Bangla Windows

This is one for the Bengali speakers out there – made me laugh out loud.

Bill gates was in Bangladesh last year. He announced that Microsoft plans to release a windows version in Bengali. Here are some Windows related terms that may be used in the Bengali version of: Janaala1971

Phaail — File
Basao — Save
Oula Basao — Save As
Hokholre Basao — Save All
Amare Basao — Help
Khanda Thaki Dheko — Zoom In
Duur Thaki Dheko — Zoom Out
Bhaago — Run
Kofi — Copy
Gulli Maro — Delete
Saddor Bisao — Spreadsheet
Itar naam zanina — Database
Ghaas — Tree
Unduur — Mouse
Onthaki Hono, Honthaki Ono — Scrollbar
Khagoz Bango — Page Break

 

450 Chickens, 6 goats, 2 cows and a partridge in a pear tree

That’s what it took for the ‘wedding’ function banquet in the home town of Moulvi Bazar (not the partridge of course). All except the two legged animals were slaughtered by my dad. Having seen this all before this was nothing new for me but Teacher C, Little Miss C and Mad Cow (my sister in law) had never seen how their kebabs got to the dinner table wanted a front row seat – and that’s what they got. Cows and goats were brought in, subdued and quickly slaughtered in the traditional Islamic manner, jugular vein slit whilst saying ‘Bismillah Allah Akbar’ and it was then all over very quickly. The three voyeurs were sat yards away and recorded it all on camcorders for those interested in a certain type of snuff movie.

I had previously wondered how it was possible that so much halal meat was available in the UK without using mechanical slaughter methods used in most abattoirs, but the speed with which the chickens were dispatched reassured me that it was possible for livestock to be slaughtered quickly and remain halal. Not that it helps win arguments with vegetarians though.

The function itself went well which was essentially just the serving up of the aforementioned livestock. It seemed like the whole town was invited and of course I did not recognise most people including those who came up to have photos taken next to us. The guest of honour was my wife’s grandfather a prominent personality in Bangladesh’s political life and it seems that most if not all came along to see him. It was all slightly bemusing and press photographers came along to take pictures for the newspapers as well as armed police to provide protection.

One of my personal highlights of any trip to Bangladesh is a stay at my Nana’s (maternal grandfather) home. I say home but apart from the house which is pretty much just a large tin shed with some modern amenities, the grounds on which it is sited is quite impressive. There are three lakes (two large and one small) used as fisheries, acres and acres of fruit trees of almost all indigenous varieties planted by my Nana himself and plenty of paddy fields.

Being a city dweller, the remoteness and sedate pace of rural life was a refreshing change to the traffic jams, blaring horns and general hullabaloo of town/city life. Cows are still used to tread on the paddy to separate rice grain from the stalk. A sign of modernity added to the age old techniques was the use of large fans to help separate the chaff from the grain. Previously you had to rely on several hours of back breaking work of chucking the grain/chaff mix high into the air and let gravity and natural breeze do the work. I wonder if in a few years time whether the cows will still be used even though they have been around for thousands of years. Unfortunately few people actually stay here now, most having moved to the city for the benefit of the next generation’s education.

The story of how my Nana and his brother’s came to settle down there is interesting in itself. They are originally from what is now India in the Assam province. After independence from British rule, the colony was split into two, Pakistan (East and West) and India. This led to one of the largest forced migrations of Muslims from India and Hindus from East and West Pakistan with associated looting, rioting and mayhem (that’s the PG version). The land that my Nana ended up living in was one of those abandoned by a rich Hindu family and taken over in a ‘reciprocal’ arrangement for those Muslims made land-less in India like my grandparents. The thumbnail sketch over looks some of the legal and physical obstacles that had to be overcome to hold on to it though – land disputes cases take up something like 90% of civil law cases in Bangladesh.

We’re now on our last day in Istanbul. I’ve fallen behind in my blogs so am slightly out of sync. I’ll write about this when we get to Cairo.

PS. If you want to see some pictures of Bangladesh go to www.bouquetofdreams.blogspot.com

 

Bangladesh

We’re now back from Bangladesh. As you might have guessed from my lack of previous blog, I managed to get my revalidated flight the next day and obtain a visa in Dhaka – without any hint of baksheesh or bribe to oil the wheels (Bangladesh regularly features in the league of most corrupt nations). In fact the whole thing was so straight forward, you wonder why I had to go through all that stress. I was thinking about writing a stroppy letter but six of us got upgraded to Business Class on the way back so I may just let it drop and put it down to experience. Normally I don’t agree with nepotism, but if your wife’s maternal aunt’s husband’s first cousin happens to work for Qatar airlines at Dhaka International Airport and upgrades us, who am I to complain!

So first, apologies for not blogging once throughout my whole time in Bangladesh! There was a distinct shortage of internet cafes in the secondary provincial towns we were staying at as well as lack of time in our itinerary. Suffice it to say, it was very busy, with on some days visiting five to six houses a day (eating at each of these). We never slept in one place for more than a couple of days and must have clocked thousands of miles on plane, automobiles and rickshaws. At least no one got (seriously) ill, the ‘wedding’ functions went relatively well and every one was pleased to see us and made us feel most welcome.

Bangladesh can be a diverse country and your experience of it depends on how much cash you have. To keep my numeric friends happy, £1 = 114 Bangladeshi Taka at time of writing. A haircut (with beard trimming for moi) costs 50 taka, a loaf of bread 20 taka, the latest DVD about 80 taka and Harry Potter book 150 taka. So you can see being loaded with sterling means you can live very comfortably if that’s what you want.

In fact there is a word for those who work/live in the UK and own property and land in Bangladesh – ‘Londoni’. We saw some of the houses that Londonis were raising out of paddy fields and my were they lavish! Some of them looked like they were transported out of scenes from Gone With the Wind and would not look out of place in the Deep South. But the tragedy is that most will probably remain empty for most of the year as their families settle in the west and these status symbols will decay. My father told me of one such Londoni who built a small palace and only lived in it for three months before passing away – the house is now split in to three and rented out.

To satisfy the extremely wealthy, massive shopping centres have been built in the capital city. The whole of Bangladesh seems to be undergoing a construction boom (with land scarce, tower blocks are sprouting up all over the place). Boshundara City, the largest and plushest of these shopping centres, in my opinion rivals any in the UK. We spent many hours roaming through the DVD and sari shops. The DVD collection has been boosted quite nicely now.

One of the most conspicuous symbols of the secular elite life style is the Dhaka Club. I had originally thought that this was just a high-class restaurant and was shocked at the out of place decadence. The Dhaka Club was founded in British colonial times and every thing associated with the club is a throw back to those times, which includes rules such as no children and strict dress code. The members see themselves as superior to the masses and in some ways act as the new colonials with their mega wealth – probably through ill-gotten gains. Nowadays it just has a reputation for boozing, gambling and as a ‘gentleman’s’ club for the new elite. I won’t be going back – the food was not even that good.

Right now I’m getting ready for Egypt so I’ll write more about the functions and rural (read real) life later.

 

Disaster! (Short term one)

As you all know, this sabbatical and extended leave has been in the planning for a long time now. Last minute packing aside (which for the benefit of the doubting Thomas’s out there went swimmingly) everything seemed to be on course for an inauspicious start.. Little was I aware that fate was about to play its hand.

Ever the dutiful son, brother and husband, I had carefully arranged and booked my family’s tickets and visas a long time ago. I had thought that everything was taken care of when a classic lesson of Not Taking Things For Granted was taught to old Mr.C (yes, I will turn 30 by the time I’m back). What I had of course forgotten to do was to check that I had a visa! Not a normal oversight you understand. Having been to Bangladesh about 5 times in the last 10 years, what I had forgotten was that I renewed my passport since the last visit so would also have to renew the visa. Duh!

In normal circumstances this is not such a big deal. You get to the other side and cough up $50 and Bob’s your uncle. However I had the misfortune, for the second time this week, to be on the wrong end of Small Man Syndrome. Nothing pleases uniformed petty officialdom than a minor clerical infraction. Not withstanding fear of liable, lets for arguments sake call him Prittesh Bhatt.

Now, I admit that I should have had a visa, but despite airlines having a process for making passengers indemnify them against the cost of the consequences of transporting passengers without valid documentation, this short man refused to let me on. I was fully prepared to burn plastic and sign anything that would cover the £2k that they would have been fined had I been arrested, incarcerated and sent back from Dhaka in shame in an orange jump suit, but no, this jumped up so and so smiled profusely and said he could do no more. He did however suggest that if I had an old passport with a similar visa, he could let me on, knowing fully well that there was no time to get this to him.

So we switch to sympathy. Surely any man would wilt at the thought of a ‘groom’ missing out on a ‘wedding’ function that loads of relatives around the world would be coming to – many on his own airline. Suffice it to say, it did not work and I had to be resigned to letting a now tearful Mrs C go on her own. (please comment on her blog to cheer her up)

Plan B was to get my old passport (with required visa) to Heathrow (I was at Gatwick), satisfy the staff there that I was kosher (so to speak), sign the indemnity and get a stand-by ticket. All of this actually did happen as the Heathrow staff were much more helpful, and I was left ‘hoping’ to benefit from some unknown passengers’ misfortune so I could be allocated their ticket. But they don’t call it the busy season for nothing – and there were no spare seats to be had.

The silver lining in this tale of woe, is that at least I managed to feign complete desperation at missing my ‘wedding’ long enough for a nice lady to ‘confirm’ new flights for tomorrow. But I won’t be Taking Things For Granted until I’m sitting on that plane from Gatwick. If I blog again tomorrow, you’ll know things really have gone skew-whiff.

Well I need some sleep – I’m cream crackered. Until the next time when Inshallah I will tell you of my adventures in the twighlight zone of Bangladeshi immigration. I shall have readies at the ready!

Any way, everything happens for a reason – you just don’t always know why.