jege achi ami ekaaaaaa, ratrir ditio prohor...
So my friend kabir came back yesterday. We talked for a long time about the stuff he did in Bangladesh. Among his accomplishments were two art/music shows that he organized at Pablo bhai's house(Pablo from feelings).
I saw the pictures taken during aforementioned shows...quite an achievement. Abstract impressionists, bauls, regular musicians, and art college students painted the house and decorated it in a fantastically surreal way. Lights were set up outside and nightly music sessions were held under the moonlight, everybody was smoking or drinking and otherwise enjoying themselves. I was quite envious after seeing the pictures, I wish I was there.
Kabir, being a free spirited soul that everyone falls in love with under a minute, was also able to take his art college buddies to an island in the Bay of Bengal. There they set up a temporary camp and another art exhibition of sorts. Basically they partied; they partied for a few days and a few nights like a flock of free spirits with no worries or social hang-ups whatsoever. It must have been great.
I don’t know when I will visit Bangladesh; I haven’t gone back since I came here in 1992. When I talk to many of my relatives back home, I can feel the tie has already been broken. I don’t feel the attachment to Bangladesh anymore, by all means, I consider New York my home. Only things I could think of doing in Bangladesh are attending rock concerts and chasing hot Bengali chics, and eating all the great Bangladeshi stuff that I haven’t eaten for 12 years. I don’t particularly feel the attachment with my family members back there, whenever we talk all they could ask is what are my academic achievements, and all I could ask is, have they been doing ok or not. There has been a slew of cousins that were born after we came here...I don’t know their names, or faces...to them we are a myth, to us, they don’t exist.
This whole realization of detachment from Bangladesh saddened me, yet I must accept what I feel. I feel NYC is my home, I can never settle anywhere else. Its not that I don’t love my country of origin, or that I don’t love my family members, it’s just that a huge gap has been created due to the long period of time that passed by. And this gap can never be mended. After getting a job and earning enough money to pay for my transit, I could visit Bangladesh every year if I wanted to, but even then things will never be the same, we could never be on the same plane. I don’t think like they do, they don’t think like I do...the gap has been created, we are different entities now.
I saw the pictures taken during aforementioned shows...quite an achievement. Abstract impressionists, bauls, regular musicians, and art college students painted the house and decorated it in a fantastically surreal way. Lights were set up outside and nightly music sessions were held under the moonlight, everybody was smoking or drinking and otherwise enjoying themselves. I was quite envious after seeing the pictures, I wish I was there.
Kabir, being a free spirited soul that everyone falls in love with under a minute, was also able to take his art college buddies to an island in the Bay of Bengal. There they set up a temporary camp and another art exhibition of sorts. Basically they partied; they partied for a few days and a few nights like a flock of free spirits with no worries or social hang-ups whatsoever. It must have been great.
I don’t know when I will visit Bangladesh; I haven’t gone back since I came here in 1992. When I talk to many of my relatives back home, I can feel the tie has already been broken. I don’t feel the attachment to Bangladesh anymore, by all means, I consider New York my home. Only things I could think of doing in Bangladesh are attending rock concerts and chasing hot Bengali chics, and eating all the great Bangladeshi stuff that I haven’t eaten for 12 years. I don’t particularly feel the attachment with my family members back there, whenever we talk all they could ask is what are my academic achievements, and all I could ask is, have they been doing ok or not. There has been a slew of cousins that were born after we came here...I don’t know their names, or faces...to them we are a myth, to us, they don’t exist.
This whole realization of detachment from Bangladesh saddened me, yet I must accept what I feel. I feel NYC is my home, I can never settle anywhere else. Its not that I don’t love my country of origin, or that I don’t love my family members, it’s just that a huge gap has been created due to the long period of time that passed by. And this gap can never be mended. After getting a job and earning enough money to pay for my transit, I could visit Bangladesh every year if I wanted to, but even then things will never be the same, we could never be on the same plane. I don’t think like they do, they don’t think like I do...the gap has been created, we are different entities now.