Man of Words First, there are just words: ugly, soul crushing, tear jerking words Words that scar. Words that can kill... thrown at each other, on purpose The mere purpose of the words at that hellish point is to hurt, hurt and hurt...until there is no turning back, taking them back... Then arrives that breaking point Excuses become futile Justifications pointless Anger takes over And the world where you two are meant to be together becomes meaningless disposable And right when you decide it's time There's nothing left, come the memories...gushing, flooding They bleed into coffee stirring In TV shows In songs In refilling water bottles, regrigerating left over In plates, mugs, pillows On walls, rugs, amazon recipts, on long grocery bills strewn accross the house In every corner, In the mundane that you built together These cheeky memories try to cloud your reasoning, obscure your vision they make you regret the words, they make goodbye hard so so hard But memories are weak, compared to the words, the sharp as Damascus words that can slit you heart, like a falling silk scarf So you lock up the memories, conceal them, lest you seem fragile too, And let the words win.
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My Bohemian Sanctuary

If you know me, like really know me, you are quite aware of the fact that I am excruciatingly lazy! I get nothing done (nothing whatsoever) on most days.

We moved to our quite spacious new house almost 2 years back and I have only recently started decorating it! I say new, because it is still a blank slate.

I have always been a sucker for boho-chic decor. I love mirror-work and bright colors. So here goes--the result of numerous trips to thrift stores, flea markets, Indian markets, handicraft stores and museum shops. We didn't want too many furniture cluttering our living room. We have a toddler frolicking around the house and if you have any experience with toddlers you know that toddlers and heavy furniture don't go hand in hand! There is a screen door at the end of the room overlooking a huge backyard--the area right infront of the door is supposed to be the dining space. We wanted to bask in the sunlight seeping in and flooding the room on most afternoons, hence we kept that space vacant save a little sitting arrangement/relaxing nook. I didn't put up pics of the other side of the living room because it is currently occupied by my husband's DJ gears, ugly speakers and my nursing glider and ottoman but I will sort that area out (soon??)--I plan to turn it into a cozy little reading nook. When that plan will materialize, if ever, is another question!



Our aim was for our house to exude our personality, which I would like to think is sunny and free spirited like the decor we chose! Hope you like it!
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Peek-A-Boo

Ok! Done with my hybernation! A lot has happened since my last post which I will blog about in a more elaborate and detailed write-up later. I promise. This post is to just let everyone know, I am alive and kicking and ready to blog again! So bear with me a little bit longer!
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observation of the day: were they really all that?



Older generations, quite unmindfully brand young people as socially irresponsible—it’s their favorite pastime to mull over the bygone glory days when the student body/youth in Bangladesh were socially more responsible. It is somewhat true that the youth loved taking charge in less complicated eras e.g. when somebody in the neighborhood fell ill, it was common for the next door youngster to rush her/him to the hospital. It would always be the band of young people who’d run the errands or do the chores whenever there was any kind of occasion in the neighborhood, be it a funeral or a wedding.

There has been a significant decline in social responsibility in the youth but it would be quite unfair to blame young people alone for this slump. A group of 20-somethings feel that the 21st century mindset and all the subtle and gradual changes that took place since the 90’s (starting from the way houses/apartments are designed to the education curricula) are mostly responsible for this downtrend. The new and transformed landscape (pigeon-hole apartments with no yards, gardens or parks keep people indoors most of the time) don’t bolster that kind of a communal feeling anymore. There is simply no space where people/neighbors can bond. Needless to say that the stringent academic curricula of schools and universities, the scramble for jobs, the rat race and hum drum of everyday life wear the youth down—make them too busy and too self-absorbed to think about social responsibilities. Researchers say a more highly competitive world has forced young people to become more individualistic. They care less about things that don't affect them directly.

I have a slightly different take on the issue which I will elaborate with personal anecdotes.

This girl sitting next to me at a wedding the other day was telling me that she along with a group of university friends turned vegan a few months back. She says it is not easy being a vegan in a country where meat, milk, eggs etc make up people’s everyday meals. But, the vegan diet she thinks can only validate her undying love and respect for all sentient beings. She politely refused the wedding food and told me that online vegan groups, workshops, vegan facebook friends from all over the world are a huge support and help with vegan information and recipes. Then there was this university club/group I ran into last week who were out on the streets raising awareness on recycling and going green, a movement they feel is vital for Bangladesh’s development. And my teenage cousin (19 years old), I heard just came back from Aatigram, Manikganj where she teaches English to preschoolers, a voluntary job she finds rewarding in more ways than one. And of course who can forget the numerous facebook groups, online student websites etc who came together in times of crisis— after the sidr, Aila, fire at Old Dhaka etc and tried to help in every other way—sometimes by raising relief and at times by talking to the victims, listening to their stories and helping them cope with the trauma.

The 20 something generation may be less radical than their predecessors who, say, took part in the1971 war or the 1952 language movement and became flashpoints for their times. But thanks in large part to the Internet, this generation is much more aware of the world. And because historical tragedies such as the 9/11 terrorist attack and Hurricane Katrina have scarred their youth and adolescence, experts see signs these young people are creating their own brand of social consciousness.

Social network users feel that the emergence of web blogs, Facebook awareness pages, donation websites/SMSs, online petitions etc changed the ways one would express political views, volunteer in community work and be socially responsible.
Yet, Curtis Gans of American University's Center for the Study of the American Electorate says that measurable declines in civic education, newspaper reading and knowledge of current events are other signs of a devaluing of civic involvement. Harvard public policy professor Robert Putnam, whose 2000 book Bowling Alone is about the decline of civic engagement and social connection, says volunteering is class-driven. "This whole recent spurt is largely concentrated among kids of the upper middle class. ... The have-nots are actually more detached than before. “Thus the very term ‘social responsibility’, is debatable in this age and time.

On the other hand, the role of the media must not be underestimated in its positive and negative influences on the youth. Advertising agencies, corporations and manufacturers all seek youth attention. The youth are the target audience/consumers of most producers. Even though satellite, cable TV, news paper, magazines, websites etc bring a plethora of news— it is of little wonder that young people choose to watch music channels, read sports news and visit celebrity websites instead—as these sources cater to all their entertainment needs and are designed keeping them/ their needs in mind. Hence, if mainstream youth culture is indeed irresponsible is it because they just happen to be that way or because they are given a choice between esoteric social responsibility and ceaseless, adrenaline gushing entertainment?
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observation of the day: old age homes: for better or for worse?



"Dhaka, Oct 1 (bdnews24.com): “The government has started working on a detailed data bank for people aged over 50. Quamrunnessa Khanam, secretary for the social welfare ministry, said on Thursday the World Bank will fund the scheme, and officials have started doing the groundwork for the study. Khanam said the government would also build one house for elderly persons in each division."


According to the United Nations, an influx of senior citizens is seen in Bangladesh in recent years owing to a decrease in fertility rates and improvement in life expectancy. In the last two decades Bangladesh has experienced two major demographic changes: the rapid population growth in urban areas and the demographic transition having lower fertility and higher longevity.


Rapid growth of urbanization and the growth of population in urban areas mostly occur due to rural-urban migration—young and young adults are prone to migrate to the city/abroad for better career opportunities, resulting in an increase in the number of aged people in the rural areas.


In Bangladesh, the population above the age of sixty has reached over 7.2 million. The life expectancy is increasing on account of improved health care, education and technology. Senior citizens are becoming a subject of concern for the national planners dealing with socio-economic programs in Bangladesh.
Source: http://www.novartis.com.bd/news_current_CPD2008.html


A lot of people feel that the intolerance among young people coupled with their inability to adjust with the elderly may have also contributed to the soaring number of public and private old age homes in the country. Some blame it on the 21st century lifestyle and its demands; others feel that the past was never quite the golden age of happy families either—there was always this insurmountable gap between generations so much so that e.g. grandparents/parents and children ate(had dinner/lunch) at different times to avoid confrontations and conflicts.


But the extended family was always regarded as the amulet to ward off the ultimate horror of growing old alone. In its decline, the family’s potency has become even more mythical.

The families of the past do deserve some credit as they, regardless of miscommunications and repressed anger did take care of the elder family members. The modern family is suffering in doing so. Examples of the strains are manifesting themselves in the rising levels of elder abuse that ranges from confining the elders to a room with no one to speak to save the house helper to insults and negligence.


It is hard for the parents to adapt to these changes because Bangladeshi elders have always looked upon their children as an investment. They believe that taking care of their children when they were young, paying for their education, marriage etc give them the right to depend on them solely. This has given rise to a culture of dependency. You will see many elderly couples waiting on their sons for going to the bank, paying bills to doing day to day things. After a certain age, parents start depending on their children for emotional support as well—their happiness, sorrow, anger, frustration, aspirations and.. fate lie in the hands of their children.


Children who usually have to give in to the pressures and demands of the 21st century fail to cater to these needs…thus the birth of the mantra, “my children do not have enough time for me”. The traditional family structure has fallen prey to the inevitable changes that this century has dumped on us. Children cannot always manage the time or the effort that it takes to take care of elderly parents. The balance of power in the household has also changed over the years. The common scenario of a working class family would include a working couple, their children and the in-laws. The son and the daughter in law are usually the bread earners who are responsible for taking care of the parents. Which is another reason for parents to feel increasingly squeezed out of their home. It seems that the solution for many people these days (parents and children alike) is nursing homes/old age homes/retirement communities.


Many a time, children who do end up taking care of the parents, do so out of obligation, which can be very demeaning for the parents As a result quite a large number of elderly people choose to live in old age homes, where they think they can live in peace without being a burden to anyone. Thus the concept of old age home is gradually emerging as the most viable option among the senior members of society who are financially independent. While we Bangladeshis love to talk about family values, sadly, a considerable percentage of parents-children relationships of this era are mediated more by duty and less by love. Many senior citizens feel that these care facilities are the answer to some of life’s hard to swallow problems like insecurity, loneliness, negligence and lack of companionship.
Whatever the reason, the breakdown of the extended family has become the arch villain in the story of growing old in Bangladesh. The fear of growing old all alone has become a part of the cultural zeitgeist of the age.


Another point to note is that these old-age care facilities did not appear overnight, out of the void— they are the outcome of thorough research that has confirmed that these facilities have become a necessity in this age and time. Old age homes are very much a part of our lives now-- they aren’t some ‘western’ thing that has nothing to do with our culture where disrespecting the elders is a cardinal sin. Old age homes have stemmed from demand from children and parents alike, and there is no way one can deny that.


Having said that, a lot of elderly people also feel that old age homes or anyplace where they will be robbed off the opportunity to spend time with their children and grand children can never be a solution. And there are children who still believe in extended families and feel it is an honor to be able to take care of their parents. It is very hard to be judgmental when it comes to the concept of old age homes as different families function differently and we can never know what is good or bad for them unless we put ourselves in their shoes.
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thought for the day : the cultural relevance of ‘Banglish’: Should we allow English to seep into Bengali?



You may have mixed feelings toward disciplines such as contemporary art, architecture, media, literature, politics etc with their border-crossing,
de-colonization,deconstruction and other cryptic postmodern traits…but one fact that you have to agree on, is the accelerating rate at which their significations/meanings change. If anything is constant about the ‘contemporary world’, it is ‘change’. What is ’in’ this instant may turn into history in a split second…Linda Hutcheon puts it perfectly when she says, “It is easy to see that we are living in a time of rapid and radical social change. It is much less easy to grasp the fact that such change will inevitably affect the nature of those disciplines that both reflect our society and help to shape it “(Hutcheon 1989: vii).

In order to remain a part of this planet, Bangladesh has to participate in this ceaseless circle of change that has become symptomatic of life in the 21st century. Yes, change has seeped into the social fabric of Bangladesh and as a matter of course, it has affected the way we speak, dress, think and act. In this globalizing era of shrinking borders, satellite television, the internet, seamless fusion of different cultures, it would be way too ambitious to claim that we Bangladeshis been left unaffected by it all.

Now, English, needless to say is the language of this ‘change’, the lingua franca of the 21st century. It is the language of most popular TV shows, magazines, social networking sites, books, satellite channels, podcasts, blogs etc. The majority of Bangladeshi people, especially the youth, are bombarded with it every second. It has crept into pretty much all disciplines and in the process, intermingled with spoken bangla and produced a language (an atrocity to many) that goes by the name ‘Banglish’--a mutant, 21st century offspring of Bangla and English.

*[Indian media culture has a bigger influence on Bangladeshis and hindi words have bled into our lingo as well (e.g. ‘maasti’, ‘yaar’, ‘josh’, ‘dost’) but English remains more dominant as English is a mandatory subject in almost all schools in Bangladesh].

A lot of people, especially academicians detest Banlish and feel Bangla language is going through its worst phase and decaying right before their eyes. For years there has been a growing panic across the nation that our language is deteriorating into something unrecognizable, and quite frankly, bad. Those who bewail the loudest that the sky is falling apart are concerned that English words, slangs and abbreviations have contaminated Bengali Language and turned it to something decrepit and twisted.

Yes, it scares me at times....but after giving it some thought, i feel that this anxiousness isn't really about the obliteration of Bengali or Bangla words, it is stemming from this deep rooted fear of change--the belief that anything new is bad-- the bigotry sentiment that Bangla is best in its purest form and that languages should not change.

I mean isn't it the fate of languages that things will change, blend, and mesh together to form different breeds and hybrids that become the language of future generations?

If we look back, we will see almost all languages have undergone major changes. English has been changing since there was such a thing that we could even call “English.” Old English was a conglomeration of Germanic and Celtic dialects. Middle English was a cross between Old French and Anglo-Saxon. Though we recognize Shakespeare’s words, the way his English sounded would sound nothing like our own. And eventually, English will move into a new stage beyond our own.

All that is fine.

Now, seeing as the English language has a suspiciously larger vocabulary than the Bangla one, some words will and should cross over. There are certain English phrases that convey a meaning that can hardly be replaced by a bangla equivalent. But at times there exists a Bangla word that means the exact same thing. Not a little different, but exactly the same, e.g. the chanting of the youth: ‘you know’, ‘awesome?’, ‘whats up?’, ‘yo’ can easily be replaced with bangla equivalents that convey the same meaning, flavor and context…yet the English words are more popular amidst the youth. No matter how much I appreciate the interrelationship between languages to better express one’s self, in this case, to me, this reeks of laziness. Yes, I know that almost all developing nations especially the countries that were once British colonies are growing more bi-lingual (for their own benefit) every day. And I also know that trying to fight this is ridiculous, but this usurpation does seem to indicate that in some time some bangla words will totally be replaced by English equivalents.

Needless to say languages progress by changing. But I am not sure if I would be comfortable calling the eradication of once up and running words exactly…."Progression”. Some people say that the eradication of words/ languages is a natural process. It filters words that have become hackneyed/obsolete. Tbe death of a word gives life to new words and in the process rejuvenates language.

And when we look at English, can we really say that change makes a language weaker or worse than it was before? English has undoubtedly undergone some major changes …it has embraced the changes that SMSing/Text messaging and chatting has brought forth, it has accepted the internet lexicon, it has endured the television jargons…but can you put a hand over your heart and say that English is spiraling downward? Or would you rather say because of these changes, it is the melting pot of a language, the voice of numerous people all around the world, the language of the press, internet, television etc and it is pretty much chugging along at the same pace it’s been going for the past two thousand years?
You decide.

My concern? When talking (or singing) in bangla, people should really lose the American accent (what’s with that?) and use bangla words instead of English equivalents…. Bangla will survive. Bangla has too much history, baggage and a bloody carnage behind it to just die out like that…..
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Observation of the Day: Bangladeshis are no longer as romantic as they used to be?




Bangladesh is a hopelessly romantic nation (at heart). Bangladesh’s art, culture,literature, celebrations/festivals, cuisine..everything ooze with romantic ideals. It is believed that an average Bangladeshi person (male in most cases) has written at least one romantic poem/letter, at some point in life —for the sole purpose of wooing someone ( in most cases) he barely knows. Hand written letters spouting flowery language, mushy love quotes are something every one of us (mostly women) had to deal with. These letters at times came from someone next door (a complete stranger) or a random person who spotted you in some public place (already imaged your wedding day, decided on your kids to your pet dog’s nick names) and fell in love with you instantly. Whatever the case, these verbose love letters were inevitable even 10 years ago.

The mighty rivers (depleting), lush greenery (no more lush) and frequent torrential downpour—all of which were parts of Bangladeshi life in the past contributed to a deep and age-old relationship between Bangladeshis people and nature. Bangladeshi music somewhat reflect this ‘in one’ with nature state of mind— and is often, ecstatic, romantic and throbbing with sappy emotional undertones. Apart from the few heavy metal bands in Bangladesh, most bands (starting from Shumon (from Arthohin), to Tahsan to Arnob) have topped the charts with their mushy love numbers. Classical, folk, Rabindra Sangeet, Nazrul Getti, Bhatiali songs also boast romantic lyrics—even when the lyrics are not romantic in a lovey dovey kind of way, their passion and emotions make them Romantic nonetheless.
Kazi Zazrul Islam—the national poet of Bangladesh is best known for his romantic lyrics. Although his fiery, militant, anti-colonial patriotic poems inspired millions of Bengalis—the patriotism or idealism conveyed in his poems are somewhat Romantic.

Bangladeshi food is also full of romantic innuendos. At weddings the bride and the groom are fed with sweets (believed to strengthen/ sweeten the love between the newlyweds). A mother’s love is often expressed via food—it is believed that the more the mom cooks for you (especially sumptuous meals like Biryani, Polao, sweets etc) the more she loves you. The general and common assumption is—a mom who never /seldom cooks for her child/children cannot be a good caregiver.

But slowly these little quintessentially Bangladeshi sentiments are withering away. People just can’t afford the time that it takes to woo somebody. Long, flowery love-letters have been replaced by alpha-numerical texts such as “A/S/L (age, sex, location?)”, a heart shaped emoticon or a ‘send friend request’ tab. The expressions of love have also changed with time. It is no longer cool to sit by the lake or the university and munch on peanuts. Hangout places evolved—the things that are in right now are quite different from the things that were in a few years ago. The Bangladeshi cinema scenario also matured over time. Even though legendary romantic film couples like Kobori-Rajjak will live forever, Bangladeshi audiences now demand contemporary and relatable elements in films. Working moms have resorted to short-cut, survival food recipes as opposed to the gastronomical marvels of the past. And with the emergence of technology—the internet to be precise, numerous TV channels to choose from, night life, etc people no longer find solace in the elaborate and time consuming ways of being romantic… these days, it seems, instant, right now gratification is becoming more and more popular..a good thing? maybe..but experiencing the transition, the change first hand sure feels eerie!
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The Morning After


Table 10
10:38 PM.

Co-workers and friends of coworkers hover over her. Intern girl 1 sits to her right and intern girl 2 to her left. “your hair looks fine, wait lemme ruffle it a little’ says intern girl 1. “Promiscuous Girl” blares from the speakers. Intern girl 1 pulls her chair closer to her and ruffles intern girl 2’s hair. They mess each other’s tresses. she sits in the middle. they giggle away….

She is sipping diet coke from a stem glass.

Post Dinner.
11:42 PM.

The day stumbled into night rather abruptly.

She is slouching on the corner couch in one of those parties, where everybody, every single body is better than you. Where beautiful girls swirl around gracefully…drinking something (surely vintage) from champagne flutes….Blood red lips delicately talk about haute contour, European film directors, some London hot gig. Oohs and ahhs at just the right places; perfect inflections…each word uttered significant, relevant.
Manicured nails tap on table tops..blinding gems, designer labels, suits, pointy shoes, chicness walking around….posh accents puffing, moaning and sighing over politics, the legalization of gay marriage, soul food, trendy ashrams, religion…..

“Have you ever been to a masque…masquerade? “She asks the head of marketing and communications.

“No.” she says, eyeing intern girl 1—Her gaze, a wriggly serpent cascading down intern girl 1’s body…starting from her carefully ruffled hair to her painted toes….slithering around every crevice, curve and nook. “No. I haven’t.” she repeats still eyeing intern girl 1 like a vindictive scorned woman. But then she suddenly realizes that she is looking, recovers, looks at her and smiles with exquisitely bleached teeth.

“Okay. You look nice.” She says.

“I got this dress……” She stares at her lovely face as her voice becomes a muffled monotone…. She looks like one of those Picasso’s monumental women—big bones, wide pelvis…ideal for child bearing.. .And with the utmost grace she takes out a miniature perfume..she squints…”Joy” she sees , from her Prada handbag and with the hand movements of a dancer dabs a drop of it onto her pulse points. She extends her forearm….. offers her to take a whiff of her. She leans forward…her dancer hands brushes against her nose and her upper lip.

Some girl she can’t quite recognize finishes making a joint. Men and women who, despite their heights, always tower over you, sit around her, over her, on her lap…and take tokes.

The fragrance of Joy…swirling and blending in with smoke, liquor, mint, food and the echo of buzz words.

After midnight. Lounge.

Ravenous sleep washes over her. She takes off her heels…she gently rubs her soles. She pinches the ends of her toes. Massages her feet. She slowly places her feet on the soft, plush carpet…she sinks. Deep deep into the whiteness.

“what do you like about winter..snow?” she asks a man whose face is obliterated by the smoke.....or mist..she can’t tell.

Its so cold in here her breath steams.

“I haven’t noticed you before beautiful. The men’s room is a good place to talk about winter stories don’t you think… get warm, familiar?” says the man behind the smoke.

She slowly gets down from the couch.
sits on the floor….consumed by the softness of the carpet.

“its okay to give in to sleep.. To let it take over you” she whispers.

“you know, I get so wary of words…of everything… sometimes. “ she tells somebody..a silhouette, who is stroking her hair..her face…whispering “its okay baby, don’t be scared”.

She is lying in a fetal position—rocking a little to a music that’s blaring from the speakers…U2? She cant tell.

The silhouette is constantly reminding her that everything is going to be alright. She is wary. She feels the urge to tell him..umm her, she cant tell…that “amidst the chrome tinged chores and run of the mill humdrum, she is slowly drifting away from something important, vital...” But she just mumbles something incomprehensible instead that the silhouette is in no hurry to decipher. She tells the silhouette, “this place reeks of umm, remember that plasticky odor that new toys right off the box used to exude? Synthetic well ummm plasticky? Like baribie’s hair?” the silhouette just says its okay and everything’s fine and that she is beautiful…..

Its cold. The silhouettes hands are cold. Her mother has kept all the toys from her childhood. Her barbies..she has packed them in Styrofoam boxes and kept them is the storeroom….so that her children can play with them. the alarm will go off at 7. Her feet are throbbing with pain. High heels are bad for you……she is weeping.

9:30 AM the next morning.

She recalls

Smoke. Cold. Red lips. Joy. Silhouette. Sleep. Men’s room. White plush carpet. Someone she cant recognize, dropping her home. Barbies……
Her mother opens the door. Shards of sunshine seeping in, making kaleidoscopic patterns on her mother’s night dress..on her face. Her mother’s effortlessly beautiful face…in her eyes that tell you stories of yesteryears, a thousand battles….lost.

Her mother sits on her bed. She curls up, lies in a fetal position, next to her. She silently weeps. Her mother strokes her hair…and tells her everything is going to be alright.
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