Ammur kachhe jabo

My mother- in- law whom I would fondly address “Ammu”, along with other relatives, bade us bye at the departure lounge of Dhaka International Airport as we set for the USA. I certainly heard other people in Foreign Service telling about a common agony in this particular profession which is that a lot of near and dear ones are lost forever when they were in a painful geographical distance because of overseas postings. In my case, I barely knew Ammu would be leaving us forever in this fashion and when I am on my maiden foreign mission.

An extraordinarily caring and amicable lady, she was like ready to give her everything for the sake of the near and dear ones which included not just her immediate family members but also the people who came in contact with her, some just by chance. From the subordinate members of her husband’s office staff to a luckier chap such as me who happened to be married off to her daughter –all have found her almost the same.

A school teacher, housewife, loving mother and grandmother all these identities did apply to her when she calls it a day. Her patience, an extremely down to earth approach as well as unoffending personality made her dear to almost everybody who met her. Consequently her sudden disappearance has created a catastrophe and, more precisely, a form of insecurity to the family members whom she left “disproportionately” dependent on her.

Yesterday, I found my wife at the other end of the telephone in a condition which could not be more shocking or confusing. “The only thing I know is that I go must go to Ammu as I can’t imagine a single moment without her”-she had been inconsolable. A child’s dependence on mother is constant and universal. It is just something that can’t be less or excessive. Wise people say the Divinity never created a need without a means to fulfill.

For my wife, for myself, for my daughter, probably for anybody else there is hardly a need more immediate to this. Who can precisely guide us the “needed means”?

June 5, 2011

Rabindranath Tagore’s 150^th birth anniversary celebrations at the Embassy

We celebrated Tagore’s birth anniversary today. Noted Tagore Singer Kaderi Kibria enthralled the audience with his sublime singing of Tagore songs that I am sure made a good portion of the audience nostalgic. Incidentally this is the first that I came to personally meet him as well as welcome him to the embassy. [In fact in Bangladesh there was little scope of me attending any live concert of Kibria’s; he permanently settled in the USA in 1990 couple of years before I started permanently living in Dhaka.] I think I became relatively familiar with Tagore songs the two years when I was an intermediate student at Science College in Dhaka. Aside from the popular Tagore songs that Kaderi Kibria sang, his reminiscences of the singer days in Bangladesh dating around three decades back kept the senior segment of the audience relatively captivated. As he flew home early morning from outside DC he hardly had enough rest before coming to the programme; it was noticeably difficult for him to keep requests that kept coming from the listeners one after another. He, however, promised to compensate at a later time. Hope the love of the non-resident Bangladeshies for Tagore would never fade and they would succeed in spreading the poet’s great works and those of other Bengali writers to the next generations.

My wife and daughter missed out on 150^th birthday of Rabindranath; hope both of them can make it to the 200^th and 250^th anniversary. Till then, not only the legendary singer of Kaderi Kibria; let also the very man physically remain with us!

My good friend Andrew whom I met at an Embassy Orientation programme at the Near East South Asia Center of the National Defence University, Washington DC showed up and attended the musical soirée. While my off and on side talk to him was much less adequate than a working sub-title for an American ;next time I see him around, I would like to convey to him the meaning of at least one particular Tagore song which featured in Kibria’s renditions , Ami chini go chini tomare ogo bideshini (O dear foreigner, I do know you). You see the insurmountable barrier relating to language remains even while trying a one sentence sub-title for reaching Tagore song to an American listener. Who can help me with a feminine form of “foreigner”?

Embassy Open House 2011: Guests are our Gods

For the fourth consecutive year, our Embassy has taken part in the Embassy Open House in collaboration with the Passport DC, a renowned cultural organization based in this part of the USA. I find it a very fascinating idea which brings in a great opportunity to the otherwise preoccupied DC dwellers to be acquainted with the diverse cultural treasures of the world in a relatively short time. Virtually, this is ‘round several countries in just a few hours’! People in their thousands ignored the weather’s betrayal and thronged in the embassies located in and around the International Drive and Mass Ave. The food court and other stalls selling various merchandises took me to Sorojini Naidu :

What do you sell O ye merchants?/Richly your wares are displayed/Turbans of crimson and silver/Tunics of purple brocade/Mirrors with panels of amber/Daggers with handles of jade...What do you weigh, O ye vendors?/Saffron and lentil and rice/What do you grind, O ye maidens?Sandalwood, henna, and spice.. (In the Bazaars of Hyderabad)

In the late hours I had a glance of the arrangements in Ethiopian, Egyptian, Nigerian and Pakistani embassies. For most of the Embassies this is beyond the routine business of the month but thanks to the dedication of the embassy staffs and their families, it very much finds the grandeur of an annual festival!

A great number of the foreign visitors were appreciative of our decorations, not a gaudy display, and foods. The appreciation was not essentially the hallmark of a typically sober DC-ite. I had the occasion to overhear foreigners praising our efforts while they had been in the territories of other participating embassies . Certainly we become elated at such an honest endorsement of our ‘soft power’ by a genuinely international jury!

Hope our future Open Houses would come with more festivities for us. Rather than an extra routine burden let it be our much awaited yearly festival!

A free lance journalist

During my student days at Dhaka University, the only extra-curricular thing in which I was engaged was working for a few English language daily newspapers published from Dhaka as a contributing writer. The concerned editor in some instances introduced me to the readers as a free lance journalist which probably renders some degree of injustice to my more dedicated colleagues in that universallly revered profession. I came across the news of The Bangladesh Observer's (the newspaper I mostly worked for) closure while at the London School of Economics (LSE) last summer and could not control my agony. I put my a brief comment on a news item in one Bengali newspaper covering Observer's death as one of its former part-time employee to express the hope that somehow 'my Observer would make a glorious resurrection' soon. One lady responded to my comment narrating how difficult it is to find her brother a suitable bride with the fault nothing other than the prospective groom's profession (journalism) !

Anyways, I left the business of writing for newspapers when my student days were not yet over. The position I landed in was that of a Research Associate at the Centre for Policy Dialogue (CPD), a noted civil society think-tank in Bangladesh. I remember during my interviews, two separate occasions in a span of a year, first recruitment and then confirmation as a permanent research staff, I was asked about my aim in life: journalism or research! [Indeed, on my very first day as an office attending employee, it was slightly difficult for me to respond to a just-become-colleague as to what is the exact reason behind my shift of loyalty across professions! The thing I had a little struggle to hide was that my old office is unfortunately not in a pecuniary condition to pay dues to existing staffs let alone recruiting new hands! Can someone end up becoming a researcher in pursuit of cash?]

As a full-time civil servant now, it is difficult for me to answer an apparently intellecturally demanding question of how related or unrelated these two career paths are. While Paule Krugman would be the most illustrious example to cite, the mediocrities such as me must remain careful before responding to an employer that this issue is pretty personal unless, as an employer it is noticed that the concerned employee is not taking due interest in the assigned tasks!

Admittedly, minimum degree of interest is required to handle a profession even for the mere livelihood sake. HR nerds sum it up as a job satisfaction. While interest for specific jobs is essential to enjoy the profession, ironically on the flip side, too much of that may invite decisively life thereatening moments.

Years ago, I read a few classic pieces and quotes from the Pulitzer winning US journalist Ernie Pyle who, until his death in combat during the World War II wrote as a roving correspondent. The Indiana University, which Pyle left just one semester before graduating, houses the School of Journalism at the Ernie Pyle Hall, pays tribute to Pyle's passion for his profession, "his reporting humanized the war for many of his readers."

Three days ago, the fighting in Libya took the lives of two journalists Tim Hetherington, director of the Oscar-nominated documentary "Restrepo" and Chris Hondros, a Pulitzer Prize nominated photographer. The two journalists who had been covering the Libyan crisis accompanied the rebels fighting against Moammar Gaddafi's forces and succumbed to fatal injuries when mortars were fired targeting the rebels. The photo that I have attached Honros took few minutes before his death showing a rebel figther running up a burning stairwell during a house-to-house fighting on a Tripoli street .

I don't know what impresion Pyle could leave for his colleagues covering conflicts around the world today, however, if I had any chance to meet Tim or Chris before they took up the Libya assignment, I would surely draw their attention to at least one Pyle quote:

" There is nothing nice about the prospect of going back to war again. Anybody who has been in war and want to go back is a plain damn fool in my book." [Back Again, Feb 6, 1945]

To Ushashi, "Armstrong needed no escalator to catch the Moon!"

Courtesy of Mohua Apu and Babu Bhai, we had a fun visit to the National Air and Space Museum. The world's largest museum and research complex, the Smithsonian Institute possesses 19 museums and galleries as well as the National Zoo. Because of time constraint and largely thanks to Ushashi's obsession for just one single living object, the passenger escalator, over the museum's all ill fated artifacts, for rest of us (myself, Swarna, Amma, Mohua Apu, Babu Bhai and their loving daughter Sophie), the Museum remained greatly unexplored! None of the Museum objects-ranging from the original 1903 Wright flyer to Apollo 11 Command Module Columbia that marked the first manned lunar landing in 1969 carrying Neil Armstrong and his colleagues- could impress my complacent daughter as much as one single escalator could! A stubborn Ushashi could hardly convince herself that there were funnier stuffs to do around that place than the escalator ride even though the latter is not unavailable at the malls across the street from our homes in both Mirpur and Maryland!

We were certainly lucky to have the company of Mohua Apu and Babu Bhai, the brilliant physicians couple, extremely informed about the modern day developments in aviation sciences. I am sure they have far excelled any of the professional guides operating around us.

It should not go unrecorded that the doctor couple's generousity to us stretched up to a very sumptuous treat at an Italian restuarant in the Montgomery Mall!

Hope, Ushashi's physics would soon transcend our conflicts for a united space mission from Smithsonian next time!

Bengal Cafe, DC

It is a week now I am beyond the protective wings of my family-disproportionately female dominated as it is manned by just three ladies of three generations: Ushashi, her mother and her mother's mother (in law).

I can't exactly remember the title of a Boston Globe article published in praise of the lone Bangladeshi restaurant "Bengal Cafe"in greater Boston region. As far as I can recollect, in an exclamatory tone the article's title read, If Mom had come all the way from Bangladesh! The reporter sort of vouched that for those of us, the Bangladeshi students and other fellows who were scattered across the Charles River far off the touch of mothers, the delicious foods served at the Bengal would fill the void! Ali Bhai and Bhabi's (the couple who, thankfully opened and have still been running the Bengal Cafe) personal care turned the restaurant into more than an eating place for us.

My wife's general rating of myself as a social being is that I am a boring person since it's unkind of any family man to get cordoned off by stuffy readings at weekends that again are systematically depleted and only to come after painstakingly extended weekdays!" Your daughter will just be pissed off someday"-one of her parting warnings before catching the flight to Bangladesh.

As time and again I re-assure my reasonably anxious family that thanks to the generosity of my colleagues and their families in DC, Maryland and Virginia I am taken a great care everyday: at home, at office and honestly, wherever I am! Because of my batch-mate colleague Nazmul and his wife, Rawnak Bhabi , I even have the opportunity to overeat! They together have endured to attempt Amma's cooking style and take care of my calorie-intake around times they saw me taking meals last one year; (as if the mother's part in perpetuating her kid's inability to independently handle own life is not enough!) All I can say, never can I repay the debt they have encumbered me in! That's at home.

On the office front, I don't know, how exactly could I narrate the mental support I've received from my senior colleague, Jashim Sir, who unfailingly asks me how I am in absence of the family before entrusting me to every single task! So kind of him.

When I was first employed at the Foreign Office, my family and I myself were not just in the dark in respect of such job placements in this particular livelihood. We were mentored to remain mentally prepared for a life as a stranger both socially and institutionally (at the Foreign Service Academy, for instance, we had mandatory cooking sessions ! I might have had a passing grade at Rahmat's magnanimity.).

In case I appear partly pulverized today, would just like to refrain from any aggressive marketing for my foreign life/service which came either by fate or choice as I see past the first week away from family. Should I disqualify someday!

My mother leaves Washington

Just one week shy of one year since we arrived in Washington, DC, my mother along with my wife and the baby has left for Bangladesh. Though my memory is not that vivid, I think the last time it such happened was at my infancy when my mother left me at her mother's (my grandma's) place-in Kapasia, Gazipur- in order for her to attend a primary Teachers' Training Programme. During my mother's long and extra-ordinary ordeal- which predates my birth and was very much the same till her last moments at our Apartment on the Willard Ave-a number of occasions only she saw me off. Barely did I notice before Amma's departure that- an ever so industrious lady as she is-not only cooked foods for me as much as was possible to ensure I do not go unfed at the family's absence; Amma just could not be careless enough to forget about putting on the dining table one jug full of purified water.[ I apologize to Bayezid Bostami if had insulted the great Saint with an anecdot on life saving water in a riverse direction between mother and son! ]

My colleague Nazmul and his wife (Rawnak Bhabi) accompanied me to the Dulles Airport when I for the first time saw off my mother in a foreign land. Last one year Amma found them very much as the same family members.

As the summer harbingers, I found Amma praising the Montgomery County people for keeping the county park near our Apartment so clean . This year's winter is not yet over and I suppose, the Park's regular summer time visitors have not yet started returning. To the annoyance of Swarna, last year Amma took Ushashi to the Park lake and Dolna a number of occasions making it the one year old's most favourite outing.

When Ushashi is back in mid-June, she is most likely to miss out adventures on another summer unless her mother is convinced that the one year older baby's health is at reasonably less risk in the bushy corners than last year which was braved by an indulging grandma.