yes dear, BANGLADESH it is!

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I am patriotic, not in a nationalist way, rather of a natural kind, was born in this country, so love my mom, like this way. No offense to others, no defense either. At this time , we are a critical generation of Bangladesh. We love our country from the core, can do anything (a fashion way or a serious way, both) from own positions, feel proud for our liberation war, our language movement (which is the only one in modern times, pride, isn’t it?) and we all hate violent politics. As we already realized that nothing is in our hand, we set them free!! They are doing whatever they want, we pay a damn, and doing our things. A garment worker is sewing a foreign jacket, whereas a software engineer is developing things, scientists are doing large things from tiny lab set ups…but we are doing things, making ourselves ready to stand beside the developed world (personally, i don’t like the classifications, each nation is developed in its own ways!)

Anyway, I am stretching things far to tell a story. I heard a “nice to meet you” from a foreigner today, which felt like he was cracking a coconut with his teeth! knew someone who described Dhaka as a living hell! and one’s wife made him promise not to eat or drink a single thing in our nasty country! I met many till, they were warm and nice, may be dislike the system, or the country, but not this kind of hate!! the thing is also true for some of Bangladeshis, they curse their fate everyday to be born in this horrible place!

Yes dear, with the densest population, our Dhaka is a garbage of slums, but do you think, the maid coming to your home everyday for household chores, or the rickshawpuller, where they live? in these slums! The shirt, or the pant, or the jacket, you are wearing, with a exclusive brand tag, where did it come from? A garment worker, may be a teenage girl, sewed these in her hands! Our food, sure they are formalin wrapped, dangerous, really, but don’t forget bird flu, swine flu, SARS, hemorrhagic E.coli or salmonellosis dear, THAT were not in Bangladesh!

Today was the “Akheri Monajat” of Ijtema, I was watching people going to the field on train, I couldn’t believe my eyes, if I wasn’t born here. The train was completely invisible. The similar picture is seen when people return to their village homes in Eid festivals. Anyone can think these people are THAT religious! no, we are THAT festive! They were holding national flags, as they were going to a international cricket match! We carry our flag from the bi-cycle to the Everest, cause we love it personally! THIS is Bangladesh dear, where the completely unknown lady beside you on the bus will ask you,” what are these rashes on your skin girl? you just don’t take care of yourself! use this paste or that cream, my cousin’s niece’s sister-in-law is completely well now!!”  There’s no Mr.X or Mrs.Y or Miss.Z here, all are mama (uncle), khala (aunt), apa (sister) or vaiya (brother)..from top to bottom, from bus conductor to office boss! When loudspeakers from Durgapuja pandals are paused during the Adhan  time, or young people sing folk songs along with John Denver or Bon Jovi,  dear, that is our BANGLADESH!

I would request to all, please don’t come to Bangladesh with a hope for taking or giving something…no help, no good memory, no bad food, nothing…come to visit us, we will also sometimes, we all are relatives in this tiny beautiful world, and in human culture relatives don’t give or take, we all just SHARE 🙂

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The Lone Rangers

Dhaka, probably being my only subject of blogging in these first days. This city is so enormous that I found no way to escape it. Orhan Pamuk, Turkish Nobel prize winner novelist, said, The story of his life is the story of Istanbul, his own city. May be, this is going to be true for me as well. If you google “Dhaka” , you will find political crisis ( more like vendettas), absurdly unplanned buildings, more absurd traffic and most absurd population ! But for the dwellers, its their home, where the heart is… I started my blog singing the rhythm of rain in my city, today going to tell the stories of lone rangers…

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As other big cities, streets here, never sleep. Thousands of cars, rickshaws, million of people rush every second in this city.. As night is darker they go home, besides the hardworking bus, truck, lorry workers distributing loads of goods to the city or the hijackers….I am talking about the city’s own dwellers, may be he is a multibillionere, may be she is a call girl… may be its a highrise, may be its a shack, may be its a footpath polythene home, but they walk there, give a smile to fellows, sleep for another morning…A rickshaw puller with half kilo rice, two potatoes, one onion walks to his slum home….the sweaty figure dreams of making some money, buy a tiny piece of land in his village…this dream make him live in this wretched city…

Here are people having no home, even not a polythene one, never actually tend to have them or want to have them…Its their tendency to eat, or not eat, sleep or not sleep…some of them are damn addicts…heroin or others…some act like insane, which they are not….Along with their unfortunate children, some become beggar, or religious “Baba”s, which they are not also, but  they cover up the lone rangers…

The lone rangers of our city, are “who, no one knows” . I have seen a man, sitting, beside a road for years after years. When was little, was afraid to ask, why are you sitting all the time? couldn’t. When I could, knew he was cripple. But he never begged, I gave him some clothes, for the first time, he received, on the second time, refused! When its too cold, i think, how he survives? Check, if he is dead..but no, this old man survives each winter, each summer…sometimes I think what he eats? But I know there is a nocturnal cycle in it…when its night, deep deep night, no angel comes down from the sky…The lone rangers do..They among themselves have a business, what we never dealt with..They have society, law of their own…the street law!

Once I found one above everything of this, at Dhaka University campus..He also refused everything, but not in a sane way…when I looked into his eyes, I was petrified..His eyes were blank..no, not like the heroin addict ones…different..very educated ones with deep despair in them…Nothing could pacify him, nothing ! Money, food, love, family, he was above everything..laid all day all night by the street, smelled only of urine…I prayed to Allah, please have mercy on him, please bestow DEATH upon him..The day he died, I didn’t come closer, Authority took off the corpse, I cried in distance..

I wanted to save him, tried to talk to him, wanted to know, why? what? what was that made your life so worthless? so meaningless? why you people don’t let us to enter in your lives? Why are you so alone? Life’s not that fragile! or have you found something spiritual? is this so precious that you have to protect by life? or you are just a Schizophrenic? I find myself shaken inside… Everyday we are trying to make ourselves more intact, more hard, more inert..what if one day I become one of them? above everything else, or beyond everything else…Just another lone ranger!

Wings, Feet or Fins..

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Today, when I woke up in the morning, a sunny winter one, my younger brother was going out. “If I had wings! Its so tiring to walk ! Even the bus, or the rickshaw! I am tired!” Suddenly it came to my mind, if we had wings! In mythology, Gods had wings, later angels had them. But human, never.. One day Daedalus made them and Gods weren’t happy. But could the Gods do any good with their wings? Whether its Zeus or Apollo or Aphrodite, whenever they came to a human, a flower, a nymph, a river, whatever it is, destroyed their lives. Shouldn’t we write the myths in a different way? We should have made ourselves fly, not to fall in the sea like a tragic hero, like Icarus…

Whatever it is, we wrote our lives, and now we fly anyway. Coming to my city, my life. I live in a clumsy city, which is organized in her own way. Our city, Dhaka, has a life. Two different parts in her one heart, with two different forms, two different lives. One of them, Puran Dhaka, is an ancient city, beautiful, historical. Her own scent, color, people, everything is hers. People here have wings, wings of their own Olympus.

On the contrary, the newer one, new Dhaka city, is a world itself. People from various districts, various cultures, various languages, everyday come to this concrete world. I live in this world. Long before, my parents came here from their own beautiful villages. Its like that water mermaid, who lost her fins, walked on the stony paths with her shaky feet, newly formed… Our parents, some for job, some for education, some for adventure came to this weary world with their shaky feet, thousands come everyday..

We, who were born and brought up here, are not shaky, even we put on shoes. We, our parents, sometimes visit our ocean world, where we have roots, but cant fit there, we lost our fins, we cant swim anymore…”Heaven gives it glimpses only to those, Not in position to look too close” yes, we cant anymore look too close to our old heaven..we cant even look toward our new heaven..Its too high to fly, too steep to ride.. We just try to make wings of wax, though we know they could be melt down anytime, we fly to reach our heaven.. We try to build a new heaven, a new Olympus for ourselves…And the most ugly city of all (As per some critics), with the most beautiful heart in her, never lose hope on us. She in her own reticent way, everyday carry our travel bags towards the mountains, towards our new Olympus… 🙂

Dreaming In A dream!

I never wrote in English, besides in my exams…writing a blog! English! simply a nightmare! but sometimes we do things we want to, whether we can, or not..its a kind of thing.. When I saw this website, I just went through, made an account, and now, feeling the empty slate, felt like filling it 🙂

I am basically from science background, completed my Masters in Microbiology last year, working in a research organization( Not that much RESEARCH though! :D). I didn’t travel abroad, even saw a few things in my life..When I am writing here, I am asking myself, what am I doing?? I should do my GRE , TOEFL preparation, read scientific journals, learn to write scientific ones! and here, I am just telling my life, my city, my etc and etc!! As I have a lot in my dream, dreaming in a dream as I say, and I want to convey them to others..Who knows, may be far far from my home some one is dreaming the same ! and you know, I am enjoying it 😀

In our beautiful country, the most beautiful thing is… everything! and when everything look more most beautiful? when it rains….before rain, during rain, after rain… when it drizzles, when it thunders, when it fights hard… Its warm, but not hot, cool but not cold, clear and hazy at the same time… from ants to eagles or sport cars to pedestrians…we live in the rhythm of rain…. so starting my English blog journey, in the name of Dear RAIN  🙂 lets start it !!

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