Dhaka Diary 3: Of Halloween, war stories and Ali Baba
Happy New Year folks! After a wonderful Christmas and New Year's in Cochin and Bangalore, I've returned to Dhaka and am back to the serious business of chronicling my (mis)adventures! :)
So life in Dhaka has grown increasingly interesting with the passage of time. In a breakthrough akin to David Livingstone finding the Victoria Falls(!), I discovered nightlife in Dhaka - like the Vic Falls, Dhaka nightlife always *existed*, but it was just such a welcome surprise to finally stumble upon it! Otherwise, like the Loch Ness Monster, I was expecting it to remain a legend that I'd heard of, but never witnessed :)
I've also continued to have the pleasure of meeting many interesting sorts including some UN Peacekeepers, a few fellow intrepid expats, Bangladeshi fighter-jet pilots, oomen(that rare breed!) and a gentleman I shall call Ali Baba for reasons described later :)
Tangential war and travel tales
- Barring my earlier travel nightmares, travel between Delhi and Dhaka has usually been a rather listless affair, save for the occassional encounter with an interesting fellow traveller. At Indira Gandhi International Airport, I was in the midst of a large number of Indian Army soldiers wearing the familiar blue beret of the UN Peacekeeping Force. I've always held the Indian Army and the UNPKF in high regard, particularly after hearing the moving account of a fellow Old Cottonian Lalit Rai, who had led the Gorkha Rifles into the Kargil War, and a b-school senior - Major Rohit Banerjee - who had served with the UNPKF in Liberia.
So I engaged a couple of the soldiers at the departure lounge in conversation and discovered that they were headed to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), where they have the challenging responsiblity of keeping the region stable in the aftermath of the Second Congo War aka the Great War of Africa. One of them was amused when I told them that I grew up in a Zambian mining township near the DRC border. In a free-wheeling discussion they told me how Congo was tougher than any other theatre of war they'd been deployed in, including the Kargil War(!) because of the complexity of their peacekeeping mandate coupled with the unfamiliar territory, etc. We talked about Bangladesh, a country that was *assisted* in it's "liberation" by the Indian Army and which now has a rather tense relationship with India.
As fate would have it, a week later I visited the National Museum in Dhaka and within it's cavernous confines, I spotted the surrender agreement signed by Lt. Gen Niazi (Chief of the Pakistani Army) along with Lt. Gen Jagjit Singh of the Indian Army. The wooden table on which the Simla Agreement was signed also finds pride of place in the Museum.
A week later, at a dinner party in Delhi, I met a friend's uncle who fought in the 1971 war, and who gave me a fascinating account of the war strategy employed by the Indian army, the leadership of the legendary Gen Maneckshaw and the tactical genius of a certain Gen. JFR Jacob. A few days later, my mother tells me of a distant family connection we have with Gen Jacob! Rather uncanny wouldn't you say?
- On a clear day, the morning flight between Delhi and Dhaka affords a breath-taking view of Mount Everest and several other peaks in the Himalayas. I can't really describe the emotion one feels, seeing such an imposing and spectacular work of nature - it's part eery, part awe. I've had the good fortune though, of a much closer view of the beautiful snow-capped peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro encircled by a carpet of white clouds, on a Dubai-Nairobi-Lusaka flight. My resolve to visit Nepal and get a closer view of Mt. Everest is reinforced by this sighting.
Discovering the Holy Grail: Nightlife in Dhaka!
My earlier account detailed some of my experiences in the archetypal local Dhaka bar - dark, dingy, smoke-filled dens filled with shifty-eyed men drinking in anonymity. The arrival in Dhaka of Huzefa, an old Bangalore friend, to visit his brother-in-law Mustafa (it's such a small world!) triggered off an interesting chain of events. Concerned at the plight of the young over-worked Indian cooped up in the confines of his room (yours truly!) Mustafa suggested we visit a local hookah bar. "Bar" is a misnomer because the place didn't serve alcohol, but it did have sheeshas and lo and behold, a proliferation of young teeny-bopper women.
The establishment reminded me of a Coffee Day in a Bangalore, a Mocha in Bombay or a Costa coffee in Delhi. The only difference being that the women were mostly clad in colourful salwars as averse to jeans / skirts and wore generous amounts of make-up! We shared a table with a couple of Mustafa's friends - a young Chinese-Bangladeshi entrepreneur and a young fighter-jet pilot, with body language reminiscent of Tom Cruise in Top Gun! In between rounds of puffs from the sheesha, the pilot's alert eyes suddenly lit up and his jaw dropped. I turned around around curiously and spotted the cause of his distraction. It was a young woman. In jeans. My polite South Indian sensibilities thankfully got the better of me and I bit my tongue hard in an effort not to erupt in laughter! It was evident the pilot considered the place, a target-rich environment! :)
The other chap at our table did manage to pique my curiousity a great deal too - with details of an underground party circuit in Dhaka, with private parties being attended by assorted young expats and well-to-do Dhaka sorts. In fact, the amiable chap asked, would I like to come for a Halloween party that night being thrown by some US Marines? Safety concerns, etc did ring a few siren bells in my mind, but the sheer random-ness(!) of attending a Halloween party in Dhaka of all places, made me throw caution to the wind. So close to midnight, along with a motley bunch, I descended on this huge mansion where a bunch of US marines lived, in the diplomatic enclave with tight security and frisking at the gate.
On entering the mansion's compound, I was surprised to see a large number of people from all over the world drinking and dancing, to the familiar strains of Bob Sinclar et al! I *never* expected to find so many young expats, in Dhaka, and in the same place at the same time, and at a Halloween party! I gravitated towards the bar and on asking for a tame rum-coke combo, was served a large glass of rum with a dash of coke! Tsk, these marines really were made of strong stuff! I sipped nervously at the potent mix, keen to be more of an observer to the night's proceedings than do a Peter Sellers aka Hrundi Bakshi of The Party fame! A number of the Halloween revellers were in costume / drag(?!). Before you ask, yes, I went dressed as myself. One of the marines was dressed as erm a (*cough*) and held a signboard proclaiming "Reformed nudist". An American lady in a rather inebriated state, dressed as a vampire, complete with fake fangs and dark cloak, was asking (obliging) sorts if they wanted her to sink her fangs into their necks. Needless to say, I politely declined (no, really!). The party wore on through the night and it was fantastic chatting with strangers from all over the world - African students, European aid agency sorts, etc. The funniest conversations can take place in a serpentine queue outside a solitary loo!
It really was my most memorable night in Dhaka till date, for the sheer thrill of finally (stumbling upon) and discovering nightlife in Dhaka!
Encounter: Ali Baba
Ok, so I'll be accused of bad taste while narrating this tale, but it was just such an overwhelming experience, that I will encourage those of you with strong stomachs, to read on. :)
In my earlier account, I'd spoken of how, during the month of Ramadan, I'd often have to spend the entire day meeting Government sorts and in the process skip lunch because all of them were fasting, and it's considered rude to eat in their presence, etc.
So on one occassion, I ventured into an official's office and the first thing that struck me about the gentleman was his *huge* nose - this imposing structure with two cavernous nostrils. The disconcerting part, was that for half the duration of our 20-minute discussion, his index finger was inserted firmly inside his nostril, like Ali Baba searching for gold in the cave of the forty thieves!
I was dizzy with hunger, as it was evening, and I hadn't eaten a morsel since a solitary apple for breakfast. And all this gold-digging was making me nauseous! I had to bury my head in my notepad, scribbling away furiously in an effort not to look up! If he was the picture of intense concentration in his search for Tutankhamen's jewels, then I must have looked like a writer who'd just discovered his muse and who was attacking paper with the written word! I also had to bite my tongue hard to keep from cracking up and concentrate hard in an effort to not inadvertently call him "Ali Baba" instead of "Sir"!
So life in Dhaka has grown increasingly interesting with the passage of time. In a breakthrough akin to David Livingstone finding the Victoria Falls(!), I discovered nightlife in Dhaka - like the Vic Falls, Dhaka nightlife always *existed*, but it was just such a welcome surprise to finally stumble upon it! Otherwise, like the Loch Ness Monster, I was expecting it to remain a legend that I'd heard of, but never witnessed :)
I've also continued to have the pleasure of meeting many interesting sorts including some UN Peacekeepers, a few fellow intrepid expats, Bangladeshi fighter-jet pilots, oomen(that rare breed!) and a gentleman I shall call Ali Baba for reasons described later :)
Tangential war and travel tales
- Barring my earlier travel nightmares, travel between Delhi and Dhaka has usually been a rather listless affair, save for the occassional encounter with an interesting fellow traveller. At Indira Gandhi International Airport, I was in the midst of a large number of Indian Army soldiers wearing the familiar blue beret of the UN Peacekeeping Force. I've always held the Indian Army and the UNPKF in high regard, particularly after hearing the moving account of a fellow Old Cottonian Lalit Rai, who had led the Gorkha Rifles into the Kargil War, and a b-school senior - Major Rohit Banerjee - who had served with the UNPKF in Liberia.
So I engaged a couple of the soldiers at the departure lounge in conversation and discovered that they were headed to the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), where they have the challenging responsiblity of keeping the region stable in the aftermath of the Second Congo War aka the Great War of Africa. One of them was amused when I told them that I grew up in a Zambian mining township near the DRC border. In a free-wheeling discussion they told me how Congo was tougher than any other theatre of war they'd been deployed in, including the Kargil War(!) because of the complexity of their peacekeeping mandate coupled with the unfamiliar territory, etc. We talked about Bangladesh, a country that was *assisted* in it's "liberation" by the Indian Army and which now has a rather tense relationship with India.
As fate would have it, a week later I visited the National Museum in Dhaka and within it's cavernous confines, I spotted the surrender agreement signed by Lt. Gen Niazi (Chief of the Pakistani Army) along with Lt. Gen Jagjit Singh of the Indian Army. The wooden table on which the Simla Agreement was signed also finds pride of place in the Museum.
A week later, at a dinner party in Delhi, I met a friend's uncle who fought in the 1971 war, and who gave me a fascinating account of the war strategy employed by the Indian army, the leadership of the legendary Gen Maneckshaw and the tactical genius of a certain Gen. JFR Jacob. A few days later, my mother tells me of a distant family connection we have with Gen Jacob! Rather uncanny wouldn't you say?
- On a clear day, the morning flight between Delhi and Dhaka affords a breath-taking view of Mount Everest and several other peaks in the Himalayas. I can't really describe the emotion one feels, seeing such an imposing and spectacular work of nature - it's part eery, part awe. I've had the good fortune though, of a much closer view of the beautiful snow-capped peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro encircled by a carpet of white clouds, on a Dubai-Nairobi-Lusaka flight. My resolve to visit Nepal and get a closer view of Mt. Everest is reinforced by this sighting.
Discovering the Holy Grail: Nightlife in Dhaka!
My earlier account detailed some of my experiences in the archetypal local Dhaka bar - dark, dingy, smoke-filled dens filled with shifty-eyed men drinking in anonymity. The arrival in Dhaka of Huzefa, an old Bangalore friend, to visit his brother-in-law Mustafa (it's such a small world!) triggered off an interesting chain of events. Concerned at the plight of the young over-worked Indian cooped up in the confines of his room (yours truly!) Mustafa suggested we visit a local hookah bar. "Bar" is a misnomer because the place didn't serve alcohol, but it did have sheeshas and lo and behold, a proliferation of young teeny-bopper women.
The establishment reminded me of a Coffee Day in a Bangalore, a Mocha in Bombay or a Costa coffee in Delhi. The only difference being that the women were mostly clad in colourful salwars as averse to jeans / skirts and wore generous amounts of make-up! We shared a table with a couple of Mustafa's friends - a young Chinese-Bangladeshi entrepreneur and a young fighter-jet pilot, with body language reminiscent of Tom Cruise in Top Gun! In between rounds of puffs from the sheesha, the pilot's alert eyes suddenly lit up and his jaw dropped. I turned around around curiously and spotted the cause of his distraction. It was a young woman. In jeans. My polite South Indian sensibilities thankfully got the better of me and I bit my tongue hard in an effort not to erupt in laughter! It was evident the pilot considered the place, a target-rich environment! :)
The other chap at our table did manage to pique my curiousity a great deal too - with details of an underground party circuit in Dhaka, with private parties being attended by assorted young expats and well-to-do Dhaka sorts. In fact, the amiable chap asked, would I like to come for a Halloween party that night being thrown by some US Marines? Safety concerns, etc did ring a few siren bells in my mind, but the sheer random-ness(!) of attending a Halloween party in Dhaka of all places, made me throw caution to the wind. So close to midnight, along with a motley bunch, I descended on this huge mansion where a bunch of US marines lived, in the diplomatic enclave with tight security and frisking at the gate.
On entering the mansion's compound, I was surprised to see a large number of people from all over the world drinking and dancing, to the familiar strains of Bob Sinclar et al! I *never* expected to find so many young expats, in Dhaka, and in the same place at the same time, and at a Halloween party! I gravitated towards the bar and on asking for a tame rum-coke combo, was served a large glass of rum with a dash of coke! Tsk, these marines really were made of strong stuff! I sipped nervously at the potent mix, keen to be more of an observer to the night's proceedings than do a Peter Sellers aka Hrundi Bakshi of The Party fame! A number of the Halloween revellers were in costume / drag(?!). Before you ask, yes, I went dressed as myself. One of the marines was dressed as erm a (*cough*) and held a signboard proclaiming "Reformed nudist". An American lady in a rather inebriated state, dressed as a vampire, complete with fake fangs and dark cloak, was asking (obliging) sorts if they wanted her to sink her fangs into their necks. Needless to say, I politely declined (no, really!). The party wore on through the night and it was fantastic chatting with strangers from all over the world - African students, European aid agency sorts, etc. The funniest conversations can take place in a serpentine queue outside a solitary loo!
It really was my most memorable night in Dhaka till date, for the sheer thrill of finally (stumbling upon) and discovering nightlife in Dhaka!
Encounter: Ali Baba
Ok, so I'll be accused of bad taste while narrating this tale, but it was just such an overwhelming experience, that I will encourage those of you with strong stomachs, to read on. :)
In my earlier account, I'd spoken of how, during the month of Ramadan, I'd often have to spend the entire day meeting Government sorts and in the process skip lunch because all of them were fasting, and it's considered rude to eat in their presence, etc.
So on one occassion, I ventured into an official's office and the first thing that struck me about the gentleman was his *huge* nose - this imposing structure with two cavernous nostrils. The disconcerting part, was that for half the duration of our 20-minute discussion, his index finger was inserted firmly inside his nostril, like Ali Baba searching for gold in the cave of the forty thieves!
I was dizzy with hunger, as it was evening, and I hadn't eaten a morsel since a solitary apple for breakfast. And all this gold-digging was making me nauseous! I had to bury my head in my notepad, scribbling away furiously in an effort not to look up! If he was the picture of intense concentration in his search for Tutankhamen's jewels, then I must have looked like a writer who'd just discovered his muse and who was attacking paper with the written word! I also had to bite my tongue hard to keep from cracking up and concentrate hard in an effort to not inadvertently call him "Ali Baba" instead of "Sir"!