Life and Story

 Teacher’s Lunch

There was a teacher in our class who used to bring very delicious lunch to school every day. Smell of the yummy food of kebab or tandoori chicken used to come out his bag and those of us sitting in the front row used to die of hunger smelling it. We used to crave to have a single bite of it. One day, some us planned to steal the teacher’s lunch and for that we kept a close watch on him that day. We waited for him to leave his bag in the teachers’ room and go out. One of us instantly ran into the room, no other teachers were there and exchanged hid food with what one of my friends brought. The teacher later came back and probably never realised what we did with his food. We all later had an awesome time having his meal!

Party Blow

It was my cousin’s birthday. It was her first birthday party, celebrating her third birthday. In the evening, we prepared everything and called her. She stood on a chair and the cake was in front of her on a lower table. I lit up the candles and switched off the fan. Everybody, who was standing around the table, told out to blow out the candles. But she didn’t understand at first. After sometime, she smiled and said that it was easy. Then she dipped her mouth in the cake and tried to put the candles out. The cake was spilled on all our face as well as hers. Our beautiful dresses got spoilt. We were for a moment, very annoyed at such behavior. But then, all of us, including the three year-old child, burst into laughter. It was a very funny incident. Even when I recall it today, I laugh out loud.

 Victory Day

On our victory day I was strolling around the busy road of Dhaka near Dhaka University and saw a speeding car with our national flag on its bonnet, which make me think of something. Our epitome of pride is our national flag and it must be upheld with respect. This flag is not merely a piece of cloth, rather a true mixture of colours that signifies thirty million people who sacrificed their lives. Some of the so-called upper class people like to celebrate this victory day as any other day partying with friends. It is a day to be inspired, recalling the martyrs’ sacrifice, appreciation of liberty and liability to carry it out. But again it’s our own mishap that we still do not recognize ourselves. We carry our own identity as foreign supporters do for their favourite teams in sports. Can’t we uphold our identity with self-respect? Doesn’t this day inspire us to do so?

Paying to Go Home

After Eid when I got on a rickshaw one day and started towards Rifles Square in Dhanmondi, where my friends were waiting. The streets were still empty and it was turning out to be a joy ride. That was when my friend Salehin called me my cell phone and asked me to meet at the Dhanmondi Lake and Rifles Square. I asked the rickshaw puller to take me to the lake instead of the mall, when Salehin called again to let me know that no one will be going to the lake. The gang head now decided to stick to meeting at Rifles Square .irritated at the constant changes that were taking place, I asked the rickshaw puller once again if he could stick to the original point, when he informed me a stern tone that would take me wherever I wanted to as I pay him his dues. Humour struck and I asked him if he could take me all the way to “Amrika” (United States Of America) The rickshaw puller   said nothing, but parked his vehicle at the side of the street turned towards me and scowled, “I could not go to my village this Eid because I could not afford bus tickets for TK.300 a piece,” he retorted. “And you are talking about going all the way to ‘Amrika’?” After venturing out his frustration, the rickshaw puller   started towards Rifles Square once again.

Songs of Innocence

Nowadays, playgrounds are rare in urban areas. Beside our house there is an open space, where our neighbours’ children play. The other day , while I was watching them play happily, running around in what is the only open space in the neighbourhood, the landlord, who usually doesn’t even notice them passed by and started shouting at them and asking them to go home. The children looked broken hearted as they left to go home. This left me thinking, is it fair for our future generations not to have a space where they can enjoy nature and breathe fresh air?

Unusual Feast

A few days ago, it was almost midnight and I was returning home after work. It was the day of our glorious victory day and everywhere I could feel a sense of celebration. The air of winter was announcing its pretense powerfully. I was walking beside a community centre not very far from my residence. Suddenly a big crowd attracted my eyes. It was quite an unusual scene. I became curious and went to see what was up. Within moments everything became very clear to me. A man selling leftover food which he must have collected from nearest community centre and there were many poor people who were enjoying it at a very low price. Mainly rickshaw –pullers, day labourers and street urchins were consuming it. The fragrance of the food was all over the area. I saw a very small kid eating it happily. Suddenly I felt very bad after many years of independence, we could not provide the most basic need of our common people—food!

Material Boy

Every year I come back to Dhaka for the holidays and find a city that is somehow changing constantly while simultaneously never really moving forward. What stands out to me is the vigorous pace this evolution of lifestyle exclusively applies to the elite of our country. In a conversation I had with one my old high school friends I ran into at a cafe, she was casually joking about her two-year-old nephew refused to get into any other cars in their house except his maternal grandfather’s, a former BGMEA tycoon S-class Benz. Even though everybody else found this story very entertaining, it failed to humour me. Was I being judgmental towards a tiny toddler’s naivety? Or was I simply worried about how this illustrated very clearly how far removed members of our upper class are getting from the reality in which we live? We are spiraling out of control into a culture of materialism that will surely isolate us further from the mass population. It gives a glimpse into a future that horrifies me, one where the leaders and the rich will be even more irresponsible. I hope my pessimism remains a fear that does not have to be confronted.