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.
