I Came, I Saw, I Conked Out
THE judge listens to the arguments from both sides. He concludes: “I still can't understand where the problem is. Case dismissed.”
The two Bangladeshi Associations of the same city, USA, grimace at each other as the defamation lawsuit goes down the tube. I am shocked. Just two groups only! I would have expected seven, given the large metropolis.
You see, when you and I, two of Bangladeshi origin, are together, we form three groups – you are one group, I am another group and together we form the third group.
Hey guys, if you really need to fight, make it sexy. Instead of sending mass hate emails on Yahoo groups, how about shove sand into the fuel tank of a rival member's car or threaten (make fake attempts) to gouge out the eyes. Then put up the video on YouTube, Spring Break 2014 – Bangus Gone Wild!
But it's a boon for starving artists. I go to the same city and do the same comedy routine at three different shows put together by three break-away organizations, with my earnings increasing threefold. For an even brighter fiscal year, I pray for further fragmentation.
Then there is the Diaspora WMD (Weekly Mandatory Dawat) where we engage in endless debates on PR (politics and religion) with solutions (that never leave the living room) to every conceivable problem of the old country. The concluding remarks: “Oof! How DO you live in Bangladesh?” (“Why? Exactly the same way you did before heading out to the West…”)
The WMD, by no means, is any ordinary gastronomical exercise. One needs a Harvard MBA to strategize the guest list. After all, if Brad (formerly known as Badrul) is invited during the Independence Day weekend, Mo Hawk (formerly known as Monirul Hoque) has to wait till the Thanksgiving Weekend to enjoy the upgraded meal. That's because the two still have their horns locked with no signs of disengaging. On top of that, there is the burden of adding at least two extra dishes on the menu from last weekend's dawat at the house of Ash (formerly known as Ashfaque).
Finally, the customary gifts at the WMDs. They sure hit the domestic bottom line. Then again, we are smart – we recycle gifts. Let's just make sure we maintain good databases – once, the gift I gave to someone came back to me after a mere three weeks…
Such is the life of the Diaspora as a home is created away from home. The home from where we start the journey to destiny – nervous interviews at the US Embassy (we are so uncharacteristically polite, even squeamish, once inside the premises), the long flight to USA, more panic stricken encounters (interrogations) at US Immigration, stammering explanations to US Customs about the gigantic (two year supply of) oil laden pickle jar, labor through degree after degree in college, the first job, promotion to the H-1B work visa, green card, US citizenship… Busy, busy, busy. But we always make time to form associations. We start from Bangladesh and make a long, long voyage that ends in…Bangladesh.
But it is nothing but nostalgia, our desperate attempt to not completely cut off the umbilical cord from our origin. As such, here is the one last component of our DNA that we carry to the new home. The former stranger from the native country may now be a familiar enemy in the land far away, but a known one who in turn knows everything about you, to the point that he will unconditionally be at your side the moment you hit disaster.
We have conquered the West as the Julius Caesar of the twenty first century. A slight difference though – instead of the sword (in which case the FBI would be after us), we carry the club, ready to knock down the other fellow Bangladeshi – “I came, I saw, I conked out.”
Ok, no need to drop the club (pun of the day), that's part of the fun. Let's perhaps emulate the Indian Diaspora. Surely we can – just look how we can never have a gaye holud now without twenty one (identical) Bollywood dances. If so (and please, don't start labeling me as a Bharoter Dalal), we can truly be the head bobbing Julius Caesar:
“I came, I saw, I outsourced.”
The writer is an engineer & CEO turned comedian (by choice), the host of NTV's The Naveed Mahbub Show and the founder of Naveed's Comedy Club.
E-mail: [email protected]
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