A Gas-Balloon Seller

By Zannat Ara Amzad

Long time ago there was an old man. He was a merchant. He had a business of a gas-balloon. He started selling gas-balloon when he was 12 years old. He started this business from his village. After that he came at Dhaka city. Instantly he developed his life by selling gas-balloon.

When I was three years old then I saw him. And I asked my mother about him. Then my mother told me about him. My mother saw him from her childhood. She saw that man always as same.

When the man used to sell the gas-balloons then he used to recite a rhyme like singing style. The rhyme was:

‘Gas-balloon char-ana

Dhaira rakhben charben-na

Chaira dile woira jaibo

Ar fira paiben-na…………’

[Gas-balloon is at tk 0.25;

Don’t leave, hold it;

If it is left then it will fly away;

You won’t get back that.]

He had polygamy. But he did that for some reasons. He got his second marriage after the death of his first wife. When his second wife died then he got third marriage and she also died. After the death of his third wife he got fourth marriage. But when she died then he decided that he will never get married. He took this as his fate and bad luck.

His has seven sons & five daughters. He made his all children educated. At a time he built seven buildings in Dhaka city & day by day he became a rich man. But he never changed his occupation.

I always saw him as same. I heard from my mother that she never saw any changes on him. He always put on lunge (like skirt), genji (T-shirt) & plastic shoes. Just his voice became changed for his age. But he always used to sell Baloons by reciting:

‘Gas-balloon char-ana

Dhaira rakhben charben-na

Chaira dile woira jaibo

Ar fira paiben-na…………’

Suddenly I heard that the man died. It is unbelievable but it’s true that when he died he was 150 years old. Today he is no more with us but I will remember him forever.

Woman

Translated by: Kazi Rafiqul Islam
Written in Bengali: Shahida Islam Mony

O woman, at times you are mother
Wife, sister or beloved at times.
You have filled the world
With love and affection.
But what did you get
With all these sacrifices?
Just once ask yourself
You will get the reply.
You are blank, alone, you are incomplete
Because you are a Bengalee woman.
Tears in your eyes
Shut your eyes
And feel from the core of your heart
Laments, laments and laments only.
Still you are a woman
You have to endure silently everything.
Then why observe this Women’s Day?
Come on woman, stand upright
Now is the time to protest.
No longer will you be the victim of slavery.
No more tears in the eyes
Not any more laments
Keep protesting o woman
And break the silence.
We are not helpless; no more will we remain slaves
Chant slogans, march forward on this Women’s Day.

I feel proud to be a Bangladeshi

By Jainub Khanam
Pictures taken by Mohtarimun Nahar [Bipa]

Bangladesh is a land of beauty. We got our Bangladesh by giving blood of million martyrs’. We have our own language ‘Bangla’.

There are six seasons in Bangladesh. The common fruits of Bangladesh are-- mango, jack-fruit, black-berry, melon, banana, coconut etc. These fruits are nutritious, delicious and tasty. Some common fishes of Bangladesh are -- salmon, carp boal, rui, katla etc. Hilsha fish is our national fish. It’s very famous in our country. The magpie is our national bird. The White Lily is our national flower. There are many rivers in our country. The Padma, the Meghna, the Jamuna, the Shitolakha and the Karnafuli etc are the main rivers of Bangladesh.

Bangladesh is an agricultural country. The soil of Bangladesh is very fertile. So, golden crops grow in our country. Most of the people live in village.

Bangladesh is a beautiful country, but most of the people are poor. Flood is a great problem in our country. Bangladesh suffers from flood almost in every year. Over population is our main problem. It is the main cause of our food shortage. Poor people don't have enough food to eat.

Bangladesh is also famous for Cox's Bazar sea-beach. The scenery of the Cox’s Bazar is amazing. We have Shahid Minar and National memorial. We have patriotic poets, like-- Kazi Nazrul Islam, Jasim Uddin and Michale Modhusudhan Datta. Kazi Nazrul Islam is our national poet of Bangladesh.

I am Bangladeshi. Bangladeshi people are very friendly. We always try to celebrate our all the seasonal occasions together, like—Pohela Boisakh, Pohela Falgun, Nobanno Uthsob etc. I was born in this country. I feel proud to be a Bangladeshi. I love my country very much.

Some Pictures of our Natural Beauties:

Still they are at margins of society

By Golam Rabbany Sujon

First Published

Many national and international organizations/donors work with disadvantage people and provide facilities, assist them for being self-employed. But there are very few organizations that work with Hijras on HIV/AIDS, STDs awareness program etc. Hijras are deprived of many facilities in our so-called society. They are obstructed from their birth. One hijra (Joya) informed that hijras don’t get proper right, love and affection as like as other children in their family and society. Family members and relatives don’t want to keep good relation with them. People laugh at them. So once they leave their family and started to live with other hijras. Hijras like to live in group. They beg door to door, shop to shop, office to office etc. They live from hand to mouth. They can not go to the school like other children. They are insulted everywhere. They can not go on with other same aged people. They have few proper opportunities to take skill. But if they get proper education and technical skill they will able to work like other people.

Two hijras are in the market

Some NGOs have awareness program on HIV/AIDS, STDs and they provide condoms, lubricant and medicine. But they need education, technical skill, honor & rights like other people in our society. They need working opportunities. Govt. and foreign donors are spending money to develop disadvantage people, why they are not held as disadvantage people and supporting.

“Joya” organizer Badhon hijra organization

Flood and my Jacket

Translated by: Golam Rabbany Sujon
Written in Bengali: Helen Sarkar

May be the incident is very simple to some persons but there may have something sympathetic or pitiful. Ok I am describing everything- everyone is aware about 1998’s flood. Probably flood is as like as relative to us, one or half a time it comes to us in every year. Then we used to live near Tepakhola embankment though our house was under Faridpur district. We had nothing to do; we had to live there due to my mother’s job. But those days were very pleasure to us. Mother’s office and our residence was same house. I used to enter to my mother’s office room whenever I got scope to go and I used to tell my mother when you would to come to our house. No sooner my mother replied that she was staying in the house whole day. It was just fan.

But sometimes my mother used to go to the fieldwork and then I used to go with my mother. I was great lucky that I was able to move with my mother and I could see nice and bad things in the world. The people of that area were eager with flood and river-erosion as that area was situated near the river of Padma. According to regularity flood came and people took shelter to the Beri-embankment of Padma near our house. I did not hear ever in my life such like crying and shouting from their heart. Flood affected People used to tell their problems and poverty from the morning to night coming to us. We kept sufficient contribution to the disaster people according to our abilities.

One day I washed all of ours warm clothes like sweater, jackets etc and kept those in the sun for drying. My sky-colored jeans jacket was not drying as that was much heavy. It was also one of the favorite dresses to me. In the evening my mother took every clothes from the sun but she did not take in to the room. I asked my mother that why she did not take my jacket and my mother replied that that was wet and nobody would steal that jacket. So we passed that night as we had deep sleep keeping my jacket in the veranda. In the morning I did not found my jacket and I saw that ropes were fallen in the floor. The dress was stolen which was one of the favorite dress to me – but I did not shock and I did not shout for losing this instead of feeling sympathy for the thief. I thought that he/she might be a good person but stole this dress due to more poverty. May be he/she was fasting for want of food. Sometimes I think that we who are solvent in our society indirectly motivate poor people for being thief and indirectly we try to make them understand- “you have no right to live well. You will be corrupted, you will steal and you have to have nothing”

Flood comes every year and probably we wait for flood every year. We also wait for taking picture while we provide minor relief. We wait to see helpless people’s cry-wet-eyes and smiling faces of donors. ‘How much we gave to the disaster people’ it is an invisible competition among us. We are the people of civil society!! We want to buy helpless-crying-hungry children, old people and poor people by minor relief packet.

But we don’t want to protect flood affecting again or submerge the lands, wasting crops and fall people in sea of tears.

May flood clean all the darts from the hearts, take away our ill conscience by its skilled hand and in these ways we will be pure, really workable and helpful for the society.

My Journey at Cox’s Bazaar

By Lubana Rahman

“I was shocked, my blood was running in my veins in so high speed …I am suddenly reached in cloud nine! I can’t believe this! Is it happened at last or still I am in dream…”---this was my first inner expression when I have heard about this trip from my husband. He was planning to give me surprise and he succeeded on it!

I am not an extrovert person but I do love journey, outing and of course cooking. But here, today, I am taking you with me into my journey at Cox’s Bazaar through my experience.

Our journey began at dawn. We caught 7 o’ clock’s train. I relieved my breath after taking a seat in train. As my husband, Riaz and me both are service holder, we have very little common leisure time. We were planning for this journey by train to Cox’s Bazaar for few years. However, suddenly, at night, after returning home from his job, he told me that I have a surprise for which I am devouringly dreaming and that was the very next day we were setting off to Cox’s Bazaar. Hurriedly, I arranged the entire luggage, taking digital camera for capturing beautiful moments, taking a flask full of tea and some dry food.

We reached at chittagong rail station after a seven hours journey. I enjoyed all the views the journey could offer along its rail-tracks; passing time eating, drinking, and taking some snaps. From station, we send off for our cousin’s house at Agrabad with handful of sweets and fruits as a gift of our hearty hospitality to them. After taking a half hour refreshment, we are getting ready for roaming in Foyze Lake with our cousin. There a pleasing, heart-charming view waiting for us to welcome these thirsty, eager eyes of us. What a view! I don’t know the exact expressing word which can truly express my feelings; I am lacking of that! It is so huge that one day must be scheduled for enjoying those heart-cooling, spell-bounded views. We did regret of spending such little time here. We just did some rides, boating less than for half an hour, riding on hills and sipping the beauties as my athirst eyes can do. We took snaps even after dark as if framing out could save more time to view these beauties for longer!

Some pictures of Fayaze Lake:

I am with my husband

Next day, we were set off for Cox’s Bazaar in rain by bus. You can go at Cox’s bazaar by bus or reserve taxi; it is three-hour journey but don’t worry, your heart is already stealing away by roadside views. Those heart-thundering scenarios make you forget all the tensions, boringness and tiredness. Fresh, hilly air filled with welcoming aroma, engulfing us to its enchanting views. I enjoyed with every cells, with every breath, with my heart and with my soul. Chips and soft drink just worked as catalyst in this bus-journey.

Some pictures of Cox’s Bazaar:

Taking a meal from a restaurant, we step for the sea-beach. It was a wintry noon; its chilling was little higher because few hours ago, a hilly raining spread its touches to the weather. Waves were coming and breaking on beach…as if…as if...So many unspoken words, stories were trying to say its visitors but before it reaching to us, just breaking down. The sky bent down with the sea at horizon. To me, the world seems stopped there, I was drowning, drowning to its silence, bewildering to its hugeness, to its enormous beauty, overwhelmed by all of the sea and the horizon has offered to me.

There is a small market, build up based on handicrafts of oyster-shell of mollusk. We did roaming here and there, eating local food and then waving good bye to Cox’s Bazaar; we were heading for Agrabad by bus at 5 p.m. In downpour rain, we reached at our cousin’s home at 9.30 p.m.

The next day in Agrabad make me wake up with its soft, drizzling sound of cats and dogs rain. Today we booked the whole day for Potenga sea-beach. Here, we did shopping till noon for our family as souvenir from Chittagong, then stepped down to the beach after enjoying mouth-watering local meals, seeing the ebb and flow, taking snacks and of course lots of snaps before returning to our cousin’s home.

Some pictures of Potenga sea-beach:

This is the last day here. We, today will go back again Dhaka by train at 3 p.m. this last day, Chittagong offered us a bright, sunny day from her lap as special souvenir to us as if, “see, I also have bright sunny day!”. After taking breakfast, we headed for Chittagong war-cemetery for the few hours we have before leaving Chittagong. This cemetery is build for those brave soldiers who died in World War II. This place is so solemn, so calm and beautifully mantled with lime, green grass, scented flowers as if to show them this ‘world’-y respect to their sacrificed soul. I bend my head to those graves that fights for this wonderful world.

Some pictures of World War II:

Our train journey towards Dhaka began at 3 o’ clock. We did lunch in train, enjoying this seven-hour long journey with chips, flask full of tea, fruits and the views. We reached at Dhaka at 11 o’ clock. Here it is ended but I am luring for again the journey to Cox’s Bazaar, tempting to spend more days there, enticing to sip all the beauties it has offered to me. How many unvisited sights are still there! How many waves are still breaking down, telling so many unspoken stories to its viewers… Ahhh, what a journey it was!