In Dhaka

After nearly taking two months vacation, I am back to Dhaka. And this probably might be the first post ever after reaching Dhaka for about five months ago to do my undergraduate course. Whenever I feel lonely, I am like "why didn't scholarship division send few others along with me in this college''. A glare of situations when one doesn't confronts any helpful friends and locals gazes the oriental looks of ours like Phillip is Saharan desert. Nothing much has been changed. The air is dusty as before, the traffics, hell not to mention about, the underground pipeline which was being dunged before I left is still incomplete.  The beggars are same, standing all over streets and stretching hand to an unknown passerby like me. The cars hooting, and the grunts over their deserting engines left streets no place for a talk. Unlike Thimphu, the street is no place for fashion. People come in all sort of zombie dresses, and still none cares. Moreso it is a place where English is poorly understood.

Trust me when I say Bangali are very much friendly. They are indeed. If friendship is being judged by god through my eyes, people here will get 90 out of 100. But their friendship is a barrier to foreigners like me when they have difficulty speaking English and I on the other hand know Bangla just enough to get myself into troubles. It can get pretty much hot here, the days temperature rises above 40's nearly. At one time moment, we were done with our dissection classes and was heading to another lecture room. A girl monitor, asked me "Kinchu, can you please "kill" the fan?". No, I can't, we might need it tomorrow, and more so what if it's metallic structure hit me on face.? She was not belittled. I knew she took it differently, and her face was growing anxious. Before anything get on the way, I told her, "but I can put off the fan".

At a time rendezvous, we were together for a hangouts. It has been long time since I didn't play my favorite game, bowling and I called up few girls in if they could. We had fun together and went for dinner along with two other guys. Before I could clear the bill, they had it cleared. When telling them it was not necessary one guy said "why? I just fed you". I was giving a wry smile before I said, "Yes, I enjoyed the dinner you fed me". The next day, while while I was busy taking lecture notes, a friend of mine poked me and asked, "Do you have a dual pen?". I gave him a rhetorical look before I realized he meant extra pen, and gave him one. 

Another moment, guys were playing football. Like every time in my life I was not the one in the field. But I wished I was. Knows why? All guys play nothing different from what I know. A kicker box ball from a friend and everyone rushes to it. In the back of my mind, I was thinking, "common, we all passed eighth grade". But they didn't seem to notice it among themselves and the game went on until a girl shouted; "our keeper is the cucumber", right sentence, but definitely not a right metaphor to use. A cucumber hangs over its creeps, a keeper catches the ball how can there be relation? Maybe she meant keeper is useless, but trust me he played his best not hovering any goals in. Maybe she could have used, our keeper is a magnet". But who cares, I am not their English teacher and neither am I here to do critics on their mild English. We do good in classes, with professors claiming that he is better one over another. Even so, the same professor doesn't "DELIVER" the lecture but "THROW" it  to us.

Well I too know that I have to be Roman while in Rome, and I hope my time will come sooner. Still then good luck to those in Bangladesh and happy stay. 

Comments

  1. Remeber mate: “Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.” Keep writing.

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  2. Hello to Dhaka!
    Tshewang---your blog is very interesting and important. I am sure many people are reading it...not only from Bhutan. Keep working on the literature. Very cool, indeed.
    Tashi Delek for the new school year.
    Best regards,
    Patrick

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