In a certain dialect, the title of this post means “My Country”. The scars of Partition that the Valleys of Indus and
I have always wanted to visit
What struck me as soon as I walked out of the airport in
Only one evening was free before two packed days full of business meets with the country teams and the business directors would start in full swing. And the nomad in me decided to make the most of it.
The first stop was
Going ahead a couple of more kilometers was the famed Dhakeswari temple. Ever since I have known people directly affected by the partition, I have heard elders say how they would love to go back just once to
And on the way back I stopped over at the mausoleum of Nazrul, the rebel poet of
Being the shameless marketer that I have become I asked to be shown around the busy markets and business districts and that’s how I landed in Gulshan. Being near the hotel I was staying in, I found it convenient to walk around the market. And while it was refreshing to see the signboards in Bengali, I thanked my lucky stars that the pulse of the market was no different from that of the sub continent. I knew knowing
The famed “Bangal cuisine”, the envy of all us “Ghotis” had to be given a miss though. Everything was a working lunch and dinner. But even then, I was bowled over by the hospitality of the team there. And thanks to them, I was able to orchestrate a full blown Bengali sentimental sequence with mom and grand mom.
Me: “Ma I have got you a dhakai jamdani and a Nakshi Kantha Stich”
Ma: “hrrmph. You are not staying back in
Me: “Na ma. By the way, is didima (grand ma) there? She gave me the idea.”
Didima: (without any query about my well-being) “So you got the sarees? Good boy. So as soon as you find a girl for yourself, you can give her those.”
Me:”What!!! Give ma the phone”
Me: (Next call to Baba). “These contriving women of my family!!! Those things cost me a bomb and they want me to gift them to a hypothetical entity whose existence and future occurrence is seriously under question.”
Baba: “Heh Heh.”
Something troubled me though. I had always thought, given that the country had gained its independence foremost to safeguard its language and its people, I would see a lot more love and affection for the language. But the signage in the shops disappointed me. Bangla as a language was losing out on both sides.
Maybe I am wrong and I do hope I am.