weighed on my mind. I later learned that Sayeda had spent a similar few nights thinking the same. The rest was a formality that would be sorted out between the families. I informed my father and brother of my choice and asked my father to visit Barisal and meet Sayeda himself. He stayed for couple of days in their house and came back with a smile. We were married on 10 October 1981.
Marriage in Islam is seen as a blessing. Husbands and wives are mentioned as a 'pair' or 'garments to each other' in the Qur'an. When a man and a woman, with their unique and complementary features, join in union it brings two families together. Our marriage has indeed been a blessed one ever since.
★ ★ ★
As I was arranging my marriage, I was also continuing my efforts to enrol for a PhD in the UK. In early September 1981, as I was getting ready for my wedding in October, I received an offer letter from Chelsea College (which became part of King's College a few years later). I consulted my Air Force friends and wrote directly to the Chief of Air Staff (CoAS) pleading for a three year leave, with a firm pledge that on completion of the PhD I would return to complete my service in the BAF. His response came after my short honeymoon was over: my application was rejected. The CoAS was forthright in his response, saying that he was personally willing to give me the opportunity but had to take into account the opinion of my Branch head, who disapproved on the grounds that I was 'indispensable' to the Armament Branch. I was heartbroken, but remembered my father's teachings of reliance on God. Sayeda was calm; she was confident that some good would come from this.
About a week later, at an informal event in the officers' mess, I managed to get near the CoAS and briefly (and politely) raised the issue with him. My Branch head was around and I could see the annoyance on his face. I was still a junior officer, but the CoAS remembered my case, although he could only express his sadness. I realized I would be chastised for this break in protocol and within the week I was told that I would be posted to Chittagong Air Base, about 165 miles from Dhaka on Bangladesh's south east coast, from New Year's Day, 1982. My hopes were dashed and I left for Chittagong with a broken spirit. Sayeda moved in with her parents in Barisal while I tried to keep myself busy: working in the office by day, doing sports in the late afternoon and studying in the evening. On the weekends I would visit Barisal to see Sayeda, or spend time in the city, as I had plenty of friends there having studied at Chittagong University.
Being a hyperactive sportsman I came to the attention of the Base commander, a senior Group Captain. He was very sociable and one evening I raised the subject of my PhD with him. He appeared sympathetic, thought for a while and told me that he would write to the Air Secretary directly to hear my case. I did not expect he would actually do this, but soon after I received an invitation for a meeting in Dhaka. I flew by BAF transport aircraft and appeared before the Air Secretary. To my trepidation, the meeting started with a verbal assault: 'How dare you talk with the Base Commander once the CoAS had already written to you!' I politely explained how important this was to my life, but he did not budge and with a stern tone advised me not to do raise it again. I returned to Chittagong downhearted and briefed the Base commander. He kept quiet; I did not know what to say either.
Within a few weeks, towards the end of April, I was called to Dhaka again. I was surprised when the Base commander told me that he had written to the Air Secretary again and asked me to try my luck. This time I flew to Dhaka with some apprehension and again the meeting started with some tough language. I remained quiet, remembering his earlier command, when he suddenly lowered his voice, looked into my eyes and said: 'We cannot give you such a long leave. You should be grateful that we have trained you twice in the UK, but you are stubborn and breaking protocol. This could easily be a disciplinary issue, but we can't punish you for your ambition. At the same time, it cannot go on like this. The only option is for you to take voluntary retirement and leave us.'
This was music to my ears, but I controlled myself and looked at him puzzled. He continued: 'I'm going to give you until tomorrow to think about it and consult your family; let me know your decision.' I thought for a while and politely said: 'Thank you sir! I'll let you know tomorrow.' I stayed at the officer's mess overnight and called Sayeda. She was calm as usual and simply said: 'I had a feeling something like this would happen; I was praying all along for a good outcome from this saga.' I expressed my gratitude to her, then informed my family and close friends. They couldn't believe it was going to happen!
The following day I went to Air HQ and informed them of my decision to resign. This had never happened before in the Bangladesh Air Force – and I had signed up for at least ten years! Soon the news broke in the officers' circle. I went back to Chittagong and gave massive thanks to the Base commander. The release order was issued and in early May I left the BAF and returned to Dhaka.
★ ★ ★
It took nearly a year to sort out all the arrangements for travel to London. I lost my first scholarship offer, but luckily managed an alternative: in life, when one door closes another opens. I flew into Heathrow on 23 April 1983, and Aziz Bhai had already arranged a meeting with my supervisor, Professor A.K. Jonscher, the following day. The two of us reached the campus near Fulham Broadway in south-west London, and with a broad smile, a full hearty beard and thick glasses, Professor Jonscher welcomed us. We settled in his room and he initiated the conversation with a light joke: 'Bari, thanks, you've now arrived. But why did it take so long? Were you travelling by a bullock cart?' He laughed and so did we. I enjoyed his joke and felt it was a warm welcome; humour really brings people together.
Professor Jonscher was to be my PhD supervisor. He showed us the campus and the laboratory where I would be working; a large room used mainly for postgraduate research in solid state physics. We arrived at the lab during lunch time and about a dozen researchers and couple of technicians, all from diverse backgrounds, joined us around a big table. He introduced me to my new colleagues and with a smile repeated the bullock-cart joke. Everyone started laughing and I was relieved that the elderly academic was so full of life with a good persona, and that the environment there was so informal. After about an hour they all went back to their tables. Jonscher and I agreed to meet on another date and we left the campus for the day.
During our next meeting, when I briefed him about the long gap in my physics career because of my life in the Air Force, Jonscher looked at me sympathetically and said: 'Bari, you have to work hard now. You must quickly revisit the world of physics'.
'You are right, Professor!' I replied, earnestly. 'Please give me couple of months to prepare myself before I start my research.'
He agreed and advised me to talk with a few overseas researchers who would be able to help me. I visited the lab again and talked to a PhD student from Karachi University, Ashraf Choudhury.