The pledge of Pahela Baishakh
[/color]
(http://www.thedailystar.net/suppliments/2010/04/pohelaboishakh/images/link9.jpg)
It is the same sun that rises in the morning of Pahela Baishakh, still it is different. It is the same ball of fire ambling in the sky but on the day it radiates with a different glow. With the golden ray of rhythm, the message of life spreads around: “Aji e probhatey robir kor kemoney poshilo praner por, kemone poshilo guhar adharey probhat pakhir gan, na jani kenorey etodin porey jagia uthilo pran.†(How at this dawn the ray of sun reached the soul, how the chirping of morning birds reached the gloom of cave, I know not why life rose after so many days.) The day breaks with a new vision in a new ambience. The day is auspicious for the Bengali community, a day of hope and aspiration, imbibed with the colour of passion. It is the most significant day of the Bangla calendar, heralding the sustenance of Bengali culture and heritage. It is the day when the Bengali nation, individually and collectively, make pledges to bring happiness and prosperity for them.
The most prominent pledge that a Bengali makes on Pahela Baishakh is taking a fresh view of life, shedding off all dust of past faults and failures. The pledge is moral in itself. People throw away their shady thoughts and fill their brain-cells with honest ideas. They promise to refrain from all sorts of evil deeds and engage in activities beneficial for themselves and others. Their moral elevation comes through a ritual of bidding farewell to the old and welcoming the new. They dress themselves up with new costumes, taking a bath of consecration. They exchange greetings and embrace each other in freshness of body and mind. They invoke the good with music, for purification of inner and outer environment. In a chorus they sing: “Esho hey Baishakh esho esho, toposho nishwasho baye mumursherey dao oraye, bochhorer aborjona dur hoye jak….†(Come Baishakh, come, with a fresh breath of air, blow away the dying, let all debris of the year be removed.)
The freshness is reflected even in the delicacy people have on Pahela Baishakh. They initiate the day with modest food, to the best of their capacity, pleasing to the eyes, nostril and tongue alike. They cook traditional foods like khichuri and hilsha fish and relish to their heart's content. They open their door to the guests and feel gratified to entertain. Baishakh cuisine is a spectacular cultural heritage. Nowhere in the world can be found such an enthusiasm of feast like this. Some people even rise early in the morning and rush to the Barshabaran programme at Ramna Botumul to chew a piece of hilsha fish along with panta (watered rice). A bit of green chilli makes the occasion hotter. The hotels around the city also make brisk business adding traditional Bengali items to their menu. People love to act Bengali in their appetite and gastronomic pleasure on the day.
On Pahela Baishakh the Bengali people pledge to protect and uphold their language and culture that makes them unique as an ethnic community in the world. On the day the sweet vernacular sounds sweeter. People organise various programmes to celebrate the occasion with music full of verbal gaiety. Folk songs as well as Tagore and Nazrul make the air joyous. Poems are recited to enthral the Bengali heart. The rhythm of Baishakh is felt everywhere, village and city, every nook and corner of the country. In the city, big concerts are organised where the band groups present their high-beat numbers. Especially the young generation takes excitement in such tunes as “Melai jaire … bashonti rong shari porey lolonara hetey jai.†(We go to fair … girls wearing yellow sari walk on.) In the village, kobi gan and baul gan are arranged and the singers sing in the glory of tradition. Their voice chants: “Gramer nowjowan Hindu Musalman, milia baula gan ar murshidi gaitam, agey ki sundor din kataitam….†(We the Hindus and the Muslims in village sang baul and murshidi together, how beautiful days we used to pass earlier.)
Pahela Baishakh is the day of union. All the people of various religious communities --Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and Christian -- come forward to celebrate the day, welcoming the good in unison. They find the common thread of culture tying them in a same lot and inspiring them to work together. The Bengali community also, as a whole, with their Bangaliyana, take a renewed pledge to forge firm solidarity with the rest of the world. They throw a friendly gesture to everybody and forget the old enmity. They extend their helping hand and warm heart to the people of other communities. A world of peace and harmony glistens in their eyes. The Bengali mantra of harmony is spread all over the world and the whole humanity is animated with the unifying appeal.
On Pahela Baishakh, the land takes a festive look. People celebrate the day with traditional festivities. Fairs are arranged in rural as well as urban areas. Some of them last for a day and some for a week while some others run month-long. The tunes of flutes and the beats of drums declare the triumph of the Bengali culture. People of all ages, irrespective of cast and creed, visit the Baishakhi Mela and buy handicrafts and traditional snacks like sondesh, nimki, murki, batasha and different types of cakes. The visitors to the fair never get tired to tread down the venue through the make-shift stalls and pick up things of their fancy. Roaming around the fair, the young minds turn romantic with patriotism. They chant: “Aha ki ananda akashey batashey, shakhey shakhey pakhi dakey, kato shobha charipashey….†(Oh how cheery the sky and wind is, birds sing in branches, beauty aplenty all around….)
Circus and jatra pala also add to the festivities of Baishakh in some places. As soon as circus tents are erected, the inhabitants get impatient to witness the miracle. The show attracts visitors from far and wide. The jatra pala is staged with social and historical themes. Behula Lokkhiandar, Chandraboti, Rupban or Bhawal Sanyasi appear on the stage to cheer up the traditional minds. It is held usually at night. The night time is spent witnessing the realities and dreams of Bengali life that the shows portray.
Pahela Baishakh is the day of revolt against darkness, narrowness and social maladies. People vow to get rid of all communal feelings on the day. They express their love for secularism and hatred for fanaticism. They feel they are Bengali above all other identities. On Pahela Baishakh, the Bengali pledge to remain Bengali. They feel the power of becoming so and let it grow in their spirit as long as they are alive.
SEE THIS NEWS PLEASE VISIT THIS LINK HERE
http://adf.ly/2PN8
www.realestate-bd.com
Electric blues
(http://www.thedailystar.net/campus/2010/04/03/im12.jpg)
SOME objects may cause discomfort in life with its presence while others may do so with its absence. Electricity is such a thing which takes a toll on life with its nagging absence. We, the Bangladeshis, are far away from the blessing brought about by the discovery of Benjamin Franklin and Alessandro Volta. We aspire for it but all in vain. It evades us like a dream. You and I are the victims of a bad dream.
Electricity, its presence and absence, has tremendous power to influence life. It induces change in life style, which is evident in my own life. Nowadays I am rising early and going for a walk, thanks to the lack of electricity. It becomes impossible to sleep without fan in the hot summer time, so better to take care of health, albeit rather unwillingly. Electric supply authority deserves felicitation for shedding load at the time when it is necessary to exercise.
I make attempts to get ready for office. I enter the bathroom but there is no water in tap. I complain to the landlord but his excuse is logical. There was no electricity so he could not run pump. I sit in the dining table for breakfast and am presented whatever was in the fridge. My mouth cannot take it as all is stale. The fridge could not keep food fresh for lack of electric support. I start for office with a body unbathed and unfed and a mind in tatters.
I try to turn on the computer, but of no avail. No electricity, again. I have some important work to do. I have to compose some documents and send and reply some emails. After a long wait I find the sweet arrival of electricity. It comes and goes, as if always on the run. It cannot stay for long as it is being chased by law enforcing agencies, lest it should be caught and hanged. The dream of Digital Bangladesh hovers in my mind. Yes, our Digital Bangladesh will be established without electricity. It is a magic slogan.
When electricity trips, I just stare at the ceiling fan like a thirsty frog. When will it move, when will the air roll, when will the stuffiness be removed? I sweat under my garments and gossip with my colleagues. They fan themselves with hard paper. We all take our lunch in heat and half-gloom.
We try to lessen the heat of our body with a cool drink. The body temperature somehow comes down but the head temperature goes out of control.
My mobile phone rings. Mother wants to talk to me. As I start talking, the mobile gives a low battery signal. I could not charge the battery. I rebuke myself. The mobile stops before I finish the necessary words. What a lousy guy I am! I plan to call back to mother after borrowing the phone of one of my colleagues. But I cannot find the number as it is stored in the memory of my mobile phone, which is now off, and not in my memory or note book. I relied too much on machine and this is the punishment.
I return home in the afternoon. I press the calling bell and it does not make any sound; that means there is no electricity. Bang, bang, bang! The door is opened and I enter the hot room. I take off my clothes and attempt to take a rest. I grab a hand-fan and revolve it. I take a cup of tea with a piece of biscuit. I set out for a stroll in the alley of the locality. I arrive at the kitchen market and buy some vegetables, though I am not sure whether they would at last be cooked or not.
I need to read something as a preparation for a lecture tomorrow. I engage myself in doing so under candle light. The flame flutters and my eyes swim across the dim pages of bright thoughts. At one time I feel tired and retire to sofa. Electricity returns and I switch on the television. I browse through the channels provided by the dish. Some channels are presenting news on how industry and agriculture of the country are being affected by power outage. Ministers are advising people to use electricity judiciously and utilise sun and wind as alternative sources of energy. I settle on an English film and get engrossed in the plot. The film reaches the climax just when the electricity disappears. What a humour!
I again finish my dinner in the candle light. Different types of insects romp around. I don't know why they like candle flame so much. Some merrily take their life flying into it. Some jump into my plate and dishes around. I cannot say how many of them land in my stomach with rice and curry. I take them as part of my feast. Solid and fresh and free. I again express my gratitude to the government for not providing electricity and take care of my health.
I look through the windows at the other flats around. I find some of them have lighted. They are using generators and IPS. Some have charger lights. They are not bothered by load shedding as they have alternative energy source. I look up and discover ghostly figures on some roofs. They are bathing in the moon light. They have no regret of gloom. They enjoy natural light and natural air.
I sit in the balcony and meditate on life and nation. I think of myself -- success and failure, comfort and discomfort. I think of the public weal and woe. I think of their rights and their downright rejection. Political commitments and their emptiness. The present and future world. The more I think the more I discover the truth. My inner world is illuminated by the absence of outer illumination.
I do a bit of walking after night meal. It will help to digest food. As I feel sleepy I go to bed like a phantom. Soon I fall asleep. I toss in sweltering heat amid unlimited pangs. I dream 2020 when all citizens of the country will get their share of electricity, to which they feel they have a right.
My life is well in vision even in darkness, like many others in Bangladesh. I do not mind huge waste of time. I do not need electricity whatsoever. I am enamoured of blackout. I wish if a pre-industrial and pre-mechanical era came back. I could lead a simple life in the lap of nature without electricity and all other urban elements. I have no sorrow caused by power outage. I just sing away the blues:
“It is a great fun to live without electricity
In the whole world Dhaka is the most comfortable city.â€
(The writer is Assistant Professor and Head, Department of English, Daffodil International University.)