A belated 4th part
By A.H. Jaffor Ullah
Wednesday, June 6, 2001
A rude awakening! My laptop’s HD crashed right before my eyes but I couldn’t do much to prevent it from happening. I will write more on this mishap but first things first. Let me however mention about the monsoon weather that is almost knocking at the door.
The monsoon came in with great fanfare.
Dhaka’s newspaper had written all about it. They wrote that it started
on June 2 (Saturday), the day I arrived here from America. Since
then, monsoon clouds have been hanging over the head like dark cotton balls
or plume of smoke. A torrent of rain had been falling off and on.
Today is no exception. These rain showers reminded me of my innocent
halcyon days of youth when I used to go into open field playing in ankle
deep rainwater and coming home all wet. I wished I could have done
that one more time but the trouble is that there is no open space in Dhaka.
The overflooded streets these days carry dirty and polluted water everywhere.
I would not dare to wet my feet, never mind standing there for a prolong
period.
Lovely
Belle (Beli) flower blossoming in early monsoon!
In the morning, I finished my article,
which was based on my experiences of June 5 (NFB, The Dhaka Diary, June
8, 2001). Then I took a break for breakfast. Lucky for me that
I saved all my day’s work in a floppy drive. Because when I rebooted
my laptop, there was a nasty surprise waiting for me. To my horror
I found out that my portable computer was not rebooting properly.
In fact, it failed to recognize the 4.9 Giga Byte hard disk. I tried
all the tricks that I knew to fix the problem (going into the Bios and
changing some parameters), but without much success. The trouble
is that all the softwares that are required for downloading images from
my digital camera and their subsequent customization for NFB (reducing
the resolution for NFB) are stored in the hard drive. The laptop
computer is now obstinately refusing to recognize its hard disk.
I was exasperated, to say the least. This losing of one’s PC hard
drive is fraught with danger especially when one is visiting any Third
World country. Who could repair the laptop? Is there any possibility
of retrieving the data stored in the damaged hard drive? These are
some of the questions that plagued my mind.
Where
else one would find such flashy flower excepting in monsoon-laden Bangladesh!
Tanvir’s place is not too far, from
where I am staying in Gulshan. Our chauffeur, a fifty-ish ex-Mukti
Bahini freedom fighter who is known in my host’s house as dariwallah (bearded)
driver realizes that some thing is wrong with this American sahib.
He always greets me with long Salam and a broad smile. I told him
what just happened to my laptop. He said anything could be fixed
in Dhaka; therefore, I should not worry a thing. The driver sahib
planted an idea into my head. And I thought I should consult Tanvir
Chowdhury of NFB on how to fix my crippled laptop. The driver sahib
drove me straight over to NFB office. Tanvir greeted me with his
usual beamy smile. However, he noticed that I was visibly disturbed.
I told me what has happened to my portable PC just an hour so ago.
He assured me that it could be fixed in Dhaka. He wanted to know
whether I used a powerline filter of some sort. To that I replied
negatively. He said no one runs a PC in Dhaka without first using
either a voltage regulator or some kind of line filter. I said that
I learned my lesson well. The trouble is that I promised to myself
to write non-stop The Dhaka Diary while I spend my days in Dhaka.
However, there is no way that I could write my article and prepare digital
images for it. I am still taking digital images using my camera,
but I am unable to download those images into any computer, desktop or
laptop, because they lack appropriate software. I knew by now that
I am in a slippery slope as far as writing The Dhaka Diary. Without
those eye-catching photos, The Dhaka Diary would be meaningless and hollow.
I had high hopes for this series. Now, there is this disappointment.
The question before me is: how to get out of this quagmire? I wished
there were a quick fix to my problem. But I have to wait few more
days before I could see a qualified technician in Dhaka, which could be
a difficult thing to do. Nonetheless, Tanvir was very optimistic.
This yellow
flowers will surely take anyone's breath!
Lucky for me that NFB office is
just walking distance from my host’s place. If I were living 3-4
miles away from Gulshan, I could not have come so easily to meet Tanvir.
The traffic hardly moves in Dhaka. This is not an understatement.
This horrendous traffic in Dhaka is choking us all! The local folks
take this delay in stride. However, people like me who are not used
to massive traffic jam find it extremely difficult to move from one place
to another anytime from 8:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. in the weekdays.
What a
pretty sight? Bangladesh's monsoon changes the landscape so dramatically!
Visiting Uttora ignoring the danger of monsoon deluge!
The monsoon clouds were gathering
over the horizon on all four sides. It was dark even at noontime.
The squalls of rain cloud were gathering momentum. Consequently,
rains were pouring very hard non-stop. Amidst all this inclement
weather, I decided to go to the northern most suburb of Uttora to visit
my maternal aunt and her husband who happened to be visiting their daughter.
I knew that Uttora was a burgeoning suburb at the northern edge of Dhaka.
But never did I realize how much it had grown in last 15 years or so.
The metallic four-lane highway (two lanes in one direction) is busy as
ever carrying ricksha, scooter, trucks, buses, private cars, etc., all
going to Gazipur (Old name Joydebpur), and other places in such as Kaliakoir,
Jamuna Bridge, Bogura, Rangpur, Rajshahi, Dinajpur, etc. No wonder,
it is a busy highway.
The yellow
flowers in this tree is a harbinger of full monsoon. More rain to
come!
The neighborhood that we were visiting in Uttora Model Town was near a high school and women’s college. There was a flashflood almost everywhere. We were wondering whether it was a bright idea to venture out in the concrete jungles of northern Dhaka in the middle of a monsoon rain shower. Our chauffeur used some tricks to get inside the carport where there was no standing rainwater. We thus averted the flashflood. Uttora is a model town no doubt. The houses are not as ostentatious though as they are in Gulshan. We didn’t see much of a lawn in front of any houses in Uttora. However, there was an over abundance of verdant landscape in Uttora, which makes the place livable. Most houses have some shrubberies and potted plants such as white belle flower that gives musky pleasant odor.
Our amiable driver sahib who was a Mukti Bahini soldier in his youth!
Our driver sahib is a big talker. He told me that he was stationed in Northwest Frontier Province of Pakistan in a cantonment during 1971. He and couple of Bangalee Jawans one day in April 1971slipped away from the cantonment and head for Pakistani controlled Kashmir. The driver sahib called it Azad (free) Kashmir. From there, they slipped into Indian side of Kashmir. This itinerant group then surrendered to Indian border patrol telling them that they have just deserted Pakistan armed forces and are very eager to join the Mukti Fouz in East Pakistan.
The Indian military intelligence then interviewed this group very thoroughly. The driver sahib told me that because of their height, skin color, and language, the Indian army realized right away that these are not Pathans or Punjabis but they were Bangalees as the group had claimed. An Indian army officer arranged their trip to Tripura via land. The driver sahib told me that he was a bachelor than and so were all of the deserters. They had to be bused to a railway station and from there, they took the train to reach Calcutta. An Indian army officer accompanied them all the way to Calcutta. They were handed over to Bangladesh provisional Government who then took them to Tripura. These deserters were trained soldiers; therefore, they were absorbed into Mukti Fouz (Bahini) without any sweat.
The driver sahib stayed with the Mukti Bahini all through the freedom fight. However, he did not join the army, which he could have easily done so. He is originally from Fulbari Thana of Mymensingh district. He went to his village after the liberation of Dhaka. He later married an educate Mymensinghi woman. He was abashed about the fact that his spouse was more educated than he was. Our driver sahib became a full time agriculturist in his village. He inherited some tillable land from his father. He later also bought more land. Agriculture seems to have become his main profession. However, a decade later when he had more family members to take care he realized that he had to go to Dhaka city while his wife managed the farming with hired hands. Our driver sahib took a crash course in driving and he was able to find a job right away. First he worked for a wealthy man and then he joined a NGO. He told me that they pay a higher salary in the NGO. One works from 9:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. There is also this overtime wages when he drives in after hours. However, about three years ago, the NGO folded because they could not get the grant renewed from abroad. The driver sahib was let go. He now works for wealthy people. Few months here and few months over there. He told me that there is no Izzat (self respect) working for all these Bara Sahibs in Gulshan, Banani, and Dhanmandi. I could empathize with him. My host’s twenty something son disdainfully call this driver the Idiot Driver. Our driver sahib complained to me about it. I found it that the hired hands are very much maltreated by the upper class of Bangladesh. My suggestion to him was to look for jobs in semi government offices. Many of the Dhaka’s upper class lack proper etiquette when it comes to treat the lower class. When I pointed out to my host that perhaps his son was orally abusing our driver sahib, the reply was a very cold one. My host thought the driver because of his “advance” age has become more of a nuisance. This is a very common attitude of our rich folks. One way or another, they will protect the good name of their wards no matter how much misbehaving they would do in public or in private. One of the servants in the house also echoed this sentiment. The servant said, “In this house no driver sticks around more than six months.”
The driver sahib also told me another sad story but this has to do with the way young people in Bangladesh treat the old Mukti Bahini freedom fighters these days. In 2000, the government was honoring our freedom fighters on Victory Day. The old Mukti Bahini soldiers came to the parade ground but some youngsters taunted them. Some claim to be the Mukti Bahini soldiers. Our driver sahib told me that some of these kids were not born even in 1971. Still they hurled abuses to the older looking freedom fighters. He was wondering why he risked his life for motherland. He had no idea that young people will be making jokes about our freedom fight and the fighters. He knew that these kids were not told the correct story of our liberation war in schools. He also opined that had there been a strong curriculum in schools about our historic fight against the Pakistanis, these kids would not say what they are saying now. Our kids probably would not be celebrating the victory of Pakistani cricket teams either.
Our fifty-ish driver sahib taught
me a valuable lesson. He understood very clearly that Bangladesh’s
freedom fight is not emphasized in our school’s curriculum. That
is the reason why young folks do not show much respect when they meet genuine
freedom fighters. Most problems in Bangladesh vis-à-vis India
stem from our forgetfulness about India’s role in our freedom fight.
We know that a section of Bangladesh society still fondly remembers our
East Pakistani days. To them, Jinnah’s united Pakistan was probably
a better deal then an independent Bangladesh. The nation of ours
has strayed from the path of ideals for which it was built. Isn’t
that a shame!
Jackfruit
everywhere!
O' what a site! No country
on earth can produce such delectable fruit
We spent over two hours in the
house where my maternal aunt was staying in Uttora. We had our lunch
in my cousin’s house. My aunt realized that we have the driver sahib
with us. He was also served a sumptuous mid-day meal. At about
three thirty p.m., we decided to head back to Gulshan. The monsoon
squalls brought a deluge of rain everywhere in northern city limits of
Dhaka. There was standing rainwater almost in all streets.
Our wise driver sahib knew his way around. He bypassed most of the
side roads where rainwater had accumulated the most. Before long
we were in the main road again, this time we were heading south towards
International airport. We saw many trucks coming from north loaded
with jackfruits. I realized that parts of Tangail and Mymensingh
districts are famous for jackfruits. As a student in the sixties,
I used to ride the train to and fro from Dhaka to Mymensingh. I took
my bachelor degree in Mymensingh Agricultural University. In the
summer months when the train would stop at Kaoraid railway station, I used
to see humongous jackfruits ready to be loaded in the train bound for Dhaka.
These days because of a good road system, jackfruits are brought to Dhaka
by truckloads.
These peculiar looking jackfruits
are godsend to our people. The fruits contain enormous quantities
of energy rich frutlets, which also contain minerals, vitamins on the top
of complex carbohydrates. This fruit is so reach in energy that people
who are unfamiliar with it find it indigestible first time they eat it.
We Bangalees rather grow up with jackfruits; that is why we don’t mind
gobbling few of the fruits. Even though, the aroma of the fruit is
agreeable to us, many westerners told me that they find the aroma to be
too strong for their taste. I am not going to argue over this issue.
Only thing I will say that Bangalees cannot live without this fabulous
fruit. We all love jackfruit very dearly. What is a deshi summer
without this godsend fruit?
---------------------------
A.H. Jaffor Ullah writes from New
Orleans, USA. Comments should be directed at - Jaffor@Netscape.net
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