A Dhaka Diary – December 2020 February 1, 2021

Ever since the pandemic started in Mach of 2020, life as we knew it had changed drastically. A most noticeable change has been the restriction on our travels. As someone who has an elderly parent living in another continent I had been patiently waiting for the situation to improve so I could go visit. But it had not. So, around the Christmas holidays I took a chance, booked myself a ticket, fulfilled all the covid-related travel obligations, packed a suitcase, and finally boarded a plane. I started from North America and flew all the way to Southeast Asia. I went to the city of Dhaka, spent a few days with my father, and then came back home to Houston. In retrospect it looks easy, but the trip was not without its headaches. But hey life is an adventure! And ‘Fortune favors the bold’, says Virgil. It is curious how my voice gained power after the travels were behind me. Truth be told I had been anxious and solicitous during my entire trip due to the surrounding uncertainties. Even before I had landed into my final destination, a new variant of the virus was discovered in England and all flights to and from England were cancelled by many countries, so I secretly prayed that no such mutating virus be discovered in America before I returned home. My prayers were answered. Once back home, I allowed the pandemic-travel-related-stress to slowly flush out of me. I had wished to write about my travel experiences immediately. But in the blink of an eye a month has passed me by. But then the stress relief process and procrastination are a powerful combination. I blame the duo for the late coverage. But it’s better late than never.

As I sat down pondering on my short trip to Dhaka, I felt that something was amiss this time. A moderate pounding upon my brain revealed that it was the lack of traffic jams. Those who had been to Dhaka in recent years know how bad the traffic had gotten. But surprisingly it was very light during my trip. From a quick analysis I decided that it was due to the timing of my trip. I was there during the last week of December. Many people were on vacation, schools were closed, most people still worked from home due to corona. But I must issue the disclaimer that I reached my opinion based on only one trip through the city. It also occurred to me at the same time that I had not been to the city in the month of December since 2005.

View from a rickshaw

Chitoi pitha at streetside

Because I have not been to Dhaka in a winter month in a long time I had forgotten how festive it can get during this time. There are trade fairs, ‘pitha uthsob’ (food fairs), badminton, concerts, and weddings. Winter is the official wedding season. I consider myself lucky if my trip ever coincides with a wedding invitation. Because the ‘kachchi biryani’ (mutton pilaf) dish at weddings is a treat like no other. There perhaps was a time when my purposes for going to the wedding parties was to check out the fancy outfits that ladies put on. But priorities shift with time and age. My main objective these days was to indulge into the Bangladeshi wedding feasts. Ahh the aromas, how I miss it! But there was no wedding invitation this trip either. All typical activities were missing this winter. No wedding invitations and no trade fairs. The covid impact was quite noticeable, although most businesses seemed to have opened. One morning when I took a morning walk I did come across a lady selling ‘chitoi pitha’ on the roadside, and I enjoyed eating those. It was a small consolation for not being able to attend any ‘pitha uthshov’. I also could not visit the ‘New market’, or ‘Nilkhet’, which makes my trip rather incomplete. New market is one of the oldest markets in the city (whoa an oxymoron!). it is outdated by today’s standards, and outshined by the sophisticated and modern shopping malls strewn all over. But I had been going to the New market ever since I was in the kindergarten. I remember the rows of bookstores to the left side of the second gate which used to be my main attraction. When I visited there in my childhood I would always try to sneakily read pages from newly released story books while my parents were looking for something in the book stores, and would be so engrossed that I often failed to notice that my family were done and waiting for me, still I would try to manage a few more lines until my mom threw in the “I’ll need to marry you off to the shopkeeper’s son so you can read all the books in there” line. Only then I would come out running, I didn’t know what she meant but sure sounded like a threat. I think I was allowed to buy one new story book each month, but that simply was not enough. Apart from the bookstores, New market had everything that you wanted or needed. Another memory is, whenever there was a wedding in the extended family, a large group of family members went there for the wedding shopping, and whenever a big purchases were about to be made, be it at the gold store or at the clothing store, the shopkeepers suddenly turned very courteous and would ask if we wanted a Coke, a Pepsi or a Fanta. That would surely snap one out of the boredom of tagging along these endless shopping sprees. But I could not go to the New market this trip. I simply could not risk visiting such a crowded place. ‘Nilkhet’ is another place that I would never miss visiting in normal times. It is a second-hand book market, or shacks rather, where I had spent countless hours during my university days, where finding a good book had felt nothing short of finding a rare treasure. But not this time. Nostalgia is a powerful emotion. We delight in the good memories just as we are dispirited by the bad ones. I for one rarely miss the chance to rejuvenate when something as simple as visiting a place can bring you so much joy. But for covid I let go of that joy. You can say that I did it for my existence. Should I have or shouldn’t I have? What would Nietzsche say? Perhaps I could have scored Nietzsche’s study on nihilism at Nilkhet? Alas I will never know!

Covid also put a restriction on another main attraction for my visit to Dhaka which is food. While I did enjoy the home cooked food it would have been nice to mix it up with some restaurant food. My most favorite are the Thai restaurants. I assure you that the Thai and Chinese food that Dhaka offers are so good that the people from Thailand and China can only dream of it.

An early morning view from the rooftop

All facetiousness aside, I feel incredibly lucky to have been able to go and see my father who has been lonely and alone, suffering from both ailments and covid-effects alike. As I left him, I found him sinking back into his solitude, and I searched for strength from so many lines I had read but none came back to me except Hamlet’s. ‘The rest is silence’ (Shakespeare).

A solitary state of being November 24, 2012

In the clouds November 22, 2012

Wings in the sky

Gracefully fly,

Taking flight and

Heaven bound,

Looking down upon

The world below,

Strangely disconnected

With a wistful blow,

My abode thus long

That life’s flow,

Lost appeal in

This celestial glow,

Suspended in the middle row

Waiting for next steps to throw,

I know not which way to go

As I descent steady and slow.

 

My time is not here yet

I am more to grow.

 

(Written in September 2012 during a flight to Philadelphia)

Salvation September 26, 2012

Tears wrought of pain and joy

Roll down unbridled and coy

What do I live for

How long should I go on

Empty heart, empty soul

Hide behind these empty eyes

Weary of life, dreary of strife

In search of eternal blithe.

 

Smiles like hidden pearls

Force open the shells of love

Living, laughing, awakening

Living, laughing, awakening

Spring open the inner grove.

 

9/26/12

Aurora September 21, 2012

What flourishes today, doth perish tomorrow

Beauty that struck me blind, doth wane in a whirlwind

Pride, that once pierced the sky, doth travel to purgatory.

 

Thy soul, why thou then despair thus and wail

As sure as the day follows the night

Thy tears shalt be wiped out with mirth.

 

(Written on 9/20/12)

Out with the old…in with the new March 2, 2012

For some time now I have been living life in a ‘suspended state’. I stopped exercising, I did not receive phone calls, I stopped roaming the shopping malls to use my coupons, I stopped tidying up the toys that kids had scattered around, I shunned TV, and I only cooked the bare essentials. The reason behind such grim self-resignation was my preparation for the CPA exam. Yesterday I took my third part of the exam, having only one more part to go. In general I allowed myself the luxury of one carefree week before diving onto the next section. Except, this time I am finding it increasingly difficult to ‘let go’ of this ‘suspended state’.  My prolonged dwelling with this special state has done its damage. The ‘suspended state’ was my life now, and I looked at my ‘other life’ with disdain. Alas! Where do I go from here?

The telephone rang, and I let it keep ringing. I did not have to pick it up. The world had not fallen apart when I did not run 50 mph to pick it up. Valuable ‘$10 off’ coupons were lying around me, and I let them expire. The house had more stuff than it could handle anyways, and I did not need to buy any new stuff. I did do my unavoidable chores, relating kids and food; and after that, I wanted nothing more than to run to the solitary of my room at my special spot and drown myself into the cushion of my comfy chair and stare onto the laptop. I simply replaced the study guide with YouTube for now. The millions of pending things that I had did not matter much really. How strange is life! With each step comes a new realization. A reawakening that I would not have encountered if I had not visited this path. However, this one was a damning one. Because this one proved that I am not that indispensable that I thought I was after all. Not to anybody, not to anything. Time went by as regally as ever, without so much as blinking as I hung in my ‘suspended state’. Life passed by too, with nothing more than a nonchalant shrug for me. As a result, my entire perspective of looking at things has changed. I knew firsthand that letting go of the familiar was not the end of the world, it was merely a chance to get acquainted with a new one. Oh Life! When wilt thou cease to enlighten me!

Of course I know I have to strike a balance eventually. I mean one could not live in a ‘suspended state’ forever. That could threaten to put one in a ‘mental state’.  But needless to say, what an eye opener this new experience was! Once upon a time I had thought my kids could not go on for a single second without me being at their beck and call. Surprisingly enough, just like me, they had also found new avenues to explore and new ways to fill up their mommy-less time. That it was resorting to ‘nook’ for videos games and that I did not approve was a whole new issue. But the fact of the matter was that they HAD found something to do and accepted that mommy had to be away. Therefore, the lesson learned from it all? Here goes. If one lives in a ‘situation’ for a prolonged period of time, the ‘situation’ may override the others and become the new way of living. That being said, one should still start working towards one’s dreams and goals, and not die wondering whether or not it could be done. Because once one starts, things will automatically fall into pieces, perchance in a different puzzle than the previous one, but a puzzle nevertheless.

(The “puzzle” could stand for life, or a particular state of being, or…………….ok, ok…I’ll stick to my study guide and make myself disappear now…..;-))

Hues January 14, 2012

Toiling on this wretched land

Crossing through the vines

Off goes man on his feet

In pursuit of his shrine

 

Some go look for merrymaking

Some just sit and haze

Some go the distance seeking forgiveness

For wrongs done in this maze

 

Steeped into oblivion

We go our way

Rummaging the roads and rides

To our salvaged bay

 

All chaos, all crowds

But strange and true

Each follows the inner voice

In this kingdom of rue.

 

(Inspired by the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, 12/18/2011)

Bird December 29, 2011

I fly in the sky

Free from cares

Safe from snares

 

Far and far I go

Further still in vision

To mingle with horizon

 

Scared am I to come home

For I have suffered

The brunt of sensations

 

But if you have

A pretty little birdhouse

Keep it full

 

Of love and food

For as long as I have it

I’ll always come back to it.

 

(Written on November 14, 2011)

While You Were Not There December 20, 2011

While you were not there

A gloom set in

Blanketing my universe

O where did you disappear

Why you left me to shiver

While you surround me

Your warmth keeps me alive

The chill in me now

Makes me wait for you in sincere

Yet so many times I took you for granted

But now I know

You are the one who illuminates me

O sun, the mighty glorious one.

 

(Written on 12/20/11, a gloomy and overcast day, while I felt the absence of sun, my mood enhancer)

Reading “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman November 11, 2011

I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.

—-

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the
beginning and the end,
But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.

—-

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not
my soul.

—-

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff’d with the stuff that is coarse and stuff’d with the stuff
that is fine,
One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the
largest the same,

—-

A learner with the simplest, a teacher of the thoughtfullest,
A novice beginning yet experient of myriads of seasons,
Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion,
A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,
Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity,
Breathe the air but leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.

—-

What is a man anyhow? what am I? what are you?

—-

I exist as I am, that is enough,
If no other in the world be aware I sit content,
And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,
And whether I come to my own to-day or in ten thousand or ten
million years,
I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.

—-

I do not ask who you are, that is not important to me,
You can do nothing and be nothing but what I will infold you.

—-

And I say to any man or woman, Let your soul stand cool and composed
before a million universes.

And I say to mankind, Be not curious about God,
For I who am curious about each am not curious about God,
(No array of terms can say how much I am at peace about God and
about death.)

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the
least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

—-

The past and present wilt – I have fill’d them, emptied them.
And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.

Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?
Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,
(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute
longer.)

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day’s work? who will soonest be through with his
supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?

—-

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.

(“Leaves of Grass”, Walt Whitman)