Many distinct threads connect me to Bangladesh. For starters, I share my mother tongue with the population of this country. Though the Bangladeshi version of Bengali (also called Bangal bhasha) is weirdly accented, veritably nauseating and outright funny, it's called Bengali all the same. But my nexus with Bangladesh extends much beyond that.
I have a number of relatives in that part of the globe-scattered mostly across Dhaka and Chittagong. It is for this reason that I visited Bangladesh-once in 1994 and again in 1998. Both these trips were interesting in their own right. I was probably too young in '94 to realize the absurdity of the entire exercise, but we actually traveled to Dhaka by air. I remember my first Bangladesh trip primarily because this was my first time on a flight as a grown-up child. The flight from Calcutta to Dhaka was a Biman Bangladesh one and it lasted all of thirty long minutes. I didn't mind it then. Amidst all the flight sickness and vomiting, I felt I as if I had encircled the globe. All of it in half an hour. I was pleasantly surprised when I landed in Dhaka. Blame it on my communist Calcutta upbringing or the dismally low expectations from the trip, but Dhaka came across as a remarkably developed city. Having been brought up on a diet of yellow Ambassadors and unexciting Marutis, the omnipresence of Toyota and Mitsubishi cars on the streets of Dhaka filled me with awe. There were also a number of skyscrapers around. For a country staking claim to the title of the poorest in the world, this was surely not appropriate advertisement. Even otherwise, Dhaka was a great experience made even more special by my first and last win at a Lotto machine. I vividly remember that moment in Wonderland (no wonder!) when I hit the elusive Jackpot (Yay!! OMG ! OMG !! I can't believe it!!) in the company of shocked cousins who exclaimed, "Wow, you are so lucky !" in chorus. I basked in the glory of victory that night. Bangladesh had won my heart.
There was, of course, plenty to eat. I had Hilsa, Pomphret and every other fish that ever lived in the waters of the Paddya. If Dhaka wasn't impressive enough, Chittagong left me gasping for air. Now, either Cox Bazar is the most God-damn amazingly picturesque place in the world or I was just too dazed from my triumph at Wonderland. Either way, it was a delightful experience. So was the drive up Butter Hill. I couldn't have asked for more.
Now as heart-warming as my first visit to Bangladesh was, the second was just as gut-wrenching. By the time I made that ill-fated trip, I had discovered the evils of social gatherings. It was almost a cruel twist of fate that the second trip was made for the purpose of attending a wedding. So post the Biman landing before taking off and Dhaka looking strikingly duller than four years before, I found myself amidst a sea of mascara-clad Bangals. The big, fat, orange Bangladeshi wedding was, in one word, scary. The traumatic experience of that wedding left an indelible mark. Even today, when that song from Main Khiladi Tu Anari (remember "Churake dil mera" and Akshay 'Jumping Jack' Kumar?) plays, it reminds me of orange saris, red lipstick and a deluge of people speaking a funny language. Oh, the horror ! The word marriage would never sound the same.
I have never been to Bangladesh post that. The country, however, hasn't seized to be a part of proceedings in some way or the other. Bangladeshi cricketers (Tiger Murtaza and the last over heroics for KKR), Bangladeshi migrants (who come to Calcutta on just about any pretext ranging from a dentist's appointment to drug peddling) and more recently this mind-blowing Bangledeshi rapper.
Most things Bangladeshi amaze and amuse me. I do hope to visit the country again someday. Till then, I'll pay my tribute to this wonderful nation by singing along with my man GaliB, The Bangla Rapper.
I have a number of relatives in that part of the globe-scattered mostly across Dhaka and Chittagong. It is for this reason that I visited Bangladesh-once in 1994 and again in 1998. Both these trips were interesting in their own right. I was probably too young in '94 to realize the absurdity of the entire exercise, but we actually traveled to Dhaka by air. I remember my first Bangladesh trip primarily because this was my first time on a flight as a grown-up child. The flight from Calcutta to Dhaka was a Biman Bangladesh one and it lasted all of thirty long minutes. I didn't mind it then. Amidst all the flight sickness and vomiting, I felt I as if I had encircled the globe. All of it in half an hour. I was pleasantly surprised when I landed in Dhaka. Blame it on my communist Calcutta upbringing or the dismally low expectations from the trip, but Dhaka came across as a remarkably developed city. Having been brought up on a diet of yellow Ambassadors and unexciting Marutis, the omnipresence of Toyota and Mitsubishi cars on the streets of Dhaka filled me with awe. There were also a number of skyscrapers around. For a country staking claim to the title of the poorest in the world, this was surely not appropriate advertisement. Even otherwise, Dhaka was a great experience made even more special by my first and last win at a Lotto machine. I vividly remember that moment in Wonderland (no wonder!) when I hit the elusive Jackpot (Yay!! OMG ! OMG !! I can't believe it!!) in the company of shocked cousins who exclaimed, "Wow, you are so lucky !" in chorus. I basked in the glory of victory that night. Bangladesh had won my heart.
There was, of course, plenty to eat. I had Hilsa, Pomphret and every other fish that ever lived in the waters of the Paddya. If Dhaka wasn't impressive enough, Chittagong left me gasping for air. Now, either Cox Bazar is the most God-damn amazingly picturesque place in the world or I was just too dazed from my triumph at Wonderland. Either way, it was a delightful experience. So was the drive up Butter Hill. I couldn't have asked for more.
Now as heart-warming as my first visit to Bangladesh was, the second was just as gut-wrenching. By the time I made that ill-fated trip, I had discovered the evils of social gatherings. It was almost a cruel twist of fate that the second trip was made for the purpose of attending a wedding. So post the Biman landing before taking off and Dhaka looking strikingly duller than four years before, I found myself amidst a sea of mascara-clad Bangals. The big, fat, orange Bangladeshi wedding was, in one word, scary. The traumatic experience of that wedding left an indelible mark. Even today, when that song from Main Khiladi Tu Anari (remember "Churake dil mera" and Akshay 'Jumping Jack' Kumar?) plays, it reminds me of orange saris, red lipstick and a deluge of people speaking a funny language. Oh, the horror ! The word marriage would never sound the same.
I have never been to Bangladesh post that. The country, however, hasn't seized to be a part of proceedings in some way or the other. Bangladeshi cricketers (Tiger Murtaza and the last over heroics for KKR), Bangladeshi migrants (who come to Calcutta on just about any pretext ranging from a dentist's appointment to drug peddling) and more recently this mind-blowing Bangledeshi rapper.
Most things Bangladeshi amaze and amuse me. I do hope to visit the country again someday. Till then, I'll pay my tribute to this wonderful nation by singing along with my man GaliB, The Bangla Rapper.
"Aami dal-bhaat khai nigga,
Aami bangla rap kori nigga"
1 wise opinion(s):
Hi ,
I just wanted to invite you to the indiblogger meet happening in your city after 2 years at
CII
DC-36, Sector - 1, Salt Lake City
Kolkata - 700 064
Landmark: Behind City Centre.
Only 200 seats available. Entry is free with loads of fun. If you have not registered already, register here = http://www.indiblogger.in/bloggermeet.php?id=113 . See you there!
Post a Comment