Contemplation in words

Abyss

2011-05-01T15:34:00.003+06:00

He looks
To the left
To the right,
Eyes darting back and forth;
Should he run?
Run fool! Run!
The crowd chants

He waits
Quiet
Anxious
Eyes heavy with guilt,
Heart beating to a drum,
He stares now
Back at the blindness
Oh! What a fool!
The crowd chants

He takes a step
Trembling
Gasping;
He sees it
Feet frozen,
The crowd waits

He remains still
Feels its embrace
It seeps in
Inside him,
Eyes shut
Cold within;
Run fool! Run!
The crowd chants

Bongo Bazaar.

2011-01-28T12:33:00.000+06:00

Here's my story on Bongo Bazaar for suite101.com:

http://www.suite101.com/content/dhaka-shopping--bongo-bazaar-a336895

Leaky Boat

2010-10-02T12:50:00.002+06:00

So here you are, of a certain age, at a certain place, having attained certain things, not having attained most of what you had anticipated, but why be gloomy? Life isn’t always as miraculous as discovering gravity when the accidental apple hits you on the head (just to clarity, Sir Newton never said the apple hit his head, he said he saw it falling and that inspired him, but let’s go with the apple hitting the head). I once wondered what if it wasn’t an apple tree? What if it was a coconut tree? Well that would just mean gravity was a hell lotta stronger now wouldn’t it? Yes yes I am aware the latter statement is quite nonsensical, the poor guy would probably have had his head split in two! (maybe there would be some other Newton or maybe Fewton who would stumble upon this life altering revelation later), but I like being nonsensical. Do you ever sneak a little taste of what it’s like to be a little insane? Have you ever said something obnoxious in public, greeted by some awkward laughter and a lot of judgment? O yes the judgment. Shouldn’t that word be restricted in a court room, never to set foot outside? Maybe curbed by an electrical fence or even those nasty dogs that can rip one’s head off in the split of a second. That would serve ‘judgment’ right. Or are you one of those who never, God forbid and the Heavens come crashing down, NEVER, utter a single word of disgrace? You strictly recommend entertaining yourself for hours on end in your bed room, with a little assistance from your hand, feasting your eyes on beautiful people engaging in the spectacular baby making process. You are quite the saint.

Wait I wasn’t speaking of judgment I think, no I am quite sure I had something of utmost importance to unveil to the world, and no it wasn’t the fact that I must rest my bottom on one of those devices which so competently vanishes my excretions, but does leave the occasional odor lingering around like a street child next to a white boy in the streets of Dhaka. I should also admit that the odor isn’t always kind to the senses, just like the child who having lost his patience, yells out something obscene or better yet, spats for a lack of attention from the alien. There is nothing tantalizing about the odor, like the boy, its mostly repulsive, but see I am not to be blamed for the odor, let alone the boy. I try to be a tranquil human being (the operative word here being ‘try’), but my stomach - my stomach is a whole other story. My stomach has a life of its own – ‘her’ own. I say her, because I don’t think any man, homosexual or not, could possibly have obtained the intense PMS syndromes that my stomach so benevolently exhibits. There is no way of calming her down; give her some milk she throws up, give her booze she goes bonkers and give her coffee and you would be very very sorry. She is like a tempestuous termagant whose only reason for living is to torment those unlucky enough to be around her, but what do you do when she is inside you? Yes, what do “I” do?

I am a tad bitter today I must admit. It would have been quite amusing if moods could be altered like food recopies. Too bitter? Add sugar! No, I won’t ramble on about why I am bitter, we have the television channels for that, and I still find it hilarious to the point of obnoxiousness how they have to telecast the news on every channel, every hour. Yes we get it, we are in quite a bit of a mess, we had been sodomized time and again, but need we be reminded of that every hour? How a son slit his dad’s throat, how people are starving, how our Prime Minister changed the name of the airport? – the last one is actually healthy for us, it is hilarious as hell! The two leaders of our nation are immensely humorous, we just don’t get their sense of humor. Ignorant, arrogant us! But getting back to the news, it would be good to air more TV shows that entertain people, not make them more morbid.

Wait I think I missed something of importance here, now what was it? Why Ofcourse! What could be of more importance than the USA? And how they want us to send troops over to Afghanistan to help people, you know like assist the elderly to cross the street, help kids learn the alphabets, feed the poor, basically everything humanitarian, which Emrika (I like it spelt like that, suck it!) does better than none other. But I say NO! We are a people that kill parents for land, beat our wives, throw acid on lovers when the ‘love’ goes bad, and we basically survive and thrive on corruption! How could Emrika possibly think we would want to aid them in their mission to harmony? I say we stand our ground and be belligerent selves! We are not the people who help assist the elderly cross the road, we throw them under buses! But Emrika, wonderful Emrika, with their compassion and words of wisdom may actually lead us to a better path, the path to Afghanistan because there is almost none who can refuse the helping hand of the God of this Earth. Emrika.

Enough with Emrika, Heart has a new album, and to all those who don’t know who they are, you should still have enough working brain cells to realize that when I say new ‘album’, they must be a band. If it hadn’t occurred to you before, then I am sorry to be the one to inform you that you are an imbecile and a bloody good one at that. Ok I surmise I took it too far; there, that exemplifies that I am bitter. Anyway getting back to Heart, I was never an ardent fan of Heart but there is this particular song called ‘Queen City’ which I had been constantly listening to for two days straight now. It could be the vocals, the melody, the guitar, but I am certain it has something to do with the lyrics at the chorus –

Yo-ho, yo-ho, gotta keep afloat
Crazy cradle in my leaky boat
Yo-ho, yo-ho, gotta keep afloat
Crazy cradle in my leaky boat

Leaky boat, tell you mine is as leaky as a 1 year old’s bladder. But now that you are no longer one, you get no diaper! I am as ignorant about boats as I am about Star Wars (yes, I haven’t watched it, sue me!), I can’t mend the damn leak. The shore is in the distant, and in the undulating waters, the damn meat eating monsters are floating in harmonious vice with their jaws wide gaping, staring, waiting; the taste of blood is too intoxicating. I look around and see pairs of eyes silently observe. The shore is far. I am afraid, very afraid. Gotta keep afloat my friend, gotta keep afloat.

I Am Not A Poet

2010-09-19T03:32:00.002+06:00

I am not a poet. The illusion of it seemed too appealing to discard and hence along came some words, lines, even poems, but I am certain now they couldn’t have been poetry for I am not a poet; not even close to a drop of ink that some god awful poet used to draw monsters with.

A reporter maybe, but as my eyes feast on the horror that were my glorious published words, I reckon I am far from it. There is a rush about being a reporter, something exhilarating, orgasmic even, and once you’ve reached it you don’t want it to end. But as I read more and more of what I had been so proud of, I find the void in them deepening. Some lack life, others lack a proper choice of words (quite assured I haven’t learned that prowess yet) and some are just plain dumb, like the boring, abysmal concert review I once wrote; the only console being the concert itself, which made my review look like a little ecstasy pill.

A writer? I don’t know. What is a writer? Someone who belts out words and puts them down on paper? (wait, I shouldn’t let my mind wander into thinking that people still write on paper especially when I am typing this out in the magical Microsoft Word (all hail Bill Gates)), or is it someone who belts out his emotions, his heart, maybe a bit of his gut too in his words and splatters them all over paper for the world to read? What is the difference really? Words are just words, yet somehow there exists a discrepancy that is almost as vast as life and death. Am I a writer? I don’t know, but here I am writing.

I have always wanted to be a singer. It has proved to be quite an ambition now with my dying lungs and off beat vocals, but there is something about it that pleases me. No I don’t need a critic, I am my own worst critic and can tell when my rendition of a Black Sabbath song scares the dogs away, but I don’t want to sing Sabbath. I don’t want to sing about the devil and satan, or the intricate bonds between them, or how both are just as ludicrous as the idea of me winning in a fist fight with a grown man (wait correct that, a grown boy). I want to sing because I want to, just like I colored my hair blue because I wanted to. The grotesque part about this is how I never opt to do the things I want to do, it’s almost like the universe has me on a leash. Or maybe it’s my mind.

I don’t like conformity. I am however honest and will not dare to say I am the biggest non-conformist there ever lived, I am the furthest from it; but no not proud, the furthest from it. Conformity, it’s laughable. Conformity acts as a haven for all the chaos, injustice and malice there is. Conformity, it’s a bit like cancer, it multiplies and then slowly kills you.

Sleep and I have the oddest relationship. I want it when I can’t have it, and when I have it, I throw stones at it and scare it away like a stray dog. It’s here but I refuse to acknowledge its presence, I don’t have my stones, not even pebbles, but I wish to drive it away. I don’t need solace in sleep, I don’t get it. I have nightmares and not the kindest ones. It’s ironic how I drive sleep away and still crave for eternal sleep. The Gods are probably hysterical with laughter; I can be quite the comic.

Note Book

2010-02-16T00:40:00.004+06:00

I look for an outlet
For my anger
My fear
My desire
My tear;
I float quietly
Gravity can’t contain me
But these strings I can’t cut off;
One day I will get a knife
Put a hole in your balloon
You will fall
You have no strings
You were so proud
Now you fall;
I won’t look down
I will laugh,
I will wait to hear you hit the ground
I will laugh again;
I didn’t get my outlet
But I got you
You are my outlet
My torn empty note book

Proud

2010-02-16T00:09:00.003+06:00

I may have stolen a line
Maybe even a note or two
But the song I sing is true
One day I will make you proud

All That I Wish For, I Don’t Want To Wish For

2010-02-14T22:59:00.009+06:00

Sometimes I wonder
If you really are all that I think you are,
But you are merely the silhouette
Of the tainted perfection I crave for

Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me
Makes me believe in them again
In the cruel hollows I thought I once overcame
Walking backwards was never fun,
But I find it hard to stop

Sometimes I wonder whether I am stupid
Now I am certain I am
But your clever eyes knew all along
The pleasures of your disguise,
Sicken me to my core

Sometimes I think I can be strong
My strength is evanescent
Like your promises;
I am a hypocrite
A creep with obscure musings
Maybe even a liar too,
Yet I could never be you

Sometimes I think I will have you
Just the way I want to
My mind mocks my ambition;
You can never be what I want you to be
No one can, but I cling to a bare hope

I Know You a Little Too Well

2009-06-03T14:43:00.006+06:00

You want to ride
On the flying kites
Blue, red and green
Dance in your heart,
Bring out that brush
Let it run wild
I know you want to;
I know you a little too well

Buried you lay
Under that veil
Impervious
Imperious;
A lone leaf falls
Maybe a mountain too,
You say it don’t move you at all
But I know you a little too well

They come and they go
Enticing you
Solacing you
Raping you;
Tainted remnants
Devour your skin,
You say they can’t change you at all
But I know you a little too well

The waters run free
Fierce and forceful
Like you’ve always desired to be,
Stood at the end of that stream
The apogee of triumph
You had reached
Yet you say you never really did;
But I know you a little too well

A bitch you want to be
Lose your subtlety
Your well concealed purity;
You try to be her
A callous little narcissist,
But you are so fine my dear
Can you not see?
They come and they go,
Love it is you want
But they can never love you
The way I do
For I know you just a little too well

Nothing

2009-06-02T16:55:00.001+06:00

I try to swallow it down
I try to blaze it out
I sometimes try drowning it
Even broke a glass or two,
But the pieces lay still
Like toxic droplets
Feasting on my brain;
Nothing

The odorless buds
Withered away
From white to grey,
Never did they bloom
Never could you see
The insatiable ardor
Or the yearning within;
Nothing

I tried to move a brick wall
Hit my knuckles hard
I tried driving past it too
The wheel in my hand
Little before dawn,
Head hung over
With lingering thoughts;
Nothing

I had held your hand
Felt the warmth so tender,
Your serene smile
Would let me fly
Had frozen it too
Many a times;
I have killed them now
I don’t want to fly
I lay here rooted
In nothing;
Nothing

3:15

2009-06-02T12:20:00.000+06:00

Light up that stick
Watch the edges burn
From red to black
Incoherent, spiraling down
Like the stairs in your head;
Rewind the reel
Peel out the soul
Do you feel that trickle of blood?
The flash of rapture
The perpetual paranoia
The intoxication of dementia
All in oblivion

Suck it in
Feel the warmth
Swallow your insides
The slower you go, the higher you fly;
The skies roll
The trees cry
Do you hear that whisper?
Tiny voices screaming
In and out, up and down
Psychosis reigns
Over ephemeral bliss
Where did it all go?
Where?

Flick the stick now
Quivering hands, dried up inside
Watch the ashes float
From left to right
Tenderly caressing the ground
Dead;
Where is that beating now?
The surge of zeal
The palette of colors
The beauty of eloquence
All in oblivion

The stick glows bright
Like the sun before dusk
Taste that void
One last time;
The silence is deafening
Mind jaded, obscure
Rest asleep child
Pull the leash on the wonderments
The blood drips gently
Ever so gently;
Where did it all go?
The stick glows no more.

And So We Get Older...

2008-11-22T23:19:00.002+06:00

I have always dreaded growing up. I have numerous well justified reasons to support the previous statement. To begin with, the first few months of life to me resemble living in a posh hotel with great food, unbelievable room service, and even more. Think about it, you are fed, bathed, always entertained, and even when you need to use the toilet, the toilet comes to you! aka diapers; If you experience the slightest bit of discomfort, a nice little scream ought to get you all the attention in the world and have your parents go nuts in a futile effort to figure out what is bothering their precious little one. Not being able to speak also comes in handy. Feel free to poop on somebody’s lap or break that expensive piece of china your mother got from China, for there is no explaining to be expected from you. Now who would want to give all of that up? It was all going too well until you learned to speak and later walk.

At first it might get you a little stupefied to witness your parents reaction when you blurt out your first words, and I’m sure most kids wonder in bemusement, ‘What is the big deal? They do this all the time!’ I know I did. And it’s also rather overwhelming to see how they go gaga over you being able to walk, but sadly that phase, like all things in life, does not last for long. With every year that keeps adding to your tiny age, things gradually begin getting arduous. No more ‘toilet service’, for most kids no more being fed (although I have a 26 year old friend whose mother still feeds him, it’s absolutely inexcusable), sleeping alone in the dark, and the worst of all you can’t get away with the petty crimes of breaking random stuff anymore; now there is a lot of explaining to do, along with scolding, grounding and all of that drama.

The best part about the freedom of conquering more territory with the newly obtained skills of walking and speech is undoubtedly, going to school. Now I am aware that school has all the complexities of trying to belong, doing good yet strictly abstaining from the ‘geek’ title, and several other juvenile issues, but none of that surfaces when you are in your first or second grade (except maybe for some awfully mature kids..cable TV); it’s all about coloring, singing and learning the alphabets, yet the first day of school is perhaps the most gruesome day for most children. I was petrified to be in the same room with 25 other little monsters like myself, thinking ‘so how should I defend myself if I’m being attacked? Whose side is the teacher on?’ Turns out we were all individual teams and the teacher thought it best to stay out of the massacre.As you soon begin to get acclimatized to your new surroundings, you find yourself in middle school and later high school and all those juvenile issues are at full swing now. Despite of how juvenile they may appear, be sure to know that you will always be judged according to your image back in school by your school friends. Say you are big shot model now, the whole country knows you and you have a massive billboard of yourself up on Gulshan Avenue drinking ‘Tiger Energy Drink’, but when your school friends congregate and talk about you, be certain for somebody to point out, ‘Remember how she wet her pants in 3rd grade? That was firkin hilarious and now she is a model!’ And you can almost hear the laughs reverberating in your head.

Regardless, school would perhaps have to be the best part of your life. That’s where you discover all about life, the opposite sex and sex itself, a bit of love, cheating, playing pranks on people, geography, the often capricious human behavior, have a little exciting encounter with tobacco, pot or alcohol and the list goes on.I never wanted High School to end; yes I have had my bad times too which were often excruciating, but it’s the time when you are with the friends you've been with since childhood, and it feels like home. I do believe that the best friends you can ever make are the ones you make in school and no one can interpret you better, well that is usually the norm for the most part.

The next phase is going to college. As exciting as it was to ponder about college life and indulge into the idea of a new beginning with new people and undo all that went wrong in high school, it is undeniably not the scenario when you are studying at North South University, or any other university in town for that matter. Why I mention North South is because that is where I go to and can safely say that I absolutely detest the place. The reason behind this perception regarding universities in town is because Dhaka is a very small city and no matter which college you go to, you will inevitably end up with random friends that you wish you had never seen again, the new ones you meet probably have their own little group of friends, and it is better to keep a safe distance away from the rest of them that is out there. It’s almost like you are in your 30s and making new friends is like trying to pass for a 15 year old. In my case almost all my friends from school have escaped to the different continents looking for quality education while a couple of us who are too unfortunate to have that fancy, settled back for the last best thing aka NSU

It is hard to oversee that even though we are in our much anticipated 20s, and amidst more forms of entertainment to spoil ourselves with than ever before, we are also getting increasingly bored of life. Remember when you were a kid all you had to do was get together with your friends and simply run around in a room or jump on the bed and that the most fun thing to do in the world! Now it’s all about, ‘So where are we gonna go eat? do you have a smoke? Who is getting the booze?’ and the invariable and unsolvable monetary problem persists. ‘I’m broke’ is arguable my most used statement. There is no place for recreation (and by that I do not refer to the sauntering/lingering around in creepy shopping malls) in Dhaka and all you can do is go to some restaurant with friends to have not-so-great food for a considerable amount of money, a sad result of the skyrocketing price hike we are experiencing now and the lack of implementation of the consumer protection rights. Life certainly does not seem fair.

The worst aspect of growing up to me is all the growing issues that tag along with it. Learn to be selfish, diplomatic, political, hypocrisy can also be utilized at times, ability to handle terrible levels of stress, tension and all the other unwanted terms. Hell I just want to be myself! But apparently that is too much to ask for after you are of a certain age. It’s all about being socially and politically correct.
The scary part about all of this is we are barely reaching our mid-20s and it freaks me out to think about all that is in the offing. Soon will come the 30s, 40s, 50s and more if you are lucky, and if we are freaking out at our 20s, there palpably is going to be a lot more to freak out about later. Why it is probably scary for me is perhaps because I do not plan out my future, never have. I take each day as it comes, a risky move maybe but that is the only way I can survive. I have friends who have the next five to even ten years planned out and I can barely plan to finish an assignment on a scheduled time! Something tells me life won’t be fun for me after graduation and I can’t ignore the whole frenzy of trying to find a job in this corporate whirlpool and being able to keep it. I have had almost a years' experience working for a news paper though and to be honest, it was the most exciting thing I had ever done. Don’t know if I will have the same opinion about the one that will earn me a living.

Let’s not overlook the fact that you also have to find someone to woo lest you end up an ‘old maid’. I can safely say that I'm not worried about that. I do have a great plan though; the only future I see myself in is living in an astounding beach house with a ton of money, sitting alone on the terrace overlooking the undulating waters in a windy evening. (No idea where the money or the house is coming from). And so my mother tells me ‘what happens when you get sick, who is going to take care of you then if you are alone?’ And I tell her ‘I’ll have enough money to hire people to do that for me and look at you, you spend all your money on your children and they disappoint you at times, make you miserable, and taking care of the family is simply exhausting and what is so great about that? You should’ve never gotten married and had kids, rather you should’ve spent all your money on vacations!’ and she smiles back and tells me that it is gratifying. I know the woman has a point but I refuse to comply. I would rather buy a puma store for myself than spend money on my nonexistent kids.

With everything said, I should also admit that growing up isn’t always bad, in fact it can be pretty wonderful. Growing up unveils all the things that you had fantasized about as a kid, such as being independent, earning your own money (which isn’t working out great for me, since I quit my job a few months back), dating, being responsible for your actions etc. It’s terribly ironic how when you are a child all you desire is to do is grow up, and when you are there, you wish you could go back to being a child, undo all that you could and just relish the simpler things in life. I guess that’s why they call life an enigma, who knows when we will figure that one out!

Work!

2008-10-18T01:53:00.001+06:00

Its been almost 2 months since i last blogged, not a good sign. Seems like I am the only one keeping count :) Somehow life has yet again become oddly hectic, not to mention stressful. Its 2 am and I'm taking one of my several breaks from the insane complexity of calculus. sighh..
I should be off now, the problems wont solve themselves!

Let the rain come down tonight

2008-03-20T11:52:00.006+06:00

The night sky lit up
For a blinding second
As a flash of violet viciously threatened
I stare in wonderment
At the drenched world ahead,
Open all your doors tonight
Watch the drapes dance in the gust;
Let the rain come down
O let it make you shiver

A roaring wind
Howls into the night
A few blessed drops rest upon my skin
I ponder in wonderment
About the beauty that lies
In the hands of God
Grace that knows no bounds;
Let the rain come down tonight
O let it open your eyes

A distant tree trembles in fear
Leaves flutter, flowers so dear,
Shower in the holy water
It had been too long;
I muse in wonderment
About the land beyond the skies
Should I ever step onto that land?
For I have sinned O Lord

Let the rain come down tonight
Let it bare your illusions
Let the rain come down tonight
O feel it caress your soul

8th February 2008

2008-02-21T16:46:00.001+06:00

By: kutubuddin kamal

Nahian was not feeling good; rather he was feeling a lot of suppressed aggression, agitation and just plain annoyance. It hadn’t been a good day at school, not that any of his days at school were ever good but today was particularly obnoxious. Ria, a girl who constantly picked on him in class had poured a generous amount of water on the seat of his chair during economics class. The work was done with such perfection that Nahian was completely oblivious of the water on his seat, until it eventually seeped up into his pants. Startled, he jumped up and the entire class broke out into an unstoppable phase of laughter. Even Mr. Haque, the teacher, had a slight grin on his face which disgusted Nahian and he stormed out of the classroom and went to the toilet. He hadn’t been to any of the classes for the rest of the day. It was probably one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, yet things like this always happened to him.During his rickshaw ride back home, he continually tried not to contemplate over the day’s event but ended up doing just that.
‘The fair is Tk. 20’ the rickshaw puller sternly informed him as Nahian disembarked in front of his house and handed him twelve taka.
Nahian couldn’t believe what he heard. The ride from Lalmatia to Mohammadpur was always twelve taka, fifteen if there was too much traffic, and this guy here is asking for twenty? Nahian wanted to take back the twelve taka and walk away, but instead ended up giving him another six taka and climbed up to the second floor of the building to the apartment where he lived with his mother.

As he rang the bell, a familiar distorted figure opened the door and stood in front of him. It was his sister. This day is officially the worst one ever, he muttered to himself. His sister stood at the doorway, scrutinizing him from top to bottom, in a weird gesture that made him feel like he was being scanned by a metal detector. After a minute’s silence she frowned and said‘Why did you grow a goatee?’‘I don’t know’, he was too accustomed to this question. Somehow everyone on earth had a problem with his goatee.
What is it to them? I grow it on my face not theirs! Nahian had thought several times before.

Now as he stood in front of his sister he wanted to tell her the same thing but she was one of those shrewd women, with whom he could never win an argument.‘Yes you do’ she replied scornfully. ‘Fine, I like it, that’s why’ ‘So now you are turning into a wannabe?’ She said sardonically. ‘No I’m not!’ he felt his voice rising with anger.‘The next time I visit, I’ll probably see you with your ears and nose pierced and hair dyed and…’Nahian stormed past her and went into his room, he had had enough.His sister, Saima who was seven years older than him had always been skeptical about him in every way. She also seemed to have a penchant towards finding his flaws.
When she got married last year and moved to Mirpur, Nahian had sighed in relief and had been close to being ecstatic. She would occasionally drop by and exasperate him, but at least it wasn’t an everyday occurrence. His mother would always nod in agreement when his sister went on and on about how he was transforming into a junkie and Nahian only wished she had been born mute.
Now that Saima has been pregnant for 3 months, her visits have become more frequent and Nahian felt sorry for his brother-in-law, Osman who had to deal with this tempestuous termagant every single day.
Nahian had always liked Osman. He was the exact opposite of his wife and seemed to understand the trouble his wife caused Nahian. One day he even overheard a conversation between them, Osman saying ‘Saima, he is only seventeen, it wouldn’t kill you to not bug him all the time.’
Although it was a futile effort, Nahian still appreciated the gesture.Regardless of the early unfortunate incidents of the day, today was a going to be an exceptional day for Nahian and he has been looking forward to this day for quite a while now. The rock band Artcell was going to perform at the Youth Club in Gulshan and to call Nahian a diehard fan would be an understatement. He had bought his ticket a month ago, the very first day of ticket sales. He told his mother about the concert a week ago during lunch and she simply listened with an expressionless face, putting him in a dilemma as to whether he would be allowed to go or not. He didn’t dare ask her again lest she said no.Now as he sat on his bed with a red face and still in his school uniform, he could hear Saima’s shrill voice yelling at his mother, telling her how arrogant he had become and how he lacked in decent manners. If it had been a different day, he probably wouldn’t let it get to him, but it had already been a terrible day from the start and his sister just pushed him over the edge. After ten more minutes, he finally got up, turned on his computer and played his favorite Artcell song with the volume up and went to the bathroom for a shower.

Just as he was done taking his shower, his mother entered the room and the music came to an abrupt stop as she unplugged the computer. He absolutely detested it when she did that.Nahian dragged his lean body out of the shower and with water still dripping from his wet hair; he stepped of the washroom‘How many times have I asked you not to turn the volume up so high?’ His mother asked, her pear shaped face with the bulging eyes showed contempt.Nahian shook his head.He knew there was no point in arguing with her. His mother claimed she knew everything, literally everything. Even if she said she had been the queen of England in her previous life, everyone would have to accept that as a fact
‘Why did you upset your sister? You know the doctor said she shouldn’t get stressed’‘I didn’t do anything, she just needed a reason to complain about me’ Nahian said flatly, not looking his mother in the eye‘I have warned you not to speak about her like that before; you shouldn’t forget that she is seven years older than you’And seven times more wicked, he thought‘Come have lunch and we’ll go to your aunt Mila’s house’Nahian was afraid he hadn’t heard her correctly‘Aunt Mila’s house?’‘Yes’‘But she lives in Old Dhaka and I have to be in Gulshan for the concert at 4’ replied a confused Nahian. ‘I had told you before about the concert, I …’His mother cut him short‘I don’t remember giving you the permission to go’Nahian was stupefied; he couldn’t believe he would miss the concert‘You have already started behaving like an outcast, and I won’t have any more of that concert nonsense, you are coming with us to aunt Mila’s and that’s all I know’ and with that she left the room.Nahian sat down on his bed, the water still slowly dripping from his hair.When it finally struck him that his mother was serious about not letting him go to the concert, he made up his mind. He was going to the concert.Lunch was quiet. Nahian’s father passed away when he was in grade six, his mother lived off his savings and owned a small boutique which allowed her to stay home almost all day. The only extra people today were his sister and brother-in-law. Saima didn’t speak to him, but didn’t forget to glare at him every time their eyes met. Osman had asked him about his school and friends and Nahian replied without asking reciprocating.After lunch, Nahian went back to his room. It was 3 in the afternoon and he began getting dressed to go to the concert. He didn’t have many friends in school, his only friend Maruf, went to Sylhet with his family, so that meant he would be going to the concert alone.Nahian checked his wallet. He had Tk. 200 that he had saved from the money his mother gave him every day for his rickshaw fare.Tk.200 would suffice he thought. He put on a plain black t-shirt, wore his favorite pair of worn out denims, shoved the ticket in his pocket and was all set.Now it was time for the most difficult part, to tell his mother, that he was going to the concert.Nahian slowly left his room and entered the living room where his mother, sister and brother-in-law where having a vivacious conversation.As he entered the room, Saima instantly stopped talking, the smiling face replaced by a grimace. His mother looked up at him 'I said we'll leave at 4, why are you dressed now?'
'I'm not going to aunt Mila's''What?..Why?' his mother eyed him suspiciously.'I told you I'm going to the concert''And I think I told you that you couldn't go! Is that too that hard for you to understand?'Nahian remained silent for a minute
'But Amma..please…its Artcell and I have always wanted to go to an Artcell concert and--''Now do you understand Amma what I told you' his sister interrupted. 'Your son has forgotten how to talk to his mother, must have learned all this inexplicable behavior from his friends in school'Nahian wanted to rip her giant head off! How he loathed her he couldn't explain.Osman who had been silently listening to the conversation cut in.
'Nahian its ok you can go to the concert'Saima glared at her husband in disbelief'Who are you to give him the permission to go?'
Osman ignored his wife and again asked Nahian to go to the concert.Nahian was so confused and excited that he even forgot to say thank you to Osman.He smiled at Osman and almost ran out of the house, beaming.
His mother remained silent, probably in confusion or infuriation.
The scorching afternoon sun embraced as Nahian stepped out of the house. The summer was at its prime, with terrible humidity and heat. Nahian walked from his house in Iqbal Road to Asad Asad Avenue, looking for a CNG auto rickshaw the entire way.

He had been standing on the sidewalk opposite to St. Joseph school for fifteen minutes now. The wide road of Asad Avenue was almost deserted with only occasional cars passing by. He had seen just two CNGs for hire, but both refused to take him to Gulshan, an every day, absolutely deplorable occurrence in Dhaka.

Another fifteen minutes went by and Nahian could feel the slow trickling down of sweat from his forehead and back as checked his for the 500th time. Finally he was too aggravated to be standing in the sun anymore and began walking when suddenly he heard a croaky voice say ‘Jaben Bhai?’ Nahian was startled to see that it was an auto rickshaw driver who had been driving behind him.
‘Yes, Gulshan’ replied Nahian spontaneously.
The shabby driver didn’t seem interested
‘There’s too much jam on the way and-‘
‘I’ll give you 10 taka over the meter fare’
‘Nah, it’s not worth it, will you go for a 100?’
Had it been another time, Nahian would probably have laughed his head off at the insinuation, but now it was different. He was less than half an hour away from the concert and was perspiring profusely.
‘Ok’ he said reluctantly and climbed into the three-wheeler.
After ten minutes, it turned out that the driver wasn’t exactly bluffing. They were stuck in terrible traffic at Bijoy Shoroni.
Damnit! murmured Nahian
‘Mama, we won’t be able to make it to Gulshan anytime soon’ the driver sighed.
Nahian wasn’t listening to him, he knew that already and was only wondering how he would manage to get inside the compound with the swarming crowd and long queue, let alone be there in time for the concert.
After another long twenty minutes, the three-wheeler was finally in Mohakhali, the traffic had thinned out a bit and the auto rickshaw took a quick right under the fly over and sped through the long road that connected Mohakhali to Gulshan-1.
Nahian checked his watch again, this time picturing himself in a few minutes time gloriously standing inches from the main gate of the youth club and handing his ticket to the guard, the guitar tunes engulfing him..
‘Crap!’ exclaimed the driver.
Nahian was shot back to reality and to his utter dismay realized what had happened. The three-wheeler had broken down and the driver stopped it in front of the Aristocrat Restaurant in Gulshan-1.
Nahian didn’t want to wait for the driver to try and fix it. The meter blinked Tk. 48. He hurriedly removed a 50 taka note from his wallet and handed it to him.
Nahian found himself almost running to reach the end of the road, where he would take a rickshaw to go to the youth club. A long queue of rickshaws were waiting for passengers and he got on the first one in the queue and said ‘Wonderland!’ the rickshaw puller sensing the urgency in his tone, peddled hard.
As the rickshaw came to a stop opposite to wonderland, Nahian thrust a ten taka note in the rickshaw puller’s hand and hurriedly crossed the busy road. As he walked towards the youth club, beside wonderland, something didn’t seem quite as right.
What was it? He wondered and then it came to him. ‘Why was everything so quiet? And where are all the cars and people?
He glanced at his watch again it was almost 5.
Had the concert ended so soon? No, that couldn’t be it
As the youth club came into view, things seemed even odder; there were teenagers and children playing in the field. There was no stage, no giant amplifiers, no binding lights, no sign of a concert to begin or to have just ended. Nahian was downright flabbergasted.
He approached a guard in uniform, leisurely sipping tea and taking long drags from his cigarette, sitting on a bench in a tea stall next to the gate.
‘Bhai, ajke concert chilo na?’ He asked inquisitively
‘Na’ the answer came flatly
‘Are you sure? I have the ticket with me right here’ said Nahian and brought out the red rectangular piece of cardboard paper out of his pocket and handed it to the guard.
He studied it for a few seconds then looked at Nahian with disdain.
‘Can’t you read?’ he asked
‘What?’ Nahian was taken aback
‘It says Friday, 8th February, today is Thursday’
In complete disbelief Nahian snatched the ticket from him and read the date ‘Friday, 8th February 2008’
Nahian didn’t quite know how to react, and found himself painfully smiling as he made his way back towards the main road.
So much for that!

Tk. 12!

2008-01-29T14:17:00.000+06:00

Yesterday, after quite a while I had credit on my phone, yet it wasn't much, merely 100Tk, which by today morning was 86.

The one reason why I don't usually get much credit for my phone is because I have a pretty little habbit of calling up old friends or teachers and using up all my credit, totally oblivious of the money I'm spending. Today that happened again. I was early for my maths class, so I called up my friend Nabil on his cell phone, who lives in the US now.
'The caller you have called, does not have a voicemail box' said the flirtacious female voice from the other end, with a light accent. I admit I was confused, who wouldn't be? But then I realised his cell phone must be turned off, so i dialled his room number. There was no reply. Fun for me! I was surrounded by a bunch of insanely disturbing individuals whom I detest, who lack in civil manners, and fail to engage in a normal conversation let alone speak properly. It wasn't exactly my idea of a fun classroom.

So I go through my phone book again and Atif's name came up. He is another lameass friend of mine who had left for the US last year and I called him up. The godd thing was he picked up, the bad thing was all he kept on saying was 'hello hello?' It would have been ok for me to keep on sayin 'Atif, its me!' but I had called halfway across the globe and it was costing me around Tk.20 a minute. After 10 seconds of 'hello' I hung up and dialled again. This time, the wonderful magic of technology didn't fail me, and he could hear me and we had a 3 minute conversation. It was fun but how much could you share in just 3 mintues with an old friend? I got back to class and told my only friend in the class, sadia, about how I had called atif, and she thought I was insane to be calling up people in America when I hardly ever have credit. She did have a point, but hell the rest of humaity think I'm insane anyway so all I can do is just be insane!

As i checked my a/c I realised I had only Tk.12 left. It did come as quite a surprise, I assumed i would have atleast Tk.30 or 40 but well what do you know? Life is always full of surprises! It wasn't great for someone who is completely broke at the end of the month. So as much as i hated it, I had to ask sadia to lend me Tk.50 for my phone credit and assured her I would pay her back on the 8th of next month, the day I would get paid. So much to pay for, so much to buy, and all to be done within a mere Tk.4000...sighh..the only thing I can afford is an occasional coke, the rest is all spent on my rickshaw fare and buying birthday gifts for friends or family. Which reminds me that Aumiya's birthday is coming up next month, mine the month after that and Imtiaz's the month after that! hahaha...another 3 months of borrowing more money from my mummy! life officially SUCKS! when did it stop sucking anyway?

Good Phase

2008-01-29T14:11:00.000+06:00

Today the sun is up.

It's a Monday

2008-01-21T20:47:00.000+06:00

Yesterday was fun, but not until 9pm.
All I did the entire day was wander around the apartment, occasionally yelling at my father, who has a charm for indulgence in all kinds of activities that hardly make sense and often gets everyone at home annoyed. Like the other day when we had a few guests coming over for dinner, instead of helping my mother and us with the cooking and the cleaning, he had the brilliant idea of getting tomato plants!..yes you've read that right, and so he did.

I had woken up at around midday and tried watching TV for a while but there wasn't anything worth watching. Heres the thing, weekends are supposed to be relaxing and people are meant to turn into couch potatoes with a mug of coffee, but ironically the worst shows are always aired during the weekends..something I'll never understand. My internet connection was messed up and so going online wasn't an option either. The breakthrough finally came for me at 9 in the evening when flipping through the channels I suddenly saw Bush amidst several little middle eastern girls dancing (No he wasn't dancing, the little girls were). As inquisitive as I am, I continued watching the clip that honestly, was kind of hilarious. Anyway the clip ends and I discover it's the Today Show with John Stewart. For the next half an hour or so I found it quite difficult to stop laughing. Heres the best of what I had seen. Bush was giving a speech in front of the american troops in Iran (Or maybe some other middle eastern country, I am not sure) and he says 'When history was written, the final page will say that the United States have fought for peace' (or something along the lines, I do not recall the exact words) if you still haven't figured out why I put so much emphasis on this particular sentence, read it again. Yes Mr. George W. Bush is actually combining both the future and the past in some insanse universe which goes beyond my apprehension. This coming from the President of the United States. Sadly enough, even me, a person from a third world country could acknowlege the simple mistake in enligsh..

After the show ended, I found one of my dearest friends online and we had a real fun conversation after a while at the end of which she called me. (the reason why it's significant is because she lives in Candana and I live in Bangladesh). I had another two hours of laughter!

However, coming to think of it, tomorrow is not going to be the least bit fun. I'll have to go back to college and my classes begin at 8 in the damn morning. After which I have to go to work and finish a 1500 word assignment, which is not really the main problem. What concerns me is working at the office because I just can't concentrate as much as I can when I work at home, which again is not possible for my computer is messed up and having much fun in ruining my life!

Its 9:15 pm now and even though today wasn't quite eventful, it wasn't a total bust either . Work was fun and I had my daily dose of 'Friends' and 'Seinfeld'. Now I am waiting for the clock to strike 10:30 and I can finally watch 'The Last Comic Standing' a show that I wait for every week. Yes you have guessed it right. I do have a thing for laughter! ;)

Do you?

2008-01-20T00:01:00.000+06:00

Do you ever wonder what it takes to go through each day?
Do you ponder about days to come or contemplate about days gone by?
Or do you take each day as it comes?

The Right, The Wrong - II

2007-12-25T00:07:00.000+06:00

In every culture there are ways in which one is expected to behave, rules set to differentiate between the good and the bad, the right and the wrong. Norms established to castigate those who exhibit actions of deviation, and step into the not-to-be-talked-about other side, to the chamber of demons and grotesque evil that turns them into one of their own. Yet how many of us have actually been there? Is it really a chamber where red tongued demons float about in harmonious vice and lick the blood of the innocent? Or is it the superficial image imposed in our minds so lucidly by the even more superficial society? Isn’t it the same society where the discrepancy between the rich and the poor exemplify the dysfunctional county that we call home?

It amuses me how the perpetual fear of actions that may be frowned upon by society are obliged religiously by us, the middleclass people of the society. Getting a divorce, seeing a mental health consultant or even the innocent friendships between two young people of the opposite sex, let alone dating, are only a few examples of such actions. You and I may regard these as some common phenomenon that are often necessary and are completely viable. Nevertheless, I can still recall the perturbation that occurred in my family when my aunt was compelled to end her marriage after having been severely abused. She and her husband resided in London back then, where he ensured that she was always locked inside the house. He beat her up in front of their young children, scarred her body with cigarette burns and even forced her head down the toilet. The reasons for such atrocious actions were because of the stunning beauty that my aunt was, and because her husband was unable to quell his paranoia regarding her. Even looking outside the window would arouse suspicion in her husband. Eventually after the turmoil with the divorce subsided, the untold conclusion agreed upon by society and much of the family was that my aunt was to be blamed; for it is the female who should be more considerate, who should endure the heinous tortures and keep the marriage going. She has ever since isolated herself from the world and has been living in a dark little room in my grandmother’s colossal house in Banani for the last 15 years, refusing to speak with anybody or willing to leave her room, if not for the utmost necessity. She is on the brink of silent insanity. Her teenage children had once came back after 13 years to take their mother back home, but a woman who has become apathetic towards all human relationships couldn’t accept the offer to be with her children. How can I still wish to support a society that has impaired a mother’s emotions to such an extent that she has lost the desire to want to be with her children? The question is yours to answer.

In today’s advanced world, when feminism is being prioritized to the maximum, we the Bangalis still find it difficult to conform to the fact that an incompatible marriage is a marriage impossible to be consummated. Women are expected to bear whatever the circumstances maybe to make a marriage work. The instant the marriage ends it is the woman to be censured, to be eyed with much contempt. Our actions only consolidate the fact that regardless of the numerous television shows on human/female rights, newspaper articles narrating stories of abused women, the existence of feminism in our society is still to be questioned.

It is true that for every society or nation to function orderly there should be laws introduced to reprimand the ones who fail or refuse to act accordingly. What would be a valid explanation for wrong? Is it wrong for a young child to want what is not his own? I can inevitably assume you will disagree for the child doesn’t know what he should or should not want. The idea of wrong and right various with age groups, personalities and background. Yet how can we so easily claim that a person is wrong if in fact what we perceive to be wrong might be right to several others? Of course those committing crimes such as murder or robbery should palpably be penalized by the state laws, but what about the petty street muggers? Had it ever occurred to you why mugging has increased so much in recent times? Had the crime rate been so high if resources were properly allocated and there had been more employment? With the insane rate of inflation every single person of the country is struggling to go through yet another day. I myself know how much a 100tk. note is worth and how difficult it is for middleclass people like us to persevere living a decent life. On top of the struggle for survival we are also expected to behave in a socially and politically correct manner and steer clear of the judgments society might throw upon us.

My father often drags me to weddings or social gatherings of people that I don’t even acknowledge and often detest, against my own will. I ask him why. He says ‘You have to be social, people expect you to be there’ I tell him ‘Are they the same people who would be there for me when I would really need a little help? Are these the people who would empathize with me in my times of trouble?’ I ask him the questions for in my twenty years of life I have had enough experience of human behavior, have had experienced the real troubles of life and have seen more of how selfish the society can be than most people, around me, twice my age have. Yet I consider myself to be exceptionally lucky to be where I am, because I know of the hardships that the people of our country go through that are nothing compared to what I had experienced.

In our dominant conservative society, freedom of speech or a candid expression is strictly prohibited. How do we continue to rely and willingly opt to abide by the rules set by society, when the ones who control the society seldom act according to their lofty words? When they are dinning with Satan himself and pointing fingers at us? When their sons and daughters are associated with all they have identified as wrong while they sit around and pass sardonic judgments on you and your offspring? Perhaps we are blind, blind to see all the obscenities, the injustice and the sycophancy so impeccably hidden. Or rather, are we frightened? Frightened of being labeled, being known in society as ‘the one’ who broke the rules and ‘the one' that should be discriminated and questioned, better yet discarded?
It goes beyond us to notice the intolerance that curbs our society. How many times have you shooed away a starving beggar for whom only a mere 2tk. would have sufficed and how many times have you spent thousands on KFC chicken and sizzling steaks? Before the previous statement misleads you, I would like to clarity that I am not against enjoying a fancy dinner; rather I myself grasp the opportunity when I am given one. But it just gets me perplexed as to why it is so difficult for the people in the posh cars who live in their own little world of glitz, to apprehend that they can assuage the hunger of at least one unfortunate battered child a day.
If it is an entire community that comprises of this so-called society, then why are only a certain group of vulnerable people to be questioned and victimized by clever ruses? I think it is time for all of us to take a moment and ponder about how our life functions for it is you who can make a difference. We are a free nation, but sadly enough, we are yet to be fully emancipated.

Lacking in coherence

2007-12-08T21:18:00.000+06:00

These brief breaks are anything but pleasent.
With a 1000 trivial and unimaginably irritable issues transformed into intransient, clingy thoughts, circuits and electronics are having much difficulty in penetrating through my impermiable brain. Coming to think of it, it is not only the thoughts, which even though seems intansient now, will eventually turn out to be ephimeral with passing time; rather it is the sheer annoyance of studying electronics that makes me want to jump off my terrace in one swift motion! Yet here I am, writting down random thoughts when my electronics final exam will commence at 8 in the bloody winter morning of tomorrow! Damnit! It is 9:26 pm and counting. If only we could devise a mechanism to alter the flow of time...sigh..

In Guise of Law Enforcers

2007-12-07T08:45:00.000+06:00

On November 28 2007, City Monetary Exchange was raided by members of the Joint Forces. The raid turned out to be a hoax and the law enforcers turned out to be robbers dressed in police and army uniform. Writes Kutubuddin Kamal

For Chan Mia, chairman of the City Monetary Exchange, it was just another working day. Even when nine men dressed in army and police uniforms arrived at his gate identifying themselves as members of the joint forces, he was more baffled than frightened. They demanded to see the company’s legal papers and transactions, and Chan Mia and his cashier were happy to comply to get whatever the complication was sorted out quickly, without any dispute. But they did not realise that the checks were merely a ruse, and after they had finished, Chan Mia found himself having been robbed of Tk.17 lakh in cash. The incident occurred on November 28 at around 3:00pm, on the ground floor of the Baitul Khair building in Purana Paltan. Md. Kamrul Hasan, the managing director of the company and the son of Chan Mia, usually looked after the management and transactions of the exchange but was absent on that particular day. Kamrul was at the airport leaving for Hajj, while his father was left in charge of the company. ‘The collapsible gate of the compound was open, and only the cashier and I were working; the rest of the employees were either out on work or had gone to the mosque for prayers’ says Chan Mia. Chan Mia explains that a total of nine men entered the compound, three of whom wore army uniforms, two in police uniforms and the four others in civil wear. ‘The men’s attitude and manner were of those with legal authority,’ says Chan Mia. ‘They even had “army” haircuts and were tall with robust physiques; features that are typical of army personnel’ The men entered through the open door and greeted Chan Mia in a very official manner. Those in army uniforms demanded to see the company’s legal documents, transactions and statements. One of the others locked the door behind him and stood guard to make sure no one entered or left the compound. ‘I always keep my papers up to date and send monthly reports to the Bangladesh Bank, so I was quite certain that they wouldn’t find anything wrong with the documents’ says Chan Mia. Chan Mia hurriedly gathered the required documents, while the men dressed in army uniforms discreetly took note of where Chan Mia’s safe was located. Meanwhile the men in police and civil attire went behind the counter where the cashier sat, and began emptying the cash register and started filling their bags with money and every other document in sight. ‘Aside from money from the cash register, they took all the paperwork that they could find, including several of my diaries with important contact numbers and information,’ says Chan Mia. Back in the room with the safe, the men studied the documents thoroughly and abruptly asked Chan Mia to open the locker. Although taken aback by the sudden command, Chan Mia brought out the key without much hesitation and was about to unlock the safe, when one of the men snatched the key from him and unlocked the safe himself. Within the next few seconds Chan Mia found himself blindfolded and forced to sit on a chair. In the meantime the cashier was blindfolded as well by the other men, as they finished stuffing their bags with all the documents and cash that were obtainable from the counter. After having completed their task behind the counter, the men in civil wear and police uniforms took mobile sets and money from the customers who were present at the compound during the made-up raid. ‘They asked me not to make any sound, and I had no idea of what was going on,’ recalls Chan Mia. ‘One of them asked me to present all the documents and transactions at the Motijheel Thana.’ Till then, Chan Mia was completely unaware of the activities taking place in the other sections of the store. Outside, owners, salesmen and customers from other stores began crowding around, but keeping a safe distance from the exchange compound, in anticipation of learning what was going on. ‘My owner went close to the collapsible gates of the compound, when a man dressed in a police uniform commanded him to get back into his store’ says Abdus Sattar of AB Card Center. ‘No one dared to speak or question them on what was going on,’ says Unus Ali (Not real name), another witness to the incident. Most of the other witnesses said that the people from surrounding stores all watched in silence, but none dared to get close to the guarded collapsible gate. ‘When I finally heard footsteps fading away, I removed the blindfold and rushed out to find that they had left with my cashier as a captive’ recalls Chan Mia. ‘Petrified, I went to my landlord and explained what had happened; I still oblivious of the fact that whatever happened was the execution of a robbery.’ ‘When I called the Motijheel Thana, they said that they were unaware of any such raid to have taken place,’ says Chan Mia, adding that the Paltan Thana and Army Camp also expressed ignorance towards the raid. ‘At that point, when I realised that there was the possibility of it having been a robbery, I was more worried about my employee than the money. The men left in the minivan with which they arrived, taking with them a blindfolded and terrified Abdus Samad, the cashier. ‘They didn’t beat me or hurt me’ says Samad. He was later dropped off near the Tejgaon Press Club. ‘They said that they would drop me off here and a major’s car that was following behind would pick me up,’ adds Samad. He also mentions that, during the entire time that he was in the vehicle, the men talked about camps and men in the army; in general, the ways in which army personnel would speak.’ The entire operation took place within a mere 7-10 minutes reflecting the expertise of such men. They took a reported Tk.17 Lakh, consisting of $12,450 USD, 2,100 Euro and approximately 6 and a half Lakh taka. Chan Mia, however, still has difficulty in accepting what has happened. ‘The police stations and RAB kept my full statements, but I confessed that it was still difficult for me to believe that the men were robbers,’ says Chan Mia. ‘With the current state of emergency under the interim government, civilians don’t dare question orders, hence, it had never occurred to me to ask for any identification cards from the men; I didn’t want to get into any trouble.’ A case has been filed with the Paltan Thana. The OC of Paltan Thana, Farid Ahmed said that investigations are underway, but no suspects were yet to be identified as of the December 3, five days since the infamous robbery took place. Although the police could not report of any development in the investigation, the Dhaka Metropolitan Police commissioner, Naim Ahmed tells New Age that the Detective Branch has been additionally assigned to work on the case. With the enduring state of emergency and the monopoly power shared by the RAB and Army, civilians are living under a constant fear of the supposedly invincible authority. In the process, criminals or robbers are performing such atrocious crimes, taking full advantage of the civilian’s vulnerability.

'No Less Than 100 Taka'

2007-12-06T10:06:00.000+06:00

Commuters are being harassed by CNG drivers who refuse short distances and ask for exorbitant fares ignoring the metres. The drivers meanwhile are held captive by owners while owners blame rising prices. Kutubuddin Kamal explores the vicious cycle

photos by Andrew Biraj

Yasmeen Ahmed stands in front of the Shooting Complex in Gulshan, carrying two bulky jute bags in both hands as she eagerly keeps looking both ways for a CNG auto-rickshaw. She was on her way to Mohammadpur Preparatory Girls College where she has been teaching for the last eleven years. It was 7:00am and as she anxiously waits, several CNG auto-rickshaws drive by, but none wants to take her to her desired destination. Finally after fifteen long minutes she manages to get a CNG auto-rickshaw but the driver insists on being paid Tk 80 to take her to Mohammadpur on a ‘contract’. The usual fare from Gulshan-1 to Mohammadpur is about Tk 50-60 depending on the flow of traffic, whereas the driver asked for an additional Tk 20 over the meter fare

‘It is still much easier to get an auto-rickshaw in the morning,’ says Yasmeen ‘after work I have to linger in the streets for at least an hour in the scorching sun to get a CNG.’ She regrets the fact that the government or relevant authority is unable to handle this dreadful situation that seems to worsen by the day and harasses commuters intolerably. This is just one case amongst the several thousand CNG commuters who are compelled to endure similar circumstances. It is not unknown to most citizens of the trouble one has to go through to convince an auto-rickshaw driver to take a fare.

‘I have to pay a fare of Tk 60 on ‘contract’ to come to my university in Banani,’ says Aumiya Nasir who resides in Indira Road. ‘It usually takes around 15-20 minutes before I can get a CNG auto-rickshaw that is willing to go to Banani.’

Ever since CNG metered auto-rickshaws have been introduced in 2003, the complaints and distress of local commuters have been massive. Despite the assurance by the police, that CNG drivers are bound to take any fare irrespective of the distance or location, has never been the case. Drivers of three-wheelers began by asking for a little extra money, about Tk 5-10 over the fare determined by the meter. Eventually they started to demand as much as Tk 20 over the meter fare. In recent months the meter is seldom used by auto-rickshaw drivers who take fares on ‘contracts’. Over the last couple of months auto-rickshaw drivers are reportedly refusing to agree at any fare offered by commuters. They usually prefer long distance trips and that also has to be to a location of their choice.

In April, the interim government introduced a new fare chart for CNG auto-rickshaws. The new chart increases the fare for the first two kilometers from Tk 12 to Tk 13.5, while the fare per kilometer has been increased from Tk 5.0 to 5.5. The daily rental has been set to Tk 450 from Tk 300. The revised chart was anticipated to reduce the variance between commuters, drivers and owners but ironically it seems to have made it worse.

‘I just asked a driver if he would go to Dhanmondi and he said ‘no’, I asked him if he would go to any of the places among Panthapath, Mohmmadpur and Mirpur and he drove by without even replying,’ says one frustrated Naimul Haq, a private service holder who was outraged for having to wait for an auto rickshaw in Mohakhali for over an hour after office.

‘I do not understand where these drivers would want to go to and this kind of behavior is infuriating.’ This recent trend is stirring up aggravation among commuters whose only means of transportation are the CNG auto-rickshaws due to the cheaper fare compared to taxi cabs. Hence, commuters have their hands tied and despite their unwillingness to agree to take rides on ‘contract’ they are not given the privilege of other options.

‘It is understandable that due to the large amount of deposit that the drivers have to pay to the auto-rickshaw owners, they ask for extra money,’ says Kazi, a buisnessman. ‘But it is simply deplorable that they demand absurd fares for ‘contract’ and refuse to go where we ask them to.’

However, the drivers of three wheelers say that they are living in such desperate conditions and the only way for them to support their families is by taking extra money from their passengers.

‘I have to pay a daily rent of Tk 550 to the owner,’ says Noyon, a CNG driver. ‘With the terrible traffic jams and large queues at CNG filling stations, there is not enough time for us to even manage the deposit money. If we are to abide by the fare set by the meter we will lose our jobs and fail to support our families.’

‘When a 15 minute ride takes an hour and thirty minutes, what can I do but go on contracts?’ asks fifty year old auto-rickshaw driver, Md. Abul Hossain. ‘I have to pay a monthly house rent of Tk 3600 and with other expenses considered, such as groceries and children’s school fees, around Tk 12000 – 13000 have to be spent each month. If the owners violate the law set for a deposit money of Tk 450, is it our fault that we demand extra money to run our families?’

‘Driving an auto-rickshaw is a very exhausting job and even after driving for the entire day, I am left with a mere maximum of Tk 200 each day after paying the daily deposit,’ says Lal mia.

Most drivers claim that they are threatened of being fired if they refuse to pay the daily rental as set by their owners which ranges from Tk 600 – 700. Also, owners are having their auto-rickshaws driven on shifts by two drivers in a day. Hence a driver, who used to drive for 12 hours before, has to pay the same amount by driving for only four to six hours. In the process the owners earn about a whopping Tk 1200 each day which is Tk 750 more than the set daily deposit. After the new fare chart has been announced, the police and RAB are known to have filed cases against drivers who demand extra money from commuters and even their driver’s licenses have been seized.

‘Before we could bribe the police with Tk 100 – 200 but now it is even difficult to comprehend if they are willing to take the money. Mostly such offers leads to more trouble,’ says driver Reza who resides in Badda.

The chairman of Bangladesh Road and Transport Authority (BRTA) ABM Shahjahan agrees that many owners are taking a daily rental of more than Tk 450 but states that there isn’t anything that can be done.

‘We have revised the fare chart and increased the daily rental to help decrease this conflict,’ says Shajahan ‘Yet if the drivers continue to exploit commuters there is only one solution, that is the commuters should take the three wheeler to the nearest police station and the police will take the necessary action required to punish the driver.’ He also adds that several drivers have been sent to jail for overcharging passengers and owners against whom written complaints were obtained, had their road permits seized and registrations cancelled. Also, mobile courts are functioning across the city. Shajahan mentions that no future steps can be taken, to act as a permanent solution.

MH Iqbal, the secretary of Dhaka CNG Auto-Rickshaw Malik Shamity, denied a widespread of such accusations against auto-rickshaw owners regarding exploitation of drivers. ‘There maybe one or two such rare cases where owners exploit drivers by taking a daily rental of over Tk. 450. Strict actions have been taken against such owners and their auto-rickshaws have been confiscated,’ says Iqbal. He mentions that the Malik Shamilty negotiates with the CNG Drivers Association often, and usually when asked why they refuse fares, the drivers deny such actions.

‘I am an owner of an auto-rickshaw myself, but I am also a commuter and I am aware of the harassment a commuter has to go through because of the unreasonable contracts,’ agrees Iqbal. ‘We earnestly ask the drivers to at least take fares and not leave people stranded on the streets for hours.’

Most owners deny the accusations set against them while some acknowledge it.

‘I have three auto-rickshaws and my drivers are willing to pay Tk 500 if they are allowed to drive till 10pm,’ said Shoma, a banker ‘Most of us perceive the drivers to have earned a tiny amount at the end of the day but surprisingly my drivers told me that they are able to earn at least Tk 300 daily.’

ATM Nazmul Hassan, the Secretary of Dhaka Mohanogor CNG Babsha Malik Shamity, deeply regrets the current situation and says that he has been urgently attempting to improve this disturbing trend. ‘It is true that CNG owners take more than the set rental of Tk 450, but with the appalling rate of recent inflation, it is impossible for even the owners to lead a decent life,’ says Nazmul. He explains that the price of mobil has rocketed from Tk 120 – 200 in recent times and that the tax rate is so high it becomes terribly difficult for owners to import engine parts and maintain their vehicles. ‘The current situation needs immediate attention, as both the owners and the drivers cannot continue to function in this manner,’ says Nazmul. ‘I have taken various steps and even written a letter of prayer to the communication advisor to look into the matter but I am yet to receive a reply.’ He explains that the only solution is to reduce the percentage of tax and inflation if the government is willing to keep this sector working and provide a long-term solution. ‘Through New Age I would like to plead to the government to help make conditions better.’

If the authority is indifferent towards such unethical actions after having introduced the new fare chart, how can the circumstances improve? With 2500 CNG drivers in the country and the number of commuters three times that amount, can a fair solution be attained whereby commuters would be relieved of their daily harassment and both auto-rickshaw drivers and owners would be satisfied?

‘I am willing to pay a little extra money over the meter fair, but I would at least like to be assured that drivers wouldn’t refuse to take fares,’ says Yasmeen

Music with a mission

2007-11-04T09:39:00.000+06:00

Music with a mission

by Kutubuddin Kamal

Friday, the 19th of October. The Kozmo Lounge at Dhanmondi was abuzz with anticipation. 'Kozmo (A)live with Arnab & Andrew' was a sellout. The ticket sales had begun a month back. When the lights came on, a wave of excitement swept through the crowd. On stage were Arnab and Andrew Morris. The next two hours or so were a music lover's delight, as Arnab's soulful voice fused with the captivating tune of Morris's saxophone. Arnab has already cemented his place in the local music scene a number of hit singles. His 'shey jey boshey achhey' was virtually the song of the year when it came out. He is regarded as one of the most promising composers of Bangla music today. He has previously played with the popular band Bangla. Morris, on the other hand, is an education consultant and talented saxophonist. He has played saxophone for Blue Note and has recently been involved with a programme to raise fund for a Bangladesh National Women Lawyers' Association Hostel. Arnab and Morris met six months back in what could be called a random encounter. 'We have a common friend. One day Andrew came to my studio. When I started playing a song on my guitar, he joined in with his saxophone. We clicked instantly,' Arnab says. 'Playing with Andrew has been an enlightening experience and our collaboration has been very successful.' 'When I met Arnab I didn't know of many local musicians but I knew Habib and Arnab were very popular,' says Morris. 'Arnab is a talented composer and working with him has been a pleasure.' The response of music enthusiasts has been positive and they welcomed the new sound that has emerged from the collaboration. 'We both have learned a lot from each other during our collaboration,' says Arnab. 'I sing classical and folk music among others while Andrew plays the saxophone. There is a lot of scope for us to learn from each other.' The show at the Kozmo Lounge was also to support the humanitarian cause of the women lawyer's association, which came into being with the objective of protecting abused women and children by providing them with legal and rehabilitation support. The association has taken initiatives to build a shelter for the victims of rape, domestic slavery, trafficking and exploitation. They will be given training in various skills that will help them to re-establish themselves in society. Dormitories, auditorium, school and training facilities are also to be provided to the victims. A site has already been secured outside Dhaka. Approximately Tk 44 crore is required to implement the project. 'I read about the domestic worker Madhabi who was pushed from the balcony of a house where she worked as a domestic help by the landlord,' says Andrew. 'I came to know that the girl had been rescued by BNWLA workers and I visited her. The incident really moved me and soon I became involved with the project.' Previously the duo played at the Heritage Restaurant in Gulshan, where they had an even bigger audience and consequently raised a large sum of money for the project. Many were unfamiliar with the association before but through their music and involvement the duo has been able to raise the much-needed awareness among people. Also, signed posters of the duo from their recent gigs are up for sale, the earnings from which will be donated to the BNWLA fund. A couple of more performances are scheduled although the duo has not decided on a long-term collaboration yet. However, both are eager to work together in the future. Morris will feature in a few tracks in Arnab's upcoming album. The duo may also perform in New York and London next year.

Anything but that

2007-11-04T09:36:00.000+06:00

Its not easy..

How To Save A Life

2007-09-27T12:07:00.000+06:00

I, just like several others of my age agree that the music being made these days is like just another season that will eventually go away, lose its charms and character. Seasons come by again as the earth revoles, but here todays music fails to resemble the seasons for they won't be listened to again. Teenagers still crave for music by such legends as Eric Clapton, John Lenon, The Beatles and Led Zeppelin, but will the next generation crave for the music by Britney Spears or Eminem? Probably not, but that doesn't also rule out the fact that great music is still being made, music that conveys message that soothes the soul. A good example would be the song 'How to save a life' by the band 'The Fray'. The lyrics so wonderfully written in such simple deep words connects even more wonderfully with the piano and guitars and the soulful voice of the vocalist. Many might still consider this to be plain 'commerical' music but I would ask them to listen to the song again and listen to the lyrics and only then would they know how beautiful it really is.

The Right, The Wrong

2007-09-26T18:50:00.000+06:00

There are ways in which one is expected to behave, rules set to differentiate between the good and the bad, the right and the wrong. Laws established to punish the ones who cross the line and step into the not-to-be-talked-about other side, step down to decadence, to the chamber of demons and grotesque evil that turns them into one of their own. Yet how many of us have actually been there? Is it really a chamber where red tongued demons float about in harmonious vice and lick the blood of the innocent? Or is it the superficial image imposed in our minds so panoramically by the even more superficial society?

What would be a valid explanation for wrong? Is it wrong for a young child to want what is not his own? Most will disagree with me for the child doesn’t know what he should or should not want. But it is still ‘most’, not all. The idea of wrong and right various with age groups, personalities and background. Yet how can we so easily claim that a person is wrong if in fact what we perceive to be wrong might be right to several others? How do we continue to rely and want to abide by the rules set by society, when the ones who comprise of the society seldom act according to their lofty words? When all they are doing is dinning with the devil himself and pointing fingers at us? When their sons and daughters are associated with all that is wrong and they sit around and pass sardonic judgments on you and your offspring? Perhaps we are blind, blind to see all the obscenities, the injustice and the sycophancy so impeccably hidden. Or rather, are we frightened? Frightened of being labeled, being known in society as ‘the one’ who broke the rules and ‘the one' that should be discriminated and questioned, better yet discarded?

Relationships cease to remain the same with time. Most tend to take a downhill ride, crashing into stones and thorns on the way. We tend to contemplate and ruminate about what went wrong. Was I to blame? Where did i go wrong? And the questions too keep crashing like landslides in our heads, leaving us in a blurry world of bewilderment that only caters to the lost. Some of us are not the obsessing kind and seldom wish to ponder over what has been lost. These are the brave ones, the insensitive ones, the ones who would say ‘Never regret, Never apologize’ like John Le Carré had stated through one of his characters in the novel ‘The Naïve and Sentimental Lover’. We say we are individuals, each unique in our behavior and personality. As true as that is, my sociology professor once said ‘You say you are individuals but I do not see any of the young men wearing a skirt or anyone being naked. I do not see anyone standing on their desks or dancing around. But y’all are sitting down where you are supposed to be and wearing clothes that may have different colors and patterns, regardless the men are all wearing some form of shirts and pants and the women dressed in shalwar kameez”

Hence are we to consider that sociology has invalidated the obvious? We again fail to see the obvious. We may be unique and diverse but our actions put us all in groups or patterns which reveals that maybe we are not that different after all. Well then how do we acknowledge people with whom we have nothing in common, whose personality changes like the colors of a chameleon and ‘us and them’ could be compared to ‘ebony and ivory’? I assume some things are just beyond our comprehension and are a part of the wondrous, enigmatic, horrendous, unpredictable and dark journey that we call life.

Will the surprises ever end? Will we have peace of mind and will the questions finally fade away? I can’t help but smile because I just realized I’m again asking more questions. Maybe we shouldn’t question or maybe we should I do not know, but yes I do know that whoever said ‘Ignorance is bliss’ couldn’t have said anything more right in his/her life.

The Norm

2007-09-25T22:12:00.000+06:00

I’m back to the norm
But the norm is suddenly the exact opposite of the norm
Pretentious and deceptive
Rules, rituals and the vague society
Cruel enough to cut like a knife
Will we ever be understood?
Or simple drift by like a wandering wind?

120 Performers in One Show

2007-09-20T10:00:00.000+06:00

Kutub Uddin Kamal experiences the biggest ever music festival organised in Bangladesh in the five-day Music Festival 2007
photo by Al-Emrun Garjon

For music-enthusiasts, the five day long Music Festival 2007 at the Bashundhara city was tantamount to history in the making when they witnessed, for the first time ever, 120 performers take part in one single event. Not only were they treated to the songs, albums of all these artists were launched through this event and was put up for sale. Several hundred people thronged level-7 of Bashundhara City from September 6 to 10 for the event which was organised by Showbiz Entertainment, the first of its kind in Bangladesh. It turned out to be a shrine for music-lovers all across the country. ‘The core motive of this festival was to try and bring all those involved in music including artists, record companies and people in the music arena together under one roof,’ says Mehdi Hassan of Showbiz Entertainment. Inspired by the South Park Music Festival, the festival was also the celebration of Showbiz Entertainment’s seven year anniversary. The event featured an astounding 120 artists including some

of the biggest names in the music industry like Bappa Majumder, Habib Wahid, Ornob, Mehrin, Kumar Biswajit, Mila, Kaniz Shuborna and previous Close Up-1 contestants and winners along with the bands, Cryptic Fate, Artcell, Yaatri, Renaissance, Abida & Pentagon, Nemesis. ‘The festival was not just about the performances but also an initiative to promote music in Bangladesh and expose more people to local music,’ mentions Mehdi. ‘We have organised several one day concerts at home and abroad but had never done anything this big.’ During its 5-day run, ‘Jhalmuri-1 & 2’, two mixed albums were launched. Both the albums featured tracks by several renowned music artists. The floor was surrounded by small stalls featuring thriving music companies like G series, Ektaar Music as well as popular radio stations and television channels. While music albums could be purchased from the record company stalls, the festival also sported a celebrity corner where celebrities could sit and enjoy music. This allured more people to visit the festival in an attempt to see their favourite stars. Celebrities were not just restricted to music artists but came from all media backgrounds such as television and movies to show their support in helping the promotion of music. The festival continued from 10am till 7pm everyday during the five days. While people of all age groups continued to arrive throughout the days, Mehdi adds, ‘The maximum of the visitors were teenagers or young adults.’ Organising such an enormous event and especially to be able to schedule performances for all the artists is palpably challenging. However, Mehdi mentions that the artists have been very co-operative and extremely enthusiastic about this event and its outcome. Above all, the event was entirely non-commercial. ‘We did not charge any money for the stalls and have also had to bear a considerable amount of loss. Yet we decided to go along with this project because we believe it would make a difference in the music scene of Bangladesh today,’ he says. The music artists who performed at the festival did so voluntarily without any payment from the organiser, reflecting their keenness towards promoting music and creating a better atmosphere for future music artists and music-lovers. Events like this should be prevalent in all media sectors to help our entertainment industry to go one step forward, expressed organisers.

A New Era in Fashion Designing and Education

2007-09-10T01:28:00.001+06:00

“I don't design clothes, I design dreams” as Ralph Lauren had once stated, we too design a dream, a dream of boasting about our own fashion industry, comprising of globally acclaimed brands and we as a nation, would beam with pride. The dream is no longer a fantasy but is in the making of a reality. We have come a long way from the time when children’s clothes were the products of their mother’s wondrous weaving expertise, when fashion was a term seldom acknowledged by most. Yet not many could have prophesied the introduction and need for fashion in our society. Today, it doesn’t require a keen observer to notice how fashion is associated in our lives, for even a simple garment worker tries to keep up with the latest trend as allowed by her meager salary.
This transformation didn’t occur overnight and was backed by several individuals and institutions who worked effortlessly to promote fashion and help those interested in fashion education to pursue their dream.

The first of such institutions is INIFD – an international design institute that was launched in Bangladesh in 2002 at Banani. A sister concern of Giant Management & Services Limited, the core aim of the institution is to help those students who are deprived of fashion education rather than making a large profit, mentions Sharmeen Hassan, the executive director of INIFD. ‘Today everyone wants to make their own fashion statement as opposed to before when whatever was available at the malls was considered to be fashion’ says Sharmeen. She explains that there is a lot more to fashion designing than what people perceive, there is much to learn including lessons on the history of costumes, the different eras etc. Aside from the minimum requirements, students have to sit for an entrance test before enrollment. Scholarships are given to meritorious students.

INIFD has a fine environment and rich laboratory & library facilities. ‘It is a brilliant institution for studying fashion with an experienced faculty; students willing to join should work hard and the results will speak for themselves’ says Nusrat Fatema, a student of INIFD.
It is a widespread misconception that students studying fashion will end up being unemployed, but Sharmeen explicates that individuals with a background in fashion are required in garments, buying houses and may open their own boutiques. ‘Teaching at INIFD is a pleasure and the enthusiasm of the students is amazing’ says Kazi Kamrul, who teaches Graphics and also says that the institution is a promising one for fashion education.

Eight students from INIFD participated in ‘The Lakme Next Gen Designer Search 2007’ - the first televised competition held for designers in Bangladesh, and three made it to the top ten of the competition.

The institution which stated off with merely twenty five students has palpably come a long way and Sharmeen has soaring expectations ‘I dream that one day my students will design clothes for grammy winning celebrities’

Pearl Fashion Institute (PFI) started in Bangladesh in March 2006 at its Baridhara campus. It is a branch of Pearl Academy of Fashion, India and is affiliated with the prestigious Nottingham Trent University, UK. PFI is a leading institute which provides quality education and includes mostly recognized international faculty members. It occupies a four storey building and provides a tranquil atmosphere for studies with a proper library & well equipped laboratories for sewing, graphics etc. Scholarships are available for commendable students. ‘The industry for fashion in Bangladesh has tremendous possibilities and it is just a beginning’ says Rajat Bhattacharya, the executive director for PFI. He also assures that there are incredible opportunities for employment in the sector.
‘People misconstrue the garment industry to be only producing jackets or sweat shirts, but they fail to see the glamour involved’ mentions Rajat. He says that every country is driven by youth and it is the young generation who will take this industry forward. ‘Bangladesh has had a consistent positive growth in the garment industry which is an exception and it will sustain itself with the help of trained professionals who we help to make at PFI’ states Rajat. He also adds that if Bangladesh has such local professionals a giant amount of foreign currency will be saved for the country and help the economy massively.
‘It is extremely gratifying and fulfilling to be working at PFI. To be able to see my students become successful is a gift’ says Garima Sribastaba, the head of academics at PFI and adds that with the international access that PFI has, students need not worry of employment.
‘At PFI job assurance is 100%’ says Prokash Dash, a graduate from PFI who is currently an executive merchandiser at Beximco. ‘PFI not only focuses on academics but also trains students for the work place and gives emphasis on learning English’ He adds.
Archana an international consultant and a visiting faculty at PFI says ‘PFI is a very interactive institution and the system of studying is quite unlike from what students are habituated to in colleges or universities and the commitment of students is remarkable’

The time has come for an evolution in our country. Be it fashion, music or art, but one should be able to choose the career of his/her desire. Nurturing ones talents can help a person to gain the true zest one needs for success. The basic reason for spending nearly one-third of a person’s life in education is to obtain a respectable job, but if satisfaction at work is unattainable, is there really any joy in working? Occupations are not just restricted to engineering and medicine, as our society may have one believe, but it is us who can alter this disturbing trend and make a difference. With fashion schools such as INIFD and PFI, the choice is yours.

INIFD:

Location: 41, Kemal Ataturk Avenue (5th Floor), Banani.
Courses: fashion designing, Textile designing, manufacturing, marketing, merchandising, pattern making and grading
Minimum Requirement: ‘O/A level’ or H.S.C
Duration: 6 month courses to 2 years of Advance Diploma.
Fees: Tk. 22,000 (6 months) - Tk. 42,000 per year depending on course.
Contact: 9893510, 9862341

Pearl Fashion Institute (PFI):

Location: H#11, R#6, Baridhara.
Courses: Fashion designing, merchandising, production technology, marketing, clothing technology, knit wear merchandising.
Minimum Requirement: ‘A level’ or H.S.C
Duration: 1-2 years depending on course
Fees: Tk. 90, 000 – Tk. 205,000 depending on course
Contact: 8857763, 9887419

Midnight Boredom

2007-07-16T01:30:00.000+06:00

Its 12:02 am. Some where over the course of time the idea of ‘midnight’ as being the time when one should be sleeping, lest demons come to possess oneself, has been lost. Boredom, confusion, clubbing and random thoughts have replaced the fear that maybe once used to haunt our ancestors. Although watching “The Shining’ before going to bed, may help to restore that fear in some of us.

Boredom as I see it now, has become a chronic disease which has spread among several thousands of people across the country, including me and my friends. The irony is that in this 21st century we are exposed to more forms and methods of entertainment than ever before, yet the level of boredom among teenagers and adults has reached an alarming rate. Have all the forms of entertainment become monotonous to us? Or do we simply refuse to be entertained and would rather sit all the live long day chatting on the internet and complaining to our friends about how boring life has become that we could possibly die?

Life back in the 12th century with only barbaric wars somehow seems more appealing to me now, than sitting in front of my 16inch computer monitor, browsing through a little social network known as 'facebook' without a reason.

The internet is infectious. Undoubtedly it is an outstanding source for any kind of information, not to mention an incredible means of communication. It however, has also introduced the instant messaging service, which maybe is absolutely essential to many, while most stay glued to their computer screens chatting with friends who may even be living in the house next to theirs! When the internet has replaced mobility, why blame kids for obesity?

It is 1:26 am now and somehow I have gone through almost an hour and a half without being able to complete this little piece of writing. When my instant messaging windows keep blinking in orange like a constant fire alarm, it’s hard to stay focused.

Scratch Scratch!

2007-07-03T22:36:00.000+06:00

I woke up today scratching, scratching my legs like a lunatic, as if digging up land in search of gold. And wait it gets better, the itching is not just restricted to my legs but apparently extends to my arms and neck, not to mention my left cheek!

Regardless of the tempestuous cyclone that I had stormed up in my brain, I failed to figure out atleast one reason that may have triggered my insane allergy. With the pace and intensity of my scratching I soon expect to reach my bones as I have already succeeded in revealing flesh at many a different places all over my body!

Allergy is like a pest or rather one of those impossible little children you see every time you go to a restaurant, who keep on screaming their tiny heads off for attention. The frustrating part is I am giving my allergy attention, more so than anything else, yet it refuses to calm down for even a minute! It has reached such a horrific state that I almost feel like it is worse than the time I had chicken pox, or maybe my mind is a little exaggerated in its thoughts. I am in a dilemma.

As I type the words my right wrist feels like I put it inside a blender. I had scratched the skin at the right corner of my wrist, just where I place it as I type and it looks and feel appalling. To make things worse, the friction between my wrist and the surface of my computer table almost has me on the verge of crying out loud, yet the itching continues there, what more could I scratch? It goes beyond me!

I presume it is about time I stopped typing. My hands need me for my own self loathing scratching action!

Grading - A Barrier to Learning

2007-07-03T10:54:00.000+06:00

“Grading hinders teaching and creates a bad spirit, going as far as cheating and plagiarizing” - This line taken from Paul Goodman’s essay ‘A Proposal to Abolish Grading’ may seem insanely absurd to most, while others might just agree to the message being conveyed by this statement. Being a student myself, I couldn’t agree more with this particular statement along with the entire essay where Goodman clearly explicates the adverse effects that accompany the grading system and how the average student is made to compete against one another, often compelling one to feel rejected and like a failure. We often tend to forget that the purpose of education is not merely for the grades, but more importantly to attain knowledge. Goodman suggests an alternative method where teachers and students should discuss each student’s progress individually, helping one to ascertain his/her own competence rather than comparing the potency of students. Hence, students would be able to apprehend their performance in school without the curse of grades hanging above their heads. I consider this to be an excellent proposal which should be considered favorably by our intellectuals and professors for it will undoubtedly be benefiting for our students and may lead to a better society overall.

A child is introduced to the grading system at the beginning of school life. It may not seem quite as harsh during the early school years, but by the time a child reaches middle school grading tends to act more like a burden rather than a blessing that encourages a child to study and do better. With more distractions and forms of entertainment in this 21st century, the primary concern should be to try and keep children focused and interested in studies, not to repel them. A student who may not have prepared for a certain test, but is nevertheless capable, is usually terrified of receiving a bad grade and hence the only way out is cheating. Not only are we depriving our students from gaining knowledge in a neutral atmosphere, we are, ironically, teaching them the methods of misdemeanor during tests as they are left with no other options. Most parents in our dormant consevative society prefer to be distant from their children. Their perception of getting respect from their children is to behave a manner that would make their children scared of them. Parents, like teachers often judge their children on the grades they obtain. This plays a major role in demoralizing a child, as the child would simply seek for a good grade regardless of the methods undertaken in obtaining it. Such situations also leave pupils frustrated and lead to a lack of self confidence and determination. The concept of gaining knowledge seems have become obsolete.

The worst effect of grading however can be experienced in college. The sudden pressure of studies, part-time jobs, hectic schedules, combined with the desperate desire for getting a decent grade, leaves a student devastated. I am in my second year in college and I can assure that getting a good grade in college is anything but easy. There have been numerous occasions where I had to cheat just to ensure that I didnt end up with a bad grade. Today learning comes only second to grading, for a decent grade can assure a respectable job and the core motive for spending nearly one-third of a person’s life in education, is to get a decent job. The biggest challenge that students today are facing after graduation is at the work place. One might not be completely capable despite the grades obtained in college (which maybe due to cheating and plagiarizing). As this scenario is beginning to become a widespread, it is palpably a drawback for the society at large, not to mention economic growth for a nation.

The harsh reality is that people have been so reliable on grades for so long, that to many, studies appear to be worthless without grades. Steps should be taken to make people comprehend the need for an alternative, as suggested by Goodman and it should be now. Each individual has their own uniqueness and consequently separate talents at which they can excel. Would it not be better to nurture those talents and help one to prosper at what a person is already good at, rather than comparing one to the other in a meaningless manner? It is only then, that the majority of our working population may find pleasure in their work and we could help create a more harmonious and prosperous future for our students.

River Of Joy

2007-07-01T03:03:00.000+06:00

The early years gave birth to it
Youth and innocence nurtured it
Lonesome company embraced
From one to many
It conquered little hearts
Built an impeccable wall of trust
And brought a river of joy
The zenith was reached

Years later
It wandered in delusion
From one to the other
Could find no pleasure
Like a clever ruse
It could only bruise
Penchant was lost subtly
But the memories returned vividly
Joy there was, plain wonderful joy

Decadence had begun
Defamation followed
Politics and misconceptions
Tore down the wall
Little pain too was felt
But none was to be regretted
For friendship is not for life.

Women Empowerment in Bangladesh

2007-07-01T00:01:00.000+06:00

With the outstanding advancements in economics, technology and the growing literacy rate of the world population, women empowerment has also increased noticeably among the nations of the world. Yet the society at large is perceived as male-dominant which even in the dawn of the new millennium remains unaltered. As the eternal fight for women rights still continue, several western countries claim to have set equal rights for men and women and consequently women are said to be given the privilege of equal freedom as men. If acutely examined the scenario is not as such. Rather, women empowerment is still kept in the shadow. Only a small proportion of the leaders of the nations across the world are females, which if not a major issue, can at least convey a pretty clear message of who holds the highest authority of running a nation. A significant example would be the United States of America, for till today there have been no women president of the United States and it palpably shows that despite women working in demanding jobs in several sectors of the different industries, authority of running the world’s most influential and powerful country, still remains under the grip of the male.

However in Bangladesh, the leaders of the two most dominant and influential political groups of the nation, are women. They have both had their shares of being the Prime Minister of the country more than once, and their popularity among the people of the country is overwhelming. As ironic as it sounds, since the country is still much deprived of women empowerment, women prime ministers in this case do not exactly represent the state of the average woman of the country. It should be noted that apart from the prime minister, most of the remaining members of the parliament are men, revealing the fact that women empowerment is yet to be taken seriously. Sadly, despite having women leaders for much of the time span after the country’s independence, women empowerment is still not a widespread. A large proportion of the conservative society refuses to see women working beside men, and the several campaigns that speak for women’s rights seldom seem to raise awareness among the ignorant males of the society not to mention many such women.

There are various factors that refrains women empowerment. Initially there is the basic perception of the society, of women as not being as smart as men. Although a large number of women are now working in several sectors of the country’s different industries, most married women still continue to be housewives. This can be a cause of a woman having doubts about her own abilities but most often it is the husband who refuses to let his wife get employed or attain adequate education required to obtain a respectable job.
Secondly, in the rural areas and suburbs, women are not given the opportunity of proper education and in today’s fast-paced world education is a vital necessity for one to be employed.
Sexual harassment in the workplace is also common and hence women are not inclined towards working for fear of losing their dignity.
Women are also judged on their physical ability and almost never hired in strenuous jobs.
Lastly, superstitions considering women working in the society may also play a role in the refraining of women empowerment. Many short-sighted employers view women as a symbol of causing adverse effects on their business.

Regardless, women empowerment has definitely improved over the past years in Bangladesh at a slow pace, but the effects have been positive. The result can be observed in our everyday life. For example, even a couple of years ago it would be hard to imagine seeing a woman driving a car in the capital city but today, a small proportion of women are driving cars and not just in the capital city. Women are doing errands that were previously only done by men and they are more involved in business and technological sectors than they had ever before.

In the conservative society where the average person still believes in several vague superstitions, it is a long way to go for women empowerment. I believe for any nation to function proficiently the male and female should both participate and consist of the working population for only the men cannot guarantee economic growth and welfare of an entire nation when almost half of the population (ie. Women) is unemployed. The road ahead for women empowerment definitely looks promising but there is still a lot to work on and with due time, women empowerment can be regarded as a widespread.

Life As We Know It

2007-06-30T22:39:00.000+06:00

The purpose of life to me resembles a mind boggling mathematic problem that will remain unsolved, for the complexity maybe too overwhelming for the average human mind, such as mine, to comprehend. As I ruminate and reminisce of time to come and time gone by, I find myself in the midst of several questions that revolve around the purpose of life. Is it just to grow up into an urbane person who would have decent manners and be perfectly courteous? Who would try to please the people around him/her and turn into the impeccable image of a person that others expect of him/her? Get a job, desperately earn money like a drowning man trying to stay afloat, get married, have kids and soon perish?
It might all seem humorous or harsh in a strange way when summed up in just one line, but given a little bit of thought, isn’t this exactly how we are meant to live our lives?
Of course there are exceptions that are seldom visible among the majority who follow the same monotonous or as I would call it, robotic life pattern. How would our lives be if we could live by our own rules? Strive to achieve our own goals and just live each day to the fullest, not having to abide by the superficial laws set by society.
Who wouldn’t want to live vehemently and feel the zest of life? Wouldn’t even the safest living person want to experience living life on the edge, even a minute?
Would that be considered as breaking the rules or would that mean living life for a purpose? The purpose of experiencing adventure, or a little more sanguinity.

For sadly we only live once, unless I come back as a crazy giraffe in my next life after death, I wouldn’t consider restating the fact mentioned.

Vision

2007-06-18T00:39:00.000+06:00

I have been on a summer zephyr
Traversed the skies, drifting by
I have been under the titanic ocean
Swimming away in peaceful glory
I have been in the white Arctic
Watched the ice melt as the auburn rays embraced
I have wandered in the Sahara
Felt the rage of the sun above
I have been lost in the Amazon
Chased by a mighty cheetah
I have been in the Himalayas
Fighting the tempestuous winds of the Gods
I have been inside your head
Tried to untangle the twisted mesh that remained
I have seen a man starve
Till he returned to where he belonged
I have seen through the eyes of a child
Candies and toys with innocence unbound
I have seen the dawn
I have seen the dusk
I have seen it all
With the vision in my heart

Mind

2007-06-16T20:24:00.001+06:00

The mind is an enigma
Often diabolic, often blissful
Bemused illusions linger silently
Invisible questions have no answers
Yet the mind wonders

Vision is blurred
Speech is curbed by ignorance
Salvation is yet to be revealed
The eyes tell a story of a perplexed world that knows no joy or glory
The lips curve to a compelled smile
To protect or to pretend?
The mind wonders

Love is a constant dilemma
Torn between trust and faith
And the whirlpool remains
Yet to be comprehended
Deception smiles like a crooked soul, with a tainted heart
Yet the cycle continues
Is life for love or for living?
And the mind wonders, still it wonders.

Go!

2007-06-16T20:23:00.000+06:00

“C.N.G!” I had screamed out those three letters an uncountable number of times in my life but not as insanely loudly as I had been screaming on that afternoon. I was an hour late for meeting my friends and the humidity, combined with the heat and the stagnant air felt the same as being inside a pre-heated oven. For the last 60 minutes several C.N.Gs and Cabs had come and gone and not one driver was willing to listen to me, let alone take me to Dhanmondi from Gulshan. I have tired offering them extra money, I tried pleading, yelling and not to mention begging but nothing works with these absurdly arrogant aliens who operate the green colored space ships that we all know as C.N.Gs. It was after another ten minutes that I finally found a C.N.G driver who was willing to go for Tk.80!

The long and tiring C.N.G ride, during the summer rush hour left me even more exhausted and cranky. I finally reached Dhanmondi and entered Café Mango, a place that I loathe for its annoying waiters, who lack the ability of having a normal waiter-customer interaction. To my relief, my friend Atif was already there, sipping chilled coke. He looked up at me with his usual satanic smile, which I always find confusing and weird and said “Nicee!”
I realized I was completely soaked in perspiration and that was the basis of his comment. I sat at his table for a while, finishing off the rest of his coke. After I was done I dragged Atif out of Mango with me as fast as I could. We sauntered around for another five minutes on the street outside Mango, waiting for our other friend Aumiya to show up, who was surprisingly punctual. Aumiya wasn’t in her best mood that evening and neither was I, which wasn’t hard to capture from our disturbed faces while Atif still had the awkward smile on his face.

The reason for our meeting that day was to run a couple of errands. Only a few days earlier the Care-taker Government had imposed the new rule of having all shopping malls and other stores closed by 7pm with the exception of restaurants and drug stores. It was already 4:30pm and we had to go to Elephant Road, come back to Green Road and finally go to Rifles Square. Hence, we had to get everything done by 7pm and not a minute later.

At first we headed towards Elephant Road. I needed to buy new sunglasses and although Elephant Road was the last place I preferred for shopping, I just couldn’t afford to buy more sunglasses from Navana at Tk.500 each.
We hired two rickshaws, Aumiya and I on one and Atif on the other. Halfway to Elephant Road, we couldn’t trace Atif’s rickshaw behind us and had no idea of how to reach Elephant Road; apparently neither did our rickshaw-puller. Annoyed, I called Atif on his cell phone and to my disgust he told me he got caught up with a long lost friend who he had suddenly met and would catch up with us in 10-15 minutes.

As time was passing by, the scorching sun was not getting any kinder but seemed to be glaring down on us with its eyes of fire. With the help of several strangers we finally reached Elephant Road. Atif’s 15 minutes had transformed to 25. When he finally showed up, it was already 5:15pm and we were infuriated. Instead of yelling at him and ruining more time, we all went in search of cheap sunglasses.
I do not shop often, but when I do I make sure I buy something I love and I happen to be a very picky shopper. It took me another hour to literally browse through every single store in Elephant Road, failing to like any of the sunglasses they had to offer. Being sarcastic and making fun of the grotesque sunglasses that the stores had on display, was our only entertainment. Time was running out and I was constantly blaming myself for coming all the way to Elephant Road, which obviously wasn’t the best idea. Eventually I bought two sunglasses at Tk.200 each that I didn’t have any strong feelings towards but they weren’t completely hideous. The sun had finally begun to give in to the evening sky and the heat was getting bearable, making it a little easier for us to roam around.

Next stop was Green Road, where Aumiya had to get her picture taken for her passport. We needed to go to her place at Indira Road first, since we were a little short of cash. No rickshaws would go from elephant Road to Green Road but fortunately we managed to hire a black cab just as we were on the verge of losing our minds. The clock was ticking and a rush of excitement was flowing through our veins like tidal waves. Despite the constant tension, we couldn’t help but admit to ourselves that this was turning out to be a fun day. After picking up the money, we made it to the studio to get the pictures taken.

Another 15 minutes were spent on taking the pictures and thankfully, the cabbie agreed to wait all this while, unlike most cabbies of the city. It was 6:30pm when we started out for Riffles Square, where Atif had to exchange a DVD. However, to our dismay there was a disastrous traffic jam at Panthapath with the traffic hardly moving. Another 10 minutes passed by with the traffic moving at the same pace as a tortoise when abruptly the road cleared ahead and all the cars shot through, taking us by surprise.

We all sat tight in silence as the cabbie took us for a wild ride through the streets to Riffles Square. I wasn’t exactly supportive of his reckless driving but I thought it was better not to object than to reach Riffles Square and find it closed. The cab came to a screeching halt in front of Riffles Square, almost throwing us off our seats. It was minutes before 7pm and I hurriedly paid off the cab. We ran all the way to the 3rd floor of Riffles Square to the DVD section. Atif went to his DVD store to exchange the disc, while Aumiya and I stood at a corner panting heavily for breath.

While disembarking from the elevator of Riffles Square we were all stressed out from being on the constant run for the last almost 3 hours. Somehow we were all smiling. It was a smile of accomplishment; the one warriors have on their faces after they have come back from war. No matter how trivial our errands were, we had won the race against time and it felt great! After hanging out for another 30 minutes, we all headed back to our homes but not before we swore to each other to go on another crazy ride like this again!

Paralyzed

2007-06-16T20:22:00.001+06:00

Silence lingered in the doorway
As another bullet shot through him
His world spinning inside his head
As darkness fell upon him
Winter seemed to arrive soon
And he was numb and cold;
Blood poured from his chest
Like a flowing river, never jaded
He lay there motionless in an ocean of red
As she stared at him in disbelief
The newspaper slid from her hands
Her mind reeling and bemused
Horror seemed to have clutched her by the throat
And it was hard to breathe
A drop of silvery tear rolled down her cheek
Followed by an eternal flow
Of memories that are too vivid, too painful
The son wiped away her tears,
Twenty seven years later
He still haunted her mind, too real, too wounding
She smiled in pain, as she greeted him with white roses
The son took her hand, and she fought to fight back the tears
He stared back at them in silence
Weeping inside of him,
He was no more.

Whatever Happened to Innocent Fun?

2007-06-16T20:18:00.000+06:00

“Pillow Passing!” the instant someone would scream out those two words, a rush of excitement would race through the air, several eager pair of eyes would look at each other with sheer joy and the children would begin to make a circle to play the much anticipated game. This would have taken place several years ago in our lives when we were merely children and “Pillow Passing” along with several other such games were able to bring immense pleasure to our little hearts. As time went by and the beginning of the teen years came along, there were more mature games for us to play like “Truth or Dare” and various board games which include “Monoploy” and “Scrabble”. These were able to quench our thirst for something entertaining to do indoors. Needless to say that football and cricket have always had their share of great appeal towards teenagers (and adults alike) esp. boys, although that doesn’t completely rule out the option of girls playing such competitive sports or their interest in them.

All of the activities mentioned above were our idea of ‘fun’ or if I may rephrase that at this age “innocent fun” .As we have just ended our journey of the much hectic, delightful and at times horrendous teen years, we are faced with a pretty palpable truth - Innocent fun does not exist anymore. It shouldn’t be misconstrued that I would still prefer to play “Pillow Passing” with my friends! We all have matured into young people and of course such games do not appeal to us any longer and that is the norm. But what happened to plain innocent fun?

The only escape for most people our age from today’s busy schedule of going to college, doing part-time jobs etc, would have to be hanging out with friends. It is easy for us to realize that each other’s company or just watching a movie, fails to generate the same rush we used to experience while playing “Truth Or Dare” when we were younger. The answer lies in smoking, doing occasional drugs, boozing, clubbing and in some cases one night stands. I should probably mention that I’m not against any of the activities mentioned, as the previous statement would have you believe. In fact, I would consider myself to be one of them, but often I cant help but ponder as to what happened to the days of innocent fun, when we would just hang out, enjoy each other’s company and laugh at one another’s silly, maybe sarcastic jokes that made no sense but still cracked us up!

It was in last summer that I had an experience, which changed my perception of the existence of this so-called ‘innocent fun’. It was during my vacation and my friends and I had reached a state of boredom that would have left us deformed or turned us into grotesque retarded mutants (like most bored teenagers of our country). We abruptly decided to go for a boat ride on one of the local boats that one can find in several lakes across Dhaka. Daily workers mostly avail them to reach from one side of the river to the other, given that the lake has slums on the other side where these people live.

It was a tranquil afternoon and the weather was almost impeccable with warm sunshine and smooth summer zephyrs that felt like giant hugs. Four friends and I hired one such boat for Tk. 60 an hour. It was in the little lake right beside Gulshan-1, next to The Aristocrat Restaurant, and it led all the way to Banani. The lake was somewhat clean then, as opposed to the huge amount of garbage that can be seen to be floating all over now. The narrow lake had slums on one side of it and tall sky scrapes dominated the other. Watching the people in the slums washing their clothes and small children bathing themselves almost made us feel like we were taking a boat ride in some far away village, but the view on the side was there to shoot us right back to reality. It was so peaceful, that for a moment we all became quiet without realizing it and just tried to soak in the beauty of serenity and nature around us, it felt wonderful.

We had my guitar with us and although I couldn’t play much except for the intro to “Wake me up when September ends” I had to let one of my friends play it, and we sang our hearts out all the way. Occasional birds would fly out of nowhere and sit on one of the several electric cables that ran from one side of the lake to the other. We were stunned and amused at the same time by their presence, since we had never seen such species of birds before in the city. However, the most surprising of all was to see an eagle glaring at us while sitting comfortably on a tall bamboo stick that stood up from the middle of the lake.

After about 30 minutes on the boat, the zephyrs began to turn into strong winds and there was a slight drizzle, which soon transformed into pretty heavy rainfall. Panic-stricken as we were, since none of us knew how to swim, we almost couldn’t contain ourselves with excitement, because the rain brought a whole new sense of adventure to our boat ride and it was exhilarating! The best part however came along shortly after the rain stopped in approximately 10 minutes time. To our utter surprise and amazement, a huge rainbow appeared across the afternoon sky in an extraordinary fashion that dazzled us in a way we couldn’t have imagined before. It was probably the largest rainbow we had ever witnessed and to see it while being on a boat was simply mesmerizing! After taking several pictures and singing several other songs with our distorted vocal chords, we returned back to the busy street from where we had begun.

It was after this particular incident that I got to realize that innocent fun had not vaporized, it was still to be found, maybe a little lost in the midst of the smoky flashy dance floors or the disturbing odor of weed but if we searched for it we could still retrieve the days of innocent fun. The inviting world of gadgets and glamour that seem too irresistible cannot provide us with the true zest for life that we all deserve to experience.

The Torn Apart Biped

2007-06-16T18:38:00.000+06:00

You are impassive and bleak
Weeping in the dark, in the midst of unknown dangers
Away from the world
Hidden in the cold that made you so numb
All the memories of pain entangled in your brain, hard to efface
It seems like you’re alone
And your world is painted with the darkest shade of blue
Your terrified soul finds no rest
Burning away in a crimson flame
With not a single drop of silver to heal the burning
The burning of pain
And its hard too clam down

You wish you were a bird
You could spread your wings and fly away into the blue
But that’s just a dream
A dream only you can make real
Just reach for it and you’ll know it’s yours
It’s hard to quell your emotions but it’s worth a try
You finally get to know the world so selfish and proud
And you so humble and helpless
Cannot find any shelter from the cruelty

You are not the only one in this mess that is killing you from within
There are others crying in the dark with you
Crying for the eternal freedom that they crave for
Crying for peace, for shelter, for love

Wipe away your tears now and come out in the light
Discover the world full of exquisite wonders
Which remained as an enigma to you
I’ll be there for you
Whether you know it or not
I’ll be right beside you
Guiding you, consoling you and giving you strength
Solace yourself and reach out for that lightIn the end you’ll find the world is not all that bad

The Auburn Sky

2007-06-16T18:34:00.000+06:00

The auburn sky was getting gloomy. Distant clouds traversed the sky ingeniously while a gentle breeze wandered around. She sat near the riverbank alone, studying the water running by without a worry. Her luminous brown eyes stared into some unknown space, her disheveled hair tied in an untidy knot above her head. The memories came flooding back to her like tidal waves crashing onto the shore. In her 14 years of life she had never felt so alone, so helpless.

Her father’s voice still echoed in her head, the words piercing through her soul. Her mother’s face soaked in tears created a picture in her mind that was hard to efface.
Her whole life seemed to be flashing in front of her eyes and she tried to quell the emotions that had bundled up and were about to erupt like a volcano.
The breeze was getting stronger now and the memories kept coming back.

Mina was the only child of her parents, living in the small village of Comilla. The family owned a shabby two-roomed cottage; her father was a fishmonger and her mother stayed home all day, often cleaning the house or cooking. Money was never abundant in the family, unlike her mother’s love for her, who always treated her like a little princess in her own little ways. Her mother would make her little dolls out of old weathered pieces of cloth, stitched together and would always cook her daughter’s favorite meals whenever she would get the opportunity. Mina’s amiable and modest nature earned her the affection of her teachers and neighbors who adored her.

Despite all the love she got, Mina had a constant aching in her heart that haunted her, night and day.
Ever since Mina was old enough to be aware of her surroundings, she developed a tiny void in her heart. She had never gotten to know her father. He had built an icy exterior around himself, which was never to be penetrated especially not by his daughter. Mina feared his arrogance and inexplicable temper, and was tremendously intimidated by him. Even as a young child she could comprehend that her father was completely indifferent towards her and would detest any initiative taken by her to make conversations with him. Once she had asked her mother

“Amma, why does Abba hate me?”
Her mother looked alarmed and instantly put on a awkward smile and replied saying,
“Oh dear, Your Abba doesn’t hate you, who told you that?”
“Well...he never talks to me”
“He is just very busy, he loves you more than I do”
She smiled again reassuringly and ran her hand across Mina’s forehead.

Mina was not to be fooled and it wasn’t long before she was hit by the truth.
It was a cold winter afternoon and the air felt like iced water. Mina was 8 years old then and on that particular Tuesday, was sent back home early from school. She ran all the way home in the bitter weather. As the ecstatic little girl was about to enter the house, she heard voices coming from inside and stopped. Her father was yelling at the top of his voice and she could hear her mother crying.

“It is all your fault! You gave birth to a girl, and I am ashamed to even show my face in public!”

The words hit her like a dagger, cutting through deep into her flesh. Terrified, She ran away from the house and wandered around till it was the usual time for her to come back home from school. She had finally learned the reason for her father’s total disregard of her existence. She did not cry and neither did she hate her father. She wanted him to love her; she wanted him to see that she was no less than a son. She wanted to belong.

When she returned, everything was calm; her father had left and her mother was quietly weeping at the corner of the room sitting on her bed. When she saw Mina, she was a little taken aback, managed a forced smile and wiped her eyes.
“I had a really bad headache”
Even if she hadn’t known the truth, Mina would still know that her mother was lying. The sorrow in her eyes was inevitable.

From that day onwards, Mina worked hard at school and did as much of the house chores as she possibly could. All for a little appreciation from her father, maybe just a vague smile. Knowing that her father loathed her, she still tried her best to trigger a little bit of emotion in her father’s unyielding heart but in vain.

Years passed by like silent nights and Mina never expressed the pain she felt, it was all safely locked up in her little heart, never to be revealed.

It was early in the morning today, right after dawn, when Mina was awoken by loud voices booming inside her room like satanic demons flying about. Confused and a little panic-stricken, she slowly got up from her bed and almost soundlessly made her way to the tiny opening of her shattered room that led to the adjoining room of her parents. The girl was trembling in fear, as the voices got louder by each step she took. Her heart pounding heavily, she peeked inside the room. To her horror, she saw her father standing at the far end of the room with a huge bamboo stick in his right hand, constantly swearing and yelling, his enraged face had turned red.

Her mother lay on the floor, on the other side of the room, sobbing uncontrollably. Her hair spread all across her face, like a lunatic. Little drops of blood trickled down from her arms and cheeks, from where the bamboo stick had smashed into her.

Her father was still yelling, like an obscene monster whose hunger was yet to be satisfied. The bitter words spoken, passed by like a blurry train to Mina and she couldn’t capture the words. What she was seeing was too appalling for her to absorb. Eventually the words seemed to make sense to her.

“I’m leaving, I’ll go to the City for a job. You can go where ever you want with your daughter!”

“Please...Please..don’t leave us. Where shall we go? This is my home!” The words were almost inaudible through her sobbing.

“I don’t care! You gave birth to a daughter and now I’m cursed!”

Mina could no longer bear to listen to what her father had yet to say. She ran, she ran as fast as her legs would allow her, trying to run away from the words, from the blame. She stopped right next to the river, numerous thoughts racing through her head.
“Had she not tried to be a good daughter?”
“Is gender all that it takes to please a father, or to make a good human being?”
She couldn’t answer her own questions.

It had been hours since she sat by the secluded river. A sudden drop of tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. It was the first time she had cried. She looked up at the night sky; the moon had silently crept into the sky and seemed to stare back at her inquisitively. She smiled back, numb on the inside.

A new day was to begin from tomorrow. A new struggle. A new phase of life. She took one last look at the celestial moon, beaming proudly, and started back towards home. What other wondrous surprises does life have in store for me? She wondered as she carelessly walked through the muddy road.