Picture 2: Paul, Zahra and Imiti also at my birthday
Picture 3: Niki creates a stir among madrassa boys one Friday down in old Dhaka
Picture 4: The view from the back of Syed's truck as we navigate the narrow old Dhaka streets, we still miss that truck.
Yesterday I had what we like to call in Dhaka a ‘I Hate Dhaka Day’; my CNG got hit by a bus on the way to work, I couldn’t concentrate on my writing at work as a million thoughts raced through my porous mind, the electricity went off for about two hours and then I got caught in a demonstration for two hours on the way home. I went and ran around last night for an hour playing soccer with teenage boys which worked off a great deal of aggression and then came home to bed with the resolve that today would be a new day.
I woke up this morning feeling very hungry but a lot more positive and the day could only get better. It started with the sudden appearance of the original memory stick from my digital camera which has been missing since March. I smiled as I looked back on the photos of my birthday and fond friends who have since left us here. The smile didn’t disappear as the day continued in the company of a very sweet Swede (thanks Anna sotnos), who with by means of her company and kind words lifted my mood further. Neither of us could wipe the smiles off our faces as we walked out of the travel agent with a tentative plan for a holiday to the beautiful island of Puckett in Thailand at the end of October. As I walked home in the afternoon a little street boy made me smile as he grinned at me over the rim of his excellent John Lennon style glasses.
This evening I enjoyed a lovely dinner with Dr. Kudraul, a colleague of my father’s from Plan International, and his family. He is home visiting Dhaka from South Africa and we went to a wonderful Indian restaurant for some exquisite food.
I am sitting at home now experiencing the second power cut of the day and sweating off 2kgs a minute, but at this moment I would not want to be anywhere else in the world apart from Dhaka. We live to hate those ‘I Hate Dhaka Days’ but I think we need them as a reminder every once in a while to make us appreciate the small things.
In memory of those friends and the location of my memory card, I leave you with some of the forgotten pictures of the past and the relived memories which made my smile last all day. I am also including my favourite quote of the present time as it surmises so much of what we human beings experience everyday as we live with the past and try to struggle through to the future:
The clock of the past is cut from patches of feeling, and sewn with rebus threads. Most of the time, the best we can do is wrap it around ourselves for comfort or drag it behind us as we struggle to go on. But everything has its cause and its meaning. Every life, every love, every action and feeling and thought has its reason and significance: its beginning, and the part it plays in the end. Sometimes we do see.
Quote from the novel Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts; a MUST read.
2 comments:
Keep weaving those memory threads
i want to drive a cng
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