tangents
Leaving Home
In 1975, an opportunity for studying abroad came along. My Uncle and Aunt - Rafi Chacha and Nora Chachi - living in London were visiting us in Dhaka. Seeing my grades they offered to sponsor me for my science A-Levels, which were not offered in Dhaka then. I was only sixteen, but with my parents' blessings I said yes.
Next I had to find a college in London. My cousins Rumman and Romel sent me the form for Waltham Forest College where they studied. I returned it along with my grades and received an admission notification. Tuition was twenty five pounds the first year; the following year it jumped to seventy five.
I also had to procure a passport. I went to the Passport Office in Indira Road early one morning. The queue spilled into the field outside the office. I spent the entire day moving at snail's pace without even reaching the office building. Fifteen minutes before close, I left the line and confidently approached the building, explained to the guard that I had to see the Director, and headed upstairs. I quickly found his office, walked in, introduced myself, and explained my predicament to him. He was gracious and accepted my application, asking me to return after three days.
Passport in hand, I had to obtain a visa to enter the United Kingdom. This was problematic as you needed proof of hefty funds in the UK. My cousin and her husband (Ruhi Apa and late Dara Bhai) told me they had a friend in the British High Commission. Through him, I was granted a visa interview which went well until the officer asked me for the required Vaccination Certificate. It was common practice to buy one and I had followed common practice. When I produced it, he asked to see the vaccination scar on my arm. I have never been so embarrassed in my life. A few days later, I returned after being properly vaccinated and picked up my stamped passport.
My parents stayed up late the night before my flight. In the morning they gave me two small notebooks. They had spent the night writing words of guidance for me. My mother's words carried more emotion than my father's but both emphasised habits for good health and avoiding vices.
On the big day, September 22nd 1975, two weeks after my 16th birthday, my entire extended family came to the airport to see me off. My grandmother, uncles and aunts, cousins galore and of course my immediate family – we just about took over the departure area of the old Tejgaon Airport. Foreign travel was still a novelty and you did not return for a long time. My parents understood this and tried to hide their sadness at my departure. I thought I would return home after completing my A- Levels in two years, but they knew the truth: once you leave home there is no return.
Looking back, I have come to appreciate two things about leaving home. The first is the magnitude of the sacrifice of my parents, which I could only feel when my own children left home. The second is the number of people – specially my Uncle and Aunt - who generously extended a helping hand on my journey. I shall always be grateful to them.
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