Picture of Gautama at the temple. He was born, became Buddha, and passed away (attained Nirvana) on this full-moon of Boishakh month:
Stupa at the entrance to the temple:
Family praying inside temple:
Mom offers "proshad" as son checks out the man with the camera:
Boys waiting in line to offer prayers:
Girl dressed in her "Purnima Best":
Party time!
Bring on the music...
Toys for the boys:
I was not clear about the meaning of the money tree, but it was part of the prayers:
Woman entering the festival:
Serious monks:
Laughing monk:
Pohela Boishakh
Shubho Noboborsho - Happy (Bangla) New Year. Today is Party Time in Da Desh. As my ever-insightful friend Rahim says, the only holiday which is pure fun. No historical or religious connotations. Just enjoy the day.
So people were out for fun. Kids getting faces painted, playing with balloons and balls. Women wearing white and red saris. Friends walking hand in hand. Mothers, fathers, children - some grandparents. Eating choc-bars and potato chips, listening to singers and bands as they played on various stages in Ramna park and nearby. Some even dancing. Blowing soap-bubbles. More kids getting their faces painted than you can shake a stick at.
Some brought a tiffin carrier, a bedsheet and sat down and had a picnic lunch in the park. Smiling women tied each other's hair into jasmine flowered chignons. College boys showed up wearing the same fashion sunglasses and T shirts.
It was good to see everyone so happy.
21st February
Five thousand years from now, when we are all dust, and today's nations are but small chapters in history books, what will anyone remember about Bangladesh? I believe it will be Language. If nothing else, they will remember that this proud, stubborn people rose up against a much larger force to exercise their right to speak, read and write in their mother language. And this rebellion ultimately gave birth to the nation Bangladesh.
Bangladesh remembers those who have given their lives for her language, Bangla, on this day, Ekushey February. All day long the city reverberates with this song:
Aamar bhaer roktey rangano ekushey February
Aami key bhulitey pari
(21st February, glowing with blood my brothers have shed
How can I forget?)
As I wandered in the city today, I saw thousands carrying flowers, some with black badges, yet others with the national flag. The flowers are left at the Shaheed Minar in memory of those who fought for Bangla. There were people from all walks of life - old, young, rich, poor, man, woman. Love for one's language knows no boundaries.
On this day I am filled with respect for those made this sacrifice, and I pray for their departed souls.
Boi Mela (Photos)
I went to the Ekushey Boi Mela (book fair) yesterday. It is on Bangla Academy grounds and runs until Feb 28th.
What it's all about...
The road leading to the Mela covered by banners.
Onyoprokash was the busiest seller - one buyer gets change over heads.
The environment (specially trees) lent some drama (the sign says Shikor - "root")
Three veiled women who were shopping for books.
This man could not wait until getting home to read his new acquisition.
Publishers found novel ways to market books.
Salam, one of the first martyrs of the Language Movement
Friends looking through a publisher's catalog.
A selection of Bangla IT books in the Mela.
Parents' duties don't stop with purchasing the books :-)
I liked the Boi Mela a lot, but next time I will leave the camera behind. It was schizophrenic and stressful playing reader and photographer simultaneously.
I bought one book, called "Bangladesher Protno-Shompod" (Archaeological Treasures of Bangladesh) that is encyclopedic - and has directions to many many historical buildings and ruins.
Brahmins and Naval Architects (Photos)
Last Friday we went for a 50-km bicycle ride out of Dhaka. It was a very foggy day:
We biked east and then south of Dhaka, the last 5 km along the banks of the Sheetalakhya. This was my first time on that road. We spotted a shipbuilding yard on the bank and stopped to take a look. Workers were building a large, 200+ feet long ship.
This gentleman is the owner of the operation. He said the metal comes from Chittagong, and is built into the ship which is sent back to Chittagong by river. Then it is used to move materiel between Chittagong and Dhaka. Takes about 8-9 months to make such a large ship. All the work is done on the premises.
These two workers were painting the hull. They used a rag instead of paintbrushes to reach all the nooks and crannies (to seal them from rusting?)
I asked them about Keraniganj, where I had seen large boat building facilities. They said it had shifted here due to people moving into Keraniganj area (gentrification.)
I hope to be back when they lower the boat onto the river. That should be quite a sight.
On our way back, Peter spotted some color at a distance from the road and we stopped to investigate. We walked to a field behind a village. It turned out a Hindu Puja - and an accompanying Mela - was in progress. It was called Purnima Puja or Dhamai(?) Puja. This priest was leading the prayers.
The air was festive, with music and drums.
The people praying were mostly women.
The mela offered toys for the kids.
This gentleman asked me to take his picture with his granddaughter. I said I thought it was her daughter - he looked so young. He gave a hearty laugh.
This girl had got her own balloon and was playing on the side by herself.
At night, it was full-moon, so indeed it was a Purnima. All in all, great day of exploring. Many thanks to my bicycling companions Peter and Mehreen.
A Little Flag Waving (Photos)
16th December is Victory Day for Bangladesh - a good day for flag waving :-)
The Hour Before Iftar (Photos)
An hour before Iftar yesterday, I went to local bazaars and was relieved to discover that I am not the only one obsessed by food during Ramzan.
This seller dressed his chhola beautifully...
... but picky buyers also abound - checking out an orange.
Jilapis fried away in historical oil...
...while Muri (puffed rice) serves the health-conscious
Pre-iftar is slow for the barbershop business.
But hey, shopkeepers gotta eat Iftar too, so why not roll your own?
This pair of apple sure looks heavier than the 150g weight.
...Dates is all I want, I want them plump chewy sweet dates...
Hey, what's inside those fried thingies?
Having trouble keeping fingers away from the food? Wait it's not time yet!
This Gulshan shop is more upscale and restrained
Is this young man having trouble concentrating?
And let's not forget that kids enjoy Iftar too.
Second Ramzan
This is our second Ramzan in Bangladesh. The fruitsellers and Iftar sellers and just about everybody else (except the bottled-water-suppliers to the offices) are doing brisk business. Everyone has gone on a slightly laid back pace. But the first few days are hard for many fasters, so sometimes tempers run high. The second day of Ramzan I was walking in the streets near Banani around noon, and noticed that people were a little less patient, and more prone to starting arguments or just being rude to each other. Or maybe it was my hunger playing with me!
I enjoy the Jamburas, Pomegranates and Aamra at Iftar, as well as Halim/Chhola/Peyaju of course. There are many elaborate Iftar items floating around. Fancy restaurants in Gulshan set up table-top iftar items that can be brought home at Iftar time. Perhaps I should check out old Dhaka at Iftar one day to see what they offer.
But I do miss those plump Medjool dates we got in the US. The dates here, which are imported, are not too good. Sort of a bland vanilla variety.
Pohela Boishakh
Today is Pohela Boishakh, the beginning of the Bengali Year.
Many changes since the last time I spent Pohela Boishakh in Bangladesh. Most of it for the better: lots of parties ("functions"), women wearing attractive cotton saris on the streets (why can't they come out more often? Sometimes Dhaka seems like a city of men!), and a strong sense of happiness and cultural unity all over.
The best part of the day was when we were driving in front of a Garments factory. Suddenly a few hundred young women, workers at the factory, poured out of the gates, all wearing the same stunningly beautiful red-and-white sari. The saris were a gift from the company. What a breathless spectacle.
Back in my days,
We did not greet people with "shubho noboborsho" - it sounds too artificial
We did not eat Panta Bhat and Ilish Machh - this one is a shopkeeper's trick
We did not jam up all the main roads of the town heading off to the parties
To Pohela Boishakh I say "My, you have grown! Just like the rest of the country."
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