Neer

School for Music

2009-12-12T17:11:00.003+07:00

Sunil Das playing the violin with his students.

Music education, in the last few years, has gained a lot of acceptance both amongst children and parents. In fact, several schools in the city offer lessons in both vocal and instruments alongside regular studies. However, there are also schools and institutions exclusively dedicated to teaching and learning music education in Dhaka today. It is also a fact that too many of such schools are springing up in every other neighbourhood in the capital today, that it becomes difficult to actually keep up with them. The complaints turn out to be the same the teachers are not efficient enough or the school closes down after a few months because of problems related to the managements, funding etc.

There are a few music schools that have survived and become popular amongst students and Music Planet happens to be one of them. Located in Gulshan 2 in Taher Tower, this school has been teaching music to young people for the last year and a half. The school made a grand announcement of their existence through a function at the Spectra Convention Centre in April 2008.

More than 120 students children between the ages of 10 17, university students and also working professionals are seen attending their weekly classes at Music Planet. They are taught instruments both in the eastern and western styles the guitar, drums, violin, bass guitar, piano, keyboard, tabla and vocal training.

Recently, the Music Planet school authorities decided to formally introduce degree programmes in music at Music Planet. “However, it is not as easy as we think it is,” says director of Music Planet School Saifuddin Saki. “After we discussed this proposition with the concerned authorities, we decided to introduce diploma programmes for the time being.”

Over the last three years, the school's vision has grown bigger and today, it not only has classes in musical instruments and vocal training, but also in sound and audio engineering live sound, studio and broadcasting, radio jockeying, creative writing and art. A recent change in the management of the school has led to such changes and the Music Planet authorities plan to make many changes for the better. “We plan to eventually turn Music Planet into an institution dedicated to arts and music,” adds Saki. Classes in both eastern classical dances and Salsa have also attracted many students to the school.

Labu Rahman instructing the students in his guitar class.

The students at Music Planet, especially the youngsters are fascinated by the famous and accomplished musicians that the school boasts in the faculty the legendary Sunil Das (violin), Labu Rahman from the band Feedback (guitar and bass guitar), Funty (drums), Titu Ali from the band Chime (keyboard), famous sound engineers Charu, who currently works in Desh TV and Shameem from Live Sound. The curriculum for each subject is outlined and organised by the teachers themselves and discussed with the Music Planet authorities.

Many students say that not only does Music Planet follow a disciplined manner of teaching the arts, the school is also popular amongst the youngsters because of the flexibility it shows towards its teachers, many of who are also regular stage performers in and around the country. “It is an honour for us that famous personalities like Sunil Das is a full time faculty member in our school,” says Saki. “But there are times when our teachers themselves have performances and are unable to attend classes. That is why, all our teachers have been instructed to let us know beforehand in case they miss a class. We immediately arrange for make-up classes.”

Music Planet has a long way to go, but even then, the school has proved its accomplishments and holds promises to take music education to another level.

(For more information on the school, call 01678029843 or 01720564950)

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
Volume 8 Issue 69 | May 15, 2009 |

The Decline of the English Department

2009-09-26T14:16:00.001+07:00

The Decline of the English Department

Posted using ShareThis

As I finally Stop ...

2009-07-30T03:02:00.004+07:00

As I reach the very end, I smile and smile and smile at myself,
Wondering at the child I had become – curious, stubborn and teary eyed.
As I bolt open the last door, I laugh and laugh and laugh at myself,
And all the “No’s” that I had shouted with pride.
I check my nose in place, high up in the air,
Refusing to move down and look into your eyes.

As I cross the threshold, I hear...
Something familiar, pulling me back,
Something poignantly sweet,
Something that speaks to me and sings to me,
Something that sounds a lot like music;
Not music designed, nor music planned,
But sounds coming from... within,
Pulling me back, asking me to turn around.

As I listen to this... thing,
I remember everything that I love-
Mother’s reassuring hands,
Friends screaming by the ice cream parlour,
A long drive in the rain,
A surprise birthday party,
Cuddled up in front of HBO,
Books, bowls of apples and oranges and a rainy day,
Peacefully sleeping at night,
A walk under the scorching sun,
Little gifts! Oh! Stationery!
A red scarf and a painted rose.
An auto rickshaw ride together,
Touches, kisses and long nights.

Something that goes beyond music,
Beyond your loving gazes,
Beyond the warmth of blood and
Beyond the kind words
Quenching the thirst of a lonely wanderer.

I stop, finally.
I enter and close the door behind me.
After all, it is time I faced the music,
All alone and all by myself.

A Self-obsessed Creative Analysis

2009-07-10T03:47:00.002+07:00

A white page, or an empty blue-green glass on the table top
Strewn with debris – half-eaten chicken limbs, pulses and bread crumbs?
I am a kindergarten art book – grand and flying with colours.

A symphony, or a tune hummed by a couple in love
On a crazy, lazy afternoon, hiding from the world behind curtains?
I am the cacophony of notes, scales and skills – never coming to an agreement.

A tear, or a poignant tale of a long gone kingdom
With princes and princesses and knights on white horses?
I am just a helpless child with hopeless fairytale romances in her eyes.

A success story, or a corporate wearing an ironed tie
Over an ironed shirt tucked inside a pair of ironed trousers?
I am a struggler who starts over and over – again and again.

A petal, or a rose garden blooming in winter
In the foreign fields of a foreign country?
I am a bunch of wasted- bundles for sale.

I am not blood, thick enough to speak of
Generations of pride and legacy.
I am water stuck in a century-old well – green and creepy.

Rabindra Jayanti: The Legacy Lives On

2009-05-09T18:17:00.005+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

As the 148th birth anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore goes by, Tagore singers, purists and admirers wonder for the umpteenth time - with digital production of music slowly taking over the scene, will Tagore compositions also be the target of distortion? Will youngsters still take a liking to Tagore's music and lyrics, which even a couple of decades ago, was a part of a child's regular education? Is the ever-moving Rabindra Sangeet taking a back seat in today's music scene?

For years now, it has been a trend in Bangladesh to provide children an education in music, alongside their regular schooling. Academies like the Chayyanaut, Nazrul Academy, Bulbul Academy of Fine Arts (BAFA), Shurer Dhara and many more, have been witnessing the growth of talents for decades. Many, after graduating, go on to pursue their dreams in the fields of performing arts, while others nurture their knowledge and talents for personal fulfilment.

A large number of children and young people spend a good part of their childhood learning Rabindra Sangeet. Families involve themselves with the learning of Tagore compositions to develop their children's personality. There was a time, however, when studying Rabindranath's compositions would define sophistication and would be exclusively confined to a certain section of the society. For many families, possessing the natural gift of singing was not required of their children. It was enough as long as their children attended Chayyanaut.

It is the unique texture of Tagore compositions that appeals to both the young and the old even today.

“I simply cannot carry a tune!” laughs 29-year-old Durdana Khan, a Marketing Executive of a private company in Dhaka. Durdana, who currently lives with her husband in a two-room flat in Badda, is an admirer of Rabindrnath Tagore's works. She tries not to miss any of the Tagore musicals that go on in the city. Along with the stacks of Tagore poetry and plays that she has in her home, her collection of music also boasts CDs and old tapes of Tagore's compositions sung by singers from both Bangladesh and West Bengal. Growing up in Maghbazaar and going to Viqarunnisa Noon School, as a child it was taken for granted by her parents that a music education in Chayyanaut would be appropriate for their daughter, “The fact that I could not sing in tune did not seem to bother my parents at all,” she says. “It was a trend to send children to Chayyanaut or other musical academies every weekend or after school. Frankly speaking, I did not like my Chayyanaut classes and would make up excuses every week to miss them. However, even as a child, I did appreciate Tagore's ideas and poetry. I would like to read his short stories, plays and poetry, rather than sing them any day!”

It is the unique texture of Tagore compositions, a mixture of the western with the traditional, that appeals to both the young and the old even today. Shanthi Sarkar is a busy housewife and strongly believes that it is never too late to pursue one's dreams. At the age of 41, she takes care of her home, two children and still hopes to sing Rabindra Sangeet with “beautiful” accompaniments on special occasions. “I love the soft strokes of the harmonium, tabla, violin and the flute that accompany a Tagore singer,” she explains. “They make the Tagore compositions all the more mesmerising.” Now that her children are in their pre-teen years and are able to look after themselves, Shanthi has decided to start pursuing her dreams of becoming a Tagore singer by attending Rabindra Sangeet appreciation courses in Chayyanaut and other institutes, where many her age have signed up to learn Tagore compositions. “I never got a chance to actually learn Tagore songs as a child,” she says. “But I would never miss the musical shows on television. I got married early and had to take care of my household from a young age. But my family has been very supportive in letting me follow my dreams. That is how I gathered enough courage and confidence to attend classes after all these years.”

Thanks to Sanjida Khatun and Wahidul Haque, the creation of Chayyanaut in 1961 led to a revolution in the field of music and philosophy with Tagore's poetry and compositions.

One of the biggest fears that Tagore singers have today is of a possibility of a slow disintegration of Rabindra Sangeet mainly because not many youngsters nowadays take a liking to the genre as they used to a few decades ago. Because of the new genres of music, which have hit the scene today, youngsters seem to be more inclined towards learning and performing them. Some of the popular auditoriums of Dhaka, including the Russian Cultural Centre, All Community Centre and even Shishu Academy host plenty of concerts for rock and alternative listeners. However, in places like Shurer Dhara, run by famous Tagore singer Rezwana Chowdhury Bannya, quite a lot of youngsters attend the 5-year diploma classes. Not only in places like Chayyanaut and Shurer Dhara do young people learn Tagore compositions, but many of them make an effort to learn at home after hectic schedules filled with classes and private tuition.

Fifteen-year-old Imtiaz Mahboob Russel is taking a break from his musical endeavours because he is soon to sit for his O' level examinations this month. An aspiring guitarist, Russel has been saving up money for many months to buy an electric guitar. Amongst his friends, he is known to be someone with “a very rich sense of music”; someone who regularly attends the happening alternative and heavy metal concerts in Dhaka. Little do they know that every weekend he has also been taking Rabindra Sangeet lessons for the last couple of months. “My older sister recently began learning Tagore songs from a teacher, who comes to our house every Saturday,” he explains. “I would listen to Tagore songs all the time, since both my parents are very big fans. But once I started to listen to the teacher teaching and describing certain aspects of Tagore poetry and compositions to my sister, it caught my attention. I learn Tagore songs along with my sister now and I find it very refreshing. Along with the rich words and poetry, I also enjoy the use of melody and the particular sense of feeling that each one encapsulates in a particular Tagore composition.”

Yet another fear that Tagore puritans have is the distortion of the Swaralipi (staff notation) that is to be strictly followed by musicians and singers rendering Rabindra Sangeet. On the occasion of Tagore's birth anniversary, many students are seen gathered in the CD outlets of New Market, Rifles Square in Dhanmondi, Bashundhara City Complex in Panthopoth and also Fahim Music in Banani. Most of them are looking for Tagore compositions for performances in their respective schools, universities and musical academies. Some of them ask for the contemporary renditions of Tagore songs, rather than the conventional ones. It is true that many a musician today is introducing new concepts in Rabindra Sangeet compositions and also renditions. However, they say that as long the Swaralipi is maintained, Rabindra Sangeet can never be distorted. Recently, in a telecom ad-film, well-known contemporary musician Ornob's composition of the song 'Purano shei diner kotha' took listeners by storm. In fact, Sahana Bajpai's album 'Notun Kore Pabo Bole' which came out from Bengal Music in early 2007 also introduced several new elements in the field of Rabindra Sangeet. With Sahana's vocals, Ornab's music and plenty of harmonising, a concept which was quite new in the Tagore music arena, these young musicians tried to make Rabindra Sangeet more accessible to the present generation. It did take the cultural elite quite a long time to come to terms with this, since many strongly believe Rabindra Sangeet to be almost sacred, and beyond changing and modernising.

In Shurer Dhara, run by famous Tagore singer Rezwana Chowdhury Bannya, many youngsters attend the 5-year diploma classes.

At the end of 2007, popular Adhunik (Modern) singer Fahmida Nabi, recorded a Rabindra Sangeet album titled 'Amar Bela Je Jaye' under the banner of Impress Audio Vision Limited, on the occasion of Tagore's death anniversary. Even though her album gained a lot of popularity, many purists indirectly expressed their disapproval over such an experiment. According to Fahmida, this album was filled with her own interpretation of the Tagore songs. “Many purists have actually laid down certain laws,” she exclaims. “That Tagore songs are to be rendered in a certain way. This actually puts a lot of strain in the art form and creates blocks within artistes.” She does admit that there is a line between experimenting with Tagore compositions and distortion of these songs, which should be understood by artistes before trying to experiment and breaking free from tradition.

Thanks to Sanjida Khatun and Wahidul Haque, the creation of Chayyanaut in 1961 led to a revolution in the field of music and philosophy with Rabindranath's poetry and compositions. Despite the fears of alteration and misrepresentations in Tagore songs by purists and the patrons of Tagore, this revolution is recognised even today by the youngsters and contemporary musicians and is going to be spread to the generations next. Tagore's legacy lives on.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
May 8, 2009

Making it More Endurable

2009-05-03T16:01:00.006+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

When 8-year-old Farida fried three chillies instead of two, as instructed by her employer, 27-year-old Bithi Khandaker, Farida was punished, as all children are when they make mistakes or do not follow instructions. However, in Farida's case, Bithi went slightly overboard. She poured a pan filled with hot cooking oil on Farida, disfiguring a part of her face. For two days after that, Bithi and her family tried to hide the crime, until neighbours found out and complained to the police. Farida's older sister Rekha filed a case against Bithi with the police. Bithi was arrested, but released after three days. Because Bithi's husband worked in the Middle East and earned more in that neighbourhood of Munshiganj, the family would flaunt power in the community. None had the courage to speak or act against Bithi or her family. To end this as discreetly as possible, Farida's family was paid a measly amount of Tk 5,000. The case was finally forgotten.

An age-old norm in this part of the world, every household employs domestic help to do the cleaning and the cooking.

The Labour Law 2006 (of Bangladesh) clearly states that a worker has the right to rest and recreation during and after work hours. In fact, the law ensures the workers security, the right to take his or her employer to court in case of an offence, compensations in case of accidents, weekly and yearly holidays, a proper salary fixed by the government and in some cases, education facilities for young workers. In a nut shell, the compliance law has played a significant role in developing the lives and maintaining the self respect of these workers.

The law, however, does not apply to individuals working in sectors other than the RMG or similar industries, for instance domestic workers. An age-old norm in this part of the world, every household employs domestic help to do the cleaning and the cooking. For decades, this informal sector has been growing and today there are more than 20 lakh domestic workers in urban homes of Dhaka and Chittagong alone. Despite this burgeoning sector, domestic workers are considered informal labourers. Moreover, the government does not recognise them as workers with rights, as in the case of factory workers. “Domestic workers are not included in the Labour Law 2006,” says Nazma Yesmin, the Programme Officer of Bangladesh Institute of Labour Studies (BILS). “They have no fixed amount for salary or working hours. There are no rules or regulations which can be followed by the employer or the domestic worker.” Obviously, one of the biggest secters in the country is in a mess.

A majority of these home-workers being young and female, they are much more prone to exploitation.

It is mainly because of this exemption from law, that domestic workers are exploited each day. For one thing, these workers are not provided with the basic necessities. A majority of these home-workers being young and female, they are much more prone to exploitation, sometimes even sexual harassment.

On March 12, 2009, in Dhanmondi, 8-year-old domestic worker Shapla was attacked with a hot iron spatula (khunti) for a mishap in the kitchen. According to Shapla, this is not the first time that her employer had physically assaulted her. She says that her employer would hit her head hard with a comb if her rutis were not made in the perfect shape. Her employer also hit her on her back several times. She was made to do all the work in her employer's home and not given much to eat. “Domestic workers do not even have a proper place to sleep!” exclaims Nazma.

If children under the age of 14 are employed as domestic workers, they should be provided with education, food and recreation leaves.

According to a BILS survey report, 40 per cent of domestic workers are made to sleep in the drawing room or in the middle of the master bedroom on the floor. Even today, quite a large percentage of domestic workers, 33.33 per cent are made to sleep in the kitchen. While only 6.67 per cent of all domestic workers are actually given sleeping quarters or their own rooms, 16.69 per cent are made to accommodate themselves in the balcony and about 3.33 per cent sleep in store rooms.

Recently the Domestic Worker's Rights Network organised a press conference, urging the government to pass a law whereupon the rights and security of the domestic workers will be protected. BILS also urged the authorities to take immediate steps to incorporate domestic workers in the Labour Law to ensure their rights. Speaking at the press conference, Nazrul Islam Khan, the executive director of BILS mentioned the tragic deaths of at least 305 domestic workers due to violence on the part of the employers. The study was made by the organisation based on reports published in different dailies from 2001 to 2008. Not only the law, he said, but also a strong social movement is also required to eliminate violence against domestic workers. The Domestic Worker's Rights Network was established in 2006 with the active alliance of 22 organisations. Bangladesh Institute of Labour Studies (BILS) works as the secretariat of the network.

Nazma points out how dependent households in Bangladesh are on domestic workers. “They are more like managers, who actually take care of your household while you are out working,” she explains. According to Nazma, a large number of domestic workers are tortured physically, mentally and also sexually harassed on a regular basis. “The other day I visited Bangladesh National Woman Lawyers' Association (BNWLA) when I came across a young girl carrying a baby,” she says. “The young girl was a domestic worker in Dhaka. The employer took advantage of her one night when his wife was spending the night outside at her mother's. After she was discovered pregnant, she was immediately sent off. The employer did not take responsibility of the baby either.”

The government should make an effort to create a database of domestic workers.

On January 14, 2008, in Mohammadpur, 14-year-old Shumi was beaten and tortured to death by her employers Shah Mohammad Kamrul Hassan and Yasmin Mallik Rani. Shumi's father filed a case against them. While Rani was out on bail because of her young baby, her husband is still in jail. The case is still undergoing a very slow trial. Shumi's body was filled with marks of torture and severe beating, including burns on her scalp, face and wounds all over her body.

Nazma says that there are no national data records of domestic workers working in this country. “Which is a shame,” she says. “We have taken into account the urban homes in Dhaka and Chittagong only, calculating at least 20 lakh domestic workers. Just imagine the actual number!” Nazma says that the government should make an effort to create a database of domestic workers. “Not only should they be recognised as workers and be included in the Labour Law, but their earnings should also be included in the GDP calculations.”

To bring all domestic workers under legal protection, a memorandum was submitted to the Ministry of Labour and Employment on 9 January 2008. “A code of conduct was initially made and submitted as well” says Nazma. “We are still awaiting a response.”

The memorandum has been divided into three parts, according to the roles to be played

The government should keep track of the domestic workers and the employees once they register with their nearest police stations.

by the employer, the domestic worker and the government. According to the memorandum, a contract or a work order should be made with the domestic worker prior to starting work. The contract must include the kind of work that the domestic worker is expected to do, details regarding finance and salary, work hours, holidays, off days, relaxation period, providing education facilities etc. Upon employment, the domestic worker will have to be presented with a photo identity card. The worker's name, permanent address, details regarding the employer etc. will have to be registered with the nearest police station. Domestic workers should be allowed a minimum of 8 hours of sleep every night and 4 hours for rest and recreation during the day. Yearly holidays (totalling to a minimum of 14 days) should be arranged in such a way that domestic workers are able to celebrate their respective religious festivals and / or enjoy time with their family members and friends. Weekly holidays must also be given to the domestic workers, where upon they will not be made to work and will be allowed to go out with permission from their guardians. Domestic workers should also be provided with a proper sleeping area and healthy environment. Along with education, domestic workers should also be provided with regular medical facilities. In fact, pregnant workers are to be given maternity leave and are to be exempted from carrying heavy objects while at work. In case of an accident while working, a domestic worker will have to be compensated for by the employer accordingly. A domestic worker should give a month's notice to the employer if he or she wishes to resign.

The government should also fix the wages of domestic workers accordingly. The government is also to punish or take appropriate actions in case of torture physical or mental and sexual harassment of the domestic worker by the employer. The government should keep track of the domestic workers and the employees once they register with their nearest police stations. Establishment of special monitoring cells should be made in every area in the country by the ministry of labour. This way, the authorities will be able to monitor the workers' safety and security through their respective monitoring teams by visiting homes on a regular basis. Domestic workers themselves will also be able to visit these monitoring cells and place complaints if any. Moreover, the cells can also be contacted through letters, over the phone and also via the help-line to be created by the government.

The memorandum also proposes that children under the age of 14 should not be employed as domestic workers. However, in a country like ours where a large number of people are extremely poor, younger children are either sent to beg or work at dangerous places. Unfortunately, they do not have any other way of survival. “If children under the age of 14 are employed as domestic workers, they should be provided with education, food and recreation leaves,” says Nazma. “And the child will be allowed to work for not more than 5-6 hours.”

The recognition of domestic workers as working and earning individuals in society and also including them in the Labour Law, might not solve all the problems. It is a moral obligation on employers and the so-called educated members of the society to exercise patience and restraint in their interactions with home workers. Being a little more humane, on the part of the employers, will definitely have great benefits in the long run.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
May 1, 2009

The Spirit of Baishakh

2009-05-02T20:42:00.004+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

The first day of the Bangla New Year is celebrated with characteristic splendour. The day begins for all as the very first rays of the sun hit the ground. The Dhaka University campus area is filled with music, colourful rallies, street vendors selling glass bangles, sweetmeats, sugarcane juice, wood and clay jewellery, and of course the very recent addition to the streets of Dhaka - ‘petis' sandwiches. Pahela Baishakh, today, is much more than just a Government holiday on the calendar. It is a day of celebration for people from all walks of life; a day, indeed, when the past is allowed to cast away, the future embraced with open arms and the present lived with a sense of identity.

A massive dinosaur-like creature slowly takes shape for the rally.

It is a yearly routine for 25-year-old Nazneen Omar and her friends to visit Charukala on Pahela Baishakh. Clad in new, colourful saris and kurtas, these young professionals enjoy the mela (fair) inside the Charukala premises, have lunch at the famous restaurant Nirob and sometimes even relax by the Dhanmondi Lake. “Baishakh is incomplete without a visit to Charukala,” says Nazneen. “What appeals to me most about this place is the preparations that the students have taken for days to make the whole area, including the streets outside, colourful.” Being amateur artists themselves, Nazneen spends a lot of time looking at the new artwork done by the Charukala students. “Every year, they make all these beautiful bird-like creatures for the rally,” she says. “We always make a point to make a note of them. I, especially, adore the little jewellery that Charukala sells on Baishakh and spend a lot of time selecting and buying them as well.”

Charukala is a frenzy of Baishakh activities even two days before the actual show-day. With music blaring from one corner and students of all ages working on their Baishakh projects, the Charukala Institute of Fine Arts of the Dhaka University becomes an apt place for youngsters to hang out and watch while creations take shape. The campus corridors are lined up with first year students working on Styrofoam, chart paper, paint and many other mediums. At one corner, the students' magnificent creations are left to dry- birds, butterflies, masks of all shapes and sizes, life-size flowers and even bats. While the first year students work, chat and sneak off from work at the same time, a senior student or two, playing the role of supervisors and advisors, prod the juniors to talk less and work faster. At one point, the small but stern senior female student is seen lecturing a group of first year boys who had sneaked out for a spree in one of the motor-bikes, instead of bringing back the supplies on time.

Outside by the sculptures and fountains, a massive dinosaur-like creature is slowly taking shape. With at least 8-10 students working on this single project, the creature has big wings which actually moves in the wind, is around 20 feet long and will definitely seem bigger by the time it is finished for Baishakh. “We are making this for the rally,” says Upol, a final year student, while taking a break. “We started working on this project 7-8 days ago.” Upol explains that the frame was built right in the beginning and to make it sturdier, loads of papers were being plastered onto the frame before finally giving it some colours. Upol further shows the bar-like framework on the inside of the body of the creature, explaining all the physics theories behind the floating wings. “By the time it is finished, it will look very different,” says Upol. “There is still a lot more work to be done here,” he says and goes back to work.

With the grand day closing in, the Charukala Institute was filled with both professional and amateur photographers. Everyone wanted to experience the 'behind the scenes' of the Baishakhi celebration. Plenty of television channels were also seen slogging away to capture the perfect image of the students and the crafts. At another corner of the Charukala grounds, a school building-like structure is being worked on by students. A part of the mela festivities, the school is built to attract children on Pahela Baishakh. The students draw figures of children and also chalk caricatures of animal characters on doors and windows - a fox with spectacles, a cat wearing clothes and walking by the river and so on.

The city is in a festive mood prior to the Baishakh festivals.

Pahela Baishakh is not limited only to the Dhaka University campus area anymore. Just like any other festival in Bangladesh, plenty of preparations are taken to celebrate this day. Weeks before Baishak, the shopping spree begins all over the country and is believed to even beat the Eid and Puja enthusiasm. Red and white are not the only colours that define Baishakh anymore. Shoppers are seen with bags filled with combinations of white, red, black, olive green and even peach. Popular shopping areas in Dhaka city-Baily Road, Dhanmondi, Banani Road 11 - were teeming with both families and students trying to look for the best sari and kurta for the occasion. For those who opted to stay home from the crowds outside, grand recipes were being cooked for days ahead of the time.

We Bangladeshis have always been fond of celebrations and colours. Pahela Baishakh can be defined as a day when all Bangladeshis leave their differences at their doorsteps and come forward to celebrate in their very own ways. The day is proof enough to say that it is the spirit of being a Bangladeshi, within us, that truly defines our race and unites us.

Charukala is a frenzy of Baishakh activities even two days before the actual show-day.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
April 17, 2009

The Economy Safe, for Now

2009-05-02T20:29:00.006+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

There have been reports of workers being treated inhumanly by their employees in their countries.

In the last few months, the plight of migrant workers abroad has caricatured a sorry picture in Bangladesh. Not only have there been reports of workers being treated inhumanly by their employees in their countries, but also several hundred Bangladeshi workers are still stuck in in foreign jails as illegal aliens, thanks to some money swindling agencies in Bangladesh promising poverty-stricken young men jobs and better lives outside Bangladesh. Today, the country, where the inflow of remittance reached a staggering 7 billion dollars in 2008, not only faces the dilemma of providing employment to an extra thousand or two, but also fears of a possible downslide in the country's economy.

Recession has little to do with migrant workers returning home.

However, according to Anu Mohammad, a Professor of Economics of Jahangirnagar University, the economy of Bangladesh will remain, more or less, unaffected. "There will of course be a slight decrease in the inflow of remittance in the country," he says. "Especially because migrant workers returning home in the last few months resided mainly in countries of the Middle East, North America and Malaysia, which have been hit badly by the global recession. However, this will not damage the present status of our economy, at least not in a way we might be led to think because of the global financial meltdown." Professor Anu explains that the countries hit by the recession are already looking for a way out, which obviously would indirectly create demands for foreign labour. "These countries are now tackling their way out of the global recession through public spending, bail outs and so on," he says. "New job markets are also being created where labour will be required, be it in the IT sector, Management or Construction work. A huge number of skilled and semi-skilled workers will always be in demand from our part of the world." Hence, there is also no fear of a decrease in the inflow of foreign remittance by a huge margin as compared to the inflow in the past years, says Professor Anu. "In any case, the government has never created any link, whereby the migrant worker, bringing in the remittance, would enjoy benefits if he or she invested in the country," he says. "All the investments done are personal, be it a shopping mall, an amusement park, well-built homes or construction of roads in the villages. Migrant workers have always made these structural developments mainly for personal gain in their hometowns or villages. Hence, there will also not be an alarming decrease in infrastructural developments." Speaking of the migrant workers returning home, Professor Anu says that recession, in the host countries, had little to do with the crisis. "Upon observing, one will see that in most cases there were no jobs allotted for these migrant workers in the foreign countries," says Professor Anu. "Either they were duped into spending lakhs and leaving the country in the hopes of a job and a better life, or many of them were trying to live illegally. It is not possible for workers to lead lives irregularly in foreign countries, especially in the Middle East, where even regular workers have trouble coping. These workers would be sent back home irrespective of recession hitting the host countries."

Attractive investment opportunities should be created in the country so that workers residing abroad are more than willing to invest their savings in their home countries.

A recent article, 'Do we really have a crisis on the remittance front?' by Ahsan Mansur, Executive Director, Policy Research Institute, broadly summarises the effect on the inflow of remittance due to the returning migrant workers. According to his report, the negative impact of the global crisis is being experienced by many countries today, primarily in two forms. One would be the lower inflow of remittances in dollar terms and second would be the returning of workers from abroad in large numbers. He says that so far Bangladesh has not experienced any significant rise in workers returning from abroad and the inflow of remittances has also remained strong. On a net basis, workers are still going abroad in sizable numbers, albeit at a pace much slower than the record migration reported during the last two years. "We have to look at two categories of migration to foreign lands in this case," he explains. "In North American countries, migrants usually go there to stay, seeking permanency. That is not the case with migrants going to the Middle East and also Malaysia, where they go there mainly to work and earn a living." Mansur explains that the nature of the job markets, for instance in Malaysia, is very seasonal. "If we look at the Palm Oil business, a company can hire labourers from abroad and then let then go and then rehire more labourers after a few months depending upon circumstances," he says. In his report he says that workers are not expected to return from industrial countries like the USA, the UK, other European countries, and the industrialised Asia (Singapore, Hong Kong, South Korea and Japan). Essentially, the threat lies in the GCC and Malaysian markets. The GCC economies comprising Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) -- while homogeneous in many respects, are at different stages of construction boom. Mansur further adds that the inflow of remittance will definitely be affected in Bangladesh, but not to an extent, which might cause a shocking depression.

Hence, as Manusr adds, while the country should not be complacent, there is no need for Bangladesh to panic. Efforts must be made to attract remittances and attractive investment opportunities should be created in the country so that workers residing abroad are more than willing to invest their savings in their home countries. At the end of the day, greater benefits for these workers from the government, might be one of the ways to combat global recession from taking over the country in the near future.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
April 10, 2009

A Blazing Problem

2009-05-02T20:11:00.005+06:00

After the Basundhara Complex shock, the need for better fire-fighting measures has come to the limelight. Star File Photo

Last month, the devastating blaze that reduced the upper levels of Basundhara City Shopping Complex to a mere skeleton, did much more than scare everyone out of their wits. The blazing fire, have opened up the eyes of several skyscraper owners, tenants living on top floors and employees with a nice view of the city from their 20-storey office buildings.

After the Basundhara Complex shock, the need for better fire-fighting measures has come to the limelight. With this in mind, the following week, the Rajshashi Secretariat Building organised a fire drill in their 20-storey building. As the sirens rang loud into the air and fake smoke (created with the help of mosquito repellent medicines) clouded the sky, the ever-ready firemen had already begun their rescue efforts. A fire truck appeared with a ladder, which was helping the 'victims' to climb down to safety. In less than an hour, the 'fire' was doused and the employees were rescued.

It leaves one to wonder, however, as to what would have happened in a real-fire scenario. It would obviously have taken the Fire Service quite a while to reach the fumes, considering the jam-packed roads. A 20-storey building would be expected to have a proper fire escape, which would at least bring the occupants of the building to safety, instead of waiting for the fire truck with the ladder. “A high-rise cannot be built without a proper fire escape plan in its initial stages of planning,” explains the Director General of Fire Service and Civil Defence Abu Nayeem Md Shahidullah. “The secretariat building has alternative staircases and if one is closed down during a fire, the other can automatically be used to bring people down to safety. This drill was, however, done to figure out how long it would take the Fire Service to douse the fire and for the employees to come out of danger. Rescuing important government and official documents was also another factor behind the drill. If these documents are destroyed, it would be considered a violation.”

For fire fighters and rescue workers, it must have been a moment of deja vu while trying to douse the fire in the very recent Mirpur 1 incident, where a shopping complex was burnt down.

Shahidullah further adds that both the government and private sectors are now concerned about fire safety and are checking in with the Fire Service Department to cross check their fire safety / precautionary measures. “We provide three services from the Fire Service,” he says, “One would be to conduct a survey and check the items required for fire safety. The second service is offering training to fire fighting officials inside the building and the third is conducting fire drills with the occupants of the building.” While these services are offered for free to government organisations, the Fire Service Department charges a fee for the private sector.

Nousheen Khan, a 42-year-old businesswoman has postponed her plans to move to a plush apartment in Gulshan from her Moghbazaar residence. Both Nousheen and her husband, parents of three children, are now discussing last minute changes with their real-estate agent. “This apartment building is a six-storey building,” says Nousheen. “And it does not have a fire escape! When I raised this question, our agent pointed out a small locked doorway in our balcony, which can be used as an emergency exit. However, this door is too small to let us out and is not an appropriate fire escape plan.” As Nousheen researches and asks around further, none of the apartment builders, even the well-known ones, have proper fire escape plans in their initial design plans.

Fire safety planning actually begins at the design stage. Architect Dr Nizamuddin Ahmed says that a typical fire pattern involves initiation, enlargement, rise of smoke, heat and fire due to flue effect (going upwards), leading to structural failure over time and if sufficient combustibles are available. According to a report written by him on fire safety designs, fire hazard has multiplied in Bangladesh because of taller buildings, air-conditioned enclosed space, increased use of electro-mechanical equipment, increased use of flammable finish materials and designers not addressing new hazard dimension. He says that people will die in a fire incident if the architect or the building owner does not provide a means of escape to a place of safety. Since smoke kills, people will die in a smoke incident.

Firemen try to douse the flames that gutted 10 shops and nine dwellings at Cheragi Pahar intersection in Chittagong. Star File Photo

Efforts must be made therefore, to increase the number of fire drill practices, not only to keep a check on the efficiency of our fire-fighters but also to practice precautionary measures which are to be managed by the occupants of the building themselves. Abu Nayeem Md Shahidullah says that during a drill, the escaping occupants must also try to use the fire extinguishers and protect themselves as much as possible. Expiry dates of fire extinguishers must be checked regularly and staff or occupants of the building have to be trained in using these devices.

The drills may also help in creating an environment of self-restraint amongst people. For fire fighters and rescue workers, it must have been a moment of deja vu while trying to douse the fire in the very recent Mirpur 1 incident, where a shopping complex was burnt down. Hundreds of people had to be moved aside, sometimes even forcibly pushed aside for the fire officials to do their job.

It is appalling that despite innumerable incidents of fire, with large number of casualties in many of them, basic facilities such as proper fire exits and practices such as proper training through drills are still non-existent in many buildings. This is unacceptable and the state should make be extremely strict about such violations of law.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
April 3, 2009

Harmonising with the Quartet

2009-05-02T20:04:00.003+06:00

As the band played on the cahon, stroking the wooden chimes to add effect, the audience, thanks to the piano melodies floating in time and again in between the percussions, realises that Duende was playing a Latin jazz version of the famous song 'Mrs. Robinson' by Simon and Garfunkel (with just a hint of Led Zeppelin). Moving on to a more soothing tune, the rhythm gets all the more complex and 'funki' as they play Duke Ellington's 'African Flower.'

Last week, music lovers got to listen to Latin Jazz - a combination of rhythms and beats from African and Latin American countries with jazz and classical harmonies from Latin America, the Caribbean, Europe and the United States. The US embassy very recently hosted a free open-air concert at the GSO Field near the US Embassy, where the Duende Quartet presented a bunch of tunes from famous jazz musicians in the west and also thrilled the crowd with their 'jazzed-up' versions of popular rock ballads and soft rock numbers.

(Top) The Duende Quartet. PHOTO: Frank Stewart for Jazz at Lincoln Centre.
(Bottom) The fusion mix at the workshop in Dhaka University. PHOTO: Nasirul Islam.

The band is named after the mythological creature - Duende - a fairy- or goblin-like creature in Spanish and Latin American mythology. The quartet includes Harry Appelman on piano and keyboards; Josh Schwartzman on the bass; Sam Turner and Mark Merella on various hand percussions. Many listeners, especially the ones belonging to Asia, have asked the band why they do not have a vocalist. To that Duende replies that the quartet is made up of percussions and musical rhythms hailing from African and Latin countries. This kind of music emphasises much more on the harmonies that can be played with acoustic measures created with the help of natural sounds and elements, rather than the melody of a vocal. "However, there are Latin jazz bands out there, which do have vocalists," explains Sam Turner. "In our case, it's Harry who plays all the melody!" referring to Harry Appleman on piano and keyboards.

A workshop was held in Dhaka University, in association with the Department of Theatre and Music, where the Duende Quartet demonstrated various kinds of Latin jazz tunes and rhythms. Two major categories of Latin Jazz are Brazilian and Cuban. While Brazilian Latin Jazz includes bossa nova, the Cuban jazz includes a variety of fusions between Cuban music and American jazz, such as Cubop.

The students seemed particularly interested in the cahon, a box-like structure, literally referring to a box in Spanish, producing the sounds of a drum, resembling much more the baya of a the traditional tabla set. Mark Merella, the cahon player, sits on the 'box' and plays the raw sounds and rhythms. The story goes that during the eras of slavery, the slaves would get together during lunch breaks and beat rhythms on boxes and crates and sing songs. According to Mark and Sam, that is where the cahon originated.

The workshop ended with musicians from the department fusing the Bangla dhol, tabla and dotara with the Duende Quartet's Latin jazz compositions, bringing out a mix of the eastern classical melodies and the African - Cuban beats. The quartet had also played at the American School following a grand outdoor performance at the GSO Field. The Duende Quartet's Latin jazz performance was a new experience for many in Dhaka. The quartet successfully introduced new forms of harmonies and melodies amongst music lovers.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
March 27, 2009

Picks from the Boi Mela

2009-05-02T19:53:00.004+06:00

The last week at the Boi Mela was thronging with more people than expected. Many had, at last, finalised a list of books to buy at the book fair. Book lovers of all ages were seen fishing out book lists from their pockets and bags and moving from one publishing house to another. While some were still in their school uniforms along with their school bags, others had clearly taken an early leave from their workplaces.

This year, the Bangla Academy dedicated three days to children and families February 6, 7 and 27. New sets of adventure stories, science fiction, horror tales and children's poetry became extremely popular with young children. Disabled children were not left behind. Poet / Writer Nazia Jabeen brought out a poetry book for children with impaired vision, 'Chorar Taale Monta Dole' from the Bangladesh Blind Mission. While a group of children were waiting patiently for the fresh copies of 'Motku Mamar Goyenda Abhijan' by Anisul Haq from Mizan Publications, Pathsutro Publications were almost run out of Selina Hossain's 'Muktijoddhara', a book on the Liberation War.

Plenty of work of young writers hit the bookstalls this year. A few popular novels included 'Baundule 8' by Sumanta Islam from Pearl Publications, 'Ashomotol' by Opala Haider from Barshadupur, 'Ek Chokhu Rakhosh' by Maruf Rahman from Shubhro Publications and many more. Poetry lovers were seen waiting eagerly for 'Anik Khaner Chhorar Boi' by Anik Khan from Barshadupur, 'Parke Nirjon Benchir Khoje' by Foyez Reza from Annesha Publications and 'Porikhamulok Bhalobasha' by Palash Mahbub by Pathsutro.

The younger crowd was on the lookout for science fiction and not to mention moving tales of passion and poetry. Those infatuated with space and beyond were seen lining up by Mizan Publications for Ali Imam's 'Mohashunnyajan: Shanta Maria'. Mohammed Jafar Iqbal's 'Icarus' from Somoy Publications became extremely popular with not only the youngsters, but also older readers. Based on the mythological creature Icarus, Iqbal creates the character of Bulbul, a boy born with wings because of experiments done on genes of animals, birds and human beings.

Many publishing firms brought out fresh essays, discussions, stories not to mention reprints of famous books written at the wake of independence of Bangladesh by well-known writers and thinkers, which had shaken up readers more than thirty years ago. Two such books are 'Kutirbashi Rabindranath' by Moitree Debi and 'Roktatto Bangla' written by several thinkers--Ahmed Safa, Shawkat Osman, Dr. Anisuzzaman, Shatten Sen, Shantosh Gupto, Jahir Raihan, Ranesh Das Gupto, ramendu Majumdar and many more. Muktadhara Publications launched both the books. Several books on the Liberation War also attracted many readers, such as 'Bangabandhu O Tajuddin' by Aamir Hussain from Adorn Publications, 'Muktijiddho Pothe Pothe' by Rabindro Gope from Mizan and a small publication from Protiti called the 'Muktijuddher Itihash' by Mohammed Jafar Iqbal. This year, Shyk Siraj also brought out a book on agriculture called 'Matir Kache Manusher Kache' from Mowla Brothers.

This year, as every year, Humayan Ahmed undoubtedly clinched the 'Most Popular Author Award' thanks to his yet another tale of the 'Himu' clad in yellow from Annesha. However, many seemed to appreciate his autobiographical 'Ballpoint' instead, from Annya Prakash. Ahsan Habib surprised his fans with a book, 'Tumi', which was written and compiled years ago. Barshadupur brought it out this year. Syed Shamsul Haque's 'Bini Poyshar Neel Golpo' from Ittyadi and 'Bristy O Bidrohigon' from Annesha were selling like hotcakes at one point in the fair. Selina Hussain's 'Abelar Dinkhan' from Annesha, 'Poralalneel' by Rashida Sultana from Mowla Brothers, 'Naribadi Golpo' by Purobi Basu from Ittyadi and 'Kaleidoscope' by Shonali Islam from Somoy created waves also. While Purobi Basu writes about women and the thousands of lessons that they learn from a very young age in their very own homes, Shonali Islam writes about growing up in a patriarchal society. Imdadul Haque Milon also became popular with his readers, especially with his 'Phele Aasha Laal Golap' from Annya Prakash.

The books can be found in bookstores located in Dhanmondi, Shahbaag and Bangla Bazaar.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 27, 2009

On the Cover

2009-05-02T19:29:00.007+06:00

The Ekushey Boi Mela brings to us, not only spirited novels, essays and biographies to read, but also promotes the art of design, illustrations and sketches. Cover art has evolved significantly over the years combining clever graphics with artistic acumen to increase its appeal to the readers.

Dhrubo Esh
A professional Cover Designer, Dhrubo Esh is probably one of the most famous names in the field of book cover art in Bangladesh today. He first designed a book cover back in 1987. "Back then, I would probably do one cover a year," says Dhrubo. Today he does more than 400-500 covers a year. This year, Dhrubo has designed more than 650 covers. Some of the books that he has designed and illustrated are 'Icarus' by Mohammed Jafar Iqbal (Shomoy), 'Himur Modhyadupur' by Humayan Ahmed (Annesha), 'Doshjon' a collection of Humayan Ahmed's novels (Annesha) 'Shey Akhando Britte' by Sirajul Islam Chowdhury (Bidyaprokash), 'Tomar Shonge Kichu Kotha Chilo' by Tarek Mahmud (Nalanda) and many more. Dhrubo's artwork is special because his work portrays a certain amount of sophistication blended with elements from our day-to-day life. For instance, Mohammaed Jafar Iqbal's 'Icarus' has a unique combination of the mythological figure Icarus and an aura of energy portrayed through Dhrubo's colours. Dhrubo has always been inspired by Purnendu Potri, Shubhroto Chowdhury, Qayyum Chowdhury and surprisingly enough, television actor Afzal Hossain. "Not many know this but Afzal Hossain is a tremendously gifted artist," says Dhrubo. "I really admire his work."

Ahsan Habib
The editor of the satire monthly magazine UNMAD, Ahsan Habib is a very popular artist and a cartoonist as well. Not only does he base his artwork on the 'sly' aspects in life, many of Ahsan's artwork portrays the lighter side to living as well. For the last many years, he has been designing book covers and illustrations for many authors, both old and new. Through the use of his colourful expressions, he brings out the true nature of people, something that is abundant in the satire magazine as well. Ahsan Habib is a writer of short stories, non-fiction and poetry. After quite a number of years, he has also brought out a book of 'sher' in the Boi Mela this year. Truly an all rounder, Ahsan Habib has written and designed many of his own books as well. Some of his works are ‘Jokes Shomogro’, a collection of funny snippets written by Ahsan Habib himself (Protik), ‘Ek Chokhu Rakhosh’ by Maruf Rahman (Shubhro), ‘Nanan Rong’ by Ahsan Habib (Bibhash), ‘Bhut Jokhon Ghost’ by Ahsan Habib (Rodela) and ‘Science Friction’ by Ahsan Habib (Ekushey Bangla). An inspiration to many youngsters, Ahsan Habib's favourite cover artists are Dhrubo Esh and Anik Khan.

Niaz Chowdhury Tuli
Tuli, as he is known, has been drawing cartoons professionally for slightly more than a decade. He began his career designing and drawing for brochures and magazines in Chittagong and would also contribute to newspapers in Dhaka as well. Today he is a Senior Cartoonist for the Daily Prothom Alo and does editorial cartoons regularly. However, Tuli is also well known for his skills in making covers for books, which he has been doing for several years alongside being a cartoonist. This year, Tuli has done almost 300 covers and also illustrations for authors both, well known and new. Some of them are ‘Binipoyshar Neel Golpo’ by Syed Shamsul Haque (Ittyadi), ‘Dhongshosthupe Kobi O Nogor’ by Syed Shamsul Haque (Ittyadi), ‘Kobirer Okobita’ by Kabir Chowdhury (Annesha), ‘Upohar, Tomar Jonnyo’ by Tawhidur Rahman (Ittyadi), ‘Amader Posha Bhut’ by Moinul Ahsan Saber (Bijoy) and ‘Naribadi Golpo’ by Purobi Basu (Ittyadi). "I use different medias to make the covers," says Tuli. "Sometimes I use simple paint, or sometimes I create each object by taking pictures or looking for them online or other sources. These objects are then combined together to make a cover art for a book. My favourite cover artists are Dhrubo Esh and Shomor Majumdar."

Mehedi Haque
Popular for his sharp humour in his cartoons, young Mehedi Haque has achieved quite a lot thanks to his observation power and drawing skills. An Executive Editor of the satire monthly magazine UNMAD and Editorial Cartoonist of the Daily New Age, Mehedi won the last TIB award for his cartoon, depicting corruption in various sectors in the country and the recent Right to Health award for his cartoon representing the non-existing government health plans. In a nutshell, his cartoons bring out the reality, yet with a dash of absurdity. Though he claims to be still growing in field of cover arts, Mehedi has worked on several covers for quite a number of authors in the last few years. This year, he has worked on five book covers -- 'Chader Pahar' by Bibhutibhushon Bondopadhyay (Progoti), 'Anik Khaner Chhorar Boi' by Anik Khan (Studentways), 'Tomay Nie Sher Bedhechi' by Anik Khan (Mizan), 'Ajob Obhijane Manager Chacha' by Sajjad Kabir (Annesha) and 'Kathpencil' an illustrated Children's book edited by Masrur Mithun (Kathpencil Publications). For both cover arts and book illustrations, Mehedi seems to prefer doing sketches and cartoons and doesn't forget to add his signature of humour. His work has been inspired by well-known artists, namely, Dhrubo Esh, Sobboshachi Hajra, Qayyum Chowdhury, Shomor Majumdar, Shahdat Chowdhury and Purnendu Potri.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 20, 2009

Muktodhara's Journey

2009-05-02T19:05:00.010+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

It was the urge to do something for the country that led to the birth of Muktodhara, a publishing house, which began on May 28, 1971 in Mujibnagar, Kolkata. Chittaranjan Saha, born on January 1, 1927, along with many other famous writers and poets of the time would get together in Professor Syed Ali Ahsan's house in Kolkata. "It was around the time of Liberation of Bangladesh and everyone wanted to do something for Bangla," says Advocate Jahar Lal Saha, Chittaranjan Saha's brother-in-law who had been with Muktodhara right from the beginning and also the current owner of the publishing house. "Theoretically, we also wanted to be a part of the war. Chittaranjan Saha decided to fight along, not with weapons, but with knowledge and books thereby instilling the love of reading amongst the Bangalis. That is how the idea of establishing a publishing house came about." It was in Professor Syed Ali Ahsan's home when Chittaranjan Saha, the then young Jahar Lal Saha along with other writers and poets coined the name Muktodhara, representing the free mind and an independent soul of a Bangali man or woman.

Inside the Muktodhara office in Bangla Bazaar.

Under the banner of Shadhin Bangla Shahittyo Parishad, Muktodhara started publishing essays, biographies and various literary discussions besides a few novels and poems as well. In 1971, Muktodhara had hit the market with 33 books. One of the first few books published from Muktodhara was a collection of articles based on the Liberation War, 'Roktatto Bangla' written by well-known writers -- Shawkat Osman, Ahmed Safa, Dr. Anisuzzaman, Syed Ali Hassan, Shatten Sen, Shantosh Gupto, Jahir Raihan, Ranesh Das Gupto, Ramendu Majumdar and many more. Famous artist Kamrul Hassan had designed the cover of the book. "This year at the Boi Mela, we are reprinting this book," informs Jahar Lal. "In fact, after so many years we are also going to use the same cover done by Kamrul Hassan." Along with 'Roktatto Bangla', this year, Muktodhara plans to bring out reprints of editions of biographies, essays and poems that had become extremely popular with readers more than thirty years ago.

After Liberation, Chittaranjan Saha and his family moved to Dhaka. By then, Muktodhara had become much more than a mere hobby and an initiative to publish a few editions a year. Muktodhara had become very popular amongst Bangali writers, both established and aspiring. What attracted them to Muktodhara was the fact that the publishing house was very selective in terms of publishing materials. Jahar Lal says that Muktodhara has always been in the habit of checking and rechecking proofs of manuscripts. "Even today, we make sure that we go through at least four proofs of our manuscripts before publishing them," says Jahar Lal. "Times have changed. Today you might even find a so-called writer who, for the sake of name and fame, will spend a single night writing trash and then get a publishing house to publish it. What makes it worse is that these publishing houses do not bother to proofread the materials or even question the literary significance of the material they publish, let alone running a check on these materials, which might have unhealthy information for the readers."

Books that had come out in the early 70s from Muktodhara. Some of them are being reprinted this year.

Back then, a seven-day event used to be held at the Bangla Academy grounds, commemorating February 21, in the memory of those who had fought for the Bangla language. In 1972, Chittaranjan decided to display some of his books at the Bangla Academy. "We found a spot on the grass and displayed our books on a small jute-mat for the visitors," remembers Jahar Lal. Very soon, Muktodhara had hit it off with quite a number of readers. For the rest of the week, there was a huge demand for these books, something that was quite unexpected by the Muktodhara team. "We did the same in 1973," says Jahar Lal. "In 1974, we built a proper stall for ourselves besides the mango tree in the Bangla Academy grounds, where the security is placed this year. Artist Pranesh Mandal had even designed a gate. In 1975, a few more bookstalls joined Muktodhara, making the seven-day event an unofficial book fair. We had with us Khan Brothers, Ahmed Publications, Boi Ghor from Chittagong and a few more. That was when we decided to have the 'unit-system' for each stall. Back then, 8 feet by 8 feet was the normal size for one unit. The publishers would take up one or two units for their books. But today, the unit size has come down to a mere 8 feet by 6 feet which is not enough for us to accommodate all our books, even if we take up two units."

Eventually, as the number of bookstalls began to grow, attracting a lot of people, the Bangla Academy took the book fair under its wings and would organise it every year for the whole month of February. In the 1980s, a list of criterion or popularly known as the nitimala was also formed to maintain a standard of the publishing houses and also the kind of books that they published, so as to participate in the fair. Today, a publishing house will have to publish at least 15 or more books in a single year to participate in the fair. "A committee was formed to make sure that the nitimala was followed," says Jahar Lal. "Chittaranjan Saha was one of the members of this committee." Presently, the Boi Mela is known as the Ekushey Grantha Mela.

Many think that Muktodhara Jahar Lal Saha
should be given a fixed
spot at the Boi Mela.

Chittranhan Saha died on December 26, 2007. At the Boi Mela in 2008, the Bangla Academy authorities offered a token of respect to Muktodhara and specially mentioned Chittaranjan Saha as someone who had pioneered this whole event. Many intellectuals and famous writers, however, think that Muktodhara should be given a fixed spot at the Boi Mela, which will remain unchanged every year. "This is not a lot to ask for from the Bangla Academy," Jahar Lal Saha says. "The Bangla Academy has a fixed spot at the fair as well. I believe that Muktodhara should have a fixed spot as well. We want to reprint all our old books once again for our readers and for this we need a bigger space." Every year, through a process of lottery, each publishing house is given a spot according to the number of units that they want. "Muktodhara should not go through such a lottery process," asserts Jahar Lal.

Jahar Lal Saha also says that the authorities have to work harder to instill the habit of reading books amongst children and develop reading habits amongst older children. "To do this, we need to make sure that our children develop a habit of reading from a very young age. Each classroom in schools, starting from the Kindergarten to the senior classes should have shelves filled with both old classics and contemporary books. I am not against the 'computer technology', but we also have to make sure that our children do not ignore books because of the computers."

Secondly, he says that we should have a Boi Mela, not only in Dhaka but all over Bangladesh. "If people in Chittagong, Khulna, Sylhet and other districts are not exposed to the quality and quantity of books like those in Dhaka, then how can we expect these people to create a demand for books?" says Jahar Lal. "A proper distribution is very much necessary." He also talks about distributing Bangla books to Bangalis living in foreign countries. "Not only in Kolkata, but there are thousands of Bangalis living in the United Kingdom, United States and all over Europe," he says. "If the respected High Commissioners in these countries can arrange a three-day or a five-day book fair and invite publishers from Bangladesh, we will be able to arrange our own travel expenses and display our books in these countries. The Bangalis living abroad are always craving for books from Bangladesh and this would be a wonderful way to promote our books to them."

Chittaranjan Saha (top left); For 38 years, Muktodhara has been encouraging readership and adding to the Bangali culture.

Even after 38 years, Muktodhara continues to play a significant role in the Boi Mela, selling books to readers of all ages. Every day of the month, people throng the stall looking for chapters on history, literature, art, novels, poetry and also short stories for children. "In spite of everything, I am amazed at the fact that more and more children love to simply finger through pages of books when they come to our stall!" remarks Jahar Lal, sitting at stall number 121-122 at the Boi Mela. "The other day I could not help taking a picture of a large group of children who were going through books in a nearby bookstall. It was wonderful to watch them practically devouring the books!" After all, says Jahar Lal Saha, "one can anticipate a bright and a corruption-free future for this country, if these children are given the right books to read at the right age."

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 20, 2009

Moving to Canada

2009-05-02T18:55:00.006+06:00

Selina Ahmed is a single mother of two living in the outskirts of Toronto, a massive hub of multicultural identities and cultures. Like her other family members currently living in Toronto, she had decided to immigrate to Canada from Bangladesh. When Selina was married to a Canadian immigrant at least a decade ago, all she could think of was the wonderful life she would finally live. She had heard from her sisters, who were married to other Bangladeshi-turned-Canadians, that everything was possible in Canada, not to mention free education for one's children, free medical and a world filled with modern technology. Sitting in Khulna, it seemed to Selina that in Canada, one would only need to press a switchboard filled with buttons, like the mere wave of a magical wand, to get all the back-breaking work done.

She got her first whiff of reality in the first few months after she entered the country. Everything was not as easy as she had thought it would be. Due to lack of skills and experience she could not get into any workplace that she wanted to, in spite of having a Master's degree in Psychology from Khulna, she had a lot of problems communicating with people because she did not know English and after she got separated from her husband, she and her two children, now have to depend on the Child's Benefit allowance and a partial welfare allowance that she receives from the government. After finishing her part time work in a nearby school and looking after her children, she hardly has any time left to pursue the dreams that she had once upon a time, before she came to Canada.

Stories like the above are very common in Canada, especially amongst those who tend to think life will magically change for the better, once you are Canadian and live in Canada. Rezaul Karim Chowdhury was 31 years old when he and his wife moved to Toronto and wanted to begin a new life. After almost seven years, while his wife sells traditional food and clothes that she makes in various Meena Bazaars and also on special days like birthdays, Diwali and Eid, Rezaul had drifted from one place to another, looking for the 'right' job that an engineer like him deserved, but in vain.

Very often, it is seen that most Bangladeshis who immigrate to Canada or any other foreign country, do so with an intention to escape the problems in his or her own country. 26-year-old Romel's next step after completing his BBA is to take courses on IELTS, an English proficiency exam which is a requirement in countries like Canada, Australia and countries in the United Kingdom as well so that he can immigrate to Canada. “I have tried to get work here in Dhaka but life is too difficult and unpredictable here,” says Romel. Romel also adds that constant pressure from his parents led him to take this decision. “I have to do something with my life, if not here then elsewhere.”

One of the major reasons as to why most immigrants are caught off guard once they enter the land of their dreams, is simply because they do not do enough research before they decide to settle down in Canada or in any foreign country for that matter.

Dr. Md. Jamilur Rahim

According to Dr. Md. Jamilur Rahim, a Certified Canadian Immigration Consultant, CCIC, researching Canada is an extremely easy task today as compared to what it was even a decade ago. “You have all the answers online,” he says. “It surprises me how even the young clients that I get today are not aware of how resourceful the Internet is today.” Dr. Jamil, as he is referred to by all his clients, a Full Member of the Canadian Society of Immigration Consultants is also the president and the CEO of Scotia Consultants, a consultancy firm for prospective immigrants to Canada.

There are consultants everywhere today, including Bangladeshis returning from Canada who claim to be 'lawyers', extracting large sums of money from those who seek a shortcut-ticket to Canada. “Only certified consultants, who have to give a series of exams, and actual Canadian lawyers are authorised to give legal advice to those who want to apply for a citizenship,” explains Dr. Jamil. “In fact, one can even go online and verify the list of certified consultants. That way, not just anyone can claim to be a 'consultant' or a 'lawyer' and trick people into paying them outrageous sums. They would have to be authorised with the Canadian Government, which anybody can verify online.”

In the mid-90s hordes of people have been applying for the Canadian Immigration. However, only a few were being selected by the government based on their occupations. “Last February, the Canadian Government issued a list of 38 occupations and skills which are needed in Canada right now,” says Dr. Jamil. “Anyone who belongs in this list will be accepted as soon as an application is made.” This list can be found online.

Dr. Jamil himself was a fresh MBBS graduate when he had decided to immigrate to Canada. His wife had also graduated from BUET as an Engineer. “My friends had come to pick us up in Toronto, the first time when my wife and I had landed,” he says. “They had all the negative stories in stock for us. They could not understand why a doctor and an engineer would waste a promising future in Bangladesh and prepare to slog in Canada.” Dr. Jamil, however, decided to work hard, deflate his 'deshi' ego and finally became a part of a very small percentage of Bangladeshis who are truly successful in Canada.

Dr. Jamil has a list of pointers that he shares with his clients. “Firstly, finish your basic education in our native country,” he says. “Basic education is defined as an Honour's degree or an undergraduate degree. Also, basic work experience is very helpful as well. Nowadays, many students are working along with studying in their respective colleges and universities, which is a good sign. Secondly, check the list of 38 occupations which are currently being accepted by the Canadian Government. If you can get experience in any of these particular fields for at least a year or two, that would guarantee your immigration for sure. The next step is to sharpen your language skills. Prepare for the IELTS. Basic courses in French would help as well.” After getting the immigration, most people immediately move to Canada. “Don't do that!” says Dr. Jamil. “You have one year to enter Canada, so that gives you enough time. Spend the next two three months researching online, for example your job prospects. Finally after reaching Canada, look for an off-track job, popularly known as an 'odd job' and get into an educational institution for higher studies.” Dr. Jamil stresses on going to school no matter how old one gets, because not only does it give one a chance to explore the Canadian education field, the immigrants will also get a loan from the government. “This loan is enough to run a whole family modestly,” says Dr. Jamil. “You would have to pay it back only after you finish your studies and get a job.”

Most importantly, according to Dr. Jamil, getting immigration to Canada should not be a reason to end ties with your roots in Bangladesh. “Rather this should strengthen your ties with your country,” he says. With an office in New York, Malaysia and Dhaka, Dr. Jamil spends most of his time in Scotia Consultants located in Dhanmondi, Dhaka. “One of the most important things that you need to survive, not only as an immigrant in Canada, but also as a successful human being anywhere in the world, is confidence,” says Dr. Jamil. “Confidence, honesty and a loyalty to your own roots and identity are the keys to success.”

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 13, 2009

Children at the Boi Mela

2009-05-02T18:19:00.012+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

A wide variety of children's books are on display at the Boi Mela.

Fourteen-year-old Synthia Ireen Ria is seen moving from one bookstall to another looking for the latest Mohammad Jafar Iqbal books. She flips through several pages of new arrivals and asks for science fiction and adventure stories, then moves on to the next stall. Ria, as her friends and family members call her, seems a little nervous. Even though she silently expresses her contentment at the fresh new books she finds of her favourite authors, Ria does not leave her father's side. "We came from Mymensingh just for a day," informs Al-Faruk, Ria's father who is a businessman. Carrying lunch boxes, extra water bottles and lists of books that they wanted to buy, both Ria and her father seemed happy to have finally landed at the Ekushey Book Fair all the way from Mymensingh. "I love books and wait for this time of the year all the time," says Ria. "But it gets a little difficult since we don't live in Dhaka. We can only come in the weekends. In fact, after I get my books, we will be leaving for home and then I am not sure if I will be able to come to the fair this year again."

Video CDs and Audio CDs of children's rhymes are on display at the fair.

Once again this year, the Bangla Academy authorities dedicated the first four hours, from 11 am to 3 pm on February 6, 7 and 27 to children and families. This trend was started last year, which had attracted a lot of attention from families with children, who otherwise found it difficult to fight the crowds after 3 pm on weekdays to buy books for children.

Unfortunately, unlike last year, only a handful of families were seen going through books with their children. To add to it all, many of them were not even aware of the fact that the Academy had declared certain days for children. Families were hanging about with their children merely because it was the first weekend after the commencement of the Book Fair and visiting the bookstalls with children on weekdays is unthinkable. Shantosh Rai from Kishore Bhubon, a publishing house specialising in books for children, says that the Academy authorities did not do enough to spread the word around. Otherwise, he says, the weekend mornings would be filled with children. "Printing a small line in the newspapers will not attract attention," says Rai. "It should be announced every day at least once every two hours at the fair. Only then would the 'children's day' concept become a hit amongst parents."

Three-and-half-year-old Sadib Abdullah follows his older brother around, five-year-old Adib Abdullah, who runs from one stall to another, much to the annoyance of his parents, looking for books with colourful pictures. Sadib, who can hardly read his alphabet, demands to carry books just like his older brother Adib. Ruby and Jamshed Kabir, the parents of these handful boys say that they come to the fair every year with their children. It is never too early, they say, to develop a passion towards books and reading from a young age. "We did not know about the days dedicated to children," says Ruby. "We came today because weekdays are filled with people after 3 pm. In any case, children have school on weekdays and it is not possible to bring them then."

Even though most parents were unaware of the special days allotted for children, February 6 and 7 saw plenty of families with screaming children running all about and young teenagers looking about excitedly for books mostly on science and adventure. Tushi who studies in Grade 8 at the Viqarunnisa Noon School simply loves books. Not only is she passionate about reading, besides her school work of course, Tushi and her cousins Sara (Grade 7) and Sumaiya (Grade 6) who go to the same school attend classes on poetry recitation with Pragya Laboni, drawing classes, dance classes and theatre classes as well. The three girls are seen carrying fresh copies of Humayan Ahmed's latest novels, Mohammad Jafar Iqbal's science fiction for children and Anisul Haque's latest works. Also in their stock of books, they were carrying Shukumar Ray's collection of poetry and Rabindranath Tagore's collection of short stories. "We are here with our families," they inform. "We come here every year and buy books. Sometimes, just sitting somewhere inside the Book Fair and reading the books also give one a nice feeling inside." In fact, many groups of teenagers and young people were seen crowding the staircases of the Book Fair Information Centre - some reading, some simply hanging out with their friends and some trying to organise the books they have just bought, before moving on to buy more.

Last week, plenty of books for children were launched, namely, 'Muktijodhara' by Selina Hussain (cover by Mobasshir Alam Mojumdar) from Pathsutro Publications, 'Piprar Americar Bhromon' (cover by Joutha Monisha and Jukta Monon) from Pathsutro Publications, 'Ek Chokhu Rakhosh' by Maruf Rehman (cover by Ahsan Habib) from Shubhro Publications and many others. Teenagers were seen buying Mohammad Jafar Iqbal's 'Icarus' (cover by Dhrubo Esh), a science fiction novel from Somoy Pubications.

Families and their children throng the bookstalls specialising in children's books.

Many bookstores like Kishore Bhubon, Phulki, Bonolota, Tumtumi and many more were dedicated to children's publications. One such publication house, Patabahar, participated at the Book Fair this year for the very first time. Patabahar was filled with children where they were buying picture books, colouring books, stories based on villages in Bangladesh, talking animals and also translations of famous fairy tales and children's stories like Sindbad's Adventures, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and much more. Starting out officially as a publishing house in 2008, Patabahar has published 70 books in the last one year. The young woman supervising the bookstall mentions that their very first year is an absolute hit with the children and their parents! "I like the idea of dedicating a few days only for children," she says. "But I also think that the Children's Corner that the Ekushey Boi Mela used to flaunt previously should be re-installed. With a corner for children, it is so much safer for them to browse through books on normal weekdays." The bookstalls were not the only ones, which were being thronged by children of all ages. The Bangladesh Computer Samity was playing famous rhymes in Bangla, which were attracting many children and their parents. Many were seen buying Video CDs and Audio CDs of age-old rhymes both in Bangla and English. The stall supervisors at Radio Foorti's stall in the corner were inviting children to recite poetry, which were being broadcast live on the radio station.

13-year-old Sumaiya Rashid is all smiles after she recites 'Lichu Chor' on Radio Footri. Her sisters, 15-year-old Suraiya Rashid and 21-year-old Rokeya Rashid, along with their mother, are seen moving about from one book stall to another as soon as the book fair opened at 11 am that morning. While Suraiya's arms are filled with science fiction books that she bought at the fair that day (Mohammad Jafar Iqbal is her favourite author), her older sister Rokeya prefers translations. "I have always liked the Ekushey Book Fair and am a regular visitor," says Rokeya. "I think it is very thoughtful of the Academy for dedicating a few days to only children. This way, more families will be encouraged to bring their children to the fair. I personally believe that more and more children will actually enjoy reading."

Special days for children at the Boi Mela encourage them to buy and read more books.

Those who have missed out on the special days for children still have a chance to visit the Boi Mela with children on February 27, the last day dedicated to children this year at the Ekushey Book Fair. In any case, the fair opens at 11 am in the morning on weekends, which is a good time to visit the Boi Mela, especially for those who have children tagging along and those who would prefer to avoid crowds.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 13, 2009

With the Crowd

2009-05-02T18:04:00.007+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

It was the beginning of yet another month-long Ekushey Boi Mela last Sunday, when scores of people with their friends and families had gathered outside the Bangla Academy gates. Security was beefed up on the very first day of the fair, which was officially launched by the Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina. Quite a number of students, after-work professionals and visitors were waiting to get inside the Boi Mela. The inauguration ceremony also attracted plenty of visitors who were crowding up outside the Bangla Academy premises to catch a glimpse of the Prime Minister.

Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina urged to publish good quality books at a low price so that people could make a habit of buying and reading books.

At the ceremony, Hasina said that her government would ensure a congenial atmosphere in all the educational institutions across the country and reduce session jams at any cost. This came at a time when a number of different public universities and colleges in the country have witnessed a series of violent activities. "No country can develop without education," she said. She added that her government will soon be making education free up to the bachelor degree / undergraduate level. She also urged the young generation to develop a habit of reading books. Hasina asked the Bangla Academy authorities to take appropriate measures so that the people of other countries can learn about Bangladesh's culture and literature. Moreover, she asked them to take steps to preserve digitally the historical documents and books of Bangla literature and culture, including the language movement and the war of liberation. To the publishers at the fair, Hasina urged to publish good quality books at a low price so that people could make a habit of buying and reading books.

However, because the ceremony started off an hour later than the scheduled time, the crowd waiting to get inside the fair for more than two hours at a stretch, became bigger and impatient. "I come every year with my cousins and friends," says 17-year-old Reba, a student of a government higher secondary institution in Kalabagan. Dressed in school uniforms, Reba and her friends soon became tired of waiting for the gates to open and began to go through the books at the stalls lined up outside the Bangla Academy. This year, as many as 100 or more stalls have been located outside the Bangla Academy grounds. According to the Academy's Director General Dr. Syed Mohammad Shahed, this move has been taken because of the lack of space inside the premises.

Shahjuddin, a businessman in his early-50s was seen going through books and chatting with the stall keeper at Proshika's. Located outside the Academy grounds this year, Proshika, along with a few other stalls had plenty of visitors buying books already, thanks to the crowds stuck outside the gates. "I had come to the Ekushey Boi Mela for the first time in 1972," informed the enthusiastic businessman. "I was only in class 4 and my teacher had brought me and a few others to the fair. Since then, it is practically my 'duty' to come here every other day and visit every stall." The first Ekushey Boi Mela was, in fact, organised on February 21, 1972 by Chittaranjan Saha of Muktodhara publishing house, which started a little sale in front of the Bangla Academy. As other publishers joined in, the fair gradually became official and one of the most popular book fairs in Bangladesh. In 1978, the Bangla Academy finally took over the organisation of the Boi Mela.

Finally, a little before six in the evening, the crowd stepped inside the Ekushey Boi Mela and began to line up at different stalls to grab their favourite books by famous authors. Moving through the winter dust, a small crowd was seen hurrying towards Annya Prakash, a popular publishing house, that attracts scores of book lovers, especially because of their Humayan Ahmed 'Himu' bestsellers. However, even though Annya Prakash does have books and novels by popular writers namely Mohammad Zafar Iqbal and Humayan Ahmed, this year the 'Himu' set of books - 'Himur Babar Kothamala' and 'Himur Modhyodupur' - has been published by Annesha, yet another popular publisher.

The month of the 'Ekushey Boi Mela' is filled with celebrations and reunions of old friends, not to mention writers, poets and artists, both contemporary and senior.

This year, a total number of 436 stalls have been allocated to 297 institutions and publishing houses. The fair will remain open for all from 3:00 pm to 9:00 pm on working days and from 11:00 am to 9:00 pm on weekends. On February 21, on the occasion of International Mother Language Day, the fair will remain open from 8:00 in the morning to 10:00 pm. On February 6, 7 and 27, the fair will remain open for families, women and children only, a trend that was begun by the Academy last year, from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm, after which the fair opens to all till 9:00 pm. Even though this has been subject to criticism by some, many appreciate these special days because it gives the children an opportunity to move about freely from one bookstall to another. This way, their reading habits can be encouraged.

The month of the 'Ekushey Boi Mela' is filled with celebrations and reunions of old friends, not to mention writers, poets and artists, both contemporary and senior. One only hopes that the fair marks the beginning of an era where young people will give importance to learning and gathering knowledge and resort to solving problems through education and research instead of violence and corruption.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
February 6, 2009

Thirty Years with Valerie Taylor

2009-05-02T17:44:00.005+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

Thirty years ago, when Valerie Taylor had made the decision to stay back in Bangladesh and devote herself to the cause of serving the paralysed and for those suffering from spinal injuries, all she had was an abandoned warehouse of the Shaheed Suhrawardy Hospital to run her centre. Today, the Centre for the Rehabilitation of the Paralysed (CRP) has grown to include more than 100 beds in addition to providing rehabilitation treatments. The centre also includes recreational services including vocational training for the poor and a sports area. For eleven years, Valerie and her team were moving around from one place to another and providing treatment to poor patients. "We were 'gypsies' for a long time before we bought some land for ourselves," says Valerie. CRP is now spread over more than 15 acres of land in Savar.

CRP has grown to include more than 100 beds in addition to providing rehabilitation treatments.

Celebrating its 30th anniversary, this year, CRP plans to celebrate with family and friends - former workers, patients and donors who have been supporting this organisation for the last three decades. "We are still coming up with ideas for events and celebration," exclaims Valerie. "CRP plans to arrange an event every month. This month there is going to be a get-together of all former and current employees. Many, who had worked with for a decade or so, are now settled abroad. They have come CRP to Dhaka for the celebrations as well.

Valerie Taylor

There have been several ups and downs in the last three decades, says Valerie. "I won't lie and say that everything has been smooth," says Valerie. "We did face several major obstacles while running this establishment. However, what has been gratifying is that CRP has lots of supporters and friends who have always been with us." About a year ago, several organisations, media personalities and supporters had been outraged when the board of trustees for CRP arbitrarily removed Valerie, the organisation's founder and main promoter, from her position as coordinator citing her engagement in activities that are "prejudicial and detrimental to the interest of the CRP". According to inside sources, however, the board removed Taylor as the coordinator because of a two-and-a-half-year disagreement between her and a section of the board who decided to raise the fee for the patients by several folds making it increasingly difficult for the large body of "ultra-poor" patients of the organisation. Thanks to the petitions and continuous efforts made by the media and CRP supporters, the crisis was resolved and Valerie was restored to her rightful position in the organisation. "We were driven to go on and never give up, in spite of all the obstacles that we faced over the years," exclaims Valerie.

Besides several diploma courses, CRP now boasts three new Bachelor of Science programmes on Speech Therapy, Occupation Therapy and Physiotherapy. "We just had admission tests and plenty of students applied for these programmes," says Valerie. "We hope to have more next year." Affiliated with Dhaka University, these programmes have gained a lot of popularity amongst young students. "Every year we have trainers and experts who come in from different parts of the world to work here voluntarily," adds Valerie. For instance, this year, CRP has a specialist in speech therapy all the way from Canada. "However, I was shocked when I could not find a single specialist in Bangladesh in this field."

Many refer to Valerie Taylor as Mother Valerie, simply because of her loving nature and a continuous effort to protect the weak and poor. In her mid-sixties, Valerie still dreams of spreading CRP to all the five divisions in Bangladesh. "That's my vision now," says a smiling Valerie. "Which might just take another 30 years or so."

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
January 30, 2009

Standing up for Children

2009-05-02T17:29:00.006+06:00

Photos: Zahedul I Khan

Nine-year-old Fatima spends a lot of time with her drawing book. She picks out a dark shade of green from her set of crayons and carefully fills in the sketch of a tree. "I like to draw pictures of village scenes," she says, pointing to her drawing of a village morning, splashed out in bright red, orange, yellow, brown and green. "I also write poetry in Bangla," she remarks as she runs to get her notebook where she has written a poem about her mother. "We had our annual sports day a while back," says Fatima with a sudden catch in her voice. "I participated, but did not win anything."

Unlike other nine-year-old, Fatima is a domestic worker. She, along
with other domestic workers her age, attends classes set up by Phulki in Karail for two hours every morning.

Fatima might sound like just another child, but unlike other nine-year-olds, she is a domestic worker. She lives in a slum located in Karail with her parents, both of who work. Fatima works as a part time domestic help from 2:30 pm to 5:30 pm in a house located inside the TNT Colony. She cleans the house, does the dishes and washes clothes. In fact, there are several children in Karail, mainly girls, who work as full-time or part-time domestic workers in nearby areas like the TNT Colony and Banani. Most of these children start working from the age of five or six.

Phulki, a non-profit organisation has embarked on a project that works with these domestic girl workers. The project was set up in 2006, which educates these young child workers. This innovative initiative aims to develop a social 'safety net' for the thousands of young girls working in homes across Bangladesh without access to counselling, skill training, education or legal services. Running this project in the slums and colonies of Karail, Pikepara and Rupnagar, child domestic workers attend classes in small rooms set up by Phulki, five days a week from 10 am - 12:30 pm in the mornings and 2 pm - 4:30 pm in the evenings. Each school has one teacher and an 'ayah' to look after the children. Fatima and others like her living in Karail learn how to read and write Bangla, basic math, cooking, sewing, ironing clothes etc. They also have art classes, including music and dance classes. Phulki meaning 'spark' in Bangla began to work for children's rights and women's empowerment in the year 1991. Partnered with Water Aid Bangladesh, Action Aid Bangladesh, Plan International, Global Fund for Children, Manusher Jonno, Oxfam and Shapla Neer, Phulki envisages a future where children can grow in an environment that is not only secure and healthy but also provides them with a proper education. The organisation's mission is to create a safe atmosphere for working mothers who would otherwise have to sacrifice their children's well being. Currently, Phulki has programmes addressing children from 6 weeks to 18 years of age, through the establishment of childcare centres, applying the Child-to-Child education approach, and training programs. One of Phulki's initial programmes was the establishment of childcare centres in several slum areas and colonies. These centres are also established in several garment factories.

In Bangladesh, a child working as domestic worker is common. Although official data is not available, according to some NGO reports, there are approximately two million children engaged in domestic work in Bangladesh. Families living in slum areas and trying to survive under the poverty line prefer to send their children, as young as five or six, to work and help earn a living. These child domestic workers are usually hidden from public scrutiny since they stay alone in the households. Their employers control their lives. As their poor parents live far away in the rural areas and villages, it gets very difficult for them to defend and protect their children in case of abuse, exploitation, not to mention the children's deteriorating health conditions as well. The fate of these child domestic workers rests largely on the mercy of their employers. In recent years, several cases of abuse and torture of child domestic workers by their employers have been reported by the media. Ironically, many of these employers belong to 'well-to-do' and 'educated families'.

In a country like ours, abolishing chid labour without providing a safety net for the family to earn more is not a viable solution. Suraiya Haque, the Executive Director of Phulki, says that poverty is, after all, the root of all evil in Bangladesh. "The children will not stop working," she says. "And the poor parents will not stop sending them to look for work. Otherwise, most girls will just end up getting married at the age of 9 or 10 or maybe even less. The idea is - why not just marry them off, getting rid of the extra mouth to feed in the family?" At least, adds Suraiya, this way Phulki is able to keep track of the whereabouts of the female children who otherwise fall prey to other tribulations in society.

Nine-year-old Farzana is a part-time domestic worker and works at the TNT Colony every evening. She spends her mornings in the one-room school set up by Phulki. "My favourite class is art class," she says. In the beginning, when she had just started to work, she was paid a measly amount because of her lack of skills. Now she knows not only how to read, write and also her tables, she has been taught how to iron clothes, cooking and maintain personal hygiene as well. "One of the major changes that take place here is the self-confidence the children develop," says Suraiya. "Very recently, one of our girls actually went up to her employer and bargained for a higher salary. She argued that she was now skilled and deserved more! The employer also agreed to the deal."

The Phulki programme, of educating child domestic workers, aims to develop a social 'safety net' for the thousands of girls working in homes across the country.

This project has benefited both the domestic workers and their employers. "In the beginning it was very difficult to even speak to the employers about this project," says Sabera Yeasmin, the Project Manager. "Some of them would not even listen to us. However, eventually the employers agreed to send their domestic workers to our schools and now they appreciate the changes that they find in the children." To an extent, the employers play an important role once their domestic workers are registered with the Phulki schools. One such employer even organised special cooking classes in her own kitchen for the children since the Phulki schoolrooms are too small to demonstrate or teach properly. "There was one gentleman in Kalyanpur who was very reluctant to speak to us in the beginning," says Sabera. "However, once his domestic worker got enrolled in Phuki, the employer got involved with the management as well. He now attends all of our meetings and helps us take decisions."

The children in Karail are excited. "We are going to have our sports day in February," informs 10-year-old Rabeya. Rabeya is probably the only full time worker in her group and attends the morning classes in Karail. "We will also get to sing and arrange dance shows for the event," she adds. It was a treat to see a spark in the eyes of Rabeya, Fathima, Farzana and other children who reassure the moments spent in their Phulki classrooms. These children who spend their childhood working as servants in peoples' homes discover their hidden talents for painting, singing, sewing or simply creating and expressing their thoughts and feelings in front of the world.

Even then, our society has to move a long way forward to provide children their right to a proper education. Even today, thousands of children wander the streets, defenceless and unaware of the malice that surrounds them. Until and unless the government prioritises the provision of basic education and shelter for every child on the street, it will be a Herculean task for the nation to eliminate poverty and unemployment in the next few decades.

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2009
January 9, 2009

On Screen Inspiration

2009-04-23T01:50:00.002+06:00

“Everybody wants to be us” – smiles Miranda Priestly as she puts on her sun glasses and gets off the car. But before she does that, for just a speck of a second, a world of pain washes over her face. In an earlier scene, her ‘self’ is exposed much more when she speaks about her divorce to Andrea. A ‘dragon lady’ – she calls herself.

Meryl Streep is fabulous. And every time I watch ‘The Devil wears Prada’, I fall in love with Miranda’s character -- her portrayal of the inner strength that she exudes helping her to very well survive a world of fashion and stereotypes otherwise known to be ruthless.

You left me, sweet, two legacies - Emily Dickinson

2009-04-15T15:59:00.003+06:00

YOU left me, sweet, two legacies,—
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain 5
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

Missed the Circus

2009-03-24T03:11:00.003+06:00

How long does hatred exist between two people or two groups of people or two nations? This is not poetry, but a serious question. How long, for that matter, does love exist between two individuals?
Hatred or love is very momentary, very temporary. I think the 'Fall of Icarus' should have taught us much more - that life moves on, the cycle of birth and death is not interrupted and beings are still eating and shitting, like always.
Surprisingly enough, it is difficult to grab a little bit of 'Independence' and put it in a glass jar, like we do with butterflies and fireflies. We don't know what to do with it then. Instead, we give the glass jar to someone else, someone we think we love and believe ourselves to be self-righteous little saints.
It is time that we wiped the goody-two-shoed-lolly-popped smiles off of our faces, opened our eyes and cleaned the glasses squeaky-clean. There are the bright spaces of the city that we have missed. We missed the circus - the clown with the purple nose, the sad eyes and the tattered clothes, wobbling from one place to another, selling amusements for very little.
This country is mine and I plan to walk through every gate, fix the lights on every dark alley and jump over all the 'topless-manholes'.
So sue me.

Some of Life's Lessons

2009-03-21T06:38:00.005+06:00

It's early in the morning and I am now in the process of slowly being pinned down by the millions of thoughts hovering inside my little head.

Things that I have learned in life the hard way:

* You clean a little bit of your room everyday - throw away the unwanted, the 'lingerings' or the trash (in other words), your life will be so much easier.

* Never crave for a juicy club sandwich, especially when you have just had your rice, deshi chicken, potatoes and dal.

* Do not fall for the adverts - especially the tearjerker telecom ads that they show on TV nowadays. You still have to pay.

* Time does not stand still. NEWSFLASH: The clock on the mantel - is broken.

* Fairy-tale princes do not exist. White horses do, however.

* There is no such thing as a 'tomorrow'. So start dieting NOW.

Gibberish - iii

2009-02-09T01:03:00.002+06:00

It’s dark and silent out here. A run-down wheel and a broken lantern, placed in front of a wall, a billboard, with half a smile of the shiny whites, a muffled cough and then a sudden cry – or maybe a gasp. Everything is so empty. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks.

It’s dark and silent and empty. Your hands hold on to you, give you comfort. You examine your pain and provide solace. You wipe your own tears and smile at the nothingness. There’s no one else out there. You hold out your hands, close your eyes, and try to touch warmth, skin, life. There’s no one out there. It’s dark and silent and empty and dark and cold. Whispers, maybe, but no buses or trucks or traffic policemen or the usual shrills of a watchman’s whistle.

You hold your heart and examine your pain and then smile out into the nothingness.

If You Forget Me - Pablo Neruda

2009-01-31T17:13:00.001+06:00

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Blizzard

2009-01-24T23:16:00.002+06:00

It was a cold day today. The wind was bitter. It hurt my skin.

Tonight, it is freezing. And my heart is frozen.

You'll See - Madonna

2009-01-19T20:08:00.002+06:00

You think that I can't live without your love
You'll see,
You think I can't go on another day.
You think I have nothing
Without you by my side,
You'll see
Somehow, some way

You think that I can never laugh again
You'll see,
You think that you destroyed my faith in love.
You think after all you've done
I'll never find my way back home,
You'll see
Somehow, someday

All by myself
I don't need anyone at all
I know I'll survive
I know I'll stay alive,
All on my own
I don't need anyone this time
It will be mine
No one can take it from me
You'll see

You think that you are strong, but you are weak
You'll see,
It takes more strength to cry, admit defeat.
I have truth on my side,
You only have deceit
You'll see, somehow, someday

All by myself
I don't need anyone at all
I know I'll survive
I know I'll stay alive,
I'll stand on my own
I won't need anyone this time
It will be mine
No one can take it from me
You'll see

You'll see, you'll see
You'll see, mmmm, mmmm

A Battered Triangle

2009-01-04T22:06:00.003+06:00

Nope, I am not mad.
I am not angry and I am not furious.
I am not lost and I do not see things moving in the distant light shimmering in through the curtains.
I have had bad hair days this whole week and I suck at what I write.
Dear Sir, this is to inform you that the '6 number bus' hit me on its way to Tejagon…

I am a penguin, because penguins are cute. I like penguins.
I like you too. I think you're cute too. I couldn't be you though.
You are round and I am a triangle.
I can be round. Just a little twitch there and a pull here, and there you go.
I am round, just like you, not as perfect though.
Will I do? I am sure I will do.
I wouldn't want you to be a battered triangle.

Robot

2008-07-02T21:10:00.003+06:00

Tear out my heart, remove my name,

Deny my existence and choose to ignore me.

Tell me I am lame, I am blind,

I am actually a raggedy-ragged doll.

I am still around though.

With red-apple cheeks and shining-fairy-tale eyes at dusk,

At dawn, I turn out to be the Robot that I really am.

Gibberish – ii

2008-04-06T10:09:00.002+06:00

How do you keep that smile pasted on your face?

Your eagerness to please everyone around,

Your ‘lols’ and ‘hugs’ to every stern look,

And the sweetness dripping from your voice,

Makes me want to puke and scream out loud.

Gibberish - i

2008-03-11T21:34:00.003+06:00

When I am lonely and thinking of nothing in particular, I like the smell of paper.
The grainy touch and the smooth dampness, where the million people search for a reflection.
Fills up my throat with an unfamiliar, intoxicating longing to dive into the river, naked and crying.

Over The Rainbow by Harold Arlen (music) and EH Harburg (lyrics)

2007-12-23T13:41:00.000+06:00

When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around
Heaven opens a magic lane
When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There's a rainbow highway to be found
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun
Just a step beyond the rain

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true

Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
Some day I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me
Where troubles melt like lemondrops
Away above the chimney tops
That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?

Imagine by John Lennon

2007-12-21T17:36:00.000+06:00

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

How Can I Keep From Singing by Enya

2007-10-17T01:44:00.000+06:00

My life goes on in endless song
Above earths lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing,
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

While though the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth.
And though the darkness round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to that rock Im clinging.
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble in their fear
And hear their death knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging,
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?

The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt

2007-09-17T05:08:00.000+06:00

Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly.
Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy,
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there.

Oh no, no, said the little Fly, to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair, can ne'er come down again.

I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high
Will you rest upon my little bed? said the Spider to the Fly.
There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!

Oh no, no, said the little Fly, for I've often heard it said
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice
I'm sure you're very welcome, will you please to take a slice?

Oh no, no, said the little Fly, Kind Sir, that cannot be,
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!

Sweet creature! said the Spider, you're witty and you're wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.

I thank you, gentle sir, she said, for what you 're pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day.

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.

Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing,
Your robes are green and purple, there's a crest upon your head
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!

Alas, alas! How very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue

Thinking only of her crested head, poor foolish thing! At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour, but she ne'er came out again!

And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed.
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

"Tonight I Can Write" By Pablo Neruda

2007-09-06T01:55:00.001+06:00

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "The night is starry
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is starry and she is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.

Watch Me Grow

2007-09-05T01:52:00.000+06:00

I believe its human nature to somehow take the good things in life for granted and forever mope around the not so good things in life. We tend to put aside our blessings, thinking of counting them another day, while running after things probably never meant for us in the first place.

It was a wonderful day today. People, who I had thought were lost, somehow came back into existence. Phone calls, text messages, e-cards, not to mention gifts all the way from kangaroo land and wonderful surprises the whole day.

A few of my crazy friends barged into my office with cake and flowers crawling with insects and sang to me. I was trying to be not embarrassed in front of colleagues who were trying to seem all indifferent towards the crazy situation. Some were desperately trying to sing along with my friends while chewing on to chicken bones. I got lots of hugs today, sweet words and wishes for a long and prosperous life. One even held up his hands, praying to the almighty; let this be the year of a ‘prince in shining armour’ to finally enter my life and sweep me off my feet. Sigh! The day ended with yet another birthday cake, with melting candles and three completely new friends at Café Mango Gulshan.

It suddenly feels like I am shedding my worn-out skin and watching the new one taking place with sparkles and hope in my eyes. I never imagined turning 25 without some friends who don’t seem to exist now at all. I guess I will have to do with the new skin on my back.

I will start over and learn everything from scratch. Counting sun rays through the curtains of my windows will be a thrill once again, and the moon would surely be following me around every night. Darkness will scare me out of my wits and it would be a thrill to make a new friend all over.

Living life would be an exhilarating experience all over, and I am willing to take a chance. Not giving up as yet, so watch while I fill the space with my stupidity, while you fill yours with vengeance.

Old Age and Trunks

2007-07-15T13:56:00.000+06:00

I think I am going to have one of those days again, when hardly anything goes right. For one thing, I have to finish at least half of my cover story today, attend this boring Shakespeare class at 6 pm and then go all the way to Dhanmondi where I have to join my friends at Gazi's sister's holud.

Even two years ago, this would have been just any other day. Getting up in the morning, attending a number of classes (let's ignore the bunking period, sitting and moping at Bashori!), going to work, assignments, homework, student activity clubs, exams, shows, phone calls, the plastic smiles and I could go on and on and on. And now, I simply can't manage a day where I can probably count off the things that I need to do on my fingers! I guess this is what you call old age?

I doubt it. I am turning 25 in September 2007, and that’s not really old, is it? Kaushik da says that once you turn 25, you lose track of time and suddenly see yourself as a 40-year-old. Ok now that’s scary!

The days are turning out to be so drab and depressing. Is it because of the heat? I wonder. This heat makes me crazy and mad and makes me want to do crazy things like, cutting my hair off! Now why would that be something crazy??

I have this eerie sensation of this huge trunk, weighing on top of my head, filled with things that I need to sort out before taking the next step. It's getting heavier and heavier by the moment and I don’t know when it will just burst open and spill everything on the ground. Things would get messier. Maybe I should think about fixing and sorting out the trunk as soon as possible, before it becomes all the more unbearable.

Going back to work.

Approaching the Battle Field

2007-07-01T00:10:00.000+06:00

I am going to the impossible tonight.

No, I am not going jump off my third floor balcony and see if I can actually pull a Bionic Woman stunt. I don’t think I would scream out loud either, though I really want to. I so wish I could walk all the way to St. Martin’s and just go on walking till my legs get tired.

I am going to get everything back. My sanity, my sense of being, the genuine smile and enthusiasm over anything and everything under the sun.

I don’t think it’s silly to want to fly, sit on a cloud and watch the world down below. I want to believe that there will be world peace and eventually all men and women will be equal and there will be no more wars and we can all chase butterflies and paint flowers and make music. I want to believe in the goodness of mankind.

Curled up on a couch, reading Gone with the Wind in my pajamas and crying with Scarlet O’Hara, eating apples and mangoes from a bowl; its raining outside, making loud splashing sounds while the maid runs outside to get the freshly washed clothes from the line (sounds delicious, like freshly baked cakes!).

I remember brightening up every time I would get a whiff of the wet earth or burning leaves.

I am going to do the impossible tonight. It’s a step towards attaining inner peace. I’ll be getting closer to the spiritual being that keeps slipping away every other day.

I am going to clean my room tonight. God as my witness, no matter how long it takes, I will scrub every inch and throw every unnecessary bit of paper. A good beginning, indeed.

Temper Tantrums

2007-06-26T22:18:00.000+06:00

I finally got done with the story. And of course, had a little help from the boss herself to arrange the paragraphs and the ideas a little bit. It doesn’t look bad. Lets see what happens this Friday.

I had a pretty bad day today. I have been trying to keep my temper under control, but the more I try to do that, the worse it becomes. Like for instance, the other day I was screaming at both my mom and my dad, basically having an argument with my mother where my father was the referee. Now the thing is, I have been telling myself for days, to calm down and not to start screaming with ammu especially when abbu is going to be around for a couple of months. The whole thing is so juvenile and immature. Why do I have to scream at people to prove a point?

To make matters worse, I ended up screaming at Ashish da today at work. It was a little embarrassing. I know I could have kept my mouth shut, but I am so tired of people talking about things that they know nothing about! He made a random comment about a judge on Drockstars. It was really nothing and I could have stopped myself from screaming. But I don’t know what came over me and I screamed at him. I literally screamed at him and created a scene.

My horoscope for today even says that I should be a little careful about relating my feelings too openly with people since I might create a scene. I wish I had read it earlier, before anything actually happened.

So much for trying to get a hold on my emotions!

Block

2007-06-24T22:30:00.000+06:00

I am so unsure of what I am doing. I had assumed that working on this story would probably be better for me, but everything is just getting hazier and I can actually see numbers and figures doing somersaults in front of my eyes!! I so need to scream!

I should have worked on this longer or maybe just should have given it to someone else in the team to work on. What in the world do I know about the Bangladesh economy and how the remittance has increased from a 3.8 to a 6 billion USD? And these figures have changed so much in the last few months that it is so hard to keep up with them!

I can only see and understand the plight of the poor young men with big dreamy eyes who want to flee to a foreign country for the sake of a better life and three meals a day. They sacrifice everything, their country, their families and step into this zone, which always existed only in their dreams. They move on and face the hardships, in spite of the uncertainties that prevail.

I can't seem to write a proper sentence anymore. There is no coherence, no sense, no impact, and no soul. I have no enthusiasm and I practically see everything in black and white and grey. I think I need to go home and sleep. It's almost 11 pm and I am still at work, typing away nonsense and have no idea what do for my cover.

A weary-eyed cofession

2007-03-31T02:19:00.000+06:00

I am SO PROUD of my abilities:D

I believe that I am a true communicator, or probably getting their soon. I can talk to people, smile at them, make them believe that the sun is really made of gold. My eyes can speak loud and clear, they define the all-worldly aura, pure sophistication, comprehension of the mind, soul and the heart. I understand. I am one of you. I am a part of you. I know how the world can get to you, sure, I have been there, done that. I am here for you. Look at me smiling out, shining and standing out in the crowd.

I am proud of my written word. Silence can sometimes work as a way out of many dilemmas; silence is strong, powerful. However, the written word takes over silence and gives it shape. You fix your points, defense and all the vocabulary you can gather. You make a list of your aims and targets and predict a probable future. You pick a point and talk about the pros and cons. I do that all the time, and smile at my success. The pen (in this case the keyboard) is indeed mightier than the sword.

But, you are too powerful for my words and all my worldly reasonings. I, thus, bow down to you, to your superior being, to the power of your dominance and the glamour that you showcase. You light up the dark with your stature, with a mere look, a shrug and a nod.

I suffocate yet I wonder at the space you create.

I bow down to you and look at you to write my fate . I now have silence for you, a peaceful and sweet silence for you to taste.

Now I belong to you.

Memory Attack - (i)

2007-03-30T01:58:00.000+06:00

There are many a time when I get hit by a rush of memories. Sometimes they make me sad, at times they make me laugh out loud, smile secretly or just cry like a baby. It is an usual scene for me, so it really is not a big deal:) Recently, however, I have been getting these rushes of flashes and memory-attacks a whole lot more than usual.

During the Gulf War (the first one of course), we had to flee to Jeddah, the Western Province from Dhahran, the Eastern Province, where we lived in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I was not more than 7 or 8 and used to have tons of fun with my cousin Kashfi, who used to go to the International Philippines School back then. I asked her to teach me a song that she learnt at school.

It was a very sweet song, and I loved the childlike flow to it while singing. I put the lyric below, though I am sure I forgot a few of the words.

Smile the while you kiss me sad adieu,
When the clouds go by I'll come to you,
La la la ta da ta da,
Till we meet again, my dear.

Wedding bells will ring so merrily,
Every tear, will be a memory,
So wait and pray each night for me,
Till we meet again.

Now when I remember this song, or just hum it to myself, I realise the sorrow being expressed here. It's beautiful yet sad, especially when one sings it. Whoever wrote it definitely has a way with words and also has a beautiful way of saying goodbye, very moving.

Lighting a Candle for the Martyrs

2007-03-27T00:07:00.000+06:00

The best part about Independence Day to me is the night before when the survivors and the witnesses from the war relive the moments and share them with the world. I was watching people like Shireen Haq and Sultana Kamal on television last night and was listening to what they had to say.

More than what they had to say, what intrigued me was what their eyes had to say instead. When Bangladesh was declared an independent country, names of several intellectuals and people who actually made a difference in the country were being announced on Betar. Names like Munier Chowdhury, Shahidullah Kaiser and many more were being announced, when Sultana and her little sister heard their mother’s name being announced as well, as one of those who had to sacrifice life in return for freedom. She had to hear it on the radio, that along with all the intellectuals who were brutally killed, her mother was one of them. As she said, it was very difficult to absorb.

My imagination, which sometimes crosses its own limits, led me to actually see reflections of houses burning, people running away, murder and rape in their eyes – all the more vibrant, expressive and scared.

Lighting a candle for each martyr is probably not enough.

But I have so much to be thankful for:

three meals a day
a roof on my head
the option to choose my way of life (well…..)
spending a holiday doing absolutely nothing
taking life for granted

And so much more.

This write up might not make much sense to some, but I was just writing down my thoughts, trying to figure out what I would have done if I were a child of the 70’s and watched my family being dragged to the hell hole, screaming and crying and scared and absolutely pathetic. I guess you would need more strength to watch a loved one suffer and rather take it on yourself.

Nonetheless, the spirits of those are in fact walking around, at least I believe they are, watching us, listening to us speak, in fact even watching me write this silly entry. Maybe they are even screaming, trying to stop those who are corrupting and re-writing history.

I walk free and question those who block my path, not that I get an answer, but I still ask.

For an independent Bangladesh, on its 36th year: March 26, 2007.

Anything but that

2007-03-17T03:28:00.001+06:00

Oh! To get drunk and jump off a roof!

Flying and flying, and floating in the air,
The wind blowing; it's a dark dark night.
It's a dark dark night and I can see through everything.

As Meatloaf sings,
"I would do anything for love...
But I won't do that.."

Tying the Knot Tight

2007-03-11T00:44:00.000+06:00

White weddings charmed me as a little girl. They still do sometimes. Owing to volumes of fairy tales in my collection, and of course all the Hollywood and 'Bollywood' flicks that I have been watching repeatedly over the years, I naturally fell in love with stories ending with a 'and they lived happily ever after'. I took it for granted and expected every story that I read or watched on the tube to end in the very same way.

With eyes aging a little more than five-years-old, I watched in wonder the glamour and the glitter on television. As I sipped on my homemade orange juice, I watched intently as the happy young couple finally got what they wanted, a chance to be together for the rest of their lives. There were horses, a carriage, a jewelled umbrella, the blushing bride covered in red and gold, a handsome groom sitting next to her wearing a traditional turban and a sword by his side, ready to slay any dragon that would cross his lady's path. I would sigh and wonder about my knight in a shining armour, riding a white stallion, sweeping me off my feet and taking me far, far away from the wicked witches in the castles, ogres under the bridges and also from all those bullies at the playground at school. I was clearly tired of the woes in my life by then and was looking for a way to freedom.

Over the years, the vision of this knight on a white horse lingered on for quite some time, before fading away with the rest of my fairytale characters. I stopped building castles, fighting pirates at sea and asking my father questions about how magicians do their magic. I realised, while growing up, that if by default, being a girl had automatically made me a part of certain institutions, philosophies and social nets created by the people themselves. I was suddenly being judged and dictated. Words like decorum and dignity, as Julie Garwood would say, were being drummed into me. This time I had a different list of questions to ask.

Still a buff for glitter and mushy movies from 'Bollywood', I was obviously taken by the title 'Vivah', starring Shahid Kapoor with his heart stealing smiles and the sweet Amrita Rao. Though topping the charts in India, I was fairly disappointed with the ideas that prevail in our society, shown through this movie, though it was indeed an eye-opener for many a hard core patriarch. At the end of the movie, the heroine is seen suffering from severe burns from a fire that starts at her home, amidst all the joyous wedding preparations by family members and neighbours living in the colony. As she is taken to the hospital, her family is shown shattered, merely for the fact that the girl now, will not be able to get married the next day as scheduled. In fact, with her burns, she might never be able to get married at all. In a nutshell, she now has no significant purpose for surviving in society.

Even today, in a society like ours, a man, with a stable job, a proper bank account, a flat or two to his name and finally a wife to look after him, bear him heirs and look pretty and cheerful at family get-togethers, is defined as a complete human being. A woman, on the other hand, is never close to completing her sense of femininity if she does not marry, no matter how much she has worked to become a financial and a social equal to her male counterpart. Indeed, marriage plays a very significant role in defining as to who one really is, especially for a woman.

I remember a few months ago, while I was standing in line to pay the cashier at the super market, I spotted a girl of about 12 with her mother standing in the line next to mine. The mother, a dignified and a soft-spoken woman was explaining to her friend, waiting in the same line, as to how many dentists she had to consult for the sake of her daughter. I noticed that the little girl had a tooth missing right in front, which she had lost with a bad fall while playing at school. I figured that her mother was talking about one of those artificial teeth, which would cost her a fortune. I was suddenly feeling warm and fuzzy inside. Here was a mother who was genuinely worried about her little girl and was doing all she could to fix her tooth. Motherly love thought I, giving a thought or two to my own mother who was waiting at home for the grocery. “She won't get any good marriage proposals if we don't do anything about her tooth now, bhabi,” I hear her say next. “Oh yes!” replied the bhabi. “Now you will have to pay a fortune for both her tooth and a grand wedding when she is older.” That very day, the little girl learnt yet another lesson about growing up as woman in our society.

Right from the birth of a baby girl to the day she is finally married off, the parents are constantly doing everything they can to build their daughters according to what a probable suitor in the future would want in a wife. They are taught how to cook, not to develop their survival instincts, but to please their future husbands. They are taught to sew and knit, not for the beauty of the art, but to mend the button or the torn socks in a future household. There was a time when women were not sent to school since no one would want a wife who knew more than her husband. Women were then sent to school, since their husbands wanted wives who could at least read and write, but many would never finish university since it was not necessary, especially after getting married. Men then wanted 'working-women' as wives, giving rise to many a woman taking up a subject under Humanities at university for a respectable teaching position at a local school or college. Even today, parents think twice about funding an education in subjects like Physiotherapy dentistry for their daughters, for the fear of a suitor who would refuse to bear the tuition fees in the future.

The dream of a 'good marriage proposal' becomes the standard line for every other girl, or rather her parents. I wonder at the parents who used to bury their newborn baby girls years ago. There are times when I feel that maybe the parents were actually doing the babies a big favour rather than committing a crime. A life, with the purpose of being a showpiece and a glittery object in a new household, is not worth living.

Volume 6 Issue 9 | March 9, 2007 |

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2007

Drawing a Line with Reality

2007-02-25T00:52:00.000+06:00

There is no suicide for which all society is not responsible. - Cyril Connolly

Sometimes, life just gets to be too much of a hassle. With an everyday growing need to be the best in whatever one does, eventually, one simply loses the initial enthusiasm and the innocence involved behind doing something one really loves. In a society where the battle between the weak and the strong are defined and judged in terms of finance, gender, religion and social class, there is always a clash with an emerging group whose actions and thoughts reflect peace and equality in the form of creativity and art. Young people in particular conjure up a world of their own and desperately try to draw a relation between reality and their dreams. Practically speaking, in spite of all the long after-dinner discussions about how we should all work towards a better society, somehow we are the ones who actually shirk away from it.

In the last four years, other than the incidents that I read about in the papers, four people I knew took their lives. What strikes me, is that all four of them were artistic in nature and actually defined the phrase "creativity within one's own soul". Something else that hit me was that all of them were bright and young women between the ages of 18 and 24. All of them were students in leading private educational institutions and had a circle of friends of their own. They unconsciously were out to make a difference around them with the extraordinary abilities that they had.

Monica was a second year student at a leading private university and was part of a writing club. Just starting off her life at the age of 21, she would use her sensitivity about the happenings around her and write them down. She wrote poetry and fiction about the social condition, dirty politics within friends and relationships between parents and children, lovers, even between nature and living beings. One fine day, she kills herself merely because her work and proficiency would not get recognised by her family, friends and society. One might relate this incident to the famous poet Sylvia Plath who took her own life, and point out the romantic essence that goes with all kinds of deeds performed by writers and poets. However, in a society like ours, there might be many more reasons than actually meet the eye.

These youngsters somehow become frustrated at the fact that their abilities do not get recognised or given due respect by their family members merely because they happen to be girls. Other suicide cases involve upcoming public speakers, talented musicians and outstanding photographers. Each of them opted to give up on life, instead of facing the everyday challenges, which turned out to be harder and harder to keep up with in life.

Experts say that the idea of misinterpreting reality is called Psychosis, which actually results in suicide attempts because the incorrect perceptions can cause severe suffering and a false belief that no hope exists. People usually need to believe that there is a purpose to their lives. It is a spiritual issue rather than a medical or psychiatric one. Stress at home, work, and in the entertainment and information media are causing more reports of people "cracking," or mentally "breaking down," than ever before. Somehow, the mind of a creator dwells on a level which normal people cannot seem to get or comprehend.

In our society, women are still restricted to areas where their ideas, thoughts and creations are not acknowledged by others. Even at home, these young girls do not get the support that they require to trend on their chosen paths. Most parents still think that girls should not have an outlet to expose their inner talents or creativity, so that they don't miss out on a well-to-do marriage proposal. Since marriage seems to be the solution to every single problem, sometimes, many young women are also forced into it, through emotional blackmailing, a threat to stop their education or being locked at home.

Obviously we as a society have a greater responsibility to promote and encourage the creativity of young people and also recognise the warning signs of when they cannot cope with in reality. Unless we are more vigilant and compassionate towards our young, we will continue to lose such bright, beautiful individuals.

Volume 4 Issue 51 | June 17, 2005 |

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Being Young

2007-02-25T00:38:00.000+06:00

Life begins at 40, they say. But even 40 year olds might just be a little bit nostalgic about the fresh flavour of youth, of a tender blush on the cheeks, of the enthusiasm over the simple budding of flowers and living on the verge of danger.

Youth comes but once in a lifetime as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow put it. Just once do ripples on the pond seem amusing, the reflection of a loved one on the face of the moon seem real and the so-called realisation, somewhere at the back of the head, of forever living on a bed of roses.

The young cling on to these innocent dreams to survive, creating their own worlds and building an urge to conquer and make the universe a better place. The more experienced or the elderly merely smile at these thoughts, even wishing back to the good old days, when thinking the impossible was a habit and building castles in the air was a favourite pastime.

Lately however, I have been wondering what the children, held hostage in Russia, were thinking about when they were cramped together. I wonder what spectacles of youth they missed in those three days, not to mention what they will be missing now.

On every one of those days, they were probably hoping for someone to come and take them out of the mess. An unimaginable clutter, in which they had never even dreamed that they would get themselves into, maybe not even in their nightmares. With no food and water, these children were deprived of the simple task of imagining for more. All that they could have a taste of was their own fear and an uncertainty of whether to accept death or be granted with life again.

I am sure that they could very well hear the wails of their parents, hurdling outside the school area, screaming incomprehensible words and noises, trying to have a peak at their child or at least hear a simple word, and make sure that they were alive.

For three days, the youth in another part of the world lost their ability to dream and to think the unthinkable. Their desires were merely limited to a plate of hot food, water, and a place to sleep, free of the thoughts of slow and torturous death.

I also wonder as to what struck the children when they were on the verge of their deaths. The letters which were supposed to be written to the long lost friends, the childhood photographs of the slumber party from the summer of 1996 to be arranged and marked, the Friday night concert, a sorry to your best friend for the horrible and meaningless fight you picked with him last week, daddy's hug after coming home from work, mummy's raspberry pies and the innumerable scolding for sitting down to do homework.

I wonder what the world was doing, when these kids were dying of hunger and thirst and hat to gulp down their cries for fear of being shot. I wonder what everyone was up to when these youngsters had to get their brains blown out in the blasts or had to get shot at while fleeing from their captors.

I know what I was doing. I was probably planning my 22nd birthday party. I am sure I was listing out the 35 people I had to invite, arguing with Ma about the menu and making my room as comfortable as possible for my friends. When the survivors, dripping with blood, were being shown to the whole world, I think I was doing my last bit of shopping for Pringles, coke and the latest series of Friends for everyone to watch, cry and smile over Rachel and Ross getting back again.

Well, is that not the essence of youth? Laughing and crying over petty situations even though unreal, giggling on the telephone with the person you have a crush on, travelling with buddies to far-off places during semester breaks, staying up nights to finish the project due the next day at university, planning a 6-a-side cricket match and throwing a surprise birthday party for your friend. It is the little things that matter, which have the youth so excited about living, in the real sense of the word.

Volume 4 Issue 12 | September 10, 2004 |

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2004

Moments before she left

2007-02-25T00:14:00.000+06:00

She practically flew out of the conference. Everything blurry in front of her eyes, somehow she managed to hail a cab and instruct the driver to take her to 27 Sherard Road, East Ham. After settling down in the taxi, realisation dawned upon her that it would take her at least an hour and a half to reach the hotel. Maybe I should just head towards the airport, she thought. The return ticket to Dhaka was lying in her hotel room, Oh shucks! She reminded herself. All she could do was just sit, wait till she reached her hotel, and pray for everything to be as it was before.

Just 30 minutes ago, she remembered that her cell phone was still switched on. Oops! Don't want it to go blaring right in the middle of my presentation. That's when she found the sign of an envelope blinking on the screen of her phone. I must have missed this one in the London traffic with all it's blaring horns, she rolled her eyes. Ever since she reached London a week ago, she could barely keep up with everything around her. Even though it was her second trip to London, she was having a tough time getting used to the different time zone, hardly able to keep her eyes open during the daytime and redefining insomnia at night. However, she was very excited to be there. Being part of a junior linguistics research team in Dhaka, she worked very hard on a paper, describing her ideas and concepts regarding teaching foreign languages to second language learners of all ages.

It was on the main conference day, when she received a text message from her brother. Apuni, come home asap. Ma doesn't have much time left. Reaching her hotel, she leaped out of the taxi and ran to her room. Grabbing her travel bag, purse and taking five minutes to cast a last look around her hotel room, in case she missed anything important, ran out of the hotel and took the taxi all the way to Heathrow International Airport.

With passing moments, she couldn't keep herself calm any longer. It seemed like an eternity before she could actually reach her family back home. She let the tears flow when an image of her mother's face hovered in front of her eyes. I want to be there when they take that machine off her. Her family was struck with fear when they realised that the ever-jolly aunt and the fun mom wouldn't live long, when she was diagnosed with blood cancer. She, along with the rest of her siblings, was pleasantly surprised with their mother's ability to fight the disease and go on for a few more years.

As she got on the plane and strapped herself with the seat belt, she couldn't help thinking of the times when she and her siblings were younger and life back then was simply a routine, which everyone had to follow, never worrying about the hardships in life. Life was a bed of roses for all of them, especially with a mother who herself was a little more than a child. She would laugh heartily with the rest of the kids while watching TV or try to get into the gossiping rituals, with her daughter and her friends during their sleep- overs, much to her daughter's embarrassment.

As she slowly dozed off to sleep, she went back to a time when she was just six years old. Her four-year-old brother and she were trying to hide the expensive piece of flower vase from their father, now broken.

They fixed it up with super glue, at least they thought they did, and placed it back up on the shelf, beside their mother's precious crystal horse. They did get grounded though, when they were found guilty of the 'crime' and were not allowed to watch Voltron, Sesame Street or Mr. Rogers on TV for the rest of the day. She was especially hurt when she wasn't allowed to watch Care Bears that evening and couldn't help thinking of how horrible it was to live with her parents. I can't wait to grow up, she cried to herself. That was when her mother amused them with her magical abilities. Her mother sat down on the ground and asked the children to close their eyes and concentrate hard. When they opened their eyes, abraca dabra, she came up with oranges, within seconds and that too from thin air! Even though her brother did claim that he had seen their mother cheat, when he had opened his eyes slightly and peeked at her. She had a bowl of oranges hidden behind her.

Finally reaching Zia International Airport, she was too exhausted to think of what was happening around her. Getting on yet another cab, she reached the hospital where her family was waiting. Waiting for what, she wondered. Her mother to die?

Life without her mother was simply unimaginable. In spite of all their fights, tears and screaming at each other late into the night, she needed her mother to be with her and listen to her non-stop chattering. She needed her mother when she was angry and had to scream at someone. She needed her when she had to call someone and share the silliest of information and just see her mother's fuming face when she would come home late.

She slowly stepped inside the room, where her mother was breathing softly. Her mother looked peaceful and strangely relieved, not at all scared or tensed about going to a new place, as was her habit. She knelt down and held her mother's hand. She held me when I breathed my first. "We'll have to take the machine off now," a voice spoke to her. I want to hold her hand when she breathes her last.

As the family gathered around, seemingly to witness her mother's soul go away to a place unknown, she could actually imagine her mother happy and smiling to have the whole family together. "I would have to be on my death bed to see the family standing together under the same roof, holding no grudge against one another," she remembered her mother telling her aunt, clearly upset over the little squabbles that went on forever in the extended family.

The machine beeped for the last time. Her mother's breathing became slower, eventually dying away to a whisper. She held her mother's hand and told her the one thing she hardly ever let her know. She loved her and she was sure that from somewhere in God's own abode, she heard her mother respond, in her smiling and playful drawl.

Volume 4 Issue 46 | May 13, 2005 |

Copyright (R) thedailystar.net 2005

Springing back to life: Amar golpo

2007-02-21T01:25:00.000+06:00

I write this story
To see my dreams,
To make them real,
To have you near.

I write my story
To hear you breathe,
To watch you smile and
To feel your touch.

Yet, my unfinished story
Is left unheard, untouched, unfelt
Cold and lonely
Dark and stormy

Springing back to life: Porajoy

2007-02-21T01:21:00.000+06:00

I believe – that one day you will unveil those tears,
That you will smile and so will your eyes,
That you will feel the ice cracking beneath,
And won't choke on the wishes that you make
Every sleepless night, upon the star that you pretend to see,
And let them flow free…

Springing back to life: Gaanwala

2007-02-21T01:19:00.002+06:00

I paint you with my music.
Smoothen that smile on your face
And colour your heart on the canvas.

I seem to be losing the colour,
The music that I create and
The heart on the canvas,
A world now empty.

Springing back to life: Ke

2007-02-21T01:19:00.001+06:00

It must be you shining in the sky,
Tugging at my heart
Every time it rains.

Springing back to life: Tobuo

2007-02-21T01:18:00.001+06:00

… but what is love without a little sorrow,
With no tears pouring like the rain.

It is all about being a silent crust
Cracking within.

About watching your dreams
Crashing down to pieces,

Suffering in solitude,
Withering in pain.

… I smile amidst the tears and
I love you

Springing back to life: Shesh

2007-02-21T01:17:00.000+06:00

With you and your
Words in my heart,
My story had no beginning,
Neither does it come to an end.

Springing back to life: Bristy

2007-02-21T01:16:00.000+06:00

Let the rain wash away
Those sweet memories,
Long gone tales of
Building a home together,
Growing flowers and
Climbing those far away mountains.

Springing back to life: Ghum ashena

2007-02-21T01:15:00.000+06:00

Yet another sleepless night and
I wish could fly.
I wish I could touch the moon and
Light up the darkness lingering within.

Yet another sleepless night and
I hear music.
I fondle it softly with my fingers,
And carry the tune until sunrise.

You are on my mind,
And it's you that I see.
It's for you that I sing
Sleepless tonight.

Springing back to life: Boka manushta

2007-02-21T01:14:00.000+06:00

She flies away
From my shadows,
Never turns to peek
Or watch me watch her.
She is now the blue sky,
Lost amongst
The white clouds,
But I still await her return,
Laugh with her tinkling voice,
Sing in her memory.

Springing back to life: Ghumparani gaan

2007-02-21T01:10:00.000+06:00

Goddess of the sky,
Princess of my heart,
Your smile shines through
The darkness in me.

As you close your eyes
And enter the world of
Dreams and fairytales,
I will be there watching you,
Singing this lullaby.

If ever it may be,
That you should forget
My lullaby,
I shall sing to my heart's content,
Remembering the Aura
That once filled my being.

Springing back to life: Obhiman

2007-02-21T01:00:00.000+06:00

The sky can be as blue as ever,
And the sun may smile and shine,
Dew drops gather outside my window,
Where the music seems to get louder and louder.

I have lost my smile,
Lost my soul and
Lost the desire to live.
All I want is a voice to
Sing out loud in silence.

Amar Ekush

2007-02-21T00:02:00.000+06:00

I speak:

thoughts, colours, festivities, greatness, sorrow, happiness, pride, envy, greed...

people, culture, race, education, land, nation...

fields, birds, flowers, trees, forests and rivers...

history, battles, bloodshed, chains, freedom, independence...

I stand proud,

I speak of my identity.

Purnima

2007-01-10T02:27:00.000+06:00

I got this new phone (Sony Ericsson K750i ;) ) and something that I discovered was the thrill of capturing anything and everything with the camera (2 mega pixels). So I took it to Chittagong with me during the Eid-ul-azha break to take pictures of all my cousins, nephews, nieces, uncles, aunties, grandparents of all sorts. Frankly speaking, I think I could have enjoyed the trip much more if I was not under the pressure of visiting the thousand and one relatives that I happen to have there. To make it all worse, it would get colder in the evenings.

After two days of 'vacationing', we reached Dhaka at 4:30 am in the morning, shivering in the cold, waiting for the car to come pick us up. It was horrible and I promised myself that I would never go back to Chittagong in the winter and that too without any proper shields from the winter air. While I was feeling sorry for myself, a man dressed in a torn shirt and trousers (rags basically) passed by. He was filthy, was thin and barefoot. I chose not to see him, though I could not help peeking once in a while.

Then I looked up at the sky and saw the full moon. At the cost of being all dramatic, the sight of that moon actually took my mind away from all my so called trouble. It was not stunningly beautiful, though. In any case, it helped me to gaze at something literally out of this world and just for a moment, remember the times when I used to sit up at the back seat of the car, while my dad would drive, and watch the moon following our car. Sometime in the middle, I would fall asleep and then wake up to find the moon still shining down on my face.

I wanted to hold on to the memory, but I know that it would get lost in the middle of all the chaos that we are so used to in our daily life. So, I took a picture of the moon instead. Well, hail to technology, that’s all I can say. :)

To begin with this year...

2007-01-09T17:56:00.000+06:00

I did not do much on New Year's Eve, except for sitting and wondering what to do. I did in fact think of giving my room a good spring-cleaning. But then, I simply did not have the strength to do so. Since I am not very fond of parties in Dhaka, where all you are expected to do is drink yourself to insanity and hook up with random people (I know I am being unfairly judgemental), I prepared myself, like every New Year's Eve, for a bowl full of Doritos, a bottle of coke and a movie on my hone theatre system (it was DVD time on my pre-historic PC monitor).

What drained my energy next was thinking of what movie to watch. The Shawshank Redemption? Too depressing in the beginning, though an excellent picture I must add. I have been meaning to watch Lost in Translation for a while. Ok, that could be a start. I kept dwindling in my mind for another movie. What if I decided in the middle that the movie was boring, or depressing or way too optimistic or very unreal or too mushy for my taste? I did wander about the oldies for a while. My all-time favourite, Audrey Hepburn. Breakfast at Tiffany's maybe?

Drained, drained, drained. Thinking of all these movies drained away my energy completely! I closed my eyes for just a minute, taking long gulps of breaths to steady my restless mind. I opened my eyes and it was 10:30 am in the morning, the first day of 2007 and Eid-ul-Azha in Bangladesh.

Well, I must not complain. A few days later, I received mail. I don't mean emails, but real-life mail sent via the post, where they crossed over miles and miles to get to my doorstep. The first one was an Eid card / New Year's greetings all the way from Santa Barbara from my childhood friends, the twins Tina and Gina and their sister Habiba. The second one was a calendar from a beauty parlour, Persona, one of those places where all the big names go to in Dhaka. The third and the fourth ones were bills of various kinds, the Internet, newspaper etc. The next one was from Hearst Newspapers in Houston, letting me know that they were very happy to receive an application from Dhaka but unfortunately I did not make the candidate list.

Oh well, I guess good things come in small packages.

End of an Era

2006-12-31T02:33:00.000+06:00

The era ended as Saddam Hussein was put to death a little before dawn on December 30th, 2006, the day of Eid - ul - Adha all over the Middle East. Even moments before his death, he showed no remorse, refused to wear the hood and faced death calmly.

This tyrant who ruled over Iraq for decades, suposedly murdered thousands of shiites, in a way, I guess, his death can be justified.

Now, however, its President Bush who should be put to trial, for Afganisthan, for Iraq, for the war that he has started, which is still going on all over the world.

Being me

2006-12-30T01:35:00.000+06:00

It's time for me to fall from where I stand,
To get all clumsy and messy like I was once upon a time.

I will not hold back anymore and let it flow,
I will not smile and hurt my mouth.

I will let my bones melt and
Not keep my eyes open any longer.

I will stand on a running bus on its way to Chittagong.
I will swim the ocean to get to the other side.

I will break into pieces and
Scream out loud,
Jump up and down and
Roll on the ground.

I will sit in the rain for hours,
Catch a cold,
Get sun burnt,
Watch the stars,
Follow the moon where ever it goes (it used to follow me when I was younger).

I could simply fall asleep and never wake up,
I could jump off a cliff and never climb back up,
I could take a shower in my jeans,
I could run around naked on the street,
I could climb a tree and become a bat,
Watching the world upside down.

It’s time for me to fall from where I stand,
And walk around broken.

Random Thoughts

2006-12-20T00:30:00.000+06:00

Acting is reacting to whatever you see or feel happening around you. I learnt this during rehearsals for Agatha Christie’s ‘The Mousetrap’ in 2002 in Dhaka. We used to rehearse in this room called BTA 100 in NSU.

Not only is this true in theatre, but also in real life. Everything depends on how you react to what the other person says or does. Sometimes, how you react plays a big role in deciding the next step in your life.

What would it be like to wake up in the morning and just covering your face up with a thick base of foundation, hiding the eyes with dark shades and wearing green lipstick to work, or to meet friends, or meet with the ones in the ‘scene’ who make everything happen for you? Would you be able to bear with all the scorns, ‘tsk tsks’ and the rolling of the eyes?

I think you very well would.

Glow in the Dark

2006-12-03T04:27:00.000+06:00

You glow everywhere you go;
You smile wide and bright
And show your crooked teeth to the world.

You carry warmth in those eyes,
Smoothening the crease in hearts
Of the many, hovering about.

Your innocent twitch of the nose,
Causes rapture amongst the ones seated.

You nod in agreement and
Start to say that you believe…

When you have stopped the Tick-Tock,
Revolution and the Race…

Until the power withers away
And turns into something too
Good to be true.

Jora Taali

2006-10-24T02:27:00.000+06:00

A sea gull’s cry, fading away against the waves;
A lock, with no key;
A colourless piece of art;

An eye with no twinkle;
A voice without character;
A dim, dim streak of light;

I am a smile devoid of promises;
Tune with no melody;
Words with no meaning;

A crumpled piece of paper.

Bedtime story

2006-09-14T02:47:00.000+06:00

There is a nine-year-old girl sleeping on the floor of the living room, awaiting the morning rays when it will be time for her to get ready to wash windows and mop the floors. Surely she misses her mother’s warm hands and wonders when she will be able to see her again.
Then again, where would she get the chance to watch television and all its glittery characters every night? Actresses in all their glamour and false tears, with heroes striving to save their damsels in distress, with real time contests turning music into a car race and, with the police using their batons to beat up the protestors (the real stuff of course, no dramatisation needed here) and the occasional scenes of stolen kisses and dripping desire.
Three meals a day, that’s something! Lau kumra bhaji, ilish macha bhaja and chicken as well. Sometimes even ice-cream!
But, something stays missing. At night when she goes to bed, it feels as if the woes of the whole world just fall upon her little shoulders. Her tears wet the pillow covers. She hurries to dry them. She tries to dream of a little garden, where she and her cousins are running around and playing. She sees her mother and her father and her brothers as well, without the usual strain or marks of worry on their face. She dreams of clean water, where she can see her own reflection and makes little boats. How she would like to sail on those boats and go to all the places she had heard her father talk about! It was probably the only one good memory of her father that she likes to run in her mind. She was almost four when her father was telling her about the ships that sail to the other lands and of aeroplanes that move in air. Her father’s eyes were twinkling with excitement and he was eagerly relating these faraway stories to her with quite a bit of interest. Other than this one time, he would either beat her or never be around to take care of her. It was always her mother.
But why did she send her away? Maybe it was getting a little difficult to mahange two meals a day for the family, but she could do with a less rice and she really didn’t need the bits of fish that they have sometimes, or the left over spinach from next doors either.
There goes the alarm. Time to get up and face reality.

Rock me to Sleep

2006-08-15T00:17:00.000+06:00

Rock me to Sleep, before the wind blows in

And the spring flowers bloom to all their glory,

Before the sun shines through the leaves and

Lovers walk arm in arm down the brooke,

Before your smile fades away and tears dry up,

Before the sun rays touch your cheeks

And the dew drop and the petal,

Before you lose that twinkle in your eyes,

Lose the long gone memories,

Moments spent threading each dream.

Rock me to Sleep and have time standing still,

With a picture of you in my mind,

A face, now covered in wrinkles,

Yet elegant and innocent as ever before.

30th Jan 2006

Etched on Paper

2006-08-01T01:50:00.000+06:00

You are a
candlelight,
Dancing in the
Misty rain;

A child
Filled with laughter,
Jingles, chocolates
And a sparkle in the eye;

A mother
With hands,
Soft and eyes,
Peaceful;

A song
Sung in spring,
By the river
And over the hills;

A guitar strum,
Filling the heart with
Sweet memories of
Yesterday.

Your laughter still
Tinkers in the hallways,
Your hum still
Echoes around.

The quick glances
And those ready smiles,
You glow everywhere
You go.

Words that flow from
The heart…
And I can still hear
You smiling.

--- Remembering Novera Deepita

Strings that Cry

2006-07-26T03:12:00.000+06:00

I believe – that one day you will unveil those tears,
That you will smile and so will your eyes,
That you will feel the ice cracking beneath,
And won’t choke on the wishes that you make
Every sleepless night, upon the star that you pretend to see,
And let them flow free…

I believe – that one day the world will see
A clearer sky, a brighter sun, your soul
As refreshing as your dreams;

I know – you will pick up those pieces,
And build;
Will break the barriers within,
And feel...

Wink in to the Mirror

2006-07-20T15:57:00.001+06:00

Acording to a friend of mine called Rupom (well actually Rupom's mother), when you are really angry, absolutely fuming and can literally see smoke coming out of your ears, just look at yourself in the mirror..... and wink! It won't be long till you start smiling and grinning like an idiot. That is sure to cool you down a bit.
I tried that last night, it was hilarious. I looked hideous with my temper boiling within, with my hair standing straight on my head, my eyes big, round and steaming and lips pursed up together tightly. I forced myself to go 'wink' and could not stop myself from cracking up.
That's when I saw myself soften up, just a bit though. I was still mad as ever, though I did forget why I was angry and who I was mad at.
All in all, it was worth it.

Talvin Singh's Traveller

2006-05-02T06:32:00.000+06:00

Starts off with 'The world is sad' and ends with these flute solos. Very moving and will touch anyone deep inside. Makes me think of a dispute raging between the mind and the self.
The flute solos in the end just make u cry. They touch you so deep inside. Tells you the tale of some far, forgotten people living in a far, forgotten land, tears all dried up, surviving with the pain crawling within.
It's a wonder how a simple instrument can make you think about so much. The flute just cries out and makes an appeal to someone, anyone, to listen to the woes, the pains of being lonely and watching your loved ones suffer across the deserts, the seas and acres and acres of land.
You would just get entwined within the tale and actully see it happening right infront of your eyes.

Gibberish: Know thyself

2006-05-01T17:37:00.000+06:00

It's hard! I mean, it was just a little more that 4 years when I came to Bangladesh and I thought I knew everything about myself and could go about being myself. I was wrong of course. And I managed to surprise myself. I look at the last few years, and I find that I have peeled off layer after layer from my body and within and never realised that I was doing so. I am sure there is no reason as to why I should be all surprised and overwhelmed with the idea of changing, for I am sure it is an integral and natural part of growing up to be an adult.
Maybe there is too much of a child in me. At least, there was. Time to release it? Hmm.... Just not yet....

Eureka!!

2006-04-30T03:10:00.000+06:00

I am kind of new to this blog thing, I would always read my friends' blogs and everything, but would never think to create one myself.
I actually could not find a way to write a new post:) Anyway, now that I do know, here it is.
hmmm... I don't know what to say. So much has happened in the last few weeks, that I am absolutely overwhelmed with all the actions. lol:)
Listening to Corrs, Time enough for tears from their last album, Borrowed Heaven. It's around 3:32 am in the morning, can't sleep as usual.
I guesss I'll write more when I have something to say :)
Cheers till then....

At first glance

2006-04-12T17:55:00.000+06:00

Well, this being my first post, I just want to say hello to everyone who is going to visit this blog of mine. You are welcome to voice out, speak up, express your minds, praise my thoughts or blast me off for the nonsense that I write.
Thanks Imti! I love the name Neer. It does carry a lot of meaning for each and every one of us who want to stay safe and survive the vineyard of a world!
Cheers.
Elita
*****