Of attitude and Bangaliana

I have often thought about it. What is the role of Bangaliana or being Bengali in our life? I mean does it pay or become a burden? Can we not do without it?  For people like me it is an obvious answer: being Bengali  is a part of you. So what does it matter whether it is a boon or a bane? Whether we need it or not? Isn't it as simple as breathing  air or drinking water?  But of course it is few of my friends or acquaintances who triggered this question within me. Although   it is fair enough to say that proving all assumptions wrong, it is not my new friends in expatriate life but fellow people back in my home country who forced me to ponder  on it.

When I was preparing to move to Singapore, one of the many anxieties was how my five year old will learn Bangla, which is of course quite important for me. My queries ended with the info that around 2000 children are learning Bangla as their mother tongue  and securing good marks in public exam. It is the innate Bangaliana  that compelled the expat Bengalis to strongly advocate with the education ministry in their country to allow their children to have Bangla as second language. It douses the little fire of uneasiness caused by the fake worries with underlying pride  from a section of people in Dhaka saying, "Ki je kori, Amar bachchara to Bangla bolei na". Although it sounds cliché but I really came across this type of comments.  

If talking of Bangaliana connotes the use of Bangla language in everyday life, then I must say it is evident that Bangladeshi people cannot think of anything else apart from Bangla. However, a very small section of people, especially Dhakaites are there who can't help but use English or Hindi. Yes, Hindi, a foreign language for us that always reigns over the Bengali culture for some people. Well, I am not a purist having strong disliking for Hindi. On the contrary I enjoy watching Bollywood extravaganzas. But it irks me a little when I see the youngsters even dreaming in Hindi. That's why I can't help raising my eyebrows when I see people in Facebook naming  photo album of their own wedding  as "Allah ne kabul kii hain: our kabin" . Why not 'Ami tomar shongey bedhechhi amar pran' ?   It does express your feeling, doesn't it? I cannot refrain myself from mentioning the new khichuri  type Bangla which is spoken by the new generation with bizarre diction and coining thanks to the RJs and VJs. One of my expatriate friend once told me that he is not concerned any more with the Bangla spoken by his five year old son as he has heard this 'Odhvut'  Bangla being spoken in Bangladesh. "My son will be well fitted in this flock," he grinned while his son speaks like: "Eta ekhane put koro" (eta ekhane rakho).   However, it feels great to see the same group of people celebrating Pohela Boisakh to their best  with fun and frolic. You may say it is commercialized or being Bengali for a day only but I believe that it is from their core of heart. Bengalis cannot just shun off their Bangaliana.       

The newspaper here in Singapore is unable to cater our Bengali taste. Of course it hosts good reports which can be rated excellent in any journalistic criterion; be it structure or tight editing. But the topics are so different. How many of the Bengalis would like to have a lead news describing a new playground being opened for children in the neighborhood or how the preparation of father's day celebration is going on? Also how many of the Bengalis would like a mainstream newspaper full of advertisements? It really doesn't go with the Bengali style where you sip your morning tea and do a meticulous dissection of the deeds and misdeeds of the politicians and assert that the country is drifting towards its nadir and even mention who could be the savior. Let alone the soothsaying part where an average Bengali will definitely state how many seats  the leading political parties are going to secure. That is why It feels so strange to see newspaper here in Singapore is mostly devoid of political news. As an answer to my astonishment, one of my Singaporean friends just told me, "We don't care about politics. All we care is about economy." Was it something uncanny to ask?   I just remember the rickshawalahs in Dhaka who used to ask me, "Afa, eibar vote karey diben?" Is it inherent for Bengalis to be aware and interested in politics no matter whether it has or not any connection with them ,or doesn't bring any benefit to them? I believe it is, as the Bengalis has proved it since the British rule through their revolution. Now there could be a long debate whether being politically aware pays or not but Bengalis, whether they are from Bangladesh or Poshchim Banga and living at any corner of the globe, cannot just help it. So just when they are out of slumber in early morning, Bengalis like us need the web to be opened to read Prothom Alo; only to know desher khobor.

I was confused when asked 'Are you a Bong?' right after landing up as a foreign student in Jawaharlal Nehru University. Then my other Bong friends enlightened me that it means whether I am a Bengali. "Yes I am" I grinned. I am happy to be one.  I feel  that this Bong connection is within me, within all of us. Hats off to you dear Bangaliana. You make your way at any cost anywhere.  I think it is because of you the Chinese fish seller here in Singapore calls me 'Apa asen asen. ki machh dibo? Ilish,Rui na Kachki? Kemon katbo? boro na soto naa majari?'  It seems that we cannot get rid of you.

Sabrina Karim murshed 

To veil or not veil........

Many a time in life I came across religious bigots. Well, that is a very tough phrase to use as not all of them were aggressive. But they actually ignite the thought in me what is the role of religion in our life? I personally strongly believe that religion is the anchor that prevent us from drifting away. It is the breeze that soothes you after all exhaustion in life. Religion or the religious acts then should be performed with love and respect, not by being compelled by external forces. Recently I visited Masjid Putra, the famous mosque in Putrajaya in Malaysia where the staff members were managing the women tourist and according to the rule of the place made them hiring Burqah (long gown to cover from head to toe) to go inside the mosque. "You have to dress according to Islam if you want to go inside" they said. I completely agree with them as this is only to respect the religious custom and belief. It is well acknowledged even in my country also. All the European, Australian and other tourists were hiring the Burqah from the mosque counter and entering happily. But I as not happy when they forced us to hire Burqah, I found it quite rude as both me and my mom-in-law were dressed according to Islam; clad in clothe from head to toe. We, being Muslim ladies, offer our prayers in Sari which covers us totally. Isn't it a bit too much to force us to wear the veil to go inside? The man reasoned it up saying my trouser is not loose enough! Wow! I just remembered the Mullahs in my country. During my work as a reporter, one day even I covered my head subconsciously when some of them in front of Gulistan were yelling with a microphone 'ma bonera mathai kapor den"  ........

In this global world it is easy to focus on the paradox, I thought. here, in some parts of South Asian countries, we are being forced to wear Burqah  where as in France, Muslim women are not being allowed to wear veil! Even last week 4 Muslim supervisors were sacked for fasting during a summer camp. who knows when some small incidents like this ignites big troubles? Why can't we, the Ashraful Makhlukat become a little more tolerant?                

Crossing the border

When we had planned the trip to Kuala lumpur by bus there were many apprehensions. My five year old boy was excited to see a new place. His excitement was contagious and we were also looking forward to it.So off we go from Singapore to KL by a bus. A double-decked one which were to be added to list of liking of my son.
The 5 hour long journey was a mixed feeling where initially you enjoy the scenic beauty but eventually look at your watch restlessly. The rubber plantation and other greenery are there to sooth your eyes for sometimes but then you can feel the scorching heat outside although tucked in an air conditioned bus.

The only fun was crossing the causeway, a small bridge that takes you from Singapore to Malaysia. How exciting isn't it! The sea seems to be a small bay and flanked by the two countries. So we cross the border and get ourselves cleared by the immigration and customs unlike the currant in the sea, the birds on the sky or the fish in the sea. They are free from the hassle of passport or visa. But the quiet border in both sides makes me to flash on my memories where I savour the hullabaloos of Bangladesh India border. Oh, how I miss the jhalmuri, daber jol and the shingara. Oh my Bengal of gold, I miss you a lot. :-(

          

Thinking aloud.....

There are few moments in life when you have enough time to sit down and ponder on what is the meaning of life. What is your ultimate goal in life or how do you enjoy it? Living a cosmopolitan life where you begin your day with corn flakes and milk followed by rushing towards bus stop or tube station and then dipping down your head into laptop or files, you hardly have a chance to think. This is what happens to us, the urban people. We are always in a motion. It may seem as the post modernists say: everything is in flux;  but in reality nothing changes. When you are in diapers, you're in the queue of getting into a good school. Your youth is spent to create a niche in the society with good job, status and so on. After achieving all those you cannot heave a sigh of relief because again you are in the same rat race where your offspring are performing. So how do we have the time to look at the morning sky and enjoy the azure rather than being anxious whether it will rain or not? Can we just sit idle in the winter sun and savour the warmth without calculating the cost of beach holiday? When was the last time you touched a dew drop with your toes? Just take a look back to yourself.