Dear Dhaka,
Stepping out of the airport, inhaling the uber-polluted air, and being buzzed by the chaos of the traffic, you felt like a warm hug in the month of January. As I walked towards the parking zone, I was lost in dreams of kacchi biriyani & jaali kebab from Fakhruddin's, when Mobarak Bhai's 'salaam' got me back to my senses.
A few hours with you turned into an agonizing experience, with mosquitoes taking control over my life! It used to be dark when the azaan from the Eidgah Masjid woke me up, every single day. And I had to struggle to get back to sleep, as the honking rose with daylight. You made me spend hours in traffic, never giving me a moment of complete silence, getting desensitized to tragedy and the toxic air - yet, there was a sense of belonging, straggling at every corner.
Whenever I walked down the narrow lanes of Shahjadpur, dotted with tiny shops, I could spot someone or the other smiling back at me. Initially, it felt annoying - because that's not how people in my land function, but slowly, I got used to your people. And soon, I made friends out of strangers, lovingly calling me 'apa' and it seemed like I've known them all my life.
Sitting at the North End in Gulshan, I kept wondering why teachers in school never talked about you explicitly - even though you are so close to us, oozing with a history that's so relevant. What were you like, when you served as the Mughal capital back in the 17th Century? And when the migrants from across Europe came to you for the famous muslin?
I wish someone could tell me more about you - a man, or a museum. Perhaps Thamma could have shared some stories about you, but I was too young and oblivious to ask her before she left. But thankfully, I found Chandaa, Fahad & Antara who helped me know you in brighter lights. From the societal structure that thrives at your heart, to the buzz that encircles you; from the delicacies that you have to offer, to the cultural richness that you nurture - I got a glimpse of it all.
Thanks to the lip-smacking flavors of nihari & payaa at Star, the breathtaking illustrations of Dhakayeah, the hustle & bustle of Mock Bazaar, the quaint evenings around Haathi'r Jheel, a boat ride on Buriganga, the 'ilish bhorta' at Terracotta and the jamdani sarees of Narayanganj, the thread of love from Zahaar and the reluctance of Kholeel Bhai - I came closer to you even before I knew it.
I'm glad that you've become 'home' to a dear friend who deals with your cacophony by playing Tagore's songs on full volume, but it'll be a sheer lie if I say it's because of him, that I keep coming back to you! Unwinding amidst the silence that lingers in my room right now, I think I am missing you.
Love,
Jajabor (the wanderer).
