Past Perfect
Past Dhanmondi, a business district, the car turns into the winding interiors of Rayer bazaar. The similarity with Bhowanipur in Calcutta is striking. My taxi driver has invited me home for lunch. The Hindus live here and the driver offers to take me to visit the local temple. Century-old narrow lanes somehow make way for the stately Toyota Corolla. He parks by paying monthly rent in a rickety building next door. But all the cars parked there are big and he finds it difficult to nudge the car into its bay.
His daughter, a charming, confident girl studying in Class VIII, shows me the school awards she’s got for coming first in class. She speaks no English. In broken Bengali, I ask for her English textbook. In flawless Hindi, she tells me there is only one and that she will bring it. It is a book of English grammar. I leaf through it and it looks centuries old. The intent of the book has me foxed. It explains the difference between past perfect and past imperfect. I try to locate aorist tense, but the book does not have an index. I ought to have asked the girl. To test the mettle of a babu in the ancien regime, grammar had its uses. But in the age of Facebook?
Future Imperfect
Dhaka periodically erupts with one riot or the other. But the people are unfazed. They have one ear to the radio news to select which area to avoid, much the same as a driver in New York. On the outskirts of Dhaka, near Tungi, our driver spots a commotion. He pulls the car quickly into a gas station. The driver gets out and is stung by tear gas in the midst of stone-throwing by a mob. In 10 minutes, life is back to normal, we fill gas and head out. Traffic is heavy. On a rickety bus, I see a passenger, head tilted, sleeping. On to Tejgaon in central Dhaka, where the riot for the day is over, leaving only the broken glass as a memory.
This series of riots is by the garment workers. The workers, mostly young boys and girls, earn 3,000 taka a month (about Rs 2,400) and are demanding 8,000 taka. Garment owners say such a wage hike will make Bangladesh garment exports uncompetitive. They have offered 3,600 taka. The German ambassador has taken the side of the workers. With elections around the corner, the riots will increase. And then there is the foreign hand. I meet a young professional who tells me that these riots are inspired by foreign agencies out to bring down Bangladesh garment exports. Does he mean India? In Bangladesh, opinion on India is polarised, depending on which political party you back.
The poverty line
The rich are divided from the poor by a thin line. For example, on one side of the airport road are the high-rise buildings of Uttara and on the other are huge garment factories and shanty towns where the labour lives. Fast food on one side of the road, and chaiwallahs on the other. When provoked, the poor take charge of the road and block traffic or worse until the tear gas and rubber bullets arrive. As in Pakistan, the symbols of a middle class are missing. Swanky big cars are cheek by jowl with decrepit and overloaded buses. The odd Tata Indica and Nano look like toys in this bustle. Food is the other marker. Chai, a delightful cup, is best had at small roadside eateries. The price of chai is 5 taka (about Rs 4). It’s a good index in South Asia of the real exchange rate, much like burgers in developed countries. The tea contains imported condensed milk. Bangladesh has no dairy industry worth mention.
Sonar Bangla
The TV newsreader sports a prominent bindi. The names of leading business groups? Vasundhara and Jamuna. On a morning walk in the elite Gulshan (much like Gulberg in Lahore), I am intrigued by the name of a builder, which is Suvastu. Is good vastu a value, or is the word just a name? The name of the building is Imam Square. The day’s entertainment page lists a Tagore play and a rendering of traditional soul music by Baul singer Sattar Chishty (in Pakistan, it is not polite to talk about the Sufi Chishty saints). Near the city centre, outside the Ruposi Bangla Hotel (earlier The Sheraton) is a statue. A diminutive, turnbaned coachman is driving a horse coach. Inside the replica of a 19th century box carriage is a zamindar family seated composedly. Cut to the airport road in Lahore and what is there but a replica of a horse chariot—this time with a very brawny man controlling a rearing steed. An unmistakably Arab icon. Each country has its own symbols, Bangladesh looking back in time and Pakistan peering west.
News from the old kingdom...
Sonargaon, the iconic old capital of Bangladesh, was established as a medieval kingdom followed by the inevitable sultanate which left behind an exquisite arch bridge. Durga Puja is celebrated with zeal in the village.
Engineer-turned-part-time-farmer, Mumbai-based Ganesh is co-founder of www.thestiffcollar.com; E-mail your diarist: s.ganesh AT @ interstrat.co.in
